The Pirate and the Pagan (25 page)

Buckingham’s wife Mary suffered from mal de mer, which left him in Summer’s company. She felt rather awkward over what had happened at the dressmaker’s. “I’m afraid your wife won’t care much for my company, your grace.”

George Villiers’s blond looks were godlike, but his tongue had a cutting edge which no one escaped, least of all his dull wife. “Well, you can’t truthfully say you would care much for hers. I don’t. Though we coexist, we do not coalesce, cohere, nor cohabit.”

Summer heaved a sigh of relief. She knew Buckingham made a dangerous enemy and she would fare better in all circles if she had his approbation. He raised his quizzing glass to study her. “You are an unusual-looking female … rather exotic. I predict you shall become all the rage. Watch out for my cousin Barbara; she will hate you on sight.”

Summer laughed. “The King has warned me about the men, now you are warning me about the women.”

He raised an insolent brow. “And both of us rather redundant, for I fancy you could hold your own against either sex.”

“That which doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger,” she quoted.

“Precisely. Yet it isn’t your quality of survival which intrigues me. You have an air of mystery about you. You are an unknown quantity. I believe we see only the tip of the iceberg. Fascinating!”

Her heartbeat accelerated. She did not want this man examining her too closely. If he learned anything to her discredit, he would expose her for the sheer pleasure of it. Should she act silly or shallow to throw him off the track? No, he was shrewd enough to see through any sham. All she could do was turn the conversation to a subject which would hold his attention—himself. “You are the one who is fascinating, your grace. Rumor has it you are the cleverest as well as the richest man in England. In fact”—she paused dramatically—“I’ve heard it said ’tis you not Barbara who is the power behind the throne.”

When they reached Launceston, Summer was relieved that she and Ruark were to have the privilege of carrying the King to Stowe in their carriage, while the Maitlands and Villierses had to hire three carriages, two of which were for baggage alone. She found Charles’s company far more relaxing than Buckingham’s.

They did not arrive until after dark, but Lady Grenvile had held off dinner until such time as the King arrived and it was almost eleven o’clock by the time the six-course meal was over.

Card tables had been set up in the long gallery and soon twenty of the great courtiers were playing bassette round a large table with a bank of over four thousand in gold before them. In the end it was Jack Grenvile who scooped up the winnings; and Lady Castlemaine, her face like a thunderstorm, quit the table and dragged Buckingham into a game of trick track which Summer had been enjoying with Elizabeth Hamilton and Anne Carnegie.

Barbara said petulantly, “I don’t know why Charles had to create Grenvile Earl of Bath at the same time as I received my title.”

“Then I shall enlighten you, dear coz,” said Buckingham. “Jack’s father Bevil died at Lansdowne leading his men into battle. Jack, who was only fifteen years old at the time, mounted his father’s horse and charged the enemy. Charles will never forget those who have served him well.” His mouth twitched as a droll thought struck him. “And that goes to show you where titles are
concerned, our monarch considers fighting just as worthy as fucking.”

“George, ’sdeath I swear you must be suffering from the pox again, you’re in such an ill humor. When we get back to London, I suggest you see Dr. Fraser for some turpentine pills.”

If Barbara thought to discomfit Buckingham in front of the other ladies, she was sadly disappointed, for he had an immediate rejoinder. “I’ll never know why you recommend Dr. Fraser when he botched your last abortion so badly.”

Barbara had the grace to flush. “Oh, George, you will have your little joke. Are you ready to play cards? I’ll even play bassette if it will please you.”

“My dear, the point of the insidious game is to outguess the others as to the order in which the cards turn up. Let’s play something which requires a little skill.”

“Oh good, we’ll play ombre. We’ll need a third. Lady Helford, would you oblige?”

Buckingham nodded imperceptibly to Summer and winked.

Barbara lost consistently until she became reckless. In a desperate attempt to recoup her losses she bet a thousand pounds. Summer was about to say the play was far too deep for her, but obeyed a signal from Buckingham to play. Through his clever manipulation Summer won the hand and Barbara was hooked into a reckless pattern of one thousand on the turn of every card. Thereafter Buckingham or Summer consistently won her money from her. She dropped ten thousand pounds in less than a half hour, three thousand of which was now in the hands of a happy Lady Helford.

