Chapter 25
Now that the moment had arrived, she was suddenly reluctant. She realized with dismay she was battling her conscience. Until now she hadn’t realized she had a conscience. What sort of person could deliberately and dishonestly use someone they cared about for financial gain? She lay quietly, weighing the alternatives. If she were the only one involved, she would have abandoned her dishonest plans. If she lost Roseland as a result, then so be it; but now that Spider was in such serious trouble, she knew she would have to carry on with the deception. She would use Ruark to help her brother, but she promised herself fervently that she would never cheat him. She would be faithful and generous and give back in full measure whatever he did for her.
    The warm fog the day before had been a prelude to the subtropical weather the gulf stream had brought this heavenly summer day. In the afternoon Summer took a long bath and washed her hair, letting the sun dry it until it was a dark mass of silken curls. Then she opened her wardrobe and went over its contents.
She had only one gown left which Ruark hadn’t yet seen. It was a white, silk organdy with puffed sleeves, a low, heart-shaped neckline, and a skirt billowing with yards and yards of delicious organdy from the tiniest waist.
She put on lacy stockings and shift, blushing as she did so, for she knew before the night was over his eyes would see everything beneath the gown. Its waist was so nipped in, she found it difficult to breathe, or was it the thought of what was yet to come which made her so breathless?
By early evening none of the heat had left the day, so she didn’t bother with a cloak. She made sure the house was safely locked up, and since she hadn’t returned Ebony to the Helford stables the day before, she rode him back now, very slowly, so that she wouldn’t be disheveled when she arrived.
At the stables there were a half-dozen grooms and stableboys ready to help her dismount and care for Ebony. She smiled her thanks and walked slowly up to the hall. Mr. Burke met her at the front door and led her to the south wing, through tall French doors, out onto a terrace where a profusion of bougainvillea and other tropical blooms had turned it into a sheltered paradise.
Ruark had been sitting on the edge of a fountain until he saw her, then he arose and came forward eagerly. “Sweetheart, I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”
“I don’t believe you’ve ever been afraid in your life,” she said prettily, laughing up into his eyes.
He took both her hands, holding her at arm’s length to drink in her beauty, then he enfolded her in his arms for a moment of delicious possession. ’Ods blood, she would wear white tonight. It was like a symbol of her purity. He pushed away the thought with determination, for his mind was made up. He would wait no longer.
He stooped to pick an exotic, flame-colored hibiscus and offered it to her. She gazed up at him with unfathomable eyes. She knew tonight would be different. Before, he had always given her cream-colored roses. She reached out for the flaming hibiscus and Ruark knew that tonight she would come to him fully.
He was instantly conscious of the blood flowing hot and thick in his veins and of the heavy, unbearable ache which suddenly flooded his loins. Keeping hold of her hand, he drew her to the fountain. Its centerpiece was a small dolphin carved from jade with the water spouting high from its mouth, then falling into a three-tiered waterfall. The pool was lined with jade green tile where the orange and black carp made a startling contrast.
“It’s like paradise,” she murmured, her eyes sweeping the flowering trees which enclosed the terrace. Yellow laburnum dangled its blossoms next to the mauve blooms of a glorious magnolia. Small flowering almond were backed by large masses of fuchsia-colored rhododendrons.
“I had it copied from an Ottoman palace in Algiers on the Mediterranean.”
Summer’s eyes widened. “There are so many things I don’t know about you.”
“And I you,” he said huskily, “but we can remedy that.” He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to the pulse in her wrist and smiled as it fluttered erratically. Holding her eyes with his, he said, “Some people can know each other in a few hours, but with others it takes a lifetime. Which do you suppose it will be with us?”
She shook her head and said softly, “I hope our time together is not too fleeting … like these beautiful blooms … they’ll all be gone in a week … it seems such a waste.”
“Beauty enjoyed at its peak is never a waste,” he said suggestively. “That is why I thought we should dine out here this evening.”
A footman was putting the finishing touches to a small table he had set up just outside the tall French doors and Ruark, still hand-clasped, led her over to it. Summer didn’t think she’d be able to eat a thing. A million butterflies’ wings were fluttering inside her stomach and the hot evening was not conducive to a large meal.
Ruark held her chair and obediently she sat and unfolded her napkin. He took his place across from her so that he could make love to her with his eyes. He poured her a goblet of pale Chablis and their fingers touched intimately as he handed it to her.
Her eyebrows rose slightly, questioning him on its potency. He was pleased they could communicate without words. He shook his head to assure her it was harmless enough and she sipped it delicately, letting the cool liquid stay on her tongue each time before she swallowed it.
The meal had been chosen with a sure hand to appeal to both the eye and the palate on such a hot night. The footman served smoked salmon and cucumber aspic as a first course, and Summer sighed with delight at the marked contrast it made from the usual rough fare she normally ate. Then came cold capon with cherry sauce and chilled asparagus spears.
