“Condition?” he questioned quickly. “Is she …?”
Lil held up her hands. “She swears she is not.”
His mouth hardened. “Where has she gone?”
“She took the carriage up into the city. I really don’t think she’ll be back for hours and hours, my lord.”
“I’ll write her a note,” he said with decisiveness. “Perhaps it’s best we don’t meet face-to-face today. We have this unfortunate knack of exacerbating each other’s tempers the moment we are in the same room together.” He emptied his glass and refused to let her refill it. “I’ve seen the King and Shaftsbury about young Spencer. I’ve arranged to have him released, so there’s no need for her to petition His Majesty about this.”
Lil brought him paper and quill and he wrote that under no circumstances was it necessary to meet with the King to beg his favors. “When she learns what you have done for her brother, I’m sure she’ll be ready to forgive everything, darling,” assured Lil.
“I do have to beg her pardon for a few things I said to her,” he explained, “then perhaps we can begin again.” He handed Lady Richwood the letter and after he left she took it up to Summer’s chamber and laid it on the pretty French desk.
After Summer left Solomon Storm she went on a shopping spree in the Exchange. All she bought for herself were some pretty hair ornaments and a pair of delicious, dangling earrings which caught her fancy, but for Spider she bought soap, towels, a razor, underclothing, shirts, breeches, doublets, waistcoats, and vests, the very latest fashion from Paris. She knew the hours would stretch interminably until she must be at the gateway of the privy garden, so she lingered in the vast arcade, enjoying the display of articles from around the world.
There were wig shops, tobacconists with their strange masculine aromas, French glove shops, lace vendors, goldsmiths, rainbow displays of Venetian glass and Moroccan leather. By the time she returned to Cockspur Street, Lil’s escort for the evening had already called to take her to Lady Somerset’s ball.
Summer took a bath while she mulled over what would be the right outfit to wear tonight. She chose her gown for her meeting with the King very carefully. Red was out, it was far too provocative and bold. Black was very regal, but with her dark coloring it was not her best color. In white or pastel she would stick out like a sore thumb, and when one had a secret, midnight meeting through the privy garden and up the backstairs, one did not wish to advertise the fact. She finally settled on an apricot silk with a taffeta cape of amber.
She had a light supper of cold meat and fruit and decided against taking any wine. She would need all her wits about her for tonight’s encounter. Finally at the hour of ten o’clock she bade a footman call her a linkboy to light her way to Whitehall. It lay just across Pall Mall and along through the Holbein Gateway. She hadn’t even noticed the letter from her husband lying on the desk.
Lord Helford at this fashionable hour was about to take a shortcut through St. James Park over to the palace, where he had business with Chancellor Hyde. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw Edward Progers speaking with a fashionably dressed young woman who looked suspiciously like his wife. He was furious. Obviously she had completely ignored his letter telling her not to ask the King for favors, but what was most damning was the method she had chosen for the meeting.
It was nothing but a rendezvous arranged through Charles’s pimp, Progers! By the time he reached the privy garden, Summer had disappeared inside. He went all the way up to the King’s apartments, encountering none but red-coated yeomen of the guard who stood at the main archways. He decided to wait for her, even if it took all night.
He slipped into a shadowed alcove near Charles’s apartments and propped himself against the wall.
Progers took Summer through no less than three salons before he knocked discreetly upon a door, bowed, and withdrew, leaving her to her fate. Almost immediately the door was opened wide by Charles, who was dressed quite informally in shirt sleeves topped by a brocaded vest. His eyes kindled warmly as he drew her inside and kissed her hand in the most breathtaking manner. Without doubt, Charles was the most charming cavalier in the whole nation.
As he put his hands to her shoulders to remove her cape, she noticed how extraordinarily long were his beringed fingers. His hands were very large and strong, almost like a peasant’s, and looked capable of heavy physical labor. His manners, however, were impeccable. His hands did not linger about her person in a lascivious way. Charles relied upon charm alone to seduce a lady.
