“Were these also at the palace in Algiers?” she asked in wonder.
“Actually we played with real people, slaves whose only purpose was to stand patiently while we made our moves.”
“How decadent,” she condemned.
“Yes, everything is decadent in Algeria, but they certainly know how to go about some things better than we do.”
“Such as?” she challenged with raised chin. The carved king sat upon a throne and he lifted her until she was sitting in its lap and on an eye level with him.
“They train their women in ways to please men. A beautiful woman’s main purpose in life is making love, and she is kept locked away in a harem where other men can never see her.” His lips brushed hers.
She said breathlessly, “Surely that isn’t what you want for me?”
“Of course it’s what I want, if I’m being truthful.”
She could feel the heat from his strong hands as they encircled her waist. His thumbs caressed the organdy beneath her breasts. She giggled. “I prefer the way it is in England, where I may sit upon the King’s knee if I so desire.”
“You little witch. If Charles ever looks at you, I’ll kill him.” He lifted her down from her wooden perch. The evening shadows had begun to lengthen and he drew her inside the maze, where they were completely private. “I’m going to taste you now,” he said raggedly. His hands brought her closer until his hips just touched her. His nostrils flared with the scent of her and his hand slipped up beneath her hair to hold her head captive for his ravishment.
“Open your mouth to me, darling, I want you to know what it feels like when a part of me is inside you.”
She felt the thrill of the kiss all the way down to her knees. She clung to him so that she would not fall. His hands burned her through the delicate material, his mouth also was burning hot and ruthlessly demanding. A curl of fire began in the pit of her stomach and stretched its fiery fingers upward to her breasts and downward to between her legs. She cried out, “Ruark, Ruark,” as her need awoke and grew apace with his.
“I can’t let you go tonight,” he told her fiercely.
“I know that,” she said softly, feeling his hard erection pressed against her until she learned how it throbbed and pulsed.
He tried to still his blood so that he wouldn’t take her under the hedge like a servant girl. He knew this was her first experience with a man, and if he wasn’t careful he would rush her through her deflowering with alarming speed. Though he was almost consumed by a towering lust, he managed not to undress her while they were still outdoors.
Instead he gathered her beneath a powerful arm and led her back to the hall. As they passed the table outside the French doors she picked up the flame hibiscus and tucked it between her breasts. He took the wine which had been left to cool, and oblivious to the world, they entered a small sitting room with a comfortable couch and sank down upon it in the darkness. The room was so shadowed that only the whiteness of her gown and his fine shirt could be discerned in the velvety dark. He pressed her back against the cushions, intending to enjoy her to the full.
Because she was a maiden, she had been bound by a strange reserve until now when she knew their moment had come. “Oh, Ruark, I love you so much,” she cried.
His hand had just begun its ascent under her gown and up her leg. Her words made him realize he was about to ravish her with lust when she deserved to be initiated with love.
Summer knew she would not draw back now. She wanted what he wanted. Whatever happened to him would happen to her, any feeling or movement or sensation would be shared by both. Love happened when two people had no barriers between them, no shame, no reserve, no pride even.
His hands slipped beneath her back to undo the tiny buttons of her bodice, but her hands were there before his to aid his possession of her. However, as his fingers encountered hers, he thought she was trying to prevent him from removing her gown and he sat up and uttered a mild oath.
He lit a candle and gazed at her exquisite loveliness in the candleglow. “My Lady Summer St. Catherine, will you marry me?”
One heartbeat passed.
“My Lord Ruark Helford, I will.”
He groaned and took her into his arms. She hoped that in the morning he would remember his proposal, but she was so much in love with him it didn’t really matter.
Ruark arose from the couch and straightened his clothes. Then he lit all the candles in the room. Under the blazing light Summer felt the need to rearrange her gown and smooth her wildly cascading curls.
Ruark went to the door and summoned Mr. Burke. Summer’s cheeks were flushed, and her breath caught in her throat as she heard Ruark say, “I’m sorry to put you to the trouble, Mr. Burke, but would you be good enough to go down to Helston and fetch the parson?” As he turned back to her, he saw that her eyes were like stars and he knew he had made her happy. He plucked the hibiscus from her breasts and bore it away with him. “Wait just where you are, darling, I have something that will go much better with your lovely wedding gown.”
She sat entranced, thinking surely her heart would burst with happiness. Lord Helford had actually asked her to marry him. She wasn’t dreaming. He’d sent for the parson!
Ruark came back downstairs with a set of velvet jewel cases. He held out his hand and drew her to the tall mirror set above the mantel of the fireplace. The large case held a high necklace with six strands of rubies. Summer gasped as he clasped them about her neck and bent to place a kiss upon her exposed nape.
“These aren’t for me?” she asked in disbelief.
He took out matching bracelets and slipped them over her wrists. “I heard a rumor that Lady Helford was particularly partial to rubies.” He picked up the matching ring and slipped it into his pocket.
“Lady Helford,” she breathed, wondering if she would faint dead away before the parson could be brought.
