The Pirate and the Pagan (37 page)

T
hat 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 couldn’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.

He smiled. “Then you will like Madeira.” He added, “I hope you like French cuisine?”

She nodded hesitantly.

“Escargot—snails?” he asked.

A look of horror came across her face and he relented immediately, his wonderful laugh rolling about the cabin. “Cat, I’m teasing you.” He handed her a goblet and clinked it with his own. “Let’s drink to a mutually enjoyable relationship.” Her lashes swept to her cheeks, but she touched her lips to the wine, acknowledging the toast.

He smiled at her as she looked over the elegant table laid with damask linen and silver. “You choose. Will we do business first or dine?”

“Why don’t I just open this jewel case so you can peruse the contents while we eat?” she suggested.

He glanced once at the jewels, then fixed his eyes upon her where they remained throughout the meal. “Are they presents from admirers?” he asked casually.

Her mouth curved into a wicked smile as she touched her neck. “These diamonds were a gift from the King!”

He frowned for the first time and she laughed. “Now I’m teasing. They were a gift to Barbara Castlemaine. I won them from her fair and square at the card table. Well, perhaps not exactly fair and square.”

He found it amusing that she cheated at cards and she thought to herself, My God, why can’t Ruark be like this?

His eyes never strayed from her to the jewel case and she began to feel nervous. He is pretending disinterest so I’ll lower my price, she thought in a panic. But she was entirely wrong. He was all virile male and the vision before him lured him to taste her rose-colored lips. The frequent glimpse of legs clad in black silk stockings tempted him to part her skirt and run his hands over her thighs and then slip upward to caress her buttocks. But most of all he wanted to slide her gown from her shoulders to reveal the magnificent breasts he’d seen yesterday, and since that is what he wanted most, he decided that is what he would do.

“Do you like peaches?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

He took a silver fruit knife, peeled and quartered a succulent peach, then came around to her side of the table. He knelt down and held a piece of the fruit to her lips. She took it from his fingers, gingerly at first, in case she didn’t like the taste, then more boldly as she found out how delicious the fruit was. With the juice still upon her lips he bent forward and covered her mouth with his.

Her mouth resisted instantly, but as he increased the firm pressure her mouth softened and yielded to the warm thrilling sensation. He lifted his mouth from hers only a fraction so he could murmur, “I wanted you to wear the frangipani for me.”

Breathlessly she said, “I did wear it.”

“I wanted you to wear
only
the frangipani for me.” His hands slid from her shoulders down her arms and carried the black lace gown down with them. Her breasts sprang from the confines of the neckline and he rolled his eyes heavenward in delighted appreciation of her charms. He chuckled in his throat, “Hellcat Helford,
you have the most beautifully impudent breasts in the whole world; they cry out to be kissed.” Still kneeling before her, he put his hands beneath her armpits and pulled her down to him, then he laid her upon the rug and kissed her everywhere from her temples to her navel.

“Please … no … Rory …” she gasped, having no will to struggle as she lay in his arms.

“You need loving.” It was a statement of fact. He unclasped her necklace.

“My diamonds,” she gasped.

His mouth covered her throat where they had lain. “They are unworthy of you.”

My God, what was it about this man that made her feel as if she was the most desirable, the most beautiful woman who ever breathed? “Rory, I can’t,” she protested.

“I just want to look at you,” he soothed. His fingers unfastened the back of her gown and he took it from her slowly, inch by inch revealing her creamy flesh to his laughing eyes. She half believed that he would only look at her and go no further.

He took off her black silk stockings, telling her she was far more beautiful nude than adorned in silk and diamonds. Indeed, all he allowed her to keep on was the frangipani. He even pulled off the tiny black patch from her cheek.

He did nothing but look. His eyes caressed and made love to every pore of her body and she thought it the most intimate thing a man could ever do to a woman. She had a lot to learn. He sat back upon his heels and gazed at her body anew, then he stood and looked down upon her from his great height, studying her as if he wished to remember forever the picture she made. Then he reached down and drew her up to stand before him. He opened his robe and drew her inside.

“Rory!” she gasped as if his flesh had burned her. Indeed her skin was so sensitive at this moment she wanted to scream each time his body came in contact with hers. “Please cover yourself,” she begged, “I cannot resist you and hate myself for it!”

He laughed and fastened his robe. “Don’t hate yourself, sweet Cat. Take your pleasure where you find it—a man would.”

“Oh, I know, Rory,” she said breathlessly. “I’m just not ready to be unfaithful to my husband yet.”

He laughed softly and carried her to his inner bedroom. He laid her tenderly inside the flame-colored cocoon, spread her hair upon
the pillows, and gazed down at her. When he reached down to touch her, her body jumped and he knew she was nearly mad with the need for him. His hands began to explore her body intimately and he said low, “You are trembling with need, darling.”

She moved her head from side to side and moaned her denial. Rory’s eyes were stained almost black with passion. Since she would not let him make love to her with his body, he must do so with his mouth. She inflamed him with desire to the point where he felt enslaved. She was like a narcotic in his blood as he explored her slender body. He knew her breasts ached for his touch, and as his lips and tongue touched each rosebud she moaned in her throat at the exquisite pleasure he brought her. His mouth traveled over and over from breast to breast, then slowly traced down across her pretty belly until his mouth was buried in the black silken curls at the top of her thighs. He murmured against her hot center, “Beautiful, beautiful.”

His words were like a love potion to her senses and she quivered with anticipation until his tongue touched her with exquisite torture. As he penetrated her with his burning tongue a sob of pleasure escaped and convulsively she reached for him, not knowing if she wished for much more or much less.

Rory gave her no choice in the matter. His tongue explored thoroughly all the secret delights of her womanhood. His strong hands slipped beneath her bottom and he lifted her closer to his mouth so that his tongue could thrust deep inside her hidden softness. Every nerve in her body was centered where his mouth plunged with such sensual enjoyment. She panted and thrashed as wave after wave of incredible pleasure crashed over her until she screamed. Her very center jumped, exploded, then melted, leaving her unable to lift her heavy eyelids even to look at him.

His body screamed for gratification, but his iron control would not allow him to ravish her. Soon enough she would consent to all his needs. She was well worth waiting for. She drifted off to a warm, magic place as if surrounded and protected by flame-colored swirling smoke. She knew not if it was paradise, heaven, or hell and she cared less.

When she awoke much later, she was wrapped in his white robe. Her black gown and stockings were neatly laid beside her with a note which simply said, “I will bring you ten thousand pounds. R.H.”

The blush would never leave her face again, she thought hotly as
she remembered what he had done to her. True, she had not committed adultery, but what he had done seemed ten times more intimate than coitus.

She put on her clothes quickly, grateful that his laughing eyes were not there to see inside her very soul. The ship was dark and silent as if all slept. She crept off the
Phantom
and found Ebony beneath the dark shadows of the trees.

Her conscience and her dreams were filled with unrest, and when she awoke early the next morning, she was angrier with herself than she had ever been in her life. She had come away from the pirate without jewels or money or clear conscience and she was consumed by an impotent rage that he had taken such complete advantage of her. She took out her pistol and weighed it in her hand. She would go down immediately and demand the return of her jewels. If he did not comply, she would shoot him!

She ran up to the roof and eagerly scanned the river, but the
Phantom
was long gone. Her body demanded action. She rode Ebony with wild abandon, then she stopped at Roseland and on hands and knees weeded the whole vegetable and herb garden. By the time she was finished, she was hot and dirty, but she was not tired, nor had her anger at herself dissipated.