The Pirate and the Pagan

by Virginia Henley

  His arms tightened. “No danger? Wherever you are there is danger. If I sent you home the minute you got bored, you’d be dressing up as the Black Cat,” he accused.

  “Soon I’ll have too big a belly to play highwayman.”

  “I hope so,” he said, his hands roaming her belly and thighs possessively.

  “If I’m being truthful, Spencer would be better off at home. London has been a very bad influence on him.”

  “What’s the young devil up to now?” he demanded. “Oh, nothing,” she said faintly.

  “Whoring, gambling, drinking, I have no doubt. Worrying you half to death, I suppose.”

  “No, really, it’s his friends who are such rakes,” she protested.

  “Like your own friends?” he pointed out.

  “Damn you, Ruark, you must be the only man on earth arrogant enough to insult me while trying to make love to me!”

  Her words fueled his need for her. “Stay with me tonight at Whitehall,” he demanded.

  She pretended indifference. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”

  “We have an unquenchable thirst for each other,” he said, rubbing his thumb across a taut nipple. “You might,” she said lightly.

  “We need to lie naked in each other’s arms all night.”

  “You might,” she repeated. But he had a power over her that set her shivering.

  “We’ve always been more like lovers than husband and wife,” he murmured against her neck. He ached to be deep inside her and vowed to have her this night. He knew he’d give much if she’d yield to him. “All I ask is one night.”

  She pulled away from him, truly offended now. “How dare you treat me like a strumpet?”

  “God’s flesh, Summer, what do you want? You won’t behave like a decent wife and go home where you belong, so I’m reduced to begging your favors one night at a time. You lure me then rebuff me, daring my manhood. I don’t know whether to strangle you or ravish you, or both.” He tipped her face up to his and kissed her gently. “Come to Whitehall with me … on your own terms.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said without hesitation. “You will take me to Cockspur Street or you can set me down in the street here.”

  “Dammit, Summer, why are you so willful?”

  “If I were a passive woman, you’d crush me in a minute.”

  “Little chance of that, you’re headstrong as ten men.”

  The coachdriver slowed at Whitehall, but Ruark instructed him to drive over to Cockspur Street. He helped Summer out of the carriage and instructed his driver to leave him.

  “I didn’t invite you in,” she said pointedly.

  “I don’t need an invitation, you are my wife.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you to expedite that annulment,” she said in a brittle voice.

  He clamped his hand around her arm and half dragged her up the front steps of the house. “You are the most maddening creature a man was ever cursed with,” he swore.

  “Then why do you bother with me? I thought it was over.”

  They stood in the entrance hall at the foot of the stairs. “It will never be over between us.” He entangled his fingers in her hair. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I bought you a waterfall diamond necklace for our first week’s anniversary, but we couldn’t even make the honeymoon last one week without savaging each other,” he said with deep regret in his voice. “If you let me stay with you tonight, it’s yours.”

  “I don’t bribe so easily. Now, if you were thinking of offering me Roseland, I might reconsider.”

  He swept her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Her protests availed her nothing. He was finished asking. He was a man, she was his wife. He had decided to exercise his rights. He set her on her feet when he entered her bedchamber and began to remove his clothes.

  “No, Ruark! I won’t! I’ll fight you.”

  “The choice is yours. I intend to have you, willing or no,” he said quietly.

  She backed away from him across the room, watching him undress in a leisurely fashion. She told herself not to be a fool. She could get Roseland deeded to her if she played her cards right.

  When he was naked, he began to stalk her as if she were his prey. Summer knew he was dangerous, but danger always excited her. She ran from him, but watched over her shoulder in a most inviting way his pursuit of her. When his arms closed about her and he tried to remove her gown, she struggled so fiercely they fell to the carpet and rolled about. In less than a minute he had her pinned down and began to remove her clothing in as leisurely a way as he’d removed his own.

