The Pirate and the Pagan

by Virginia Henley

  “Good God, you’re a Helford!” she accused.

  The resemblance to Ruark was marked, yet this man was completely different. He wore a permanent expression of amusement as if he refused to take life seriously. Where Ruark was intense, serious, and brooding, this man was young, with a teasing, laughing, outrageous personality.

  She got to her feet and swaggered toward him with hands on her hips. “Don’t bother to deny it. I know you are Ruark Helford’s brother, for I’m married to him.”

  He laughed, his teeth showing white against bronzed skin. “Are you bragging or complaining?”

  “Complaining, may lightning blast the man!”

  He was more amused than ever and looked her over frankly, assessingly. “Since you’ve guessed my identity, I might as well admit I’m Rory, the black sheep of the Helford family.”

  “Oh no, I insist that distinction is mine. I’m Cat,” she said in a challenging tone.

  He laughed again. “Hellcat Helford … it suits you.”

  He said something to Pedro, who grinned and nodded. She looked toward the cabin door and saw two dark, wiry men wearing red scarves and golden earrings. One was eating an orange and spitting the seeds on the floor and the other put a mouth organ to his lips and played a saucy tune. She compared these foreigners who looked like monkeys to the sailors aboard Lord Helford’s vessel. God in heaven, Ruark would have had them flogged for disrespect. “Get out!” she ordered Pedro, waving her hand toward the cabin door. The massive man grinned and left and she slammed the door on their inquisitive faces.

  She turned back to Rory Helford and said in an awed voice, “You really are a pirate!”

  He saw her eyeing the streak of white hair at his temple and grinned widely as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Have you ever seen a raven with a white feather in his wing?”

  She answered, “Yes, often.”

  “It’s caused by an injury. Same thing with this—it’s an old scar, the hair grew in white.”

  “Is that how you lost your eye?” she asked curiously, showing no pity.

  He laughed again. “I have both eyes. This patch is only temporary. Powder flashed in the pan when I shot my pistol last night.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of hanging?” she asked.

  He said grinning, “Hanging’s only half an hour’s pastime.”

  “So you’re not afraid to die?” she demanded.

  “I won’t die. Heaven doesn’t want me and hell’s afraid I’ll take over!”

  “Does everything amuse you?” she asked with a sneer.

  “Most things … females in breeches with beautiful breasts in particular,” he teased.

  “Oh!” she said, pretending outrage, then suddenly she realized his laughter was infectious and a bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “You are clearly a selfish, conceited, mannerless swine who does exactly as he pleases, and yet I like you. Why is that, Rory Helford?”

  “Because there is no pretense between us. You can be yourself and swear your head off and strut about in your boots and I don’t rebuke you. We could amuse each other, I think. How the hell did you come to marry my brother? Please don’t expect me to believe you fell in love with him.”

  “Love him? I hate him, plague take the man. I own Roseland, next door to Helford Hall. At least I did own it until my rancid father mortgaged every cobweb. When your precious brother found out I wasn’t the wealthy heiress he thought me, that temper he’s famous for took control of him. He swore I’d not get a copper penny of precious Helford money and told me to get it myself.”

  Rory almost fell from his chair with amusement. “You needn’t have hysterics,” she told him hotly, “I have every intention of getting it myself.”

  “The reason I’m laughing so hard is the touchy subject of mortgages. I imagine it exacerbated Ruark’s temper because it’s taken him four long years to pay off the mortgages on Helford Hall. Everything was mortgaged in the Stuart cause, you see. It’s so bloody rich … I wish I could have seen his face. He just gets one paid off and you hand him another on a silver platter!”

  “He’s rolling in money … the swine won eight thousand pounds from me not two weeks ago.”

  He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. “You need money and you were foolish enough to lose eight thousand to him? You’re not a very good businesswoman, are you?”

  “Hell and furies, yes I am! I’d like to do business with you.”

