Through another door was a room filled with curio cabinets, some from India, others from the Orient. Summer remembered that Queen Catherine had many such cabinets at Hampton Court. The center of the warehouse was filled with the curious objects which made the curio cabinets interesting. There were agates, onyxes, intaglios, a lump of amber with a toad enclosed, shells, rare bird’s eggs, and porcelain miniatures.
She wandered into a cavelike room where guards trained their guns upon her person and she realized with awe that she walked among trays of diamonds, emeralds, rubies, pearls, turquoise, sapphires, onyxes, and opals. Hundreds of other trays held gems so exotic she had never heard tell of them. Rory found her here and told her to choose a pair of jewels to be made into earrings. She chose tear-shaped rubies as large as pigeon eggs. “There are many more costly jewels than rubies, sweetheart, are you sure?”
She nodded and said emphatically, “I’m particularly partial to rubies.”
He tallied up his purchases and grinned to himself as he noticed she had chosen ostrich feathers. She had no idea how wildly expensive they were or she would never have bought five dozen, but he wasn’t about to enlighten her. “Your earrings will be ready in half an hour. Why don’t you wait in the carriage while I haggle over prices for what I’ve bought today?”
A clerk escorted her back to the waiting vehicle and she was startled to come face-to-face with the man she had seen at Stowe who was so obviously a Grenvile.
“Oh, hello,” she said, “we bumped into each other at Stowe.”
The man uttered the identical words to her as he had the last time they met. “Madame, you are mistaken.”
Her mind flashed about quick as mercury. Each time she had seen him she had angered him. Why did he not wish to be recognized either here or in Cornwall? The Grenviles were high in the King’s favor and Jack had recently been created Earl of Bath. What was a Grenvile doing in The Hague when England was at war with the country?
When Rory returned to the coach with her earrings, the encounter was momentarily forgotten. “Oh, Rory, I’ve never had anything so lovely in my whole life.”
“Here, let me put them on for you,” he offered, brushing her hair back from her ears.
“They don’t go very well with this peach-colored gown, I’m afraid.”
“We can remedy that easily enough,” he said, and in a flash his arms went about her to undo the gown’s fastenings.
“Rory, stop,” she gasped, pulling the gown back up to cover her breasts.
“I can’t stop,” he said huskily, lifting her into his lap. A thrill ran through her because he was bold enough to undress her in a coach. When she finally allowed his hands to roam freely beneath the gown, he was momentarily satisfied to simply hold and kiss her. She sighed and clung to him, thankful that his desire for her raged hotter each day they spent together.
He opened the carriage window and instructed the driver to stop at an inn. Cat was surprised because the ship lay at anchor only a few miles away. She concluded he must be hungry and was taking her to the inn to dine. When the coach rolled to a stop in the busy inn yard, he pulled up her gown to cover her shoulders and, without bothering to fasten it, lifted her up into strong arms and swept into the inn. If the proprietor was startled to see the black-clad pirate with the startling streak of white hair carry in a female like a piece of prize booty, he hid it the moment he caught the gold piece tossed to him. He showed them up to the best room and discreetly closed the door on them. Rory was on fire. His tongue darted out to part her soft lips and the top of her gown fell away to expose her lovely breasts. A groan escaped his throat as he gently laid her across the bed and pulled the gown all the way down her hips and off her legs. He was enflamed as he saw she wore nothing beneath the gown but lacy stockings held up by peach-colored garters.
She watched his eyes turn to green flame as they licked over her bare skin. As he bent over to remove her shoes, his black hair brushed her soft belly and she sucked in her breath at the exquisite sensation. Then his mouth was taking tiny nips across her bare stomach and she fastened her fingers in his magnificent hair and pressed him closer.
She was panting with her need for him, crying his name over and over as his mouth went lower and lower until he opened the pink petals of her secret flower and tongued the tiny hidden bud until it stood erect. She let go of his head and fell back to allow him full rein. She knew he loved to do this to her and abandoned herself to his pleasure totally. Her body arched up to his mouth of its own volition and he began to suck on the hard little fruit until wave after wave of pure, shattering sensation spread up from her mons, inside her belly, and up to her breasts like threads of fire. His hands went beneath her bottom to lift her closer to his mouth and he plunged his tongue deep within to gather all her honeyed sweetness. She screamed as her endurance reached its limit and she plunged over the edge to pulsating climax after climax. She came up off the bed, clinging to him tightly, her hot mouth pressed against his throat.
Their hands came together to divest him of his clothes, then he lay full length on top of her so that their bodies touched from head to toe. His phallus throbbed against her soft thigh and she whispered, “Darling, you’ve made me so sensitive, I don’t think I can take you inside of me now.” She was dreamy-eyed and languorous with fulfillment.
“Hush, precious love, open your mouth to me.” They curled together and she obeyed him implicitly. First the tip of his tongue entered her mouth, then it slid in all the way and she tasted herself on it. Immediately she wanted him again and the knowledge that she was oversensitized and slightly swollen nearly drove her mad with desire. Suddenly she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything before and she begged him not to be gentle.
