Page 51 of The Pirate and the Pagan
Buckingham drawled, “I see you ladies have met.” His bland face belied the amusement implicit in his dry tone.
Bess Maitland rolled her eyes at her husband, who was thoroughly sorry he had missed the fight, and Madame Martine looked as if she were going to pass out.
Summer backed into the fitting room, holding the gold cloth over her deshabille and not daring to meet Ruark’s eyes. He called out, “We are invited to accompany His Majesty to Stowe, my lady.” Then with faultless manners he bowed to the two women. “My ship has just arrived from the Indies. Why don’t you ladies come and take your pick of cloth while we await Lady Helford?”
The King sat himself down on a carved settee and waved them all off. “Excellent suggestion, Helford. I’ll rest my feet here and await the bride.”
Madame Martine helped Summer into her own black and cream outfit with trembling hands. Finally she hissed, “Ees that really Hees Majesty?”
The lazy voice came from the other room. “No, no, of course I’m not the King. The wretched fellows were just pulling your leg, madame.”
Summer stifled the urge to giggle. She couldn’t hide from the fact that King Charles awaited her presence in the other room. She picked up her hat and muff and carried them out with her.
He smiled his sloe-eyed smile at her. His long legs were stretched out before him. “I’ve never seen you dressed before,” he said outrageously, and her mind flew back to the day he had seen her in the beribboned nightgown.
She blushed. “Sire … I …” She curtsied, not quite knowing what to say to this King who was looking at her the way any ordinary male would.
He said intimately, “You must promise that when we are private, you will call me Charles.” It was a command. “Tell me the truth, Lady Summer. Did you really live on the next estate to Helford or did the scurvy fellow make it up?”
“Yes, we were neighbors who never met until that day in London.”
His warm brown eyes assessed her, frankly liking what he saw. “I never knew anyone called Summer,” he mused.
She put her head on one side and replied, “I never knew anyone called Rex.”
“Ha! The lady has wit. Though you have never been presented at Court, you are most welcome to come to St. James anytime.” He took her hand and kissed it, then invited her to sit down with him.
Breathlessly she did so, not quite believing that this was really happening.
“Did you set Stowe on its ear? I’ll bet the men have been lined up to dance with the new bride.” He was openly flirting with her and she found she liked it.
“There was no dancing last night, Sire. The masques and balls are planned for after your arrival.”
“I think perhaps I should warn you about my courtiers. Dancing’s just an excuse to get their hands on a beautiful woman and ask for an assignation right under her husband’s nose. Most of the damned scoundrels are cavaliers who’ve lived at the licentious European courts, remember.”
“Oh, Sire, I don’t think I need to worry. All the gentlemen at Stowe are Ruark’s friends.”
The King was highly amused. “Little innocent bride! The wives of your friends are the first ones you make love to; ’tis so convenient!”
She laughed. “Now you are teasing me, Sire.”
“No, sweetheart, ’tis you who are teasing me.” He sighed and patted her hand. “We’ll give the marriage a few weeks before we try to corrupt you.” His mouth curved into a smile below the slender mustache, and Summer realized he would always be more man than monarch.
On the barge ride back up the Tamar, the King and Ruark had their heads together the whole time. Bess and John Maitland, the Countess and Earl of Lauderdale, were almost comical in their suitability for one another. They were both redheaded, coarse in the extreme, with a bawdy wit which amused the King, but when they were together, they spoke with such a thick Scottish burr, none could understand them.
Buckingham’s wife Mary suffered from mal de mer, which left him in Summer’s company. She felt rather awkward over what had happened at the dressmaker’s. “I’m afraid your wife won’t care much for my company, your grace.”
George Villiers’s blond looks were godlike, but his tongue had a cutting edge which no one escaped, least of all his dull wife. “Well, you can’t truthfully say you would care much for hers. I don’t. Though we coexist, we do not coalesce, cohere, nor cohabit.”
Summer heaved a sigh of relief. She knew Buckingham made a dangerous enemy and she would fare better in all circles if she had his approbation. He raised his quizzing glass to study her. “You are an unusual-looking female … rather exotic. I predict you shall become all the rage. Watch out for my cousin Barbara; she will hate you on sight.”
Summer laughed. “The King has warned me about the men, now you are warning me about the women.”
He raised an insolent brow. “And both of us rather redundant, for I fancy you could hold your own against either sex.”
“That which doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger,” she quoted.
“Precisely. Yet it isn’t your quality of survival which intrigues me. You have an air of mystery about you. You are an unknown quantity. I believe we see only the tip of the iceberg. Fascinating!”