  “Why in hell’s name would I want to do business with a woman?” He laughed.

  “For profit, of course, I can do anything a man can do,” she insisted.

  He tried to keep the amusement from his face but failed utterly at her preposterous assertion. “I don’t do business unless it’s to my advantage,” he said. His eyes traveled down her body and back up again as if he were assessing her for his own private use. He thought how pleasant it would be to free those pert breasts from that lace shirt and toy with her nipples until they stood out like the ruby studs she wore. He’d like to lay her on the floor and teach her how to kiss a man, whatever sort of struggle she offered.

  “I can offer you storage for any cargo you bring in,” she stated boldly.

  “Up at the hall?” He grinned.

  “No, at Roseland. I’ve a cave opens into my cellars,” she boasted.

  “So, my little hellcat, you’re up to your pretty neck in smuggling … tell me how in Christ’s name you manage to keep all this from the magistrate?”

  “Death and damnation, I should have kept it from him, but I was foolish enough to confess my sins.” She grinned sheepishly.

  “And expected absolution?” He grinned.

  She changed the subject. “I have some jewelry I’d like to sell.”

  “Rubies?” he asked.

  “No! I’m particularly partial to rubies,” she drawled. “I have diamonds, pearls, sapphires, lots of stuff. Will you buy them from me?”

  His eyebrows went up at mention of so many jewels but he shook his head. “I told you I don’t like doing business with women, they have no stomach for danger.”

  “Try me,” she challenged.

  He stood up for the first time and she noticed his movements had the easy grace of an animal, lithe and quick, yet at the same time appearing unhurried.

  “Jake,” he called from the cabin door. A blond youth about her own age appeared and had the audacity to wink at her. “Fetch two bottles of champagne and a barrel of oysters,” Rory directed. He came back into the cabin and circled his prey. “Have you ever had champagne?” he asked.

  She tossed her long black tresses and lifted the corners of her mouth with conceit. “Of course. I had a whole cargo of the stuff in my cellars two months back,” she boasted.

  He looked amused. He drew two comfortable chairs up to a low round table, sat down, and put his feet up on it. “Make yourself comfortable,” he invited, taking two Venetian crystal glasses from a cabinet at his elbow.

  Jake brought the bottles of champagne in one hand and the barrel of oysters in the other. He plunked both down on the table between Rory and Cat and left, but not before he’d winked at her again.

  With a little shock she realized that the oysters were raw. She’d eaten oysters before, of course, but they’d always been decently baked or fried. Raw oysters were a mass of slippery gray slime and just the thought of swallowing one made her queasy.

  Rory Helford filled their goblets with champagne, pried off the lid on the barrel, and said, “Dig in.” He took a knife from his belt and picked up an ugly crustacean. He was testing her! The son of a bitch was laughing at her.

  With all the assurance in the world, she took out her knife, slipped it into the shell of the barnacled creature, and exposed it to the light of day. She eyed it with distaste, then with a bravado she did not feel, she lifted it to her lips and tipped it down her throat. For one awful moment her throat closed and refused to accept the obscenity, then it slid down with a plop and she quaffed the champagne to wash it down into he
r stomach. By God, she’d done it! But now of course, she had the whole disgusting thing to do over, all the while looking as if she was enjoying herself immensely. She matched him oyster for oyster and glass for glass. He watched her with admiration as he ate and drank with gusto. She was a rare beauty, what man could resist her? Certainly not Rory Helford, he decided. He refilled her glass again and again and noticed she swallowed more champagne than oysters.

  They were laughing over a tiny crab that jumped off one of the oyster shells and scrambled across the table, when all of a sudden a look of horror crossed her face and Summer and the oysters parted company. She moaned in terrible distress as she retched and spewed forth oysters afloat in champagne.