He thanked the gods that he had found a mate who was woman enough to explore the limits of her sexuality and allow him to indulge every raging need. Before he finished loving her, her beautiful blushes tinged her ivory skin all the way to her rose-tipped nipples. He had never known a woman so perfectly attuned to his body’s demands. She opened to him and her wild movements urged him on to total domination. His lovemaking had been fiercely demanding, yet her body had complied to every ultimatum. She slitted him a look of adoration and he ran the back of his fingers down her throat. “You have satisfied all my cravings, little hellcat. I love you with all of my heart.”
Her fingertips traced the heavy muscles of his shoulders and he dipped his head to touch her lips with infinite tenderness. “You were magnificent, like a great raging storm.”
The mocking amusement was back in his eyes. “And you, my darling, were insatiable.”
She laughed and blushed. “You take me beyond control so that my needs scream aloud for fulfillment.”
“They no doubt heard your screams below,” he teased unmercifully.
“Oh, Rory, how will I ever be able to face them?” she asked contritely.
“Any man who saw me sweep you up those stairs must have been green with envy. Any who heard your cries of love would die for one night in your bed. Come, sweet, we must return to the ship.”
“Beast! I can’t move a finger. You’ll have to dress me,” she teased.
Dutifully he propped her up and put her gown on over her head. His lips tickled her ear and he whispered wickedly, “I’m not finished with you yet tonight.”
“Rory,” she said the next morning as he came back down to the cabin from the quarterdeck, “yesterday I saw a man who was quite obviously a Grenvile.” She let the statement hang in the air to see what he would say.
A quick frown came between his brows. “At the warehouses? You don’t think he saw me, do you?”
“I don’t think so … I don’t know. Who is he?”
“It must have been Richard … Sir Richard Grenvile. He was a general in the late King’s army, but he and Chancellor Hyde hated each other with a vengeance. When he offered his services to Charles, they were not accepted because of the ill feeling with his chief minister. It embittered
Richard so much he chose to live in exile and swore never to set foot in England again.”
“That’s strange—I saw him at Stowe a few weeks ago.” As soon as she said it, she knew that Richard Grenvile was a spy. This was important information which she could pass on to the King. Actually she was unsure where Rory’s loyalties lay and it made her uneasy now that she had begun to think about it. He certainly was no stranger to Dutch soil. Though she sometimes lusted for adventure and was usually ready for any madcap risk, she was deeply loyal to king and country. One of the things she most admired about her husband was his commitment to duty. She probed lightly: “Rory, is your first loyalty to Charles?”
He grinned at her. “My first loyalty is to myself, Cat.” He changed the subject immediately. “I’ve arranged for you to go shopping today. I can’t leave myself, I have to wait for the goods I ordered yesterday, but I’ve asked Hans to accompany you to interpret the language. I think you’ll be astounded when you see the fashionable shops. I’ve given him enough gilder to pay for anything you desire.”
“You are very lavish with your money, sir. Do you come by it so easily?”
His eyes showed their amusement. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no, but I hope I’m man enough to afford whatever my woman desires.” He looked into her eyes. “You are my woman, Cat, aren’t you?”
She lowered her lashes. “You know I am, Rory.”
“You’d better hurry and put your gown on before I prove it to you.” He winked. He closed the bedroom door as he went into the cabin he used as his office. She wondered if Hans spoke any English and ran after him to ask, but he had already left the outer office. Suddenly she heard his deep voice just outside the door. “Keep her away from the ship until three. I don’t want her to be here when de Ruyter comes.”
Summer was stunned. Everyone in England knew that the famed de Ruyter was the mastermind of the Dutch fleet and England’s premier enemy. She couldn’t believe that Rory would have dealings with the famed sea captain—no wonder he didn’t want her to know anything about it! Her first thought was that she should inform the King. She shuddered … she knew she could never betray Rory. When they had first met, he had warned her that he was a scoundrel, that he had always been the black sheep of the family, and for the first time she was ready to believe it.
She went ashore with Hans, a blond giant who had been ordered to protect her with his life. He looked incongruous in the ladies’ shops, doling out gilder for Summer’s purchases, but she would have been unable to manage without his ability to interpret Dutch and French to English. As Rory had predicted, she was amazed at the high style and vast number of establishments which were mostly run by French couturiers.
She bought a flame-colored gown which opened down the front to reveal a petticoat of gold lace tissue. It was a spectacular gown, one which needed the confidence of a queen to wear, but Summer had always possessed that quality. At another establishment she chose a beaded gown of clinging material which changed colors with the light. One moment it was pale green, the next it was a shimmering silver. She couldn’t resist a wrap made of fox fur, outrageously dyed a pale green shade to match the gown. She knew no one in London had a pastel fur and reasoned that someone like Barbara would be willing to kill for such a garment.
