The men crowded round Summer, offering to show her the pond, the medieval dovecote, and the great gallery with its magnificent plasterworks decorating the long ceiling, vividly depicting stories from the Old Testament, which had made Stowe famous.
Finally, Ruark’s scowls and black looks informed the eager men that if his wife needed escorting anywhere, he would do it and at the moment the only place to which he intended escorting her was to their private bedchamber.
The room assigned them on the third floor was elegantly appointed with gold brocade window curtains and bedhangings. The carpet was worked in blue and gold and the furnishings looked as if they had been brought over from France. “Oh, how lovely,” cried Summer when she walked in. A gilt slipper bath stood in one corner behind an ornate screen and a tall wardrobe with mirrored doors stood next to it.
“If this is more to your taste than our bedchamber at Helford, feel free to redecorate, darling. I suppose my room is furnished in very masculine taste.” He was being indulgent with her and she loved him for it.
“To tell you the truth the only thing I saw last night was you, Ruark,” she said, blushing. They were not yet alone. A maid and a manservant had been provided for them by their host and they busied themselves unpacking and hanging the clothes in the wardrobe. Servants always knew everything about guests by way of gossip, for they were in a position to know intimate secrets. The man and girl knew this couple was honeymooning and worked rapidly so that they could be left alone for a couple of hours. The manservant brought a decanter of wine and glasses and the maid drew the curtains and turned down the bed, murmuring about an afternoon nap, then they discreetly withdrew.
Summer threw wide the curtains to let in the afternoon sunshine, saying with scorn, “Naps are for babes and old people.”
Ruark’s arms slipped about her from behind and fastened beneath her breasts. “I think ‘nap’ is just a euphemism, darling, for other things we will do in bed.”
“Oh,” she said, realizing her naïveté. “But won’t we be expected downstairs? I know our host and hostess must have all sorts of things planned for our entertainment.”
“Nothing as entertaining as what I have planned,” he said, nuzzling her neck and biting her small ear.
“But Ru, if we don’t go back down, they will guess what we are doing up here.”
“Exactly! And every last one of them will be green with envy.” His hands cupped her breasts and pulled her back against his body so that she could feel he was ready for love. “Leave the drapes open, my darling, the first time I take you in broad daylight I want to see your body flush with passion.” He turned her from the window and took her in his arms.
The intensity of his kiss gave evidence of his starved senses. Her eager hands helped him as he undressed her then aided in his own disrobing. Each time she glimpsed their naked bodies in the tall mirrors, shards of excitement stabbed through her until the hunger of her loins became insatiable.
With a growl of passion he lifted her high then brought her slowly down his body. His crisp mat of hair rubbed first her thighs, then her mons and belly, and finally her soft round breasts as her body slid down his. He brought her down directly onto his up-thrusting shaft, impaling her with pleasure, then with his hands cupped beneath her buttocks he walked directly up to the mirror so that she could watch what he did to her. He played out the penetration game to its limit, knowing it was one of the most pleasurable parts of love play for a woman, then he carried her to the bed so that his body could fulfill its purpose.
Ruark’s mouth was unbearably tender as he kissed her face, lingering on her eyelids and along her lovely slanting cheekbones, then his mouth found hers and he began to kiss her less gently. Gradually his mouth became demanding, punishing with urgent hunger.
Summer knew he had been denied too long. She reached down toward his hardness.
“Don’t!” he ordered. “I’ll spill myself on you.”
His words aroused her further, knowing, as she did, that her hands could drive him as wild as his did her, and make him lose control of himself. Then all thought vanished with the impact of his hungry lovemaking and she learned the devastation of his possession when it was urgent and fierce and frantic.
When he was finished with her, she was only a heartbeat away from semiconsciousness and she fell deeply asleep in his arms.
* * *
After a small knock the maid entered their bedchamber and Summer scrambled behind Ruark and peeped over his shoulder.