  Rory was on his feet instantly. He picked her up with the greatest tenderness in the world and took her through an adjoining door into his bedroom. “Cat, forgive me, sweetheart, I’ve made you ill.” He laid her down upon his bed and brought fresh towels and water. He removed the offending shirt and washed her face, throat, and breasts with gentle hands.

  She felt so ill, she thought she would die. He slipped off his own black shirt and put it on her, tenderly brushing her hair back from her face. “I’ll leave you to rest,” he murmured. “Close your eyes for half an hour and I’ll come back to check on you.”

  She turned her face into the cool, silken cover and wished she could die. Miraculously, little by little she began to feel better. Within a half hour the extreme nausea had passed enough that she began to take notice of her surroundings. She lay upon a scarlet silk cover; above her was a flame-colored silk canopy that billowed and drifted about in the sea breeze from an open porthole. Red silk panels were tied back at the moment, but she could see that when the ties were undone and let down, the occupants of the bed would be enclosed in a flame-colored world which was exotic in the extreme, more so because the silk was transparent and would not completely hide whatever took place there. Red-lacquered Chinese cabinets stood against walls paneled in light wood which gave off a fragrance. Summer realized it must be sandalwood. The carpet was like thick, black, plush velvet. Good God, she thought, it’s fortunate I didn’t spew all over this. Then she thought wickedly, I’ll bet that would have wiped the damned amusement from his face.

  She groaned. Hell and furies, how was she going to face him after she’d embarrassed herself so completely? She sat up as she heard him at the door and he came in carrying a steaming bowl. The last thing she wanted was food. Her lashes swept to her cheeks in chagrin and she muttered low, “You don’t expect me to ever eat again, do you?”

  He laughed and said, “I made it for you myself. It’s broth … here, I’ll even feed you,” he offered. He lifted the spoon to her lips. She blushed hotly, but opened obediently and after three or four mouthfuls actually began to feel better.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve never so disgraced myself in front of a man before,” she said shyly.

  “That’s all right. I’ve never had a woman in my bed who I didn’t make love to before.”

  Her blush deepened.

  “But I’m giving you fair warning, little hellcat, I’m going to seduce you.”

  She swung her feet to the floor quickly.

  He laughed. “Not now,” he teased, “you have a decided miasma about you.”

  “Oh, you brute!” she gasped.

  He laughed with delight. “I thought we’d agreed to be brutally honest with each other? Why else would I warn you I was going to have you?”

  “That would be adultery,” she said repressively. “Something I’ve been known to indulge in from time to time,” he said, amused.

  “But I won’t!” she swore emphatically.

  “Won’t you?” he challenged lightly

  “What about the jewels?” she said, dismissing the subject.

  He opened her hand and dropped the ruby studs into her palm.

  “Not these, the ones I want to sell.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’ll have to see them first, won’t I?”

  “Will you be here tomorrow?” she demanded. “My whereabouts are my business. Perhaps I’ll come to you. We can contact each other through Mr. Burke.”

  “Mr. Burke?” she asked in surprise.

  “He’s had a soft spot for me since I was a boy. Does that surprise you?”

  “It shouldn’t,” she admitted. “He’s been a good friend to me also. He must have a weakness for black sheep,” she said, smiling.

  He went to one of the cabinets and took out an exotic-looking bottle. “Let me give you a present.” He grinned wickedly. “It will make you smell even better.”

  She took out the stopper and sniffed appreciatively.

  “Frangipani,” he said.

  She accepted it with a smile.

  That night her dreams were unbelievable. She blamed it on what she had eaten because she wouldn’t admit, even to herself, that Rory Helford attracted her. One dream led into another and he was with her in all of them, mocking, teasing, laughing, touching, kissing, but when their bodies finally joined, it was Ruark who made love to her.

