The Pirate and the Pagan

by Virginia Henley

  “I’m going to make love to you without moving in and out. If I bring you to climax, I win.”

  She laughed shyly. “Rory, that’s impossible.”

  He grasped her ankles and pulled her gently from the bed onto the floor. Then he reached up and pulled down a pillow for her. She thought he would put it beneath her head, but instead he lifted her hips and positioned it beneath her buttocks. Her mons stood out invitingly. He went on his knees before her and she couldn’t resist reaching out her fingers to touch his proud, crimson-headed shaft. It jumped wildly when her fingers came into contact with the hard center of him; he spread her rose-colored center and slowly inserted himself deep inside her until she was filled with him. He stayed absolutely motionless to let her get used to his fullness, then his mouth closed over hers and his tongue penetrated the sweetness of her mouth, and he held it motionless also.

  It felt strange at first not to feel him moving in and out, but after about five minutes of stillness she became more aware of her body than she had ever been before. She became so sensitive she could feel her blood running through her veins. Then she became aware of her heartbeat, then his, and realized they pulsed against each other. Suddenly she felt him growing inside her and was both amazed and pleased that she could affect him so profoundly.

  When he had lengthened and thickened to his full potential, he began to flex the great muscle of his manroot inside of her. Her honeyed walls clung to him, setting up a deep pulsing within her as they fused together. He fit so tightly that when the head of his phallus pulsed, it forced her to pulse also. The rhythm he set up inside her body was fast and strong. Incredibly she began to build to an intense degree, then his tongue began to pulse against hers and she knew a desire to suck him which she could not deny. Then a feeling she had never experienced before began deep within her and she knew her other lips were sucking him as wildly as her mouth clung to his tongue. Finally she let go to cry out her rapture and Rory’s cry also filled the chamber. “Oh oh … Rory … you win and I win … mmm … yes, yes, yes!”

  “I love playing games with you,” he murmured against her ear. They slept curled together for a half hour, then he stirred and awakened her with love words. “Cat, sweetheart, you’d better pack a few things.”

  She groaned. “Brute, I can’t lift a finger, I’d rather stay here in bed with you.”

  “I know another game,” he tempted.

  The corners of her mouth curved up irresistibly. “What?” she asked curiously.

  “Don’t dress. Pack the things you think you’ll need but stay naked so I can watch you move about the room. Then we’ll play half-and-half.”

  She laughed. “What’s half-and-half?”

  “I’ll make love to you half in your bed here and the other half in my bed aboard the Phantom.”

  “Will you be able to stop halfway?” she teased.

  “Indeed, my darling. I have perfected the technique. Only you must just slip a cloak over your nakedness so I can caress you in the coach and keep you in readiness for the finale.”

  “Rory Helford, you are a very wicked man.” She laughed.

  “Tell the truth and shame the devil—you love to play my wicked games.”

  Black Jack Flash was at the helm of the Phantom as it silently glided out on the flood tide. He seemed to have no difficulty finding his way in the dark, but he did not move from the forecastle until his sure hands and keen eyes had maneuvered the long, low ship past Margate into the open sea. He then turned the ship’s wheel over to his second mate and slipped belowdecks.

  Summer was always bemused at the contrast between Rory’s two cabins. The outer room was exactly what one would expect of a sea captain, with comfortable leather chairs, map tables, and a desk filled with charts and papers. The inner cabin had his own unique, strong personality stamped all over it. The black silken carpet had a pile so thick, her feet sank into it. The black-and-red-lacquered cabinets were probably priceless, and when the heavy, mirrored door of the wardrobe was opened, it displayed the clothes of a vain, flamboyant male, selected to match his striking black hair with its startling streak of white.

  Some of the items were strange and had obviously come from foreign lands, others were magnificently embroidered with jewels, yet always in the same colors of jet, pearl, diamonds, and crystal. Even the plain shirts and breeches were hand-sewn from the finest, most expensive materials.

  Summer hung her clothes beside his, glad that she had not brought many with her since the space was so limited. Finally she turned toward the bed which dominated the room. The red silk panels floated about like smoke and she wondered with a stab of jealousy how many women had been inside that silken cocoon. She knew full well that if she was experiencing pangs of the green monster, she must be falling in love.

