Page 104 of The Pirate and the Pagan
Summer saw Rory’s amused face in her mind and knew she could never betray him to the King, but her husband Ruark was another thing entirely. She knew a great need to warn him, caution him about the black sheep of the family. “Ru, I think Rory uses the cellars at Roseland to smuggle people in and out of the country.”
His eyebrows went up and the muscle in his jaw stood out like a lump of iron.
“I … I think he sells secrets to the Dutch … to the French … to anybody.”
He looked outraged at her words. “I thought you were his friend! You’re betraying him!” he accused angrily.
“Not to the King … I wouldn’t … I couldn’t … only to you, so you can protect yourself,” she said, faltering.
“So, you have chosen between us, and I’m the lucky man to receive your favors, am I?” he mocked.
“No, damn you. I choose neither of you. You can both go to hell!”
She drained her cup of strong cider and then threw it at him. He pulled her from the chair into his lap. His lips seared her throat and he whispered, “What will we do to pass the long hours of the night?” She could feel his sex, hard as marble against the softness of her buttocks. The heat from his body seeped into hers and she almost succumbed to his powerful strength. “We could play”—she felt his shaft jump—“chess,” she finished repressively. “Winner’s choice,” he insisted.
She was too weary to argue with him. The fire and the cider were making her drowsy, and as she leaned against his shoulder she longed for his love and his protection. She wanted him to make the world safe for her brother, herself, and her unborn child nestled beneath her heart. Her moves were clumsy, uncalculated, and in no time at all he had the advantage and would easily win the match. After her last move her hand came to rest upon his thigh and he had no more interest in chess than flying to the moon. He covered her hand with his and slowly moved it up his thigh until it came to rest along the hard length of his shaft. When she didn’t pull away, he was encouraged. His lips brushed the top of her head. “You have a magic touch,” he murmured huskily. “Lord God, how you make me quiver.” His other hand stole to the hem of her gown and began to slip up her leg beneath the gown. When she did not thrust his hand away, he felt triumphant. His triumph was short-lived, however, for as he looked down at her he saw she was asleep against his shoulder. He schooled his lust, promising himself they would finish this chess game through to its natural conclusion at a more propitious time.
He held her until the first gray light of dawn, then gently arose to check on Spencer, who must have survived the night because he could hear him coughing. He looked down at the youth with disbelief. Spencer was awake, his eyes glassy, and he was covered from head to toe with bright red dots.
“Summer, sweetheart, come quickly,” he shouted.
She came awake with a jolt. It took only a moment to adjust to her surroundings and her heart plummeted as she recalled her brother’s peril. “What’s wrong?” she called fearfully.
“Come and see for yourself,” Ruark bade.
With dragging feet she went to the bedroom door.
“He hasn’t got the plague at all,” he said. “It’s spotted fever!”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“He’s got the bloody measles,” Ruark shouted, unable to contain his elation any longer. He swept her up into the air, swung her about, and planted a hearty kiss on her lips. Suddenly he stopped, turned an accusing finger on poor Spencer, and said, “When you recover, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.” Then he swung her into the air again and said, “I’m taking you both out of here.”
Despite the guards and the unloaded pistol, they decided to risk it. He bundled up Spencer and handed Summer a small bag of gold. They were only halfway down the steps when two guards carrying muskets came into the yard. “Halt!” they ordered in unison, running to the foot of the stairs to block their leaving.
Ruark’s empty pistol stuck out from beneath the cloak and he said in a deadly quiet tone, “Gentlemen, the lady has bribes, I have balls, the choice is yours.” It was a double entendre which they understood immediately. They glanced at Ruark’s driver, who was clutching an iron bar, and capitulated instantly.
Summer handed over the money and climbed into the coach. “It’s terrible, I can feel frost in the air,” she said worriedly.
“No, that’s wonderful. Freezing cold is the only thing that will put an end to this pestilence.” He laid Spencer on the carriage seat, and as he sat down beside her he slipped his arm about her and cuddled her to his side. “Just look at you, you’re worn out.”
She wanted to melt against him, to lean on his great strength, but she knew the physical effect they had on each other. Just being enclosed in a carriage together was a sensual experience. She sat stiffly, not daring to look up into his darkly handsome face. “Thank you for staying with me, Ruark. I’ll be all right now.”
“I’m going to get you a woman to look after you. She can nurse Spencer for a few days until he’s on his feet again, but then I want you to keep her on to look after you. In your condition it won’t be long before you’re unable to do for yourself.”
“Nurses are asking a fortune and then they’ll steal you blind the moment your back’s turned. Londoners can’t be trusted, especially now.”
“I know a good woman. She lives in the country. She used to be my housekeeper before I went back to Cornwall. She’s a capable, no-nonsense woman who’ll keep an eye on you. God’s flesh, someone has to. Don’t worry, I’ll pay her wages, I know what a mercenary little bitch you are.”
Stung, she gave him an immediate comeback. “Just consider it part of my settlement for agreeing to the annulment.”
Why did he allow the things she said to nettle him so much? He wanted to shake her like a rag doll, but he knew if he put his hands on her, desire would flare up in him and threaten to consume him. When they arrived in Cockspur Street, he carried Spencer upstairs to one of the elegant bedchambers, undressed him, and slipped him between cool, fresh sheets. Then he dispatched his driver for food, wine, and a supply of medicinal herbs. He sent him to the storehouse which had just victualed his ship. The house felt cold and damp, so Ruark lit fires in every room. “Summer, I would feel much better if you would promise to keep arm’s length from your brother. I know measles isn’t nearly as terrifying as the plague, but how do we know how it will affect our child? If you get sick or overdo, you could miscarry. I want you to bathe and rest while I go and fetch Mrs. Bishop.”
She had a defiant look on her face and for once in his life he controlled his temper and tried gentle persuasion. “Summer love, I know you don’t take very kindly to orders and that’s why I’m asking you, nay begging you, to have a care for your delicate condition.”
She placed both hands upon her abdomen and said hotly, “This baby means more to me than all the rest of you lumped together— the whole bloody world can go to hell in a handbasket for all I care!”
“Here comes the carriage with the supplies. Tell him where you want everything. I’ll go and see to Spencer and then I’m off. I promise to be back this afternoon.”
