The Pirate and the Pagan (46 page)

Summer sighed, realizing the whole debacle must look like a farce acted out on a stage. “I’m sorry, Auntie Lil. Spencer’s moving
into the city, so perhaps things will be a little more peaceful around here.”

Lil waved a negligent hand weighted down by all her fine rings. “I’m moving the household to Southampton and I want you to come with us. I’ve had a letter from my very good friend Lady Worthing who insists I visit until this dreaded plague is gone from London.”

“Oh, Lil, I couldn’t impose on your friend,” Summer protested.

“Nonsense, darling, she’s as rich as a potentate and rattles about in a country mansion with fifty bedchambers. I’m the one who introduced her to Lord Worthing and they are both particularly partial to me. Pamela is the pampered darling of an older man and Lord Worthing appears virile as a stallion to all his peers. A match made in heaven,” Lil drawled.

“Like mine,” said Summer, her voice dripping acid.

“Well, no, that’s more a volatile mix of love, hate, and explosive passion … a devastating combination!”

“Thank you for asking me, Lil, but I’ll stay in London, I think, or perhaps I’ll move to Court.”

“I’ve inside information that Court is moving to Salisbury for the duration. If they do, I’d advise you to move with them, darling, Salisbury and Southampton are within spitting distance.”

“I’m sure as soon as cold weather arrives it will stop the spread of this filthy disease,” said Summer, repeating what was said at every gathering lately.

Lady Richwood took all her servants and naturally they traveled in her carriage, so Summer would have to hire chairs if she planned on going any distance. The house seemed deserted and she couldn’t help feeling she was rattling around in it aimlessly, even after they’d been gone only an hour. Her practical nature soon took over, however, when she realized she would need food. The day seemed overcast, so she slipped on her pattens in case of a downpour and walked toward Piccadilly, where she knew there were shops to fill all her needs. She chose a cookshop where the food was already prepared.

Inside the cookshop all was in an uproar. There was something tangible in the frantic air which she soon learned was fear. The man and woman behind the counter spoke in shrill agitated voices to their customers.

“Last day, lydies … the shutters are goin’ up the minute we’ve sold the last tripe ’n trotters. Droppin’ like bleedin’ flies
around ’ere. Did ye see the cornet in the sky last night? An omen of doom if there ever was one!”

The minute the man stopped talking, his wife began. “The butcher put up ’is shutters yesterday … dead today! They had nine children … all lived over the shop … bowled down like ninepins.” Some of the women waiting their turn quickly left the shop. When it was Summer’s turn, all they had left were meat pies and pickles. The woman behind the counter wiped the sweat from her face with her apron and took Summer’s money. As she glanced out the window a look of horror crossed her face. The woman crossed herself quickly. “Christ Almighty, look at that … the death cart’s come in broad daylight!”

Summer wished she’d never come; in fact, she wished now that she’d left London with Auntie Lil and the servants. The cart stood at the butcher’s door; its driver rang a big hand bell and shouted, “Bring out yer dead, bring out yer dead.”

The cookshop proprietors and the last few customers crowded about the window in horrified fascination as the little bodies were brought down and chucked into the wagon. Summer knew she was going to faint if she didn’t get away. She pushed through the small avid crowd and bolted through the door to gulp fresh air. London’s air today, however, was anything but fresh.

A pall of smoke hung about from the chimneys and from street fires which had been lit to destroy plague-contaminated furniture. She tried to hurry, but the pattens hampered her badly. She stopped, leaned against a wall, and unfastened them from her shoes, then she began to run and didn’t stop until she was behind the door of the house in Cockspur Street.

It was like a nightmare. Why hadn’t she left with Lil? Her throat felt dry and sore and fear rose up in her to rob her of coherent thought. Ruark Helford was to blame for her plight. He should have told her he loved her and taken her home to Cornwall after he’d made love to her last night. Instead he’d beaten and alienated poor Spider and given her another ultimatum. Now she was going to die of the plague and her precious burden would die with her.