  Suddenly she heard him step into his outer cabin and felt shy as a new bride, but the moment his tall figure stood in the doorway and they looked at each other, everything was all right. He carried a huge platter of food, which smelled delicious, and she smiled as she remembered that Rory always fed her. He set the tray on the bed and came to her. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you?” he asked as he gently took her into his arms and held her against him. She shivered. “You’re cold, love,” he said, untying her cloak and casting it across the room. “Come to bed.”

  He reached for an enormous white djellaba with a hood and wrapped it about her, then held open the red silk panels as she climbed upon the huge bed. He undressed quickly, slipped in the other side, and closed the silken drapes to seal them off from the rest of the world.

  He grinned down at her wickedly. “All that love play in the coach has gone to waste now that you are cold. I’ll have to begin all over again.” His brown hand reached for the platter and pulled it between them. They sat cross-legged on the bed so they could share the food and wine. Summer devoured half a chicken then sighed and licked her fingers. She knew from experience that Rory did everything in a leisurely manner. One by one all their hungers would be satisfied and all their thirsts quenched. Soon he was feeding her various spicy delicacies, and laughed with knowing eyes as she grew warmer.

  His hand slipped inside the white djellaba to fondle her breasts and belly and thighs and he knew she no longer needed the robe. He pulled off the hood and ran his fingers through her silken black tresses, then he peeled it from her breasts and shoulders and tossed it negligently after her cloak. He poured them a goblet of hot, mulled cider spiced with cinnamon, cloves, and myrrh, and set the empty platter down on the floor. With one strong arm about her he drew her across to his side of the wide bed and held the goblet to her lips. She sipped obediently, then he, too, drank, carefully placing his lips on the same spot where hers had been.

  She reclined against him, one breast pressed into the curling mat of hair on his broad chest, her cheek resting against his shoulder so she could gaze up at him. One hand cupped her breast and his strong fingers played tantalizing games with her rose-pink nipple. His other hand moved the spiced wine from his lips to hers, allowing them to share the loving cup.

  Summer hadn’t felt this warm and secure for a long time. She hadn’t felt this loved since the first rapturous days with Ruark when he had married her. She closed her eyes as Rory’s mouth took hers in a deep kiss. She wondered briefly if she was substituting Rory for her husband. After all Ruark had been her first love and she had loved him totally. She did not want to cheat this man. The thought melted away as his tongue began its game of arousal. He inflamed her desire and her senses so quickly, so deeply, that she knew without a doubt that she loved him.

  They lay on their sides with every part of their bodies touching as he kissed her over and over. When her legs wrapped about his marble-hard thigh to rub her mons against him, he placed strong hands on her waist and lifted her over him. He held her high and allowed the tip of his erection to enter her. She plunged down and he playfully withdrew. They did it over and over, each time he went up inside her just a fraction of an inch
further, slowly, blissfully going all the way up until he was seated where he longed to be. Then she drew up her legs on either side of him until she was on her knees. In this fantastic position his hands were free to cup her breasts, trace delicious fingers about her navel, or dip lower to touch the tiny erect bud of her womanhood just slightly above the place where his thick manroot entered her. She was free to arch backward, bringing an almost unbearable fullness to the sensitive area at the front of her sheath, or bend over him to tongue and lick his erect bronze nipples while his shaft moved up into the deepest part of her and his hands cupped her buttocks to hold her imprisoned while he thrust in and out. Their cries of love were mingled with the cries of the seabirds which had spotted the Phantom in the early pink dawn.

  Their days together were happy; their nights paradise. Rory knew they belonged together. This woman gave all of herself to their passion and he felt overwhelmed by her giving. Also, she was honest with him to a marked degree. There was no subject she could not discuss with him.

  Summer spent time at his side up on deck. She never strayed to more distant parts of the ship and the crew simply grinned and gave the captain as much privacy as was possible. He had found her some white canvas pants belonging to a cabin boy and she had cut the sleeves from one of Rory’s shirts and tied its tails at her waist. She leaned far out over the rail to watch some dolphins at play when she felt his arm steal about her. She seemed slimmer than ever to him and he bent to her ear and asked, “Are you sure about the baby?” She looked up at him quickly to see if she could catch a glimpse of regret, but all she saw was joy mixed with concern.

