The Pirate and the Pagan (17 page)

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Authors: Virginia Henley

BOOK: The Pirate and the Pagan
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“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 intimately 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.

“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.

R
uark 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 eyebrow 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.”

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