  Her breasts were full and sensitive and she moaned helplessly as he dipped his head to tongue the rose-pink crests. She struggled again and managed to get to her feet, but he clasped his hands tightly behind her thighs and forced her forward until his mouth touched her most secret part. She arched forward so he could taste her and cried over and over “Ru, Ru.” Then they were lost in each other, exploring and reexploring all the different ways they’d discovered to love each other.

  Suddenly there was a crash, followed by a lot of giggling. They both sat up in bed and Summer searched frantically in the dark to find her bedrobe. They stared in disbelief as their door opened and three figures staggered in. “She’s not here, I tell you, she’s at Court.” The man’s words were so slurred they were almost indecipherable.

  Ruark lit the bedside lamp and its light illuminated Summer’s brother, dressed like a town gallant with his arms about two young street prostitutes. Ruark confronted him instantly. “What the hell is the meaning of this drunk and disorderly display, Spencer? How dare you worry your sister like this! I can’t believe you’d bring these drabs to defile your sister’s bed.”

  “Well, well,” said Spider, swaying on his feet, “if it isn’t the Helford brothers’ whore.” He bowed to her mockingly.

  Ruark’s fist smashed into his face and he went down into unconsciousness. His companions had run from the house the moment they’d seen Lord Helford’s fury.

  “Ruark, don’t! My God, you’ve killed him, you brute,” cried Summer, going on her knees to cradle Spider’s bleeding face.

  “Get up, dammit, he needs a good thrashing. It’s obvious you can’t handle him. He’s out of control, sowing a crop of bastards across London, bringing the pox home to you.”

  “It is you and your temper that’s out of control. He’s only a boy, did you have to be so brutal?” she cried.

  His fury was only exacerbated as he saw her pity for the young lout. “He needs discipline. By God, I’ll have him impressed into the navy. I’d soon whip him into shape if he served on one of my vessels.”

  “Get out—get out now! I hate you.”

  He turned on her angrily. “You, my lady, can get your things packed. You’re going home!” His voice was so implacable, it was an order, and she was too distraught to argue. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours.”

  Later, as she bathed Spider’s black eye and tried to sober him up with a foul-smelling concoction of Auntie Lil’s, she wished she had taken her pistol to Ruark Helford. He had given her an ultimatum and there was no way she was going to be meekly packed off home, wherever that might be!

  Spider was sullen. They exchanged unpleasant words until finally he informed her he was taking rooms in the city where he’d be free from damned meddling women who clocked him in and out like a felon on parole. She argued with him, threatened him, and saw he would do exactly as he pleased, no matter what she said. “Spider, I won’t try to stop you if you promise to let me know where you are living when you get settled,” she bargained desperately. He left without committing himself. “Typical male behavior,” she raged aloud to the empty room. “Ruark Helford is the author of all my problems. I hope he rots in hell!”

  Lil Richwood, dressed to the nines, swept in with a dramatic announcement. “Forgive me, darling, I didn’t want to interrupt your delicious rendezvous with your husband last night; I thought the
reunion was heaven-sent. How was I to know it would degenerate into a brawl before daylight?”

  Summer sighed, realizing the whole debacle must look like a farce acted out on a stage. “I’m sorry, Auntie Lil. Spencer’s moving into the city, so perhaps things will be a little more peaceful around here.”

  Lil waved a negligent hand weighted down by all her fine rings. “I’m moving the household to Southampton and I want you to come with us. I’ve had a letter from my very good friend Lady Worthing who insists I visit until this dreaded plague is gone from London.”

  “Oh, Lil, I couldn’t impose on your friend,” Summer protested.

  “Nonsense, darling, she’s as rich as a potentate and rattles about in a country mansion with fifty bedchambers. I’m the one who introduced her to Lord Worthing and they are both particularly partial to me. Pamela is the pampered darling of an older man and Lord Worthing appears virile as a stallion to all his peers. A match made in heaven,” Lil drawled.

  “Like mine,” said Summer, her voice dripping acid.