  “I’m sure. Thank God I’m over the morning sickness or this voyage would be more like hell than heaven.” His arm tightened. “I love you, Cat.”

  “I believe you,” she said, lifting her hand to smooth back the white flash of hair at his temple. “Rory, your brother Ruark is aware that we’ve met. I was at a knife fight across the river in Southwark. My husband was angry to find me there and insisted on taking me home. My young brother came in drunk and said something offensive. He called me … he called me the Helford brothers’ whore. Ru didn’t question me about you, but he was so angry he savagely knocked down Spider. Then we did what we always do, had a terrible fight. I told him I hated him.”

  He looked down at her with amusement in his eyes. “Do you hate him?” he asked, wanting her to tell him the truth.

  “Rory, you deserve the truth, the whole truth, not just part of it. I loved Ruark Helford with all my heart and soul. I felt so deeply in love, I walked about in a perpetual garden where he was the sun and the moon and the stars. When he made me Lady Helford, I thought he loved me, too. After he initiated me into the mysteries of love, I thought he was a god! But the truth is, now that I’ve met you, I’ve fallen out of love with him as suddenly as waking from a dream. I see all his faults in the clear light of day, and there are actually moments when, yes, I truly hate him. I know you are brothers and you have similarities, but the differences between you are amazing. He is arrogant, demanding, and he has a cruel streak which frightens me.”

  He looked down at her and she saw that the amusement had left him. He said carefully, “I am quite capable of arrogance and cruelty, Cat; don’t deceive yourself, I beg you, love.”

  “But he also has a brooding moodiness sometimes which you are incapable of. Your eyes show only amusement … you laugh all the time. That’s probably the reason I love you, Rory.”

  His green eyes were smiling again. “Ru knows all about us. I don’t want you to worry about it … it’s between Ru and me and we’ll settle it once and for all, but I don’t want you to be mistaken about him either. He must have loved you with all his heart or he wouldn’t have made you Lady Helford in a million years.”

  “But when I confessed that I wasn’t a wealthy, strictly brought up lady, I’ve never seen such fury. The things he said to me were unbelievable. They were enough to shatter my love forever.”

  “Ru had a couple of bad experiences with women who tried to take him for everything he had. It made him cynical toward all women.”

  A spark of anger flared in Summer. “You play devil’s advocate very well. Are you trying to make me go back to him?” He laughed, kissed her quickly, and said, “I just want you to understand, and if you refuse to understand, then it’s my gain and his loss and I’m a big enough bastard to take full advantage.”

  “He was the one who spoke of an annulment, but it’s what I want more than anything.” She added quickly, “Not so that you’ll have to marry me.”

  “Don’t you want me for your husband?” he asked seriously. “You can’t have a child and remain unmarried, I won’t allow it.”

  “Of course I want you for my husband.”

  “Cat darling, I want you to think about it carefully. An annulment will mean giving up the title of Lady Helford, giving up Helford Hall and all Ruark’s wealth and position with the King’s court.”

  “Hell and furies, why won’t you Helfords believe money and titles mean nothing to me? I only wanted money to save Roseland, and even then it wasn’t really for myself but for my brother, who is Lord St. Catherine and deserves some sort of inheritance.”

  “I believe you, darling. Why else would you take up with a pirate who steals and smuggles for a living?”

  “Anyway, I have friends of my own at Court and I’m a particular favorite of Charles. He doesn’t give a damn if I’m Lady Helford or Cat St. Catherine!”

  Rory’s eyes had narrowed at mention of the King. A hardness had come about his mouth that she had never seen before. She felt a slight flutter of fear and came to the conclusion that she had misjudged his carefree manner. He was obviously jealous of her. Simply because he had not seemed jealous of his brother, she assumed he was not possessive by nature; she was wrong.

  One of the sailors in the rigging had spotted a sail and all eyes were on Black Jack Flash to await his reaction and his orders. Rory adjusted his spyglass and shouted “She’s Dutch,” which only confirmed what his crew had suspected. Summer felt a great excitement well up within her. “Let me see!” she cried. He handed her the instrument and pointed out the small sail on the horizon, then shouted some strange foreign words to his men.