The King strolled over to the table and his mere presence effectively put a stop to Barbara’s extravagance. “I think I shall take pity on everyone and retire early tonight,” he mused aloud. Etiquette dictated no one retire before the King. “I hear there is to be a great masque and ball tomorrow night. You ladies must take your rest, for I swear I’ll dance you off your feet tomorrow.” He looked at Summer as he spoke. Ruark, approaching the table, overheard Charles and saw the covetous looks he cast his wife. Charles glanced at Ruark and back to Summer. “You don’t suppose Helford will be tiresome and monopolize you all evening, do you?”

Summer smiled her secret smile. “I’m sure he’ll let me share my favors, Sire.”

“Over my dead body,” said Ruark, letting everyone within earshot know just exactly how tiresome he could be, if pressed.

As they left the gallery Summer could suppress her yawns no longer. Ruark said, “You’re exhausted.”

She nodded. “If we were at home, you would have to carry me to bed.”

He immediately swept her into his arms and carried her up the staircase, completely ignoring the shocked and amused comments which floated up to them. She slipped her arms about his neck and murmured, “If I’m heavy, it’s because of all the gold I’ve won.”

Ruark dismissed the servants who were waiting up for them and said, “We won’t need you in the morning.” He undressed Summer quickly and laid her between the silken sheets, ignoring the nightgown which had been laid out on her pillow. Reluctantly, he gave up the idea of making love to her, which he’d been anticipating for hours. By the time he undressed and got into bed to pull her into his arms, her eyes were closing. “Tomorrow, we will sleep very late.”

“Wouldn’t that seem rude?” she murmured.

“The King will keep Barbara abed till noon, and when His Majesty sets the fashion, the rest of us must follow his lead. In the morning I will make love to you twice to make up for tonight.” He brushed her dark curls back and kissed her temple. How was he going to endure being separated from her? he wondered, thinking of the mission the King had suggested for over the next few weeks.

“Ru,” she said sleepily, “can we go home soon?”

“Yes, my darling. I don’t enjoy sharing you with others. Perhaps we can savor a few days of solitude before the rabble descends upon us next week.”

    Early the next morning Summer awoke first and eased from the bed very carefully so she wouldn’t disturb her new husband. She unpacked the many things he’d given her from the
Golden Goddess
and all of the lovely clothes from Madame Martine’s, then she stood in front of the mirror and held up each gown, trying to select one for the King’s ball.

She sighed with happiness as her eyes fell upon the lovely nightgowns and she slipped into the sheer black which opened down the front and fastened with ribbons just beneath her breasts. She heard the silk sheets rustle and thought Ruark had awakened, but when she returned to the bed, his eyes were still closed, though in his sleep he had thrown off the covers.

She was wildly curious about his body, so very quietly she knelt
upon the bed beside him so that her eyes could explore him in detail. He looked younger in sleep, probably because his mouth had lost the hard, almost cruel look it had when he was awake. His shoulders took up most of the bed, so wide were they, and his neck was corded with long columns of muscle.

Her fingertips brushed the mat of hair on his heavy chest with a feather-light touch and she shuddered as the crisp hair felt springy and slightly scratchy. She remembered the feel of her breasts against his chest and her nipples stood out beneath the transparent black silk. His legs were so straight and strong, like the trunks of young trees, and between his legs was the greatest mystery of all. He was semiaroused even in sleep and she measured him with her eyes, guessing his shaft was about eight inches in length and as thick as the handle of a sword … a formidable weapon indeed. It lay along his thigh. She bent her head low to look at its underside and decided its head was heart-shaped. Below his shaft, very tight to his body, were two very distinct egg-shaped spheres nestled in black curls. Suddenly his shaft moved and stood straight up, reaching almost to his navel. Her eyes flew to his and she saw that he was awake.

