The Pirate and the Pagan

by Virginia Henley

To add insult to injury, Spider, on the ride home, said, “You know, Cat, if you intend to wed Lord Helford, I think you’d better reform.”

  “Before or after we smuggle the Brussels lace aboard his vessel?” she asked dryly.

  Next morning the fog lay thick upon the sea, blanketing everything farther than a foot from her nose. The weather never deterred Summer from her dawn ritual, however, so she donned her breeches and walked the mile to the stables at the Helford estate. The grooms and stableboys were familiar with her long-legged figure by now, but this morning they only nodded politely instead of the usual friendly greeting.

  Ebony whinnied his welcome, however, as she moved forward into the loose box and picked up his bridle. She turned quickly at a sound behind her and saw the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Ruark enter the box with her.

  “I don’t like it,” he said gravely, looming over her in the dawn’s half-light.

  “My masculine attire?” she asked, laughing.

  “Masculine?” he puzzled, remembering she’d said that before. The figure-revealing breeches and lawn shirt showed off much too much woman in his opinion.

  “No, love, I don’t like you riding in this fog. It’s dangerous.”

  “That’s the reason I love to do it,” she teased. “What music, drink, or love does for most, danger does for me.”

  He groaned and pulled her into his arms. Her words had hardened him instantly. He pressed her against his arousal and dipped his head to taste her luscious mouth. He was dressed in formal navy blue as befitted his office and regretted that if he laid her in the hay, he would be covered with the telltale straws. “When are we going to have more than a few stolen minutes together?” he murmured thickly against her mouth.

  She gave him a tiny kiss. “This week?” She gave him another tiny kiss. “Next week?” She kissed him again. “Sometime?” And again. “Never?”

  “I swear I’ll run mad if you keep teasing me. Next week will be even busier than this one. Charles’s mother and sister are coming from France for a visit. They’ll be sailing into Portsmouth in a fortnight, so next week Charles and a lot of the court are coming first to Plymouth while he inspects his navy firsthand.”

  “Will he go to war against Holland?” she asked.

  He kissed her nose. “You ask too many questions. I’ll be away tonight. Will you come tomorrow night?”

  She clung to him in the dimly lit privacy of the loose box, trying to control the restless devils inside her who fought and struggled for release. She wondered if all women in love were torn between two impulses. She longed to throw modesty to the winds and urge him to make love to her, and yet the thought kept intruding to be cool, aloof, utterly detached. Perhaps she should die rather than be the first to admit a thing so personal and intimate as love. “I don’t know if I will come or not,” she said with brutal honesty. “I know I should not, but if I cannot keep away from you, than I shall come.”

  “Summer, by letting me set the pace, you are forcing me to act honorably toward you.” He ran a possessive hand down her back. “God’s flesh, ’tis the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “Act honorably?” she murmured, full of devilry.

  He laughed. “Oh God, I want to be so dishonorable with you.”

  “Mmmm,” she said, licking her lips over the thought. Her restless horse, tired of waiting, walked out of the stall without her and she pulled out of Ruark’s arms to follow him.

  He whispered huskily, “I’ll come home early tomorrow night, and I’ll try my best not to act dishonorably.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Then perhaps I won’t come after all,” she teased unmercifully.

  After her morning ride Summer kept Ebony to crop the lawns and was thankful she wouldn’t need to water the vegetables today because the heavy morning fog had taken care of that chore.

  Spider fashioned three wooden crates which looked as if they might hold paintings while Summer wrote a letter about the Brussels lace to Auntie Lil. She packed the lace lovingly, making good use of the oilskins, and Spider nailed the crates closed.

  By eight o’clock he was on his way to Falmouth in the ponycart and Summer reckoned the lace should add another couple of thousand pounds to their savings. She carried water from the well and set it to boil for the washing, then as she scrubbed the linen her mind never left Ruark Helford.

  All her time was running out and she knew he must make her his mistress soon if she was to obligate him with her debts. Once they had become intimate, she hoped he would be loving and generous enough to forgive her deceptions. She would have to choose very carefully the perfect moment when she would confess all.