Ruark bade a servant fetch two cases of wine from the cellars and another to carry in a couple of hogsheads from the alehouse, while Summer, womanlike, admired her reflection in the mirror and held up her arms to catch the reflection of the bloodred rubies.
It was a half hour before Mr. Burke returned with the agitated parson. He was a large man with a shaggy, gray head and an air of authority.
“Welcome to Helford Hall; I have asked you here to perform a wedding ceremony, Mr. Rashleigh,” said Ruark, offering his hand.
The clergyman ignored the hand and drew heavy gray brows together. “I’ve already explained to your man that will be impossible; however, the fool insisted I explain matters to you myself.”
Ruark’s eyebrows rose slightly at his tone. Summer glanced apprehensively at the men, clearly recognizing that both liked to be in control of all situations, and a small battle of wills was inevitable.
“In order for a marriage to take place, banns must be posted,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “When your proclamation of marriage has been read out three times from my church, I shall be happy to consecrate your union, Lord Helford.”
Ruark smiled blandly. “I am the head magistrate in Cornwall. I have the power to waive the banns, and I do so, Mr. Rashleigh.”
The parson opened his mouth to speak and closed it again firmly as he thought better of it.
Summer and Mr. Burke exchanged a significant look—one that said, had there ever been any doubt whose will would prevail?
Ruark told Mr. Burke to assemble all the servants in the hall. He held the door for the clergyman and said quietly, “Fifteen minutes, Mr. Rashleigh.”
When they were alone, Ruark closed the distance between them and gathered her close.
“Do you always get your own way so easily, milord?”
“Always,” he said, his eyes playing with hers.
“With women, too, milord?” she pressed.
“Especially with women,” he teased.
“Perhaps I shall prove the exception,” she said boldly, and withdrew from the circle of his arms. He slanted an e
yebrow at her, but she turned to the mirror to adjust her curls. Let him wait and wonder. She was not going to let this wealthy, arrogant young lord think she was easy. She had been the first to declare her love, and yet, she told herself, it had definitely been that passionate declaration which had made him propose.
She watched his image behind her deep in the mirror and hated with a passion all the women he’d known. She couldn’t bear the thought of his mouth tasting another. He was hers and she’d never, ever share him! The thought of kissing brought her eyes to Ruark’s mouth and she began to tremble.
He was beside her in an instant. “Love, what is it? Are you unsure about doing this?”
She turned from the mirror and looked into his eyes. “I want to do it with all my heart,” she told him truthfully.
“That is indeed fortunate, for I cannot give you up. I want you and I want you tonight.” She thought his eyes were like emerald fire as he took her hand and led her to the great hall.
Panic took hold of her for a moment when she saw the vast assembly of servants. She was living a lie, one which would be revealed any moment. She had lived like an urchin, running wild, catching meals whenever the opportunity presented itself. How could she masquerade as a great lady and run a household of fifty servants? Then she saw Mr. Burke eyeing her with approval and suddenly it was all right. Somehow she would pull it off.
She was the center of attention and somehow it had been inevitable that she wear the white gown tonight. With Ruark’s strong arm at her back she stood proudly beside him, allowing the servants to satisfy their curiosity about her.
He held up his hand and the hum of low voices was stilled. “This is Lady Summer St. Catherine, who is to become my bride tonight. She is the first bride to come to Helford Hall since my mother came over thirty years ago.” The servants applauded in unison. “I want you to be part of our wedding. I want you to open your hearts to her and take her inside, as I have. It is some sort of miracle that I found she has lived just next door her whole life. I like to think she has been waiting for me her whole life.”
I have, thought Summer. It was like a revelation. What strange thoughts flitted through her head as large, craggy-faced Mr. Rashleigh helped them exchange vows. First she noticed that the parson had tobacco stains on his fingers and knew with a certainty he was not averse to a bit of honest smuggling. Then she noticed that most of the servants were fat with the exception of those who worked in the stables. They had gorged themselves on the bounty of Helford Hall while she and Spider had almost starved. Then she heard the clergyman admonish Ruark, “Husband, love thy wife as you would your own body. A man shall be joined unto his wife and they shall become one flesh. This is a great mystery.”
Very soon Ruark would indeed join his body to hers, and she cast him a swift apprehensive glance. She thought with alarm, He is so solemn, so controlled. His dark hair was clubbed back severely, his brooding thoughts unreadable. Suddenly she had the urge to see him disheveled and wildly out of control. She knew the need to shatter his composure into a million pieces and a small wicked voice inside her taunted, Will you be the one to do it?
“I will, I will!” she vowed, and the assembled servants murmured their approval that the lady had put her whole heart into her response. Now the bloodred ruby ring was pushed on her finger and he was bending to give her the matrimonial kiss, and instead of closing her eyes, she looked into his to see them darken with desire. She was aware of how her loveliness affected him by the way his avid eyed devoured her.
“You look happy,” she murmured.
“I have very simple tastes; I am always satisfied with the best.” He hugged her to him quickly before he turned her to face the staff. Mr. Burke stepped forward to present her with a great ring of chatelaine keys and one by one the scullery maids, the kitchen maids, the cooks, the upstairs maids, the parlor maids, and the housekeeper came forward to give their curtsy to the new mistress. There was a strict pecking order and Summer learned it for the first time.