She shook her head to rid it of such appalling thoughts and took the food into the kitchen. She looked at it with distaste, thinking she would never be hungry again. As she climbed the stairs her legs felt weak and shaky and she knew she must lie down or fall down. Well, it would serve Lord Bloody Helford right … when he arrived tomorrow, she would be dead!

She had caught the plague. She staggered off the bed to look at herself in the mirror. Her face was scarlet as if it had been boiled and she was hot as fire. She fell back upon the bed, her fingers frantically searching her groin for the black plague boil which would swell up like a balloon and burst. She sank into oblivion. Later she swam up out of the blackness, feeling herself being lifted, but she could not open her mouth to protest. She could not even open her eyes and she knew with horrified certainty they thought she was dead. They carried her out to the death cart and she could not lift a limb in protest. Her mind screamed in dread at her horrific plight. Stop, please, I beg you, her mind screamed, but no words came. Children’s bodies were being thrown on top of her, and suddenly, shocked by the hideousness of the act, she found her voice and cried, “Stop, please, I beg you!”

“Cat, sweetheart, wake up,” a very worried voice urged.

Her eyes flew open and stared into those of Black Jack Flash. She clutched him about the neck. “Rory … oh, my God … Rory.”

He held her against his heart and stroked her tumbled hair. Her body trembled uncontrollably. “Cat, sweetheart, you were having a nightmare.”

Her face was wet with tears. “I … I don’t have the plague?”

“Of course not, the devil himself looks after sinners like you and me,” he said, laughing down at her.

She clung to him thankfully. He was her savior. Gradually she relaxed against his powerful chest and murmured, “Rory, thank you. I’m so glad you came.”

“What happened to my brave little hellcat? Where have all these fearful, fanciful thoughts sprung from?” he gently chided.

She sighed in his arms. How gentle he could be; how sweetly understanding. In that moment she felt so secure in his strength and his good nature, she felt she could tell him anything. Her voice was very low with a slight hint of apprehension as she said, “I’m going to have a baby, Rory.”

“That’s wonderful, darling,” he said, clasping her close and pressing his lips to the curling tendrils that framed her brow.

“Perhaps you won’t think so when I confess that I don’t know if you are the father, or if it’s Ruark’s,” she said low.

For a long moment he didn’t speak and she eased her cheek away from his shoulder and looked up at him. He smiled down at
her. “That makes no difference to me, love, and I’m damned sure it will make no difference to you.”

“Oh, Rory, you can’t mean it, surely every time you looked at the child, you would have doubts.”

He put his fingers beneath her chin and brought his face closer to hers. “Do you think me incapable of loving my brother’s child?” he asked seriously.

She knew in that moment he was a very special man. She lifted her mouth to his and was amazed at the tenderness he showed her.

“Come sail away with me,” he tempted. “London is too foul a place for you at the moment. I’ll take you to France and Holland,” he coaxed.

Her eyes opened wide. “I thought we were at war with the Dutch.”

He laughed. “We are, but I fly any flag I please, remember?”

What a difference a day made. If he’d asked such an outrageous thing yesterday, she would have refused, for hadn’t she vowed that nothing more must happen between them? But now she was eager to get away from London, eager to be with a man who accepted her totally with all her faults, eager to make love with such a magnificent male as Rory Helford.

She glanced to the window, saw it was dark, and knew he must be away before light. “Do I have time to pack some things and change my clothes?” she asked, feeling excitement rise within her.

“Let me undress you, darling, we have all the time in the world.” He rubbed his thumbs across the worry lines in her brow and said huskily, “You need to play, my love, have some fun.” He pulled the gown from her shoulders and brushed his lips across the bared skin in reverent appreciation. This close, his eyes were deepest green and the skin seemed to be stretched taut across his deeply bronzed cheekbones. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction when he uncovered her breasts, for she knew their size and fullness had increased this last week. His mouth curved into a deep smile and he rolled his eyes and groaned in exaggerated bliss.

Summer laughed with pleasure and he bent his head to taste them as if they were luscious fruits. “I’m glad I can make you laugh,” he murmured. “When’s the last time you had any fun?”

“I can’t remember,” she said, smiling up at him. He made a game of undressing her. Each silken body part he uncovered received a dozen tiny kisses and then she joined in the fun and returned the bed play.