  “Oooh”—Summer let out a long breath—“are you going to take her?”

  Rory shook his head and laughed as the total look of disappointment covered her face. “Why not?” she demanded. “We’re at war with the bastards.”

  “England is at war; I am not England. How could I take the ship and tomorrow go sailing into The Hague with a Dutchman in tow?”

  She felt a keen disappointment but grudgingly admitted that what he said made sense. She felt his amused eyes upon her as she glanced up to see that the Phantom was flying the Dutch flag.

  When they arrived in port, Rory took her below to his cabin while a crewman named Hans took care of the customs official. He kissed her nose. “If you’ll change out of those cabin boy’s trousers, I’ll take you to the warehouses. I’m sure when you see the fabulous goods stored there, you’ll make a poor man out of me.”

  “I’ll make you a pauper,” she promised. “But I can only speak English,” she reminded him.

  He grinned down at her. “In the warehouses the only language they understand is money. On the streets it’s different. You can pretend to be French. Whatever I say to you, just answer ‘oui.’”

  “You devil, I know better. I assure you that whatever you say, I will answer non, non, non!”

  The warehouses were filled with varied and exotic goods from all parts of the world. The aromas were pungent enough to fill the senses and send the imagination off on flights of fantasy about strange lands and customs. One warehouse held nothing but wine, its floors stained purple from spillage. Every conceivable shape of bottle and cask held the best that Spain, Portugal, and France produced in their vineyards. Rory explained that Holland made gin to export or trade for the wine. The air was so heady Summer felt i
ntoxicated simply breathing the fumes.

  They passed into another warehouse whose contents could be identified by aroma. Large wooden boxes, lined with lead, held layers of tea from India, Ceylon, and even as far away as China. At the back of the warehouse the aroma changed to chocolate from sacks filled with cacao beans. Rory simply pointed to the things he wanted and two clerks followed him to jot down and tally his purchases. The haggling would come later when he must pay for the cargo he selected.

  The smells in the next warehouse were so strange and pungent, they made Summer’s nostrils quiver. Rory explained, “What you smell are drugs—benjamin, frankincense, galingale, mirabolans, aloes zocotrina, camphire. Other drugs are illegal—hashish, opium, even worse things which men will pay a king’s ransom for, simply to make them mindless.” He spoke rapidly to the clerks, giving them his drug order, and they nodded quickly, understanding immediately.

  Summer wondered what he was buying and thought perhaps it was best if she did not know. The spice warehouse was unbelievable. Mountainous piles of peppercorns, nutmeg, and cloves stood beside heaps of licorice root and green ginger and sticks of cinnamon.

  There was one vast warehouse filled to the rafters with weapons and ammunition. Knives, daggers, swords, and rapiers were displayed beside scimitars, sabers, and strange Oriental weapons and instruments of torture. Across from the knives were the pistols, guns, even cannons in every shape and size with their corresponding cannonballs.

  Rory told her he had things to order which would bore her, so he left her to browse about among the material. He summoned a small Chinese woman in black trousers to take Summer’s order for whatever struck her fancy. The array of colors and textures was beyond anything she had ever imagined. Silks, damasks, taffetas, cloth of gold, and curled cypresse hung beside ribbons and feathers and ornaments for hats and shoes. Chintz and calico vied with Egyptian cotton as fine as spiderwebs. Cloth embroidered with silken silver and gold thread was hung beside more elaborate beaded cloth decorated with flowers and butterflies and birds. Suddenly she was back aboard the Golden Goddess in the halcyon days of her honeymoon when her husband would have given her the whole world, had she asked for it. Her heartstrings tightened painfully as she thought of Ruark, then quickly she banished all thought of him before the teardrops gathered to cloud her vision. Finally Summer saw something which fired her imagination for a gown and she knew she must have some. Vases filled with ostrich feathers, dyed every hue of the rainbow, took her breath away. Ribbon dresses were so popular that now they had become commonplace. Summer wanted a gown trimmed with pale turquoise ostrich feathers. She ordered enough to encircle the neckline and float about the hem. The Chinese woman brought her a fan made from the same shade of feathers and she nodded her acceptance.