Page 71 of The Pirate and the Pagan
The resemblance to Ruark was marked, yet this man was completely different. He wore a permanent expression of amusement as if he refused to take life seriously. Where Ruark was intense, serious, and brooding, this man was young, with a teasing, laughing, outrageous personality.
She got to her feet and swaggered toward him with hands on her hips. “Don’t bother to deny it. I know you are Ruark Helford’s brother, for I’m married to him.”
He laughed, his teeth showing white against bronzed skin. “Are you bragging or complaining?”
“Complaining, may lightning blast the man!”
He was more amused than ever and looked her over frankly, assessingly. “Since you’ve guessed my identity, I might as well admit I’m Rory, the black sheep of the Helford family.”
“Oh no, I insist that distinction is mine. I’m Cat,” she said in a challenging tone.
He laughed again. “Hellcat Helford … it suits you.”
He said something to Pedro, who grinned and nodded. She looked toward the cabin door and saw two dark, wiry men wearing red scarves and golden earrings. One was eating an orange and spitting the seeds on the floor and the other put a mouth organ to his lips and played a saucy tune. She compared these foreigners who looked like monkeys to the sailors aboard Lord Helford’s vessel. God in heaven, Ruark would have had them flogged for disrespect. “Get out!” she ordered Pedro, waving her hand toward the cabin door. The massive man grinned and left and she slammed the door on their inquisitive faces.
She turned back to Rory Helford and said in an awed voice, “You really are a pirate!”
He saw her eyeing the streak of white hair at his temple and grinned widely as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Have you ever seen a raven with a white feather in his wing?”
She answered, “Yes, often.”
“It’s caused by an injury. Same thing with this—it’s an old scar, the hair grew in white.”
“Is that how you lost your eye?” she asked curiously, showing no pity.
He laughed again. “I have both eyes. This patch is only temporary. Powder flashed in the pan when I shot my pistol last night.”
“Aren’t you afraid of hanging?” she asked.
He said grinning, “Hanging’s only half an hour’s pastime.”
“So you’re not afraid to die?” she demanded.
“I won’t die. Heaven doesn’t want me and hell’s afraid I’ll take over!”
“Does everything amuse you?” she asked with a sneer.
“Most things … females in breeches with beautiful breasts in particular,” he teased.
“Oh!” she said, pretending outrage, then suddenly she realized his laughter was infectious and a bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “You are clearly a selfish, conceited, mannerless swine who does exactly as he pleases, and yet I like you. Why is that, Rory Helford?”
“Because there is no pretense between us. You can be yourself and swear your head off and strut about in your boots and I don’t rebuke you. We could amuse each other, I think. How the hell did you come to marry my brother? Please don’t expect me to believe you fell in love with him.”
“Love him? I hate him, plague take the man. I own Roseland, next door to Helford Hall. At least I did own it until my rancid father mortgaged every cobweb. When your precious brother found out I wasn’t the wealthy heiress he thought me, that temper he’s famous for took control of him. He swore I’d not get a copper penny of precious Helford money and told me to get it myself.”
Rory almost fell from his chair with amusement. “You needn’t have hysterics,” she told him hotly, “I have every intention of getting it myself.”
“The reason I’m laughing so hard is the touchy subject of mortgages. I imagine it exacerbated Ruark’s temper because it’s taken him four long years to pay off the mortgages on Helford Hall. Everything was mortgaged in the Stuart cause, you see. It’s so bloody rich … I wish I could have seen his face. He just gets one paid off and you hand him another on a silver platter!”
“He’s rolling in money … the swine won eight thousand pounds from me not two weeks ago.”
He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. “You need money and you were foolish enough to lose eight thousand to him? You’re not a very good businesswoman, are you?”
“Hell and furies, yes I am! I’d like to do business with you.”
“Why in hell’s name would I want to do business with a woman?” He laughed.
“For profit, of course, I can do anything a man can do,” she insisted.
