Page 90 of The Pirate and the Pagan
His deep voice filled the coach, filled her very head. “The opposite of love isn’t hate, Summer—it’s indifference—and indifference is one thing we’ll never feel toward each other.”
“How could you say such a thing to me about the child?” she asked in anguish.
“Because I wanted to hurt you, of course. I don’t think for one moment you would ever do such a thing,” he admitted. His voice hardened again. “You heeded me not about leaving London.”
Her mind working like quicksilver, she said, “If Roseland were still mine, I would consider going there to get away from this terrible plague …” Her words hung in the air. As he turned toward her in the dark coach, his hand brushed her breast and she cried out as if she had been scalded. Suddenly she found herself enfolded in his embrace; his arms were like steel bands crushing her to his heart, his mouth fused to hers as if he had been starving for her. “Ru,” she cried breathlessly, uncertain if it was lust or love that drove him.
“My darling, my honey love,” he said hoarsely, “why do we torture each other so? When I see you out with other men, laughing up into their faces, I want to kill them—aye, and kill you, too,” he said fiercely.
Her guilt over Rory overwhelmed her. “I would much rather be home in Cornwall where there is no danger.”
His arms tightened. “No danger? Wherever you are there is danger. If I sent you home the minute you got bored, you’d be dressing up as the Black Cat,” he accused.
“Soon I’ll have too big a belly to play highwayman.”
“I hope so,” he said, his hands roaming her belly and thighs possessively.
“If I’m being truthful, Spencer would be better off at home. London has been a very bad influence on him.”
“What’s the young devil up to now?” he demanded. “Oh, nothing,” she said faintly.
“Whoring, gambling, drinking, I have no doubt. Worrying you half to death, I suppose.”
“No, really, it’s his friends who are such rakes,” she protested.
“Like your own friends?” he pointed out.
“Damn you, Ruark, you must be the only man on earth arrogant enough to insult me while trying to make love to me!”
Her words fueled his need for her. “Stay with me tonight at Whitehall,” he demanded.
She pretended indifference. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”
“We have an unquenchable thirst for each other,” he said, rubbing his thumb across a taut nipple. “You might,” she said lightly.
“We need to lie naked in each other’s arms all night.”
“You might,” she repeated. But he had a power over her that set her shivering.
“We’ve always been more like lovers than husband and wife,” he murmured against her neck. He ached to be deep inside her and vowed to have her this night. He knew he’d give much if she’d yield to him. “All I ask is one night.”
She pulled away from him, truly offended now. “How dare you treat me like a strumpet?”
“God’s flesh, Summer, what do you want? You won’t behave like a decent wife and go home where you belong, so I’m reduced to begging your favors one night at a time. You lure me then rebuff me, daring my manhood. I don’t know whether to strangle you or ravish you, or both.” He tipped her face up to his and kissed her gently. “Come to Whitehall with me … on your own terms.”
“Absolutely not,” she said without hesitation. “You will take me to Cockspur Street or you can set me down in the street here.”
“Dammit, Summer, why are you so willful?”
“If I were a passive woman, you’d crush me in a minute.”
“Little chance of that, you’re headstrong as ten men.”
The coachdriver slowed at Whitehall, but Ruark instructed him to drive over to Cockspur Street. He helped Summer out of the carriage and instructed his driver to leave him.
“I didn’t invite you in,” she said pointedly.
“I don’t need an invitation, you are my wife.”