“I weel draw your bath, madame,” the little maid said in her French accent. “If you weel tell me which gown you weel wear tonight, I can do your hair verry special to match, no?”
“No,” said Summer.
“Yes,” said Ruark.
The maid set the fresh sheets she was carrying on a small table beside the bed, and Summer blushed hotly at the fact that the maid had known the bed would need changing after their lovemaking.
Ruark said, “Madame will wear her white gown tonight as befits a bride.”
“Oh, Ru, ’tis so plain, did you not see the gorgeous brocades and satins the ladies wore downstairs? And that was just for afternoon. Imagine what they will wear tonight!”
“Sweet love, wear the white for me tonight and tomorrow I’ll buy you a dozen brocades and satins,” he promised.
The manservant brought them a light meal on a tray, for the formal dinner at Stowe would not be served until eight. The maid took out a busk for Summer to wear beneath the lovely white organdy and it made quite a difference to her appearance. The short, tight little corset forced her breasts high and took two inches off her waist. Then the maid showed off her skills as a hairdresser. She arranged kiss curls about Summer’s face and swept the rest up into a style known as “Heartbreaker.” When her dress was carefully donned, more than half of her beautiful breasts were exposed and she called Ruark to put on her rubies so she could gauge his reaction.
He was wearing midnight blue satin breeches and his arousal at the sight of her was quite visible. “Is it necessary to expose your breasts in that fashion?” he asked, frowning.
“Mais oui,” assured the maid, “thees way no one weel whisper that they are false.”
Ruark took up the ruby necklace and smiled into Summer’s eyes. “There’s not much point in wearing these … no one will even notice them.”
“Oh, darling, I’d feel naked without them.”
“You would be naked without them,” he teased.
She slipped the bracelets up her arms and admired her reflection in the looking glass.
His lips brushed her ear. “I’ll have to buy you some more jewels.”
“No, Ru, you’ve already been too generous,” she protested.
“I’m very vain about my wife. I enjoy giving you jewels and trinkets. Let me spoil you. Come on, I want to show you off downstairs.”
“Can we look at the gardens first?” she pleaded, slipping the ribbon of her fan over her arm.
He fastened a slim sword on his hip. “I might need this to keep the men away from you. They’ll be jumping out from behind every bush.”
The magnificent ivy-covered home of the Grenviles stood in a two-hundred-and-fifty-acre park. Its gardens were on many different levels as they descended the valley below the house, and contained ponds, rills, old yew hedges, terraced flower borders, and trees which bloomed in their turn every month of the year—from camellias, azaleas, and magnolias to the great copper beeches which shaded the walks.
All the ladies had decided to view the gardens at the same time and had persuaded the gentlemen to escort them, but none would venture beyond the stone walks for fear of soiling their fancy evening slippers. None, that is, except Summer, who took her husband’s hand and led him to the more lush and secluded garden paths. They came upon a small spring with mossy walls which opened up into a brook with floating wildflowers. Summer was enchanted by it. “Oh, Ruark, could we have a water garden?”
He pulled her into his arm
s. “You may have anything you desire.”
She sighed blissfully and leaned against him. She loved him very much and knew just how lucky she had been to find such a generous and loving man, who was going to take care of all the worries that had dogged her young years. She felt she had been kissed by the gods!
On the way back they stopped in at the cider house and shared a loving cup. It was so strong she pretended to stagger and he offered to carry her. She shook her head, laughing. “We’d cause a scandal. Wives aren’t supposed to love their husbands, ’tis unfashionable. You had better pick a lady to receive your attentions at dinner. The lovely Lady Castlemaine perhaps?”
“She’s no lady,” he said low, giving her his undivided attention. “She’s too overblown for my taste and another drawback with Babs is her fecundity. All Charles has to do is throw his breeches on the bed and she’s up the stick.”
