Page 42 of The Pirate and the Pagan
His heart melted. He pulled her to his lap and enfolded her in his arms. “Sweet, I’m sorry to use you so familiarly. Most ladies would be in shock by now at the things I’ve done to you. I’m so lucky that you’re generous with me.” He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. It smelled of the sea. He was enthralled to discover he loved absolutely everything about her.
Shyly she handed him the sponge so he could wash her back, but he tossed it across the room and whispered against her neck, “I’m going to use my hands.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than his hands cupped her breasts, lathering them with scented soap, then playing with them by drawing circles and elaborate patterns across the peaks and valleys. Then on the pretext of searching for the soap, he dipped his hands into the water between her legs until she was squealing from his teasing fingers.
Gasping, she twisted against him and he took possession of her tempting mouth, unmindful of the great splosh of water their playful bodies displaced.
Summer insisted it was only fair she be allowed to lather him, and when he lifted his arms, she tickled him unmercifully. When she kissed his armpit, the gesture was so intimate, their laughter ceased. They gazed into each other’s eyes, then very tenderly he touched his lips to every part of her body.
When at last she was able to return to Roseland, sweetly refusing Mr. Burke’s offer to accompany her and help bring her things to Helford Hall, she changed into an old skirt and shawl and rode the pony down to Falmouth. She was extremely relieved to find no trace of Sergeant Oswald about the prison as she made her way as unobtrusively as possible to the common cell.
Spider looked no worse for wear and was in a most cheerful and cheeky mood. “What the hell are you doing back here, Cat? I forbid you to come again.”
“I had to see if you were all right.”
He winked. “I see more meals here than I ever saw at home.”
“Spider, Lord Helford and I were married last night,” she said, low. “I haven’t told him about you yet, or about the damned mortgage on Roseland.”
Spider seemed to take it for granted that she would have become Lady Helford as she had schemed to do. “For God’s sake, Cat, don’t tell him yet. Wait until you have him eating out of your hand before you breathe a dickybird about your ‘difficulties.’”
She nodded quickly. “He’s taking me to Stowe for a few days, but I’ll tell him before your case comes up before him, I promise. Everything will be fine, Spider. He’s wonderful. I know he’ll do anything I ask.”
Spider grinned. “Stop worrying; go and enjoy yourself.”
Two hours later she drove the ponycart up to Helford Hall. She had carefully packed all her pretty clothes from London into two small trunks and instructed a footman to put them directly onto the traveling coach which stood on the driveway waiting for the team of four carriage horses to be brought from the stables. She wore the primrose yellow riding dress, and when Ruark saw her, his eyes swept over her possessively. “You look delicious, darling. How in the world did you manage to transport all your belongings so quickly?”
“Oh,” she replied, dissembling, “I only brought a few things to take to Stowe. I couldn’t find anything fine enough to wear before the King and court. I’m afraid I’ll shame you with my rags.”
He swept her from head to foot with amused eyes. “If this elegant, impractical primrose outfit is any indication of your wardrobe, you’ll make the other women look like damned crows. However, I’ll take you to Plymouth tomorrow so you can do some shopping if you like,” he offered indulgently.
“Oh, thank you, darling. I’ll just run upstairs and get my rubies.”
When she entered their bedchamber, she was surprised to find a half-dozen maids and the housekeeper gathered about the bed. They stopped talking as she came into the room and the two youngest ones lowered their eyes and blushed. Then she realized with amazement they had gathered to see if there had been blood on the sheets as befitted a virgin bride.
Suddenly Mr. Burke appeared in the doorway with an armful of fresh linen. He immediately realized what the nosy women were up to. In a cold, stern voice he announced, “I shall take care of Lady Helford’s chamber this morning. Be about your business, ladies.”
They left immediately, thoroughly abashed. Summer picked up the velvet cases which held her precious rubies and said softly, “Thank you, Mr. Burke. I haven’t even had time to see all of the house yet.”
“When you get back, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
“I’m so glad that you will be here waiting for me when I return.” The two were already firm friends and allies.
The roads of Cornwall were steep and craggy. They were also narrow, precipitous, and dangerous, particularly for a coach-and-four. A safe journey depended in part on the stamina of the horses and the skill of an experienced coachman.
A face-to-face meeting with another carriage or cart required that the one heading uphill back down to a wider place called a lay-by. Sometimes the road followed the windy edge of the endless cliffs and sometimes it wound slightly inland, hugged by hedges and a profusion of wild flowers.
From the wind-whipped headlands one could view the coastline riddled with little bays and hidden caves and crevices, and beyond, the sea’s mad exhilaration filled the observer with wild enthusiasms. Together they admired this Cornwall of theirs.
“The whole three hundred miles of coastline is indented by coves and inlets.” He shook his head. “It is a perfect place for smugglers … no authority on earth can stop such determined men.”
She shuddered. “Let’s not talk of such things. Most people tell tales of smuggling filled with adventure, derring-do, and romance, but I know the reality is filled with gore and drear and pain down every pathway. You don’t employ informers, do you? For some, betrayal and informing are a way of life.”
“I thought you didn’t wish to talk of such things,” he said, evading her question.
She smiled at him. “I swear Cornwall blood sets us apart from others. There are times when you cannot dispel brooding, dark moods and then there are the times when restless devils inside us struggle to be set free. My worst fault, I suppose, is feeling passionate over absolutely everything.”
His mouth looked hard, almost cruel, as he said, “I thought I was totally responsible for kindling your passion.” Then she saw the teasing light in his eyes and laughed. “What is your worst fault, Ru?”
The teasing light faded from his eyes as he became serious. “I have an explosive temper, which I try to keep under control. Unfortunately every once in a while”—he looked off in the distance as if remembering, regretting, then he looked at Summer, gave her a quick smile and finished his sentence—“it escapes and runs riot over everyone and everything.”
