The Pirate and the Pagan (53 page)

She was too weary to argue with him. The fire and the cider were making her drowsy, and as she leaned against his shoulder she longed for his love and his protection. She wanted him to make the world safe for her brother, herself, and her unborn child nestled beneath her heart. Her moves were clumsy, uncalculated, and in no time at all he had the advantage and would easily win the match. After her last move her hand came to rest upon his thigh and he had no more interest in chess than flying to the moon. He covered her hand with his and slowly moved it up his thigh until it came to rest along the hard length of his shaft. When she didn’t pull away, he was encouraged. His lips brushed the top of her head. “You have a magic touch,” he murmured huskily. “Lord God, how you make me quiver.” His other hand stole to the hem of her gown and began to slip up her leg beneath the gown. When she did not thrust his hand away, he felt triumphant. His triumph was short-lived, however, for as he looked down at her he saw she was asleep against his shoulder. He schooled his lust, promising himself they would finish this chess game through to its natural conclusion at a more propitious time.

H
e held her until the first gray light of dawn, then gently arose to check on Spencer, who must have survived the night because he could hear him coughing. He looked down at the youth with disbelief. Spencer was awake, his eyes glassy, and he was covered from head to toe with bright red dots.

“Summer, sweetheart, come quickly,” he shouted.

She came awake with a jolt. It took only a moment to adjust to her surroundings and her heart plummeted as she recalled her brother’s peril. “What’s wrong?” she called fearfully.

“Come and see for yourself,” Ruark bade.

With dragging feet she went to the bedroom door.

“He hasn’t got the plague at all,” he said. “It’s spotted fever!”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“He’s got the bloody measles,” Ruark shouted, unable to contain his elation any longer. He swept her up into the air, swung her about, and planted a hearty kiss on her lips. Suddenly he stopped, turned an accusing finger on poor Spencer, and said, “When you recover, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.” Then he swung her into the air again and said, “I’m taking you both out of here.”

Despite the guards and the unloaded pistol, they decided to risk it. He bundled up Spencer and handed Summer a small bag of
gold. They were only halfway down the steps when two guards carrying muskets came into the yard. “Halt!” they ordered in unison, running to the foot of the stairs to block their leaving.

Ruark’s empty pistol stuck out from beneath the cloak and he said in a deadly quiet tone, “Gentlemen, the lady has bribes, I have balls, the choice is yours.” It was a double entendre which they understood immediately. They glanced at Ruark’s driver, who was clutching an iron bar, and capitulated instantly.

Summer handed over the money and climbed into the coach. “It’s terrible, I can feel frost in the air,” she said worriedly.

“No, that’s wonderful. Freezing cold is the only thing that will put an end to this pestilence.” He laid Spencer on the carriage seat, and as he sat down beside her he slipped his arm about her and cuddled her to his side. “Just look at you, you’re worn out.”

She wanted to melt against him, to lean on his great strength, but she knew the physical effect they had on each other. Just being enclosed in a carriage together was a sensual experience. She sat stiffly, not daring to look up into his darkly handsome face. “Thank you for staying with me, Ruark. I’ll be all right now.”

“I’m going to get you a woman to look after you. She can nurse Spencer for a few days until he’s on his feet again, but then I want you to keep her on to look after you. In your condition it won’t be long before you’re unable to do for yourself.”

“Nurses are asking a fortune and then they’ll steal you blind the moment your back’s turned. Londoners can’t be trusted, especially now.”

“I know a good woman. She lives in the country. She used to be my housekeeper before I went back to Cornwall. She’s a capable, no-nonsense woman who’ll keep an eye on you. God’s flesh, someone has to. Don’t worry, I’ll pay her wages, I know what a mercenary little bitch you are.”

Stung, she gave him an immediate comeback. “Just consider it part of my settlement for agreeing to the annulment.”

Why did he allow the things she said to nettle him so much? He wanted to shake her like a rag doll, but he knew if he put his hands on her, desire would flare up in him and threaten to consume him. When they arrived in Cockspur Street, he carried Spencer upstairs to one of the elegant bedchambers, undressed him, and slipped him between cool, fresh sheets. Then he dispatched his driver for food, wine, and a supply of medicinal herbs. He sent him to the storehouse which had just victualed his ship. The house felt cold and
damp, so Ruark lit fires in every room. “Summer, I would feel much better if you would promise to keep arm’s length from your brother. I know measles isn’t nearly as terrifying as the plague, but how do we know how it will affect our child? If you get sick or overdo, you could miscarry. I want you to bathe and rest while I go and fetch Mrs. Bishop.”

She had a defiant look on her face and for once in his life he controlled his temper and tried gentle persuasion. “Summer love, I know you don’t take very kindly to orders and that’s why I’m asking you, nay begging you, to have a care for your delicate condition.”

She placed both hands upon her abdomen and said hotly, “This baby means more to me than all the rest of you lumped together— the whole bloody world can go to hell in a handbasket for all I care!”

“Here comes the carriage with the supplies. Tell him where you want everything. I’ll go and see to Spencer and then I’m off. I promise to be back this afternoon.”

When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she was horrified that Ruark had seen her looking her very worst. A rush of love and gratitude swept over her. Whatever would she have done if Ru hadn’t found her? She knew she didn’t want her marriage to him annulled. She wanted to be his very precious love, exactly as she had been until they came back from their honeymoon at Stowe and she’d ruined her whole life by confessing the truth to him. She leaned her head against the doorjamb. Perhaps she could persuade him to stay with her again tonight. If she bathed and changed into an alluring gown and acted sweet and feminine, perhaps she could dissuade him from going through with the annulment. She had seduced him into marriage once, why not again? The trick was to make him think she wanted the annulment desperately.