It began to rain, and when it rained in Holland, it did a thorough job of it. The heavy pewter sky made Summer’s spirits sink and no matter how she tried to push away the disturbing thoughts about Rory, they crept back insidiously, fueling her active imagination with one unsavory plot after another. She almost insisted that Hans return her to the ship so she would walk in on Rory and de Ruyter, but she thought better of it and allowed the blond giant to escort her to a fine restaurant for a good hot meal to ward off the chill of the wet weather.
She decided she needed a drink to banish the darklings, and when a light golden wine was suggested, she shook her head emphatically and ordered gin. Hans looked alarmed. If he had dared to refuse her, he would have done so. He was all too aware of the potent and immediate effects of the clear, strong liquor. By the time he guided her back to the Phantom, Summer was in the state of intoxication which made the timid bold. In Summer’s case it made her downright aggressive. She boarded the Phantom and watched with knowing eyes as the faithful Hans went up on the quarterdeck and reported to Black Jack Flash that she had almost disgraced herself by guzzling gin.
She divested herself of her gown and high heels and donned the white duck pants and knotted his white lace shirt at her waist. She tied a red kerchief about her hair and, barefoot, went up on deck to beard the lion in his den.
Rory’s eyes followed her progress with amusement as she took extra-careful steps to match the ship’s roll as it rode at anchor. Today his amusement annoyed her. She’d wipe that damned smile off his face if it was the last thing she did.
She swaggered up to him insolently, fists dug into her hips, and said, “I’ve decided I don’t like this stinking country, when are we leaving?”
Rory’s eyebrows went up slightly. “When I give the order to leave.”
She uttered a stable oath and he looked down at her from at least six feet and said in a mocking voice, “I should teach you how to curse in another language, it sounds so coarse in English.” He was filled with arrogance, dash, and swagger. He could be rude or charming, but she knew he would never be anything other than self-assured, and today it simply grated on her nerves.
“English is quite good enough for me,” she said with narrowed eyes. “I hate fraternizing with my enemies even if you do not!”
“I believe you are slightly drunk, Cat. Seek your cabin,” he said quietly.
“You give orders so well, sir, let’s see if you can take them. I order you to weigh anchor now!” she shouted recklessly.
“Cat, I warn you I will not tolerate your impudence before my men. Go below,” he ordered.
She took an aggressive step toward him, daring his manhood. “And if I don’t?”
He took two strides toward her and lifted her in his arms. Her mouth curved with satisfaction. Now he would carry her below and try to make love to her, but she would refuse him! He carried her to the rail, lifted her over, and let her drop straight down into the water.
She came to the surface gasping for air. She couldn’t believe what he’d just done to her. God damn all Helford men to hellfire! The dunking had sobered her up in one hell of a hurry, but there was no way on God’s earth she was going to haul herself up on the seawall and board the Phantom looking like a defeated drowned rat.
He wasn’t even looking over the rail to see if she was all right. She trod water for what she estimated would be ten minutes, then she filled her lungs with air and pushed herself out from the side of the ship in a deadman’s float. Her arms spread wide, her hair drifted out from the red kerchief, and she hung facedown, half-submerged in the water. She heard the cry go up—“Captain! Captain!”—and forced herself to remain still and use up as a little oxygen as possible. She heard Rory’s frantic “Christ Almighty!” Then she heard him plunge down from the deck thirty feet above her. She felt his strong hands lift and turn her so that she was faceup in the water. “Sweetheart, speak to me,” he ordered. She lay with eyes closed in a seeming state of unconsciousness. “My God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he gasped. She fluttered open her eyes, whispered his name pitifully, and closing them again, let out all her breath and stopped breathing. He was frantic now to get her out of the water. He floated her over to the seawall and allowed a half dozen of his crew to help him lift her, cursing them to be careful not to scratch her delicate skin on the sharp barnacles and crustaceans massed everywhere.
He carried her dripping body down to his cabin, flung back the red silk curtains, and lay her gently upon the bed. He knelt down beside her, pinched her nostrils together, and gently pried open her mouth. He covered her mouth with his and gave her his own breath to try to revive her. “Please, please,” he murmured between breaths. Her chest rose an
d fell as he breathed life into her and Summer found it almost impossible to keep from giggling. The next time he fused his mouth to hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in a most suggestive fashion.
“You little hellcat, I should beat you to a jelly playing such damned tricks.”
She began to laugh and found she could not stop. Finally she drew up her knees and, hugging them, rolled about the bed in mirthful glee. Rory regained his sense of humor and began to laugh with her. “You little bitch, you hate to be bested, don’t you?”
“I haven’t found the man yet who could do it.”
In a flash he dragged her across his knee and pulled down her soaking pants. Then he gave her bare bottom one resounding smack which he knew would smart like hell.
“Rory, don’t be fierce with me, you forget I’m with child.”
He turned her over quickly and dropped a quick kiss upon her stomach. “Your little belly is too big for me to forget such a thing,” he teased.
“You brute, how could you?” she protested. He grinned down at her. “Serves you right. The bed is drenched, we’ll have to sleep on the floor tonight.”
The Pirate and the Pagan Page 36