Page 19 of The Pirate and the Pagan
He gathered her close and looked deeply into her eyes while he pressed his swollen member against her soft belly. “I rather like you to do disgusting things … disgustingly.”
“I know you do,” she whispered, undoing the laces on his codpiece.
“I enjoy taking you in broad daylight so I can watch you warm and flushed with passion.” His hand slid down inside her bodice and the slow, languid strokes of his fingers upon her throbbing peaks soon sent excitement hurtling through her body. He loved the way Barbara responded instantly to arousal, rather like himself.
“How about some of these creams you can rub on to provoke lust?” she suggested.
“God’s flesh, you above all others should know I need no nostrum for that.”
“There’s always room for improvement,” she teased. “Here … let’s try this … it says it’s made from white mustard seed … it says it bringeth heat to the parts,” she said, giggling, as she took a firm hold on his erection and dipped her finger into the pot of cream.
“Careful, Barbara, just a little dab, you don’t want to burn the damned knob off!”
Barbara couldn’t stop laughing as Charles pulled up her voluminous skirts to fondle her bared thighs. “God’s flesh, you never wear undergarments and I swear whenever you come into the same room, my mind fixates on your nakedness.”
Their tongues began to parry and thrust and Barbara put an extra large dab of the cream on the head of Charles’s shaft. His large hands slipped over her bottom cheeks and held her imprisoned while he impaled her with his great weapon. “Serves you right, it will rub off inside you and then we’ll see whose parts are heated,” he teased hoarsely.
She gasped with pleasure at the fullness of him, then her insides felt as if they were afire with the heat of their joined bodies. The friction of his movements turned them both hot and swollen until they thought they would go mad from their heightened sensitivity.
Charles braced his legs wide apart to hold Barbara pressed against the cabinet. They were both oblivious to the tinkling of the glass bottles as their vibrations made the colored liquids foam and splosh wildly upon the shelves. Barbara was ready to scream with her excitement. Charles, always slow to reach full peak, still had a measure of control. He reached for the vial of amyl nitrite and held it so they could inhale the pear fumes deeply. They exploded together. Barbara let out the scream which had been building in her throat as she felt her blood pounding from the top of her scalp to the soles of her feet, then she fainted and collapsed upon him.
Charles had never experienced anything quite so volatile either. He carried her over to the open window and sat her upon the sill. She opened her eyes, still dazed from the finesse of his lovemaking. “Barbara, are you all right?” he asked anxiously.
“Oooh, I’m more than all right,” she purred.
The Queen glanced up from the courtyard on her way back from evening prayers. She saw Barbara and Charles at the window of his laboratory and thought wistfully that Lady Castlemaine must be helping the King with his experiments.
Later in the day when a seaman came to collect Summer’s boxes, she sent him back to the Pagan Goddess empty-handed.
Ruark Helford was forced to come for her himself, pledging his responsibility for her safety to Lady Richwood. His impeccable manners were in full display, much to the private amusement of the two women, and Summer finally allowed her aunt to persuade her to change her mind and sail with Lord Helford.
His pulse began to pound when he handed her into his carriage entirely alone. She was sailing without a tiring woman, a ladies’ maid, or a chaperon of any description. Inside the dark carriage the silence stretched between them. The tension was thick in the air and it was charged with sensuality. There was no way to hide the fact that the male had scented the female and would pursue her.
His voice came rich and low through the darkness. “You must think it odd that I came at such a late hour for you, but we’ll have floodtide around three in the morning to carry us out to sea.”
“You forget, Lord Helford, I am a child of the sea,” she said softly.
“Of course. ’Tis said we Cornish have salt water in our veins and fire in our hearts,” he added warmly.
“And more guts than brains,” she added pointedly.
He raised an eyebrow at the lady’s language, but took the rebuke seriously. “Well, London has its diversions but for a man who thrives on an active life ’tis too confining. I for one am happy to be going home to Cornwall … it’s been a long time.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him about his appointment as magistrate but she knew she must be wary with this man. In a way he was her enemy. Any way you looked at it, he represented the law, the authority, the power of the Crown, while she was up to her pretty little neck in smuggling. A thrill ran up her spine. Being neighbors was going to be the challenge of a lifetime.
“How about you, Lady Summer? Will you miss London?” he asked casually, yet he felt a deep need to know.
“I cannot miss what I have never known, my lord. I have always lived quietly,” she said softly. “I love my freedom, but above all I think I value my privacy.”
’Ods blood, he thought wryly, that’s the second time in as many minutes she’s tried to teach me my manners. Such a prim and proper lady. I’ll have to see if I can change all that!
The carriage slowed, and when Ruark Helford opened the door, the smells and sounds of the sea rushed inside. As he arose, his hard thigh brushed against her leg, hip, and then her arm and she knew without a doubt it had been deliberate. He jumped lithely from the carriage and held up his arms to assist her descent. She held her beautiful head high at a defiant tilt; every line bespoke outraged innocence. She hesitated a full minute before she deigned to place her hands in his.
The moment their fingers engaged she swept her lashes to her cheeks and he imagined she blushed at the intimacy. ’Ods blood, if she blushed when their fingers touched, what would happen when his mouth explored all her most secret places? The anticipation was almost unbearable. The ache she had set up in his loins was pleasurable yet painful. He fought the urge to sweep her up into his arms and carry her to his berth, but promised himself he would do exactly that in the not-too-distant future. He ushered her aboard with a strong, steady hand at her elbow to make sure she did not misstep in the darkness.
All hands were on deck and stood smartly to attention as the master of the ship came aboard. In the faces closest to her she saw respect—or was it fear?—reflected by the ship’s lanterns.
“Mr. Cully,” his harsh voice rang out.