  He was going away again next week and heaven only knew when he would return once he was reunited with the King and court. So she decided she must make it happen. Tomorrow night he must make love to her!

  When Spider returned, he had brought food from Falmouth. He unhitched the cart and set his pony to crop the lawns with Ebony. Over lunch he told her how smoothly it had gone when he carried the crates aboard himself and stowed them in the cargo hold. Lord Helford instructed Mr. Cully to deliver them to Lady Richwood when the ship docked in London and then, Spider said, the magistrate had ridden off to Plymouth, no doubt to condemn the poor bastards from Brittany who were imprisoned there, awaiting their sentence.

  Later in the afternoon when Spider saddled the bay, she asked him where he was going. “When I checked the lobster traps this morning, they were empty, so I thought I’d ride up the Helford River and do a spot of fishing.”

  She sighed with relief, for he was getting to an age where he wasn’t going to listen to a woman’s admonitions to be careful, not even his sister’s. When he hadn’t returned by dusk, she felt uneasy, then when it turned full dark, she could not dispel a nagging worry. When a knock came upon the front door, her heart plummeted. A shabby urchin handed her a scrap of paper. “Spider’s been taken,” he said breathlessly.

  “You mean arrested?” she cried.

  He nodded. “Excise men.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. She closed her eyes and grasped hold of the lintel. “Where have they taken him?”

  The boy shook his head, so she looked at the paper on which were scrawled two words, “Falmouth jail.” “Aren’t you the Penrose boy from the tavern in Helston?”

  He nodded, “They got my da’ an’ my brother, too,” he gasped.

  She thanked him and gave him some coppers. “Run home to your mother, she’ll need a strong lad like you.”

  She wondered if she might be able to bribe Spider’s way out and ran upstairs to get money from the cash box. Should she get dressed up, sweep in telling them she was Lady Summer St. Catherine, and demand his release? No, if she knew Spider, they hadn’t the faintest idea who he was, so it would be best to dress shabbily this first time and hope she could learn something.

  She put on her gardening skirt and wrapped a shawl about her, then she rode the pony to Falmouth. She put the shawl over her head and had no trouble gaining access to the prison. She wasn’t the only woman hastening to the jail this night. All those who had been arrested for unlawful importation were housed in a common cell and not a few of them stood at the bars talking to their anxious womenfolk. Her brother motioned her over quickly. “Don’t worry about me, Cat, I’m fine. The short, thickset man over there is Bulldog Brown … they’ve got me down as Spider Brown. We don’t come up before Helford for three weeks, so for Christ’s sake promise me you won’t let this spoil things for you. Don’t dare tell him or he’ll never wed you!”

  “You can’t stay here for three weeks,” she protested.

  “’Course I can. We’ll just sit here and eat our heads off.”

  Penrose grinned at her. “I’m going to offer our jailers some cider from the pub to keep us in good stead.”

  “You see?” demanded Spider. “A deep draft of local cider will have us lying in the gutter every night with our toes in the air, so stop worrying about me and
get on with more important business.”

  She nodded. She wouldn’t tell him she’d brought money as a bribe. She didn’t want to give him false hopes if it didn’t work. She turned to seek out an officer, but before she could leave, Spider had her firmly by the wrist. “Promise me you’ll pretend all is well when you see him.”

  She bit her lip and whispered, “I promise.”

  “Good girl. Now I have a really lousy job for you, Cat, but you’ve got to do it.” He looked at her anxiously. “That bastard Oswald who caught us shot the bay out from under me. I don’t think the swine killed him—he just left him there on the beach. You’ll have to go and finish him off, Cat.”

  Her heart flooded with anguish. What sort of swine would leave a horse to die a slow agonizing death as its lifeblood seeped away? She felt for her money and hurried to the ward room. Fate was laughing at her this night. Sergeant Oswald sneered, saying, “Well, well, if it isn’t Helford’s whore. There’s no denying it this time. I caught them with the barrels. Which one are you connected with?”