“Cat, life is a game. Love is a game. Lovemaking can be a thousand different games. Shall we play one?” he challenged, lifting an amused eyebrow. She was lying nude upon the bed. He, too, was now nude and he leaned his weight upon his hands on either side of her, filling his eyes with a lover’s vision of a lifetime. “You are almost too beautiful,” he whispered.

Her eyes traveled the length of his magnificent body, marveling at the perfection of muscle and sinew. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She caught her breath in anticipation, then nodded.

“I’m going to make love to you without moving in and out. If I bring you to climax, I win.”

She laughed shyly. “Rory, that’s impossible.”

He grasped her ankles and pulled her gently from the bed onto the floor. Then he reached up and pulled down a pillow for her. She thought he would put it beneath her head, but instead he lifted her hips and positioned it beneath her buttocks. Her mons stood out invitingly. He went on his knees before her and she couldn’t resist reaching out her fingers to touch his proud, crimson-headed shaft. It jumped wildly when her fingers came into contact with the hard center of him; he spread her rose-colored center and slowly inserted himself deep inside her until she was filled with him. He stayed absolutely motionless to let her get used to his fullness, then his mouth closed over hers and his tongue penetrated the sweetness of her mouth, and he held it motionless also.

It felt strange at first not to feel him moving in and out, but after about five minutes of stillness she became more aware of her body than she had ever been before. She became so sensitive she could feel her blood running through her veins. Then she became aware of her heartbeat, then his, and realized they pulsed against each other. Suddenly she felt him growing inside her and was both amazed and pleased that she could affect him so profoundly.

When he had lengthened and thickened to his full potential, he began to flex the great muscle of his manroot inside of her. Her honeyed walls clung to him, setting up a deep pulsing within her as they fused together. He fit so tightly that when the head of his phallus pulsed, it forced her to pulse also. The rhythm he set up inside her body was fast and strong. Incredibly she began to build to an intense degree, then his tongue began to pulse against hers and she knew a desire to suck him which she could not deny. Then a feeling she had never experienced before began deep within her
and she knew her other lips were sucking him as wildly as her mouth clung to his tongue. Finally she let go to cry out her rapture and Rory’s cry also filled the chamber. “Oh oh … Rory … you win and I win … mmm … yes, yes, yes!”

“I love playing games with you,” he murmured against her ear. They slept curled together for a half hour, then he stirred and awakened her with love words. “Cat, sweetheart, you’d better pack a few things.”

She groaned. “Brute, I can’t lift a finger, I’d rather stay here in bed with you.”

“I know another game,” he tempted.

The corners of her mouth curved up irresistibly. “What?” she asked curiously.

“Don’t dress. Pack the things you think you’ll need but stay naked so I can watch you move about the room. Then we’ll play half-and-half.”

She laughed. “What’s half-and-half?”

“I’ll make love to you half in your bed here and the other half in my bed aboard the
Phantom.”

“Will you be able to stop halfway?” she teased.

“Indeed, my darling. I have perfected the technique. Only you must just slip a cloak over your nakedness so I can caress you in the coach and keep you in readiness for the finale.”

“Rory Helford, you are a very wicked man.” She laughed.

“Tell the truth and shame the devil—you love to play my wicked games.”

    Black Jack Flash was at the helm of the
Phantom
as it silently glided out on the flood tide. He seemed to have no difficulty finding his way in the dark, but he did not move from the forecastle until his sure hands and keen eyes had maneuvered the long, low ship past Margate into the open sea. He then turned the ship’s wheel over to his second mate and slipped belowdecks.

Summer was always bemused at the contrast between Rory’s two cabins. The outer room was exactly what one would expect of a sea captain, with comfortable leather chairs, map tables, and a desk filled with charts and papers. The inner cabin had his own unique, strong personality stamped all over it. The black silken carpet had a pile so thick, her feet sank into it. The black-and-red-lacquered cabinets were probably priceless, and when the heavy,
mirrored door of the wardrobe was opened, it displayed the clothes of a vain, flamboyant male, selected to match his striking black hair with its startling streak of white.