  She didn’t fall into a deep, peaceful sleep until morning and so it was after ten o’clock when she opened her eyes and slipped from the bed. The first thing she did, even before she dressed, was go up to the roof to see if the Phantom was still there. When she saw he was gone, a feeling of disappointment swept over her. She told herself the disappointment stemmed from not being able to sell the jewels today and tried to force her mind to other things, other people. But when she returned to her chamber, her eyes fell on his shirt which she’d worn home, and with a blush upon her cheek, she picked it up to sniff the sandalwood and male scent of it. Death and damnation, what was it about these Helford men that had this stunning physical effect upon her?

  She realized that before Ruark she had been unaware, unawakened, and he had introduced her to the mysteries of sex in such a pleasurable way that now she had needs and longings and some nights she burned with desire. Yet up until now no other man had aroused any sort of romantic feelings in her except Ruark … up until now …

  She washed and ironed his black shirt herself, fingering the embroidered R upon the collar and wondering jealously who had done it. She tucked it away in a drawer then spent the rest of the day in a quandary, trying to decide if she should take all the jewels, and if not, then which ones should she select?

  That night when the curtains were drawn and the candles lit, she took out each piece, laid it on the bed, and tried to put a price on it. She knew he would offer less than she asked and tried to establish a firm price for each piece below which she would absolutely refuse to go. She had a pretty good idea that the diamond necklace was worth the most. She decided to take no less than five hundred for it. Altogether she hoped to get at least three thousand pounds, but if he refused that much, then she was prepared to go as low as two.

  The next morning there was still no sign of the ship and again she felt a pang of disappointment. In the late afternoon Mr. Burke brought her an invitation card. She picked it up with indifference from the silver salver he produced, wondering which neighbor had sent it. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. It was an invitation to dine aboard the Phantom. She decided not to question how Mr. Burke got it, for he never ever questioned her.

  She tried to suppress a feeling of elation, but found it impossible. Since he had sent what amounted to a formal invitation, she decided to dress formally. She felt a great compulsion to look beautiful and knew the reason why. Here was a man who made it clear he found her attractive and she knew there was no point in denying she felt that same attraction. Rory Helford’s mission in life seemed to be to amuse himself, so why shouldn’t she do the same?

  She bathed, perfumed between her breasts with frangipani, then, because he wore black, she donned a black lace gown slit up the skirt to show off an embroidered petticoat, except she left off the petticoat. She needed the freedom to ride, and besides, she decided, the gown worn this way had a delicious shock value she coul
dn’t resist. Since Rory Helford urged her to be herself, he might as well know from the start she was a pagan.

  She wore black silk stockings, and to complete her outfit she wore the diamond necklace that had once belonged to the King’s mistress. She swept her hair up atop her head and fastened the diamond shoe buckles among her curls. She even selected a tiny black patch shaped like a diamond for one cheekbone. If he was expecting the hellcat in breeches, he was in for a surprise.

  She tethered Ebony beneath the trees in the early-evening shadows and carefully picked her way to the edge of the river and up the long gangplank. His motley crew stared openmouthed at the fine lady who came aboard. She wore no mask, nor carried a fan; Cat had no patience tonight for such affectations. She did, however, bring the jewel case. She went straightaway to his cabin, knocked politely, and entered. The door to the inner room stood open and she could see partway into his exotic bedroom. When he came through the door, he was not in black, but wore a loose white djellaba and bare feet. His skin looked so dark against the white robe that he almost did not look like a white man. He had shaved his beard but not the mustache. The black patch was gone from his eye and the zigzag of white hair at his temple made a startling contrast.

  He did not laugh at her tonight, but the mocking amusement was still in his eyes as they swept over her from head to foot and came to rest on her breasts. Of course he wasn’t looking at her breasts, she told herself, he was looking at the diamonds.

  The way he looked at her made her blood thicken and she could not dispel an image of him in his white robe sprawled across his flame-colored bed. He waved his arm toward a cabinet holding a vast array of bottles. “I won’t force champagne upon you tonight, you may chose your own poison.”

  “I suppose it is most unsophisticated of me, but I like sweet red wine,” she challenged.