By this time they had reentered the house and there across the room was the woman they were discussing. Summer couldn’t stop laughing. He bent his lips to her ear. “She’s also …”
Summer gave him a sharp slap with her fan and hissed, “Ruark, stop!”
Barbara Castlemaine swept across the room to them. She wore a wine-colored gown in the identical shade of dark red as her hair. The gown was the latest fashion, split down the front to expose a gold-tissue petticoat, and the sleeves were decorated with yards of gold ribbon. She wore a necklace and matching ear bobs of golden topaz.
“Helford,” she drawled, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She was looking Summer up and down critically, thinking the white gown ridiculously missish, but the rubies were not to be dismissed lightly.
Ruark’s manners were faultless. He bowed low and said, “My Lady Castlemaine, may I present my wife, Lady Summer St. Catherine Helford?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ruark Helford married? Since when?”
“Since last evening at this hour,” he said.
Summer flushed and fanned herself furiously.
A little pigeon to be plucked, thought Barbara. She smiled archly at the bride. “I believe we already have something in common, besides our taste in men, of course. Obviously we both like jewels. I’ll enjoy a game of trick track with you after dinner.” Then Henry Jermyn approached and Barbara took his arm and swept off.
“She wanted me to think you’d slept with her,” said Summer furiously.
“Yes,” said Ruark.
“Yes?” repeated Summer hotly.
“Yes, she wanted you to think that. I wonder if poor Jermyn has been elected stud until Charles arrives?”
“Ru, stop!” She again slapped him with her fan, but her good humor had been restored.
“What would you like to see? There’s a boring collection of arms and armor in the great hall or there’s some fascinating plasterwork in the long gallery. In fact, I think there’s a likeness of us depicted there,” he said gravely.
“I think that highly unlikely—show me.”
They strolled through the long room, which vividly depicted Bible stories from the Old Testament. “There you are!” His face was a perfect mask of gravity as he pointed to Eve in the Garden of Eden, “Just like you this afternoon … naked, holding a round thing in your hand.”
She gasped, “That’s an apple,” and spun about quickly to see if anyone had overheard the outrageous remark. No one was within earshot, so she turned back to the fresco, pointed to a naked Adam, and said, “And there’s you.”
“No, it isn’t. That fig leaf is far too small to cover my parts.”
“Since such a beautiful woman consented to marry you, I’ve noticed an increase in the size of your head, too!” She laughed up at him.
He immediately kissed her.
“You mustn’t kiss me in such a public place,” she said, blushing.
“If you want me to kiss you in a more private place, you’ll have to wait until we’re in bed,” he teased.
She sobered and said softly, “Will you take me to the private chapel?”
The chapel was small, but very beautiful. It even had a shrine dedicated to Sir John Grenvile, who had sailed to the Indies with Sir Francis Drake. Ruark watched his wife’s delicate profile as she knelt to pray. Suddenly her shoulders drooped and he wondered what in the world was making her so sad.
Summer was praying in earnest. “O Holy St. Jude, Apostle and Martyr, great in Virtue and Rich in Miracles, near kinsman of Jesus Christ, Faithful intercessor of all who invoke your special patronage in time of need, to you I have recourse from the depths of my heart and humbly beg you to help my brother Spencer. Please make Ruark love me enough to take care of the mortgage on Roseland and free my brother from prison.”
“Darling,” Ruark murmured.
Summer opened her eyes and arose from her knees, searching his darkly handsome features.
“Let’s exchange our wedding vows again here while we’re private.”
Her eyes widened. “What a lovely thought. You are so romantic.”
They faced each other and held hands.
“I Ruark take thee Summer to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
Her throat had a lump in it at the deep sincerity of his words. Then huskily she said the vow back to Ruark, adding of course, “to love, cherish, and to obey.” Then Ruark fingered the bloodred ruby he had placed on her finger last night and repeated, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow.” She offered silent thanks to St. Jude, for already he seemed to be answering her prayer.