  “I came on behalf of Mrs. Penrose at the tavern. You have both her husband and her son,” she said quietly.

  He leered down at her, his red face sweating. “I don’t think spreading your legs will do you any good this time.”

  She couldn’t get away from him fast enough. She urged the pony into a fast trot, wishing Spider had ridden this surefooted little beast who knew the cliff paths so well and probably wouldn’t have been spotted in the dark.

  Back home at Roseland she carefully loaded one of the pistols, put some fresh water into a bucket, and climbed down the cliff path to the beach. Halfway down she spotted the bay lying on the shingle, his maimed body making a grotesque mound in the moonlight.

  Summer prayed he was dead, but before she even got close she could hear him heaving. She knew he would be unable to eat— that’s why she hadn’t brought an apple or oats—but she knew with his lifeblood trickling from him, he would have an unbearable thirst.

  She dug the bucket of water down into the sand beside his muzzle and with soft soothing words lifted his head to help him drink. He drained the bucket, his great sides heaving and quivering with the effort. “Good boy,” she whispered as she put the pistol behind his velvet ear and pulled the trigger.

  It flashed and kicked in her hand, and if she hadn’t been kneeling, it would probably have knocked her off her feet. She sat quietly a long time to make sure he was dead, then when the eternal tide crept up to wash about his hooves, she arose and let the sea have him.

  That night she didn’t sleep, of course. Her feelings were so intense she felt like screaming. If she could scream loudly enough, she felt that some of her tension might dissolve. She agonized over her brother, but at least she knew the Falmouth prison was no hellhole like the larger one in Plymouth. Finally she realized that Spider was right. The best way she could help him was to carry through her plans to secure her position with Ruark Helford and she had no more days or nights to waste.

  Now that the moment had arrived, she was suddenly reluctant. She realized with dismay she was battling her conscience. Until now she hadn’t realized she had a conscience. What sort of person could deliberately and dishonestly use someone they cared about for financial gain? She lay quietly, weighing the alternatives. If she were the only one involved, she would have abandoned her dishonest plans. If she lost Roseland as a result, then so be it; but now that Spider was in such serious trouble, she knew she would have to carry on with the deception. She would use Ruark to help her brother, but she promised herself fervently that she would never cheat him. She would be faithful and generous and give back in full measure whatever he did for her.

  The warm fog the day before had been a prelude to the subtropical weather the gulf stream had brought this heavenly summer day. In the afternoon Summer took a long bath and washed her hair, letting the sun dry it until it was a dark mass of silken curls. Then she opened her wardrobe and went over its contents.

  She had only one gown left which Ruark hadn’t yet seen. It was a white, silk organdy with puffed sleeves, a low, heart-shaped neckline, and a skirt billowing with yards and yards of delicious organdy from the tiniest waist.

  She put on lacy stockings and shift, blushing as she did so, for she knew before the night was over his eyes would see everything beneath the gown. Its waist was so nipped in, she found it difficult to breathe, or was it the thought of what was yet to come which made her so breathless?

  By early evening none of the heat had left the day, so she didn’t bother with a cloak. She made sure the house was safely locked up, and since she hadn’t returned Ebony to the Helford stables the day before, she rode him back now, very slowly, so that she wouldn’t be disheveled when she arrived.

  At the stables there were a half-dozen grooms and stableboys ready to help her dismount and care for Ebony. She smiled her thanks and walked slowly up to the hall. Mr. Burke met her at the front door and led her to the south wing, through tall French doors, out onto a terrace where a profusion of bougainvillea and other tropical blooms had turned it into a sheltered paradise.

  Ruark had been sitting on the edge of a fountain until he saw her, then he arose and came forward eagerly. “Sweetheart, I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  “I don’t believe you’ve ever been afraid in your life,” she said prettily, laughing up into his eyes.

  He took both her hands, holding her at arm’s length to drink in her beauty, then he enfolded her in his arms for a moment of delicious possession. ’Ods blood, she would wear white tonight. It was like a symbol of her purity. He pushed away the thought with determination, for his mind was made up. He would wait no longer.