  “Well, no, that’s more a volatile mix of love, hate, and explosive passion … a devastating combination!”

  “Thank you for asking me, Lil, but I’ll stay in London, I think, or perhaps I’ll move to Court.”

  “I’ve inside information that Court is moving to Salisbury for the duration. If they do, I’d advise you to move with them, darling, Salisbury and Southampton are within spitting distance.”

  “I’m sure as soon as cold weather arrives it will stop the spread of this filthy disease,” said Summer, repeating what was said at every gathering lately.

  Lady Richwood took all her servants and naturally they traveled in her carriage, so Summer would have to hire chairs if she planned on going any distance. The house seemed deserted and she couldn’t help feeling she was rattling around in it aimlessly, even after they’d been gone only an hour. Her practical nature soon took over, however, when she realized she would need food. The day seemed overcast, so she slipped on her pattens in case of a downpour and walked toward Piccadilly, where she knew there were shops to fill all her needs. She chose a cookshop where the food was already prepared.

  Inside the cookshop all was in an uproar. There was something tangible in the frantic air which she soon learned was fear. The man and woman behind the counter spoke in shrill agitated voices to their customers.

  “Last day, lydies … the shutters are goin’ up the minute we’ve sold the last tripe ’n trotters. Droppin’ like bleedin’ flies around ’ere. Did ye see the cornet in the sky last night? An omen of doom if there ever was one!”

  The minute the man stopped talking, his wife began. “The butcher put up ’is shutters yesterday … dead today! They had nine children … all lived over the shop … bowled down like ninepins.” Some of the women waiting their turn quickly left the shop. When it was Summer’s turn, all they had left were meat pies and pickles. The woman behind the counter wiped the sweat from her face with her apron and took Summer’s money. As she glanced out the window a look of horror crossed her face. The woman crossed herself quickly. “Christ Almighty, look at that … the death cart’s come in broad daylight!”

  Summer wished she’d never come; in fact, she wished now that she’d left London with Auntie Lil and the servants. The cart stood at the butcher’s door; its driver rang a big hand bell and shouted, “Bring out yer dead, bring out yer dead.”

  The cookshop proprietors and the last few customers crowded about the window in horrified fascination as the little bodies were brought down and chucked into the wagon. Summer knew she was going to faint if she didn’t get away. She pushed through the small avid crowd and bolted through the door to gulp fresh air. London’s air today, however, was anything but fresh.

  A pall of smoke hung about from the chimneys and from street fires which had been lit to destroy plague-contaminated furniture. She tried to hurry, but the pattens hampered her badly. She stopped, leaned against a wall, and unfastened them from her shoes, then she began to run and didn’t stop until she was behind the door of the house in Cockspur Street.

  It was like a nightmare. Why hadn’t she left with Lil? Her throat felt dry and sore and fear rose up in her to rob her of coherent thought. Ruark Helford was to blame for her plight. He should have told her he loved her and taken her home to Cornwall after he’d made love to her last night. Instead he’d beaten and alienated poor Spider and given her another ultimatum. Now she was going to die of the plague and her precious burden would die with her.

  She shook her head to rid it of such appalling thoughts and took the food into the kitchen. She looked at it with distaste, thinking she would never be hungry again. As she climbed the stairs her legs felt weak and shaky and she knew she must lie down or fall down. Well, it would serve Lord Bloody Helford right … when he arrived tomorrow, she would be dead!

  She had caught the plague. She staggered off the bed to look at herself in the mirror. Her face was scarlet as if it had been boiled and she was hot as fire. She fell back upon the bed, her fingers frantically searching her groin for the black plague boil which would swell up like a balloon and burst. She sank into oblivion. Later she swam up out of the blackness, feeling herself being lifted, but she could not open her mouth to protest. She could not even open her eyes and she knew with horrified certainty they thought she was dead. They carried her out to the death cart and she could not lift a limb in protest. Her mind screamed in dread at her horrific plight. Stop, please, I beg you, her mind screamed, but no words came. Children’s bodies were being thrown on top of her, and suddenly, shocked by the hideousness of the act, she found her voice and cried, “Stop, please, I beg you!”