By the time Lord Helford returned with Mrs. Bishop it was three o’clock in the afternoon. Summer liked her immediately. She had a comfortable figure with a large expanse of bosom and seemed to take charge immediately. Summer could see she was kind and generous but not above using bullying tactics if that’s what it took to make people obey her. In a glance Mrs. Bishop took in Summer’s expanded waistline and said firmly, “No more climbing stairs for you, young lady.”

Ruark laughed. “Bish will get obedience from you, even if I can’t.”

“But I must show you to your bedchamber, Mrs. Bishop.”

Bish pointed to her trunk and gave Ruark a speaking glance. “He’s got two strong legs, he can show me my room and the patient. Then I’ll be in the kitchen getting us all some supper.”

Summer hid a smile. “Lord Helford will help you, he’s very good at hauling wood for the fires.”

“I can haul my own wood. Lord Helford can look after his wife. A woman needs pampering when she’s carrying her first child.”

Ruark carried up Mrs. Bishop’s trunk and returned immediately. Summer felt so shy with him that she actually blushed. He had obviously stopped somewhere to shave and change his clothes, and as always he was immaculate. She had set up a chessboard in front of the fire and the elegantly appointed room was intimately inviting. She had brushed her hair until its silken black mass cloaked her shoulders and she had chosen a silk gown the color of crushed raspberries, which outlined her breasts and fell in soft folds to her feet.

Ruark’s eyes smoldered as they lingered on her luscious breasts. He glanced at the chessboard and she said breathlessly, “We didn’t finish our play.” She saw him harden at her words and averted her eyes as if she were still a maiden. Summer sat down on the love seat before the fire, and reaching behind a cushion, pulled out the leather-bound volume her father had given to her. “Ruark, you know I want this annulment every bit as much as you do, but I see no reason why we can’t remain friends.” Her voice had a whispery, seductive quality which sent shivers up Ruark’s back. “As a parting gift … as a token between friends … I want you to have this journal. It will probably make your job in Cornwall much easier and perhaps less dangerous.”

He sat down beside her and opened the book curiously. “What is it?” he asked as he saw the dates and places and names.

“It’s a record of wrongdoing … of smuggling … of wrecking … of selling information to the highest bidder. There’s everything in there from murder to treason and I’m ashamed to say that nearly every prominent family in Cornwall had one or more members involved. When my father died, he gave it to me so I could blackmail these rich families for money.”

“Summer, didn’t you trust me enough when we married to give it to me?” he asked.

“Ruark, when you married me, I fancied myself so much in love, I would have trusted you to the ends of the earth. I always meant you to have it, only I was so ashamed that my father was involved in such vile things.”

He put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so that he looked deeply into her eyes. “I know you well enough to know you have the guts to blackmail someone.”

“Damn you, blackmail isn’t my style!” she cried, forgetting her resolve not to swear in front of him. “Don’t you think it would have been easier for me to get money from the journal than dressing up as a highwayman and robbing coaches?” she demanded. “All because you left me penniless,” she added, outraged.

“Have you any idea how magnificently beautiful you are when you lose your temper? I get you angry on purpose sometimes just to watch you.” He took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips, lingering over each fingertip, each perfect nail oval. “Thank you for trusting me with the journal. I have discovered some of the treachery, of course, but it might have taken me years to ferret out all the bastards.”

His arm slid along the back of the love seat and his fingers began to play with her hair. “Ruark, I think Richard Grenvile is dead. I told you I saw him at Stowe when we were on our honeymoon. Do you remember?”

His arm came around her and he drew her to him. “Do I remember our honeymoon?” he asked huskily, a thousand erotic images stealing into his mind.

“I believe now that Grenvile was involved in treachery against the King. I think Rory killed him. I think you should be extremely careful around Rory.”

“Darling, I don’t intend to waste our lovely evening talking about that young devil, but I’ll put your mind at ease by telling you that Charles and I trust him completely. Don’t go sticking your pretty little nose in and messing things up,” he warned.

She brought her hands up against his chest; she could feel the crisp hairs beneath the snowy linen. She had warned him and it would be up to him to guard himself. She had no fear for him, for in a fight with any man, king or brother, he would emerge the victor. His closeness was having an unbelievable effect on her. Her senses were dizzy with the feel of him, the scent of him. “Now that the danger to Spencer is past, I suppose you’ll have to leave. …” she said wistfully.

“I’m staying,” he asserted.

“Staying to eat?” she asked innocently.

“Longer,” he said firmly.

Summer didn’t allow her expression to change but she was willing to bet he was “longer,” and if she teased him just a little more, she would feel his full length. “Oh, of course, I forgot our game,” she said, removing herself from the love seat.

He, too, stood up to remove his coat and pour them a little Chablis. “Winner’s choice,” he reminded her.

She took the proffered glass, accidentally brushing his hand with her fingertips, and said, “Let’s see, what do I want if I win?”

The tip of her tongue played about the edge of the glass and he said in a low, intense voice. “You know what I want.”

She teased him by giving him a hot, slanting glance and saying breathlessly, “I think you know what I want, Ru!”

He drained his glass and, slipping his hands around her back, pressed her buttocks forward so that her sensitive mons rubbed against his swollen sex. “What do you want, darling, tell me.”

She lifted her lips to within an inch of his and whispered, “The annulment, of course.”

“Damn,” he cursed, “you play the game well.”

“I had a superb teacher,” she said, tracing the outline of his top lip with her tongue. He swept her up into his arms, one hand going swiftly up her skirts to caress between her legs.

Mrs. Bishop pushed through the door, holding an enormous tray. “That’s right, carry her to the fire and I’ll set this tray right here in front of the love seat.” She gave Ruark a warning glance. “Don’t eat everything in sight; remember, she’s eating for two now.”