Ruark slipped a possessive arm about her and they emerged from the chapel to join the vast company for dinner. The great dining hall was ablaze with candlight. It reflected from the crystal goblets of water and wine and from the heavy silver service which would serve one hundred in the same identical pattern. Each place setting boasted a display of ten knives, forks, and spoons in the heavily ornamented Sterling which was crested with an ornate G for Grenvile.
Panic arose in Summer as she viewed the formal tables, wondering how on earth she would get through the meal without exposing her ignorance. She realized with dismay that Ruark had been literally telling the truth when he said there were two footmen to stand behind each guest’s chair to serve, any one of whom knew more about dining etiquette than she would ever know.
Ruark chose to sit next to the Arundells from Pendennis Castle and Summer listened attentively to their conversation. What she heard banished the worry over which fork to use, for here was Ruark making plans with John Arundell to entertain the King and whoever else wished to accompany him.
“I know Charles will want to pay a nostalgic visit to Pendennis Castle, so I propose to open Helford Hall for the court’s entertainment. It wouldn’t be for more than a couple of days because they must be in Portsmouth next week for the arrival of Queen Henrietta Maria and Minette,” Ruark said to John.
Arundell’s wife gave Ruark a most grateful smile. “How very generous of you, Helford. I must admit I’m at a loss when it comes to entertaining these fashionable town people.” She bent confidentially toward Summer and said, “Their sleeping arrangements resemble nothing short of musical beds, so gossip will have it.”
Ruark saw the look of dismay etched on his wife’s lovely features and took her hand beneath the cover of the damask cloth. “Stop worrying, my sweet. We shall supply the wine and card tables and they will entertain themselves, and I doubt if all of them will come.”
Somehow she wasn’t in the least reassured.
Ruark said, “John’s father, Colonel Arundell, held Pendennis Castle for five months in a siege by the Parliamentarians. In the end it was hunger not force that beat Pendennis and the emaciated garrison marched out with the full honors of war.”
John Arundell gave them a deprecating s
mile. “I think every last one of us had heroic fathers … all the King’s brave men,” he said, shaking his head.
The dinner served was sumptuous. Some dishes were totally foreign to Summer and she took only a tiny amount in case they proved unpalatable; however, there were so many courses served, she was soon shaking her head when the footman pressed her to take more.
Muscians strolled about with violas and lutes, much as they must have done in medieval times, although now of course there was no throwing the bones to the dogs; the long-nosed footmen saw that everything was kept immaculate.
The formal dinner had lasted two hours, so it wasn’t until after ten o’clock that the assembly moved en masse to the gaming tables to indulge their passion for cards. Soon the tables were piled high with gold coins.
Ruark gave his wife a small bag of gold, squeezed her hand, and encouraged her to sit with the ladies while he joined Jack and Bunny Grenvile at dice. The room was soon filled with laughter, the whisper of cards being shuffled, and the click-click of dice tumbling from their wooden casting boxes. The players moved from table to table, changing from bassette or whist to ombre or trick track.
Whenever Summer found herself playing beside a gentleman, he offered to let her play from his privy purse and she marveled at the easy and negligent way they gambled away their wealth.
Finally Summer found herself sitting at a table with Barbara Castlemaine, Anna Maria, Countess of Shrewsbury, and Lady Anne Carnegie, who, up close, was ridiculously overpainted. Barbara had a reputation for betting heavily and losing more than she won. “Gads, I swear I’m bored to death with this godforsaken country. I’ll be glad to get back to England, I’ll warrant you,” Barbara said, yawning.
Summer was stung and rose to the bait. “Cornwall is England, Lady Castlemaine. It was the only county to remain loyal to His Majesty.”
“Gads, that was all so long ago, but I swear ’tis all you hear about here at the back of beyond. Lady Anne, those are fine sapphires you are wearing tonight. Why don’t we play for our jewels instead of money, just to make the play the tiniest bit interesting?”
The Pirate and the Pagan Page 16