  “Cat, sweetheart, wake up,” a very worried voice urged.

  Her eyes flew open and stared into those of Black Jack Flash. She clutched him about the neck. “Rory … oh, my God … Rory.”

  He held her against his heart and stroked her tumbled hair. Her body trembled uncontrollably. “Cat, sweetheart, you were having a nightmare.”

  Her face was wet with tears. “I … I don’t have the plague?”

  “Of course not, the devil himself looks after sinners like you and me,” he said, laughing down at her.

  She clung to him thankfully. He was her savior. Gradually she relaxed against his powerful chest and murmured, “Rory, thank you. I’m so glad you came.”

  “What happened to my brave little hellcat? Where have all these fearful, fanciful thoughts sprung from?” he gently chided.

  She sighed in his arms. How gentle he could be; how sweetly understanding. In that moment she felt so secure in his strength and his good nature, she felt she could tell him anything. Her voice was very low with a slight hint of apprehension as she said, “I’m going to have a baby, Rory.”

  “That’s wonderful, darling,” he said, clasping her close and pressing his lips to the curling tendrils that framed her brow.

  “Perhaps you won’t think so when I confess that I don’t know if you are the father, or if it’s Ruark’s,” she said low.

  For a long moment he didn’t speak and she eased her cheek away from his shoulder and looked up at him. He smiled down at her. “That makes no difference to me, love, and I’m damned sure it will make no difference to you.”

  “Oh, Rory, you can’t mean it, surely every time you looked at the child, you would have doubts.”

  He put his fingers beneath her chin and brought his face closer to hers. “Do you think me incapable of loving my brother’s child?” he asked seriously.

  She knew in that moment he was a very special man. She lifted her mouth to his and was amazed at the tenderness he showed her.

  “Come sail away with me,” he tempted. “London is too foul a place for you at the moment. I’ll take you to France and Holland,” he coaxed.

  Her eyes opened wide. “I thought we were at war with the Dutch.”

  He laughed. “We are, but I fly any flag I please, remember?”

  What a difference a da
y made. If he’d asked such an outrageous thing yesterday, she would have refused, for hadn’t she vowed that nothing more must happen between them? But now she was eager to get away from London, eager to be with a man who accepted her totally with all her faults, eager to make love with such a magnificent male as Rory Helford.

  She glanced to the window, saw it was dark, and knew he must be away before light. “Do I have time to pack some things and change my clothes?” she asked, feeling excitement rise within her.

  “Let me undress you, darling, we have all the time in the world.” He rubbed his thumbs across the worry lines in her brow and said huskily, “You need to play, my love, have some fun.” He pulled the gown from her shoulders and brushed his lips across the bared skin in reverent appreciation. This close, his eyes were deepest green and the skin seemed to be stretched taut across his deeply bronzed cheekbones. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction when he uncovered her breasts, for she knew their size and fullness had increased this last week. His mouth curved into a deep smile and he rolled his eyes and groaned in exaggerated bliss.

  Summer laughed with pleasure and he bent his head to taste them as if they were luscious fruits. “I’m glad I can make you laugh,” he murmured. “When’s the last time you had any fun?”

  “I can’t remember,” she said, smiling up at him. He made a game of undressing her. Each silken body part he uncovered received a dozen tiny kisses and then she joined in the fun and returned the bed play.

  “Cat, life is a game. Love is a game. Lovemaking can be a thousand different games. Shall we play one?” he challenged, lifting an amused eyebrow. She was lying nude upon the bed. He, too, was now nude and he leaned his weight upon his hands on either side of her, filling his eyes with a lover’s vision of a lifetime. “You are almost too beautiful,” he whispered.

  Her eyes traveled the length of his magnificent body, marveling at the perfection of muscle and sinew. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She caught her breath in anticipation, then nodded.