She blushed as she tasted the capon, thinking irreverently that this wasn’t the first time she’d dined on one of his fine cockerels. He noticed her cheeks of course, for his eyes never seemed to leave her face.
His hand closed over hers and he urged, “Tell me what prompts your lovely blush.”
She let her lashes sweep to her cheeks. “It’s secret, Lord Helford.”
“I insist upon Ruark. Surely you are not too shy to use my Christian name?”
She lifted her lashes and gave him a dazzling smile. “I am not shy, Ruark; everything I say and do is imprudent, I fear.” The sexual tension stretched taut between them. The very air seemed to hold its breath.
At her words his flesh reacted instantly, swelling, filling, aching for her. Her eyes were on his mouth and immediately she imagined it kissing her own, then going lower to taste the hard little fruits of her nipples as he had that morning on the sand.
Ruark’s eyes were dark and intense with passion. Always when he thought of her, he wished himself deep within her. His eyes lingered on her lips and he longed to watch them open and cry out with passion as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside her.
The footman hovered with dessert, but they were oblivious to anything but each other. It was as if they were alone in the universe. He arose and came around the table to lift her against his heart. “My darling, your beauty has no equal.” He set her feet down upon the terrace flagstones, but hugged her to his side with one possessive arm. They wandered down the garden toward a huge outdoor chess set with life-size carved knights and rooks.
“Were these also at the palace in Algiers?” she asked in wonder.
“Actually we played with real people, slaves whose only purpose was to stand patiently while we made our moves.”
“How decadent,” she condemned.
“Yes, everything is decadent in Algeria, but they certainly know how to go about some things better than we do.”
“Such as?” she challenged with raised chin. The carved king sat upon a throne and he lifted her until she was sitting in its lap and on an eye level with him.
“They train their women in ways to please men. A beautiful woman’s main purpose in life is making love, and she is kept locked away in a harem where other men can never see her.” His lips brushed hers.
She said breathlessly, “Surely that isn’t what you want for me?”
“Of course it’s what I want, if I’m being truthful.”
She could feel the heat from his strong hands as they encircled her waist. His thumbs caressed the organdy beneath her breasts. She giggled. “I prefer the way it is in England, where I may sit upon the King’s knee if I so desire.”
“You little witch. If Charles ever looks at you, I’ll kill him.” He lifted her down from her wooden perch. The evening shadows had begun to lengthen and he drew her inside the maze, where they were completely private. “I’m going to taste you now,” he said raggedly. His hands brought her closer until his hips just touched her. His nostrils flared with the scent of her and his hand slipped up beneath her hair to hold her head captive for his ravishment.
“Open your mouth to me, darling, I want you to know what it feels like when a part of me is inside you.”
She felt the thrill of the kiss all the way down to her knees. She clung to him so that she would not fall. His hands burned her through the delicate material, his mouth also was burning hot and ruthlessly demanding. A curl of fire began in the pit of her stomach and stretched its fiery fingers upward to her breasts and downward to between her legs. She cried out, “Ruark, Ruark,” as her need awoke and grew apace with his.
“I can’t let you go tonight,” he told her fiercely.
“I know that,” she said softly, feeling his hard erection pressed against her until she learned how it throbbed and pulsed.
He tried to still his blood so that he wouldn’t take her under the hedge like a servant girl. He knew this was her first experience with a man, and if he wasn’t careful he would rush her through her deflowering with alarming speed. Though he was almost consumed by a towering lust, he managed not to undress her while they were still outdoors.
Instead he gathered her beneath a powerful arm and led her back to the hall. As they passed the table outside the French doors she picked up the flame hibiscus and tucked it between her breasts. He took the wine which had been left to cool, and oblivious to the world, they entered a small sitting room with a comfortable couch and sank down upon it in the darkness. The room was so shadowed that only the whiteness of her gown and his fine shirt could be discerned in the velvety dark. He pressed her back against the cushions, intending to enjoy her to the full.
Because she was a maiden, she had been bound by a strange reserve until now when she knew their moment had come. “Oh, Ruark, I love you so much,” she cried.
His hand had just begun its ascent under her gown and up her leg. Her words made him realize he was about to ravish her with lust when she deserved to be initiated with love.
Summer knew she would not draw back now. She wanted what he wanted. Whatever happened to him would happen to her, any feeling or movement or sensation would be shared by both. Love happened when two people had no barriers between them, no shame, no reserve, no pride even.
His hands slipped beneath her back to undo the tiny buttons of her bodice, but her hands were there before his to aid his possession of her. However, as his fingers encountered hers, he thought she was trying to prevent him from removing her gown and he sat up and uttered a mild oath.
He lit a candle and gazed at her exquisite loveliness in the candleglow. “My Lady Summer St. Catherine, will you marry me?”
One heartbeat passed.
“My