Page 59 of The Pirate and the Pagan
“Have you been out?” cried Summer in disbelief.
“I went right into assizes court and listened to the whole thing,” he said cockily.
“Hell’s gates, Spider, I’ve been worrying my guts to fiddle strings over you. The main reason I married Helford was to get you free. I’ve been hiding you under beds, giving you all my food … and the moment my back’s turned you’re off on a bloody lark!”
He drew himself up indignantly and demanded, “I wouldn’t be much of a man if I didn’t crave adventure, would I? Besides, if the shoe was on the other foot and I shut you up in the attic, you’d climb down that vine the minute the moon rose. Don’t put the blame on me for marrying Helford. You’re a willful little bitch who always had her own way no matter what, and nothing will ever change that, certainly not marriage—no, not to ten lords, let alone Helford. You know what? I feel sorry for the poor bastard. He doesn’t stand a chance against you, Cat!”
“Go home, Spider,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “Since you are no longer a wanted man, you can fend for yourself like I’m going to have to do.”
He grinned at her and climbed from the window. Summer sank down onto the brilliant cushions. Why had Ruark dismissed the charges against the smugglers? Had he done it so her brother could go free? She hardened her heart. If he had, it was so that the fine name of Helford wouldn’t be besmirched. She suddenly had an uncontrollable urge to sully him and his name. Hell’s gates, before she was finished with him, she’d … She stopped the thought, knowing her deep hurt wouldn’t be assuaged until she had inflicted pain on him. He had experienced her fire, now he would feel her ice. She would be so icily polite, she would freeze him to death. His impeccable manners, so revered by society, were nothing but a thin veneer over an uncivilized, brute male. She would like to break that veneer into a thousand pieces, aye, and would before she was done with him!
Helford stayed away until the last possible minute, but Summer kept herself busy making plans for their guests’ meals and entertainment. The moment she knew he had returned she dispatched Mr. Burke with a summons for Ruark to attend her in the reception hall.
He braced himself for the inevitable confession and tears and with jaw clenched firmly with determination descended to the hall.
She saw that he was tanned and knew he had been at sea. His nearness set off a hammering in her heart, but she firmly ignored it, rustling the lists of names she held and plunging in with the efficiency of a general planning a campaign. “Lord Helford, here is a list of the guests we can expect tomorrow. The Arundells have made provisions to sleep them at Pendennis Castle each night, so you will have to provide room in the carriage house and stables for all the hired coaches and horses.” Without glancing at him or even pausing for breath, she continued, “Mr. Burke assures me you will take the gentlemen hunting, hawking, or fishing and I would appreciate a copy of your planned itinerary so I may coordinate it with my plans.”
“Your plans?” he questioned, sounding both annoyed and disappointed by the cool businesslike tone she used.
“Of course.” She glanced at him coldly as if to rebuke him for being disorganized. “I’ve decided on a treasure hunt for tomorrow. Since everyone will be arriving at a different hour, they can join in any time they please. The secluded yew walks of Helford Hall will tempt both men and women to join in the game.”
He frowned darkly. “It sounds risqué—no, in fact it sounds downright bawdy. You are openly encouraging them to play all sorts of games in the bowers, and you know damned well what treasures they’ll be hunting,” he accused.
“Of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “They are all adults, I believe, and you’ve no idea how unutterably bored they were with the Countess of Bath’s shepherdess fiasco.”
He cocked an arrogant brow. “What do you intend to use for a prize when the winner is declared? What do you have of value?”
“The ambergris aphrodisiac, of course,” she said as if he were a dullard not to have guessed. His frown deepened to a scowl, but before he could object, she hurried on. “The next afternoon while you occupy the gentlemen, I am transforming the tropical terrace and garden into a replica of that Ottoman palace in Algiers you told me of. All the silken Persian carpets and brilliant cushions and divan lounges are to be brought down from the attics. The ladies can wear veils and Mr. Burke has promised to oversee the cooks while they prepare exotic and spicy Eastern dishes.”
“And how the hell am I to interest the men in salmon fishing when they glimpse your veiled ladies languishing about among the flowering almond?” he demanded.
“Really, Lord Helford. Use a little common sense, if you have any. Get them out of here early before we transform the gardens, then when they return, wet and weary from your bucolic expedition up the river, they’ll stop their complaining and be delighted they came after all.”
He noticed with annoyance that she was wearing a cream linen gown with cream-colored roses in her hair. She had deliberately put them there to provoke intimate memories, he told himself. Well, they were certainly doing that. The little bitch hadn’t even thanked him for enabling her brother to escape from prison, he thought bitterly. “Have you any more plans, madame?” he asked in a sarcastic note.
“Of course I have more plans, I’m simply waiting to hear yours. They have insatiable appetites for anything unique. I thought perhaps if you were planning to race some of your Thoroughbreds, it would make an exciting change if afterward we had a seafood dinner down on the beach.”
“On the beach?” he asked incredulously.
“How many of them have ever lit a beach fire and baked clams and lobsters and crabs?” she asked.
Though his expression remained unreadable, the idea appealed to him. “Probably none of them except the King. He and I have done that before.”
“Good, he’ll love the nostalgia it will provoke, trust me.”
“Trust you?” he raged. “I have done that before also, madame. I might have known a clever, conniving female like you would come up with such exciting, illicit schemes for entertainment. You have planned everything down to the last detail, as usual” he threw at her with emphasis. “It’s too bad I didn’t know your true attributes when I married you!”
“My heart bleeds for you,” she said with exquisite sarcasm. “The biddable little country girl turned out to have too much spirit for you to tame.”
“By Christ, I’ll tame you before I’m done with you … and that’s a promise.” He bowed and left her with her guest lists.
Summer was pleased with herself. She had treated him in a summarily offhand manner and it had angered him enough to make him threaten her. The rest of her day was so busy she hardly had a moment to think of him, but at bedtime, the night stretched before her empty and endless. She ordered a bath to pass the time and relax her so she would fall asleep the sooner, but the tantalizing water evoked such intimate memories that she soon stepped out and wrapped herself in a Turkish towel. She stepped before the mirror to brush her hair, but his image lingered in its depths. She saw him standing behind her, cupping her breasts; she saw him lift her up onto his shaft and slowly impale her; she saw him slide his pulsing erection up her back then turn her to face him so he could slide it over her breasts. She closed her eyes and smashed her clenched fist into the mocking mirror.
She sent for a flacon of wine and downed cup after cup. A line from a play by that fellow Shakespeare ran through her mind: “Give me a bowl of wine; in this I bury all unkindness.”
But by the time the flacon was half-empty she wished desperately she hadn’t had any at all, for her blood grew warm and she was all liver and lights. Toward morning she did manage to fall into a fitful sleep where she saw a tall, dark cavalier beckon to her. He was irresistible and all he had to do to make her follow him was to lift his finger. He held a bag of gold and selected a crown from it. Holding it out to her on his palm, he crooned, “You like gold, don’t you, little wench?”
“Yes, Ruark,” she answered.