  He stooped to pick an exotic, flame-colored hibiscus and offered it to her. She gazed up at him with unfathomable eyes. She knew tonight would be different. Before, he had always given her cream-colored roses. She reached out for the flaming hibiscus and Ruark knew that tonight she would come to him fully.

  He was instantly conscious of the blood flowing hot and thick in his veins and of the heavy, unbearable ache which suddenly flooded his loins. Keeping hold of her hand, he drew her to the fountain. Its centerpiece was a small dolphin carved from jade with the water spouting high from its mouth, then falling into a three-tiered waterfall. The pool was lined with jade green tile where the orange and black carp made a startling contrast.

  “It’s like paradise,” she murmured, her eyes sweeping the flowering trees which enclosed the terrace. Yellow laburnum dangled its blossoms next to the mauve blooms of a glorious magnolia. Small flowering almond were backed by large masses of fuchsia-colored rhododendrons.

  “I had it copied from an Ottoman palace in Algiers on the Mediterranean.”

  Summer’s eyes widened. “There are so many things I don’t know about you.”

  “And I you,” he said huskily, “but we can remedy that.” He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to the pulse in her wrist and smiled as it fluttered erratically. Holding her eyes with his, he said, “Some people can know each other in a few hours, but with others it takes a lifetime. Which do you suppose it will be with us?”

  She shook her head and said softly, “I hope our time together is not too fleeting … like these beautiful blooms … they’ll all be gone in a week … it seems such a waste.”

  “Beauty enjoyed at its peak is never a waste,” he said suggestively. “That is why I thought we should dine out here this evening.”

  A footman was putting the finishing touches to a small table he had set up just outside the tall French doors and Ruark, still hand-clasped, led her over to it. Summer didn’t think she’d be able to eat a thing. A million butterflies’ wings were fluttering inside her stomach and the hot evening was not conducive to a large meal.

  Ruark held her chair and obediently she sat and unfolded her napkin. He took his place across from her so that he could make love to her with his eyes. He poured her a goblet of pale Chablis and their fingers touched i
ntimately as he handed it to her.

  Her eyebrows rose slightly, questioning him on its potency. He was pleased they could communicate without words. He shook his head to assure her it was harmless enough and she sipped it delicately, letting the cool liquid stay on her tongue each time before she swallowed it.

  The meal had been chosen with a sure hand to appeal to both the eye and the palate on such a hot night. The footman served smoked salmon and cucumber aspic as a first course, and Summer sighed with delight at the marked contrast it made from the usual rough fare she normally ate. Then came cold capon with cherry sauce and chilled asparagus spears.

  She blushed as she tasted the capon, thinking irreverently that this wasn’t the first time she’d dined on one of his fine cockerels. He noticed her cheeks of course, for his eyes never seemed to leave her face.

  His hand closed over hers and he urged, “Tell me what prompts your lovely blush.”

  She let her lashes sweep to her cheeks. “It’s secret, Lord Helford.”

  “I insist upon Ruark. Surely you are not too shy to use my Christian name?”

  She lifted her lashes and gave him a dazzling smile. “I am not shy, Ruark; everything I say and do is imprudent, I fear.” The sexual tension stretched taut between them. The very air seemed to hold its breath.

  At her words his flesh reacted instantly, swelling, filling, aching for her. Her eyes were on his mouth and immediately she imagined it kissing her own, then going lower to taste the hard little fruits of her nipples as he had that morning on the sand.

  Ruark’s eyes were dark and intense with passion. Always when he thought of her, he wished himself deep within her. His eyes lingered on her lips and he longed to watch them open and cry out with passion as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside her.

  The footman hovered with dessert, but they were oblivious to anything but each other. It was as if they were alone in the universe. He arose and came around the table to lift her against his heart. “My darling, your beauty has no equal.” He set her feet down upon the terrace flagstones, but hugged her to his side with one possessive arm. They wandered down the garden toward a huge outdoor chess set with life-size carved knights and rooks.