Summer curtsied low and Charles raised her immediately, “That’s quite unnecessary, my dear, when we are private.”
“Your Majesty, thank you for agreeing to see me so quickly,” she breathed.
“Lady Helford … Summer, it is a pleasure. Please don’t be a stranger to the court now that you are in London.”
“Thank you, Sire,” she murmured, wondering how soon she could petition him for help without seeming rude.
“Allow me to wait upon you for a change. Would you join me in a glass of port?” He led her to a chair and stood against the mantelpiece, where he could observe her beauty. The room, filled with priceless furniture, paintings, and art objects, could only be described as opulent. Summer was grateful that he had not received her in his bedchamber.
Her eyes glanced over the masterpieces on the walls as she composed what she should say to him, but suddenly her eyes came to stop on a magnificent portrait and she blurted, “Oh, is that a Raphael?”
“Yes. My father had the greatest art collection in England. That damned usurper sold off priceless works of art as if they were coconuts at the fair. I’m trying my best to restore his collections of Raphael, Titian, Guido, and the like.”
“We used to own a Raphael at Roseland but my father gambled away everything,” she said with candor.
“Well, I’ve been both prince and pauper and know what it’s like to have to sell heirlooms for practical purposes, but to sacrifice them for gambling is an obscenity.”
“Sire, I cannot ask you for a favor without offering something in return; my pride won’t allow it.”
He smiled down at her with jaded eyes. “Pride is a luxury we sometimes cannot afford. Summer, you neither flatter me nor flirt with me, as all other women do, so I must assume you are not offering the usual fare.”
She blushed, then plunged on. “My husband spies for you. I, too, could do that. Think how much a woman could learn and pass on for the good of her country. I know information is leaking to the Dutch, and perhaps I could find the source of that leak. Baron Arlington, your secretary of state, is married to a Dutchwoman.”
Charles laughed. “Egad, Arlington is after Hyde’s job, he’d better not be married to a traitor.”
“I didn’t mean to imply the baroness was a traitor, Sire; I’m simply using her as an example.”
“Yes, yes, I do understand and what you suggest has a great deal of merit I am in need of someone here at Court who will gather information for me and it would be best if we were just friends rather than intimate.”
She blushed again.
“Summer, you are that rare phenomenon—a woman who is in love with her husband.”
Summer’s flush deepened. If only he knew the truth about her, she was certain he would be very shocked.
“I feel I can be very open and frank with you and you will keep my confidence,” he said low.
“You may trust me implicitly, Sire,” she assured him.
“There is a young lady my sister brought home from France. Her name is Frances Stewart. I have a special interest in the lady, but she rebuffs every advance. She professes to be an innocent maid, a virgin, and I would know if this is true or if she spurns me for another.”
Summer was dismayed. “Oh, Sire, I don’t mean that sort of spying!”
“Well, my dearest Summer, while you get this information for me, perhaps you will learn other things regarding the security of the realm.”
“I think you are jus
t playing with me.”
“Sweetheart, I’d like to play with you but you hold me at arm’s length like la belle Stewart.” He chuckled. “Tell me what it is I may do for you.”
“My brother was wrongly imprisoned in Falmouth and sent to Newgate. I was there yesterday, Sire, and it broke my heart to see his condition.”
“My dear, Ruark has already spoken to me about this. I gave my permission for him to get your brother released.”
She was so surprised her mouth fell open a little.
“Haven’t you spoken with your husband?”
“N-no, Sire, I thought he was in Falmouth.”
“Well, no doubt he wants to surprise you.”
“P-perhaps,” she whispered.
“I believe he’s here at Whitehall tonight.”
She was frightened to think Lord Helford might have seen her with Progers. “Thank you for your kindness toward my brother, Your Majesty, I shall never forget it. Good night, Sire.”
He wrapped her cloak about her and bestowed a chaste kiss upon her brow. “Au revoir, Summer.”
She found her way back through the three salons, but Edward Progers didn’t seem to be anywhere in evidence. Annoyed, she supposed the wretched man had assumed she would be staying the night. She stepped out into the dim hallway and a man emerged from the shadows to block her path. Fear sketched its ugly finger across her brow. “Ruark, this isn’t what it seems, my lord,” she protested.
His face was dark and brooding in the dim light. He contemplated her in silence for a moment, managed to gain control over his temper, and answered, “I believe you. If I’d been making love to you, an hour wouldn’t satisfy me … it would be the same for Charles.”
She bit back a cutting remark. “Thank you for seeing the King about Spencer. I’ve been mad with worry for him.”
“Didn’t you get my letter?” he asked. “What letter?”
“I came to Cockspur Street to see you today. I gave Lady Richwood a letter for you.”
“She had already gone out for the evening by the time I returned,” she said.
“We can’t talk here. Summer, I have rooms here at Whitehall. Will you come with me there so that we may talk?”
She was amazed that he was not shouting at her, calling her names. He seemed to be in a quiet enough mood. Perhaps there was more she should know about her brother’s imprisonment and release. “I’ll come for half an hour, my lord, but it’s very late. It’s not really safe for me to be on the streets at this time of night.”
“I shall see you safely home, Summer,” he assured her.
He led her through the labyrinth of Whitehall, then outside and past the bowling green. They entered his apartment from the grounds, but she knew the two small rooms must open onto an inner corridor of the maze that was called Whitehall.
When Ruark lit the candles, she smiled to herself. The chambers reflected his taste exactly. It was so warm and welcoming, she had the peculiar feeling of coming home. He removed her cloak and offered her a comfortable chair. He poured them both a glass of sack and took the chair opposite her.
“I came to see you today to tell you that I had the King’s permission to get Spencer released from Newgate. The last thing in the world I wanted was for you to go begging favors from Charles.”
“Why can you ask him, but not me?” she asked reasonably.
“Because you are a very beautiful woman. Because I have firsthand knowledge that he is attracted to you. I’m being very honest with you, Summer … I didn’t want you giving yourself to him out of gratitude.” His eyes searched hers.
“Why should you care? It’s over between us, you said as much yourself.”
“It isn’t over between us, Summer … not yet … perhaps not ever. I know I have the devil’s own temper but I’d give anything in the world if we could go back to being the way we were.” His voice was so sincere, so regretful, it made a lump come into her throat.
“What we had together was so fine … so special … so rare. I want us to begin again if you’ll give me another chance, my darling.”
She looked down into her wineglass and saw the candlelight reflected in the deep amber. She felt her heartbeat quicken in her throat.
“I’m my own worst enemy, you know. I flew into a rage when you told me about your brother being imprisoned and about the mortgage on Roseland, but I regretted it almost immediately and that same afternoon I made it possible for Spencer—Spider as you affectionately call him—to escape through the open window of the interrogation room. Then I went to London and redeemed the mortgage on Roseland for you.”
A tear slipped down Summer’s cheek. They had been so deeply in love, they had been totally immersed in one another, why hadn’t she realized Ru had done these things for her?
He reached over and took hold of her hand. He gazed at it as if it were made of precious porcelain. “When the King and court came to Helford Hall, I was so proud of the way you handled everything. I saw immediately that it didn’t matter how you’d been brought up … you do everything with such a natural, inborn grace that to know you is to love you. And I also realized that you did it for me. I nearly went mad for the taste of you, the feel of you. That last night I approached you so clumsily, we quarreled again. I was a brute to force you. All I really wanted was to tell you, show you how much I loved you.”
“Oh, Ru,” she cried softly.
“Hush, darling, I should be horsewhipped for making you cry.” He stood up and came behind her chair, rubbing a strand of her silken hair between thumb and forefingers. “I apologize for the things I said and did to you, and beg your forgiveness.”
She stood up to face him. “It wasn’t all your fault. I lied to you and lured you into marriage under false pretenses, but Ru, I swear to you I always loved you.” She swayed involuntarily toward him, her eyes closed.
His powerful hands grasped her about the waist and he drew her toward him, then crushed her softness against his hard length. Her head fell back and her mouth parted to receive his kiss. Passion rose like a flame between them. “Oh, my darling, stay with me tonight?” he begged. “Let’s never, ever have secrets between us again … promise me.”
Reality intruded itself upon her consciousness and she realized how wickedly promiscuous she had been with Rory. More than anything in the world, she wanted her husband’s love, and she knew how he had reacted when she confessed all to him before. She had learned her lesson. Never again would she confess anything to him. “I should go now, Ruark, Auntie Lil will be worried for me.”
In response, his mouth came down upon hers to ravish it. They were like two people starving with the need for each other. Her gown was drawn over her head and she heard its whisper as it was banished to the floor. He picked her up, held her against his heart, and carried her to his bed. She was stunned that his touch had set all her senses quivering with expectant eagerness.
Once he held her naked body, his mouth was relentless in its demands. Breathlessly between kisses she begged, “Ru, please undress, you have no idea how much pleasure I get from touching you.” The moment he unbuttoned his shirt her hands slid inside to trace the hard sinewy muscles which covered his rib cage. Then his hands were at the waistband of his breeches to slide them down and her eager mouth followed his hands, raining tiny kisses on his flat belly. He was groaning hoarsely from her play, and the moment he managed to rid himself of the tight breeches his shaft rose up to brush her cheek. Then she let herself go and unleashed all the pent-up longings she had in a sensual excess that carried them both to the brink of madness.
All her kisses were now reserved for the marblelike phallus with the velvet head which had unfailingly brought her rapture. Then her lips parted and slid over him to let him explore her soft mouth. The tip of her tongue encircled him beneath the ridge, then licked at the tiny opening at its very tip.
Ruark didn’t want his seed to start, though he knew she was too aroused to mind, so he quickly lifted her high to stand on the bed befor
e him. Then his mouth received the sweet pleasure as her arms went about him and she pressed his head into her body to feast wherever he desired.
Finally neither could wait a second longer for their bodies to fuse. His hands were on her silken thighs, spreading them wide so that he could impale her savagely. She screamed with the sensitive pleasure his fullness created inside of her. Both of them prolonged the loving, endlessly building and receding until neither could bear it a moment longer. She writhed beneath him and begged, “Ru, now! Now! Now!”
They came together as they always did, but he refused to release her and withdraw and she thanked God for it. The amazing thing about her and Ruark making love with each other was that it was always better than the time before. Each successive mating reached a higher degree of passion with a more explosive and prolonged climax.
During the next few hours Ruark whispered such words of love, she felt her very bones would melt. The entire universe narrowed down to their bed. The world disappeared and nothing else mattered to them but their newfound intimacy. Ruark’s mouth became unbearably tender as he kissed her cheekbones, eyelids, throat, and lips. For once his mouth was so gentle she felt tears start in her eyes. Before dawn Summer experienced the total devastation of his possession and they fell asleep, curled together, limbs entwined, bound by love.
When they awoke, Ruark’s hot cheek was pressed to her breast. She stirred, luxuriating in his warmth, and immediately she was assailed by nausea. She groaned, and when he sat up to look down at her with concern, she said, “The fish I had for dinner didn’t agree with me, I’m afraid.”
His dark eyebrows drew together immediately. “Why are you lying to me?” he demanded.
“What do you mean?” she asked, desperately trying to control the nausea.
“You are having my child,” he stated.
“Whatever makes you think that?” she asked lightly.
“Because I made love to you day and night for two whole weeks when we were married.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
The Pirate and the Pagan Page 32