The Pirate and the Pagan (29 page)

“Your plans?” he questioned, sounding both annoyed and disappointed by the cool businesslike tone she used.

“Of course.” She glanced at him coldly as if to rebuke him for being disorganized. “I’ve decided on a treasure hunt for tomorrow. Since everyone will be arriving at a different hour, they can join in any time they please. The secluded yew walks of Helford Hall will tempt both men and women to join in the game.”

He frowned darkly. “It sounds risqué—no, in fact it sounds downright bawdy. You are openly encouraging them to play all sorts of games in the bowers, and you know damned well what treasures they’ll be hunting,” he accused.

“Of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “They are all adults, I believe, and you’ve no idea how unutterably bored they were with the Countess of Bath’s shepherdess fiasco.”

He cocked an arrogant brow. “What do you intend to use for a prize when the winner is declared? What do you have of value?”

“The ambergris aphrodisiac, of course,” she said as if he were a dullard not to have guessed. His frown deepened to a scowl, but before he could object, she hurried on. “The next afternoon while you occupy the gentlemen, I am transforming the tropical terrace and garden into a replica of that Ottoman palace in Algiers you told me of. All the silken Persian carpets and brilliant cushions and
divan lounges are to be brought down from the attics. The ladies can wear veils and Mr. Burke has promised to oversee the cooks while they prepare exotic and spicy Eastern dishes.”

“And how the hell am I to interest the men in salmon fishing when they glimpse your veiled ladies languishing about among the flowering almond?” he demanded.

“Really, Lord Helford. Use a little common sense, if you have any. Get them out of here early before we transform the gardens, then when they return, wet and weary from your bucolic expedition up the river, they’ll stop their complaining and be delighted they came after all.”

He noticed with annoyance that she was wearing a cream linen gown with cream-colored roses in her hair. She had deliberately put them there to provoke intimate memories, he told himself. Well, they were certainly doing that. The little bitch hadn’t even thanked him for enabling her brother to escape from prison, he thought bitterly. “Have you any more plans, madame?” he asked in a sarcastic note.

“Of course I have more plans, I’m simply waiting to hear yours. They have insatiable appetites for anything unique. I thought perhaps if you were planning to race some of your Thoroughbreds, it would make an exciting change if afterward we had a seafood dinner down on the beach.”

“On the beach?” he asked incredulously.

“How many of them have ever lit a beach fire and baked clams and lobsters and crabs?” she asked.

Though his expression remained unreadable, the idea appealed to him. “Probably none of them except the King. He and I have done that before.”

“Good, he’ll love the nostalgia it will provoke, trust me.”

“Trust you?” he raged. “I have done that before also, madame. I might have known a clever, conniving female like you would come up with such exciting, illicit schemes for entertainment. You have planned everything down to the last detail,
as usual”
he threw at her with emphasis. “It’s too bad I didn’t know your true attributes when I married you!”

“My heart bleeds for you,” she said with exquisite sarcasm. “The biddable little country girl turned out to have too much spirit for you to tame.”

“By Christ, I’ll tame you before I’m done with you … and that’s a promise.” He bowed and left her with her guest lists.

Summer was pleased with herself. She had treated him in a summarily offhand manner and it had angered him enough to make him threaten her. The rest of her day was so busy she hardly had a moment to think of him, but at bedtime, the night stretched before her empty and endless. She ordered a bath to pass the time and relax her so she would fall asleep the sooner, but the tantalizing water evoked such intimate memories that she soon stepped out and wrapped herself in a Turkish towel. She stepped before the mirror to brush her hair, but his image lingered in its depths. She saw him standing behind her, cupping her breasts; she saw him lift her up onto his shaft and slowly impale her; she saw him slide his pulsing erection up her back then turn her to face him so he could slide it over her breasts. She closed her eyes and smashed her clenched fist into the mocking mirror.

She sent for a flacon of wine and downed cup after cup. A line from a play by that fellow Shakespeare ran through her mind: “Give me a bowl of wine; in this I bury all unkindness.”

But by the time the flacon was half-empty she wished desperately she hadn’t had any at all, for her blood grew warm and she was all liver and lights. Toward morning she did manage to fall into a fitful sleep where she saw a tall, dark cavalier beckon to her. He was irresistible and all he had to do to make her follow him was to lift his finger. He held a bag of gold and selected a crown from it. Holding it out to her on his palm, he crooned, “You like gold, don’t you, little wench?”

“Yes, Ruark,” she answered.

“Will you sell me a piece of tail for a piece of gold?”

“Yes, Ruark,” she readily agreed.

“I have a hundred crowns in this bag. Will you let me fuck you a hundred times?” He leered.

“Yes, please, Ruark,” she begged.

When she awoke, she was covered with shame. The only thing that saved her from completely wallowing in self-loathing was the realization that this was the day the King and their other guests were arriving.

All morning and into the early afternoon the carriages and gilt coaches rolled up the long driveway to Helford Hall. The drivers, along with the grooms and stablemen of Helford, unharnessed the horses and took them into the dark, cool stables to be fed and watered. Though their guests would not be sleeping at the hall, nevertheless Summer had made the guest chambers available for
the ladies so they could bathe, change their clothes, or rest in privacy. All the female servants, not just the chambermaids, were given special duties, even though some of the ladies high in the pecking order like the Countess of Castlemaine brought their own serving women.

Finally the King arrived accompanied by Buckingham, and Lord and Lady Helford came from separate directions to welcome their royal guest. Summer was wearing the very latest fashion from France. Her bodice was low cut and laced together to allow delicious glimpses of female breast to peep through the laces. Her full skirt was striped in pale and jade green and the flattering color made her eyes as green as emeralds. She curtsied deeply before Charles and he boldly took advantage of the opportunity presented and gazed down the front of her dress. He lifted her at last and took her hands to his lips. Her eyes met his and he murmured, “Little beauty.” Then in a louder voice he drawled, “’Sblood, some men have all the luck in their choice of wives, Helford.”

“Welcome, Sire, it looks as if we are to be blessed by king’s weather,” said Ruark, ignoring the compliment about his wife.

Although the game of the treasure hunt had been explained to all the guests and they were eager to get started in their search for clues which would lead them to the treasure, most had been reluctant to set off before the King arrived. Now, however, as the King and Buckingham were given refreshments, men and women were choosing partners to help them win the game.

A great crowd was gathered about the table in the front hall, where the large lump of ambergris sat resplendent in a gilt casket which Summer had found up in the attics. It caused a great deal of ribald comment and set a bawdy tone for the afternoon’s festivities.

The King was sampling some cider which Ruark said had been aged in applewood casks for five years. He grinned at Ruark. “’Sblood, it’s the first time I’ve seen Buckingham take an interest in something other than the cut of his coat in a twelvemonth.”

The men were making private wagers on who would win the coveted prize and Summer was aghast at the great amounts of money being so casually gambled away.

“I wouldn’t mind a lump of the stuff to analyze in my laboratory —purely for the sake of science, you understand,” Charles said, winking at Ruark. “Lady Helford”—he beckoned—“I shall consent to play treasure hunt only if you will partner me, dearest lady.” He turned to Ruark, who had a heavy frown between his
brows. “There is method in my madness. The lady who made up the rhyming clues must know where the winning clue is buried.”

“Ah, but Sire, I could take you along a false track, lead you down the primrose path so to speak, and you’d be none the wiser,” Summer warned prettily.

“How can I lose if I spend an hour with you in a shaded yew walk, my beauty?”

She glanced at her husband in a cool detached manner and replied, “I do not wish to cause jealousy, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, Ruark knows it is my duty to spend time with my hostess and Barbara can partner her cousin Buckingham if she wants to play the game.”

Summer linked her arm with the King’s and dipped into the glass bowl for the first rhymed clue:

Summer handed it to Charles. “The first one is easy; they get progressively harder.”

“Harder and harder,” he whispered wickedly as they walked off in the direction of the sundial.

Charles tried to amuse himself with kissing games, but no matter how he pressed the lady she would not yield to anything adventurous. When Summer urged him to hurry or they would never get through all the clues which led to the treasure, he put his arm about her and whispered into her ear, “I need no aphrodisiacs, sweetheart. I’m accused of being in rut like a stag as it is.”

“And with good cause, Sire,” said Summer, eluding his arms and skipping away from him into the next deserted yew walk. For a moment she was dismayed to find it empty. Charles’s long legs soon closed the distance between them and he finally managed to claim a kiss. He whispered into her ear again, “Sweetheart, a hostess really should do everything within her power to please a guest.”

“Do I not please you, Your Majesty?” she asked, filled only with hurt and longing for her unyielding husband.

“Yes, you do, but could we not sit down and rest awhile in this cool grass in the lovely shade of these private yews?”

“They won’t be private for long, Sire. Whatever would become of my reputation if we were caught lying in the grass together?”

“Little innocent … none of the court would dare come down
the same secluded yew walk where I had taken a lady. They would avoid us at all costs rather than risk my displeasure.”

“I see,” she said softly, “but you would risk my displeasure.”

“Sweetheart, not for all the world. If you are unwilling, we’ll say no more about it.”

    Since the King had gone off with Summer Helford, Barbara put a good face on it and prepared to partner Buckingham. Barbara’s friend the Countess of Shrewsbury said, “Dammit, Barbara, how is it you get two of the most virile men at Court?”

“George is my cousin, you know that!” protested Barbara.

“So? That never stopped anyone. Tell me the truth, have you never lain with him?”

Barbara whispered behind her fan, “George has peculiar tastes. He frequents a brothel in the Haymarket where they pander to perversion.”

“Really?” drawled Anna Maria, sensing a challenge. She walked over to Buckingham and licked her lips. “I doubt very much if ambergris would work as well as other devices I could name.”

Buckingham’s eyes were on her mouth as her tongue outlined her lips again. She continued, “When the senses are slightly jaded, a man needs more voluptuous stimulation than powders to drink. Tell me, your grace, have you ever heard of the ingenious Oriental rings?”

“Anna Maria, I have heard of them and seen a demonstration of their efficacy, but, alas, I have never been able to procure any.”

She smiled. “I happen to have a collection of Chinese curios Shrewsbury brought home from the East. He hasn’t the vaguest notion they are sexual devices.” She tapped his arm intimately with her fan.

“I think,” said Buckingham, taking her elbow, “we would make formidable partners.”

I
n the end it was Dick Talbot, a huge and handsome friend of the King’s celebrating his thirty-third birthday, who was declared winner of the treasure hunt. Though he had so far escaped matrimony, he was rumored to have bastards sprinkled all over England. The prize was presented with great ceremony amid a veritable hailstorm of lewd, rude, and crude bon mots.

Summer stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his ruddy cheek as he accepted the gilt casket from her hands and, taking the ribbing like a good sport, announced, “See, it’s already working.”

Dinner was served in the formal dining salon of Helford Hall. An immense oval refectory table accommodated the whole company of nearly one hundred. Summer, as hostess, sat between the King and her husband. Ruark’s attentiveness almost undid her. How could he play the role of devoted bridegroom while despising her?

She gave the lion’s share of her attention to Charles, but it was impossible to ignore her husband completely since he and Charles carried on a conversation with each other, and her presence between them inhibited their topics in no way.