Page 31 of The Pirate and the Pagan
“Sweet love, it isn’t wicked, it’s natural and beautiful. Don’t you know I have exactly the same needs? I can’t keep myself from touching you when you’re this close. Be bold, my darling, touch me. Give me one glimpse of that wild little pagan I’m falling in love with.”
She moved to kneel in front of him and reached out her fingers to touch the furry pelt and the heavy muscles. He held his breath, keeping an iron control on himself. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her off when she was this close.
With her eyes on his she slowly began to unbutton her wet shirt. Then very deliberately her eyes lowered to the place between his legs. He held his breath as hot desire pulsed through him, not quite believing what she was actually about to do. His balls tightened and he knelt up in front of her to let her see the full physical change she made in him. The blood surged and pulsed into his shaft, swelling, filling, lengthening, hardening it until the bulge threatened to burst from the confining breeches.
Her eyes widened with pleasure at the power she had over him. Very slowly she removed the shirt and held it out to the fire. She was an irresistible combination of pagan and innocent.
His mind centered upon her naked beauty.
I’ve done this before, she thought, yet that was absurd, for of course it was the first time. The silence which stretched between them was a conversation without words. Then with reverence he reached out to cup the beautiful globes and bent to bestow a kiss upon each. “These are more aphrodisiac than any ambergris,” he breathed, and then she felt the velvety caress of his tongue as he licked her nipples until they sharpened into dusky pink darts.
She was without shame, without reserve, and she thought with pity of all the women who were shy or reluctant when they loved. Ruark was both fierce and gentle with her at the same time and she knew as he took possession of her mouth that she loved the things he did to her, loved the way he made her feel and in spite of the fact that she was not yet ready to trust any man, she knew she could love him if he delivered her from her difficulties and fate was kind to her.
With his hot mouth on hers she felt half mad with passion. It raged in every part of her, her head, her heart, her belly, her naked breasts. Her frenzied hands longed to cup him, fondle him, crush him, yet they fluttered wildly over the forbidden male weapon while she gathered her last drop of courage to seize what she wanted.
“Cat!” The shout came from the clifftop above them. She gasped and snatched up her shirt. “It’s my brother Ruark. I must go.”
Reluctantly he brought her horse and helped her mount its bare back. He looked into her eyes which were alive with silent promises, like windows into paradise. His heart soared wildly that she felt as he did, the same flame, the same longing. He picked up the ambergris and handed it to her. “It must have magic powers.”
“What the hell were you doing down there?” Spider demanded, his lip curling.
“Minding my own business; something you seem incapable of,” she said haughtily.
“You let him kiss you—on the mouth,” he accused.
“I did,” she added, silently relieved he hadn’t realized she had been half naked.
“Did you worm out of him what he’s been up to the last three days or were you preoccupied with other things? Did he tell you he took possession of that Dutchman we looted? Did he tell you he captured a Frenchie plundering the estates along the coast by Penryn? They slip across from Brittany all the time, but they’ve never been caught before. He must have eyes in his arse. We’ll have to be more cautious. He means to enforce the law.”
She pushed away a quiver of apprehension, knowing full well that if you played with fire, you eventually got burned. Her eyes fell upon the tall weeds growing everywhere. “Well, if we are to have any vegetables at all this year, I’ll have to tend the garden today. Is that an innocuous enough occupation to suit you?”
He grinned at her, all animosity forgotten. “I’ll help you,” he offered.
Summer was mortified to her bones as she looked up from kneeling in the dirt to see Mr. Burke approaching her. She jumped up to brush the soil from her hands and her faded, drab gown. She wore a rag over her hair and she touched it self-consciously as Mr. Burke said, “Good afternoon, my lady.”
She glanced at Spider, kneeling in his usual raggy attire, and her heart sank. The game was up! When Helford’s servant reported to him about the overgrown tangle and air of shabby decay at Roseland, Ruark would cease to be interested in her.
“Lord Helford requests your company at dinner tonight, Lady Summer. The invitation naturally includes your brother, Lord Spencer.”
She was flushed and stammered a futile excuse, yet not by a look or a word did Mr. Burke indicate anything was amiss. “We accept,” said Spider coldly. Summer gasped.
“Very good, sir. Lord Helford will expect you at six.” Mr. Burke bowed politely and took his leave.
“Are you mad?” Summer cried, then she sank down on her knees among the cabbages and cried.
Later, as she dressed for dinner at Helford Hall she wondered just how she would face him. She had toyed with the idea of refusing to go, but if she didn’t show up, he would probably come and get her and his actually seeing Roseland would be worse than hearing of it from Mr. Burke.
“Cat, where’s my suit?” called Spider.
“What suit?” she asked absently.
“That black velvet thing you brought from London.”
She took the beautifully tailored suit and soft, black thigh boots into his room and selected a white shirt which wasn’t too frayed from his wardrobe. “You’ll have to remember to call me Summer tonight, not Cat, and even worse than that, I’m going to call you Spencer,” she warned.
He glowered at her with dark brows as she watched the clothes transform him from an urchin into a fashionable young gallant. Arrogance was written all over him and she was suddenly afraid he would demand to know what Helford’s intentions were regarding her. She sighed. It wouldn’t really matter if Mr. Burke had had a chance to disclose their poverty.
What a little fool she’d been this morning to lie in his arms naked to the waist. Tonight she’d face exposure of another kind and she needed the courage of a magnificent gown. It would have to be the crimson velvet whose skirt was shaped like an inverted tulip and the low-cut décolletage was shaped like delicate petals cupping her breasts.