“Damn,” he swore. “I wanted you to think I was still asleep. I enjoyed your looking at me, but you have this effect on me I can’t control.” His eyes swept over her black-silk-clad body and he murmured, “You are delicious as sin.” He reached out to undo the ribbons beneath her breasts and opened the negligee, then he pulled her down on top of him and the black silk floated down to cover their nakedness.

The saddle muscle in his thigh felt like marble and she straddled it to rub herself against its hardness. His body smelled of leather and the sea and sandalwood and something else she couldn’t define, but it was definitely male. As she rode his thigh she reached out a tentative finger to stroke his pulsing erection. A drop of clear liquid fell upon her finger and she put it to her mouth and licked it. His eyes smoldered like emerald fire.

“I wanted to see what you tasted like,” she whispered.

“And what do I taste like?” he demanded huskily.

“Salt,” she softly.

He reached up to draw her face down to his and took her mouth savagely, using his tongue to arouse her to fever pitch. She needed more than his thigh and moved over him so that his thick manroot could penetrate her soft womanliness and fill her with his burning
brand. Lovemaking was still new enough to cause her to gasp upon his initial entrance. She could have sworn he became larger every time he made love to her. As her tight sheath stretched to accommodate his great size and the pleasure became intense, Ruark gripped her with his thighs and rolled with her until he gained the dominant position, then proceeded to love her into submission.

Much later when Summer stretched luxuriantly and slipped from the bed, Ruark suggested, “Don’t dress, darling, keep that black thing on. It was designed to give a man pleasure.”

She fastened the ribbons beneath her breasts and brushed her hair. “Why didn’t Charles bring the Queen?”

He lay propped on one elbow, watching her. “She’s preparing for her mother-in-law’s visit. She’s traveling down to Portsmouth at the end of next week, I believe. Aren’t you glad you don’t have a mother-in-law? I am,” he said wickedly.

She ignored his banter. “Ruark, why is Charles unfaithful to Catherine?”

He sighed. “Until she came to England, Catherine lived in seclusion in the royal palace of Lisbon. She probably only left it half a dozen times in her life. She never saw a man who wasn’t a relative. She was surrounded by disciplinary, protective duennas and no doubt suffered from a surfeit of religion. She was more suited to becoming a little nun than to mating with our lusty monarch.”

“Then you don’t think she loves him the way I love you?” she asked.

“No man was ever loved the way you love me,” he teased. “Come back to bed and love me again.”

“Be serious, Ru!”

“I think she loves him very much, but our cultures are so different it will take her years to adjust. She was always dressed in those hideous rigid hoop skirts and it was a sin to show her feet in public, let alone her breasts. She likes the idea of love, but hates lovemaking. Charles, like every full-blooded man, longs for a woman whose senses he can arouse and who can arouse him.”

“Like Barbara Castlemaine,” she concluded.

He shrugged, not much interested in the King’s affairs. “If she brings him happiness, I’m sure he shouldn’t be condemned for a little illicit pleasure.”

Summer put her head on one side. “Barbara won’t bring him happiness. She’ll punish him every day of his life for not marrying her.”

“You’re a shrewd little baggage.” He darted from the bed, picked her up squealing and kicking, and took her back to the bed. He whispered, “To hell with Charles and Barbara, I want to see you on your pretty hands and knees for me.”

A
hunt was organized for the afternoon to replenish the Grenvile larder, but since hunting was anathema to Summer, Ruark joined the King and most of the other gentlemen, who were glad for a chance to be outdoors, well mounted on Grenvile Thoroughbreds.

When the maid came to do Summer’s hair for the gala evening, she decided to wear it à
la négligence,
that is to say curled loosely about her shoulders. Summer’s dark silken mass of hair had only one rival in that whole assembly and that of course was the mahogany tresses of Barbara Castlemaine. Summer decided to wear the vivid peacock-colored gown which opened down the front to display the pale green petticoat embroidered with silvery threads. She had an eye mask in the shape of a butterfly which was made from jade and turquoise-colored feathers and she carried a silver lace fan. She knew she was more beautiful than any other woman present. She knew that because of it, she would make enemies, but she didn’t give a damn.