Page 33 of The Pirate and the Pagan
The moment he left the room, Ruark slipped his arms about her and drew her to him. She put back her head and gazed up at his laughing eyes. “I had a wretched evening,” she whispered. “Half the night I was miserable thinking he was going to demand if your intentions were honorable and the other half, you devious devil, you had him eating out of your hand.”
“You are so beautiful tonight, I don’t know how I kept my hands from you.” As he gazed down at her he had an unimpeded view of her neck, shoulders, and breasts. “This gown cries out for jewels. What do you like?” he murmured.
She drawled, “I’m particularly partial to rubies.”
His lips brushed hers softly. “Rubies would be perfect. Good night, love. Come back to me soon.”
To add insult to injury, Spider, on the ride home, said, “You know, Cat, if you intend to wed Lord Helford, I think you’d better reform.”
“Before or after we smuggle the Brussels lace aboard his vessel?” she asked dryly.
Next morning the fog lay thick upon the sea, blanketing everything farther than a foot from her nose. The weather never deterred Summer from her dawn ritual, however, so she donned her breeches and walked the mile to the stables at the Helford estate. The grooms and stableboys were familiar with her long-legged figure by now, but this morning they only nodded politely instead of the usual friendly greeting.
Ebony whinnied his welcome, however, as she moved forward into the loose box and picked up his bridle. She turned quickly at a sound behind her and saw the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Ruark enter the box with her.
“I don’t like it,” he said gravely, looming over her in the dawn’s half-light.
“My masculine attire?” she asked, laughing.
“Masculine?” he puzzled, remembering she’d said that before. The figure-revealing breeches and lawn shirt showed off much too much woman in his opinion.
“No, love, I don’t like you riding in this fog. It’s dangerous.”
“That’s the reason I love to do it,” she teased. “What music, drink, or love does for most, danger does for me.”
He groaned and pulled her into his arms. Her words had hardened him instantly. He pressed her against his arousal and dipped his head to taste her luscious mouth. He was dressed in formal navy blue as befitted his office and regretted that if he laid her in the hay, he would be covered with the telltale straws. “When are we going to have more than a few stolen minutes together?” he murmured thickly against her mouth.
She gave him a tiny kiss. “This week?” She gave him another tiny kiss. “Next week?” She kissed him again. “Sometime?” And again. “Never?”
“I swear I’ll run mad if you keep teasing me. Next week will be even busier than this one. Charles’s mother and sister are coming from France for a visit. They’ll be sailing into Portsmouth in a fortnight, so next week Charles and a lot of the court are coming first to Plymouth while he inspects his navy firsthand.”
“Will he go to war against Holland?” she asked.
He kissed her nose. “You ask too many questions. I’ll be away tonight. Will you come tomorrow night?”
She clung to him in the dimly lit privacy of the loose box, trying to control the restless devils inside her who fought and struggled for release. She wondered if all women in love were torn between two impulses. She longed to throw modesty to the winds and urge him to make love to her, and yet the thought kept intruding to be cool, aloof, utterly detached. Perhaps she should die rather than be the first to admit a thing so personal and intimate as love. “I don’t know if I will come or not,” she said with brutal honesty. “I know I should not, but if I cannot keep away from you, than I shall come.”
“Summer, by letting me set the pace, you are forcing me to act honorably toward you.” He ran a possessive hand down her back. “God’s flesh, ’tis the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“Act honorably?” she murmured, full of devilry.
He laughed. “Oh God, I want to be so dishonorable with you.”
“Mmmm,” she said, licking her lips over the thought. Her restless horse, tired of waiting, walked out of the stall without her and she pulled out of Ruark’s arms to follow him.
He whispered huskily, “I’ll come home early tomorrow night, and I’ll try my best not to act dishonorably.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Then perhaps I won’t come after all,” she teased unmercifully.
After her morning ride Summer kept Ebony to crop the lawns and was thankful she wouldn’t need to water the vegetables today because the heavy morning fog had taken care of that chore.
Spider fashioned three wooden crates which looked as if they might hold paintings while Summer wrote a letter about the Brussels lace to Auntie Lil. She packed the lace lovingly, making good use of the oilskins, and Spider nailed the crates closed.
By eight o’clock he was on his way to Falmouth in the ponycart and Summer reckoned the lace should add another couple of thousand pounds to their savings. She carried water from the well and set it to boil for the washing, then as she scrubbed the linen her mind never left Ruark Helford.
All her time was running out and she knew he must make her his mistress soon if she was to obligate him with her debts. Once they had become intimate, she hoped he would be loving and generous enough to forgive her deceptions. She would have to choose very carefully the perfect moment when she would confess all.
He was going away again next week and heaven only knew when he would return once he was reunited with the King and court. So she decided she must make it happen. Tomorrow night he must make love to her!