Next came the males of the household. First were the spitboys and the bootboys, followed by the stableboys. Next came the gardeners, the grooms, the footmen, the fat gamekeeper, and lastly Mr. Burke, who completed the circle and took back the symbolic keys. Summer gave him a grateful smile and in response his left eyelid closed in a solemn wink.
The footmen were busy serving everyone drinks so they could toast the new bride and groom. The women took wine, while the men were served ale. Ruark took the glass from Summer’s hand and put it back on the silver tray. “You’ll need no wine to fire your blood, my darling,” he murmured low. He was in a fever of impatience to get his new bride alone. He had included the servants because he wanted to do things properly. She was Lady Helford and he wanted them to love and respect her, wanted every last one of them to know that she was his virgin bride. But his frustration mounted relentlessly as he waited for everyone to leave. It took a will of iron to suppress his raging hunger.
Finally the servants filed from the hall and began buzzing like hornets. By the time they were alone, she could feel his nearness reaching out to her. She looked at his mouth, imagining it covering her own, and grew faint with desire. He took her small hand in his strong one, but instead of leading her upstairs as she expected, he took her through the front door.
She looked at him with a question, then he swept her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold. She slipped her arms about his neck and whispered provocatively, “Carry me all the way to bed.”
Lord God, how lucky could he get? His virgin bride was in a playful and seductive mood. With his arm beneath her knees he started up the stairs. “You’ve never even seen the house, love, but I beg you won’t ask for a tour tonight,” he teased. At the top of the magnificent staircase he turned into the south wing and entered his suite.
“There’s something else I’ve never seen that’s much more important.”
He set her feet to the thick carpet but held her touching him all the way down. “What, darling?” he asked huskily.
“I’ve never seen a naked man … and I want to.” She removed the black ribbon from his clubbed cue and ran her fingers through his hair, tousling it until it fell wildly about his shoulders. “You undress first,” she suggested wickedly, thoroughly bemused he was more than happy to do anything she asked.
“Wed half an hour and already you’re being cruel to your husband,” he said, removing his shirt. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to see your legs? I’ve never glimpsed more than your ankles.”
She laughed and lifted her skirts to display her lacy stockings. Ruark’s mouth went dry. Her legs were so long and slim he couldn’t believe it. She dropped her skirts and watched as his hands undid his belt, growing more and more excited as his strong body was slowly bared. She didn’t lower her lashes and blush, but looked at him intently, her eyes taking in every detail of his splendor.
His hands stopped just short of removing his breeches. He had opened them and lowered them to his hips, but he was so afraid of alarming her and destroying the playful mood that he suddenly sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. He held out his hand to her in invitation. “Come close, let me touch you,” he begged.
She came to him slowly, shaking her head in denial. “No, I want to touch you first.” She sat down beside him on the bed and reached out a finger to trace the strong line of his jaw. His shoulders were impossibly wide and well muscled and her hand caressed him, her fingers delighting in the heavy mat of crisp hair which narrowed into a dark line running down his belly and spreading out again just at the place his pants still covered his groin.
She reached out her hand to touch him, but hesitated as if the feel of him would be too much to bear in her great excitement. Gently, he covered her hand and slowly forced it forward to brush over his swollen phallus. The moment she touched him his manroot jumped wildly as it filled with more blood.
“Oh!” she said in surprise, and quickly withdrew her hand.
“Ah love, don’t stop touching me,” he begged.
She reached out to him again because she couldn’t help herself, but carefully avoided the still-unknown, mysterious male organ. “Ruark Helford, you are tempting as sin,” she breathed as her palm caressed the slabs of muscle in his chest.
His arms crushed her to him and with his mouth against hers he said, “You know nothing of sin … yet!”
“I’m not finished looking, I’ve only just begun.”
He laughed with pleasure deep in his throat. He rolled her beneath him and spread her arms wide. He hung above her, falling deeper in love with every heartbeat. “Is your curiosity not satisfied?” He laughed.
“No, it will never be satisfied,” she breathed.
He kissed the sweet corners of her mouth. “Am I as you expected so far?”
“No, no. You are much more exciting than I ever dreamed and … and you feel so big … here.” Her hand escaped his and went to the place between their bodies where his hardness pressed into her soft belly. Her hand found the opening in his pants and the tips of her fingers grazed the head of his shaft. It felt like she had burned him. “I didn’t expect you’d be covered by black hair down there, but I love it!”
“Don’t you have black curls between your pretty legs?” he teased.
“Yes, how did you know?” she asked ingenuously, and he was reminded with a jolt of just how inexperienced she was.
Ruark’s hands slipped beneath her back to deftly undo the tiny buttons at the back of her lovely white gown. It reminded him of the white nightgown she’d worn when he first glimpsed her, and his throat went dry with desire. When she felt him undressing her, she slipped her arms from her sleeves and allowed him to remove it entirely.
She lay beneath him in her lacy shift and stockings, and he devoured her with eyes which were stained almost black with suppressed passion.
The Pirate and the Pagan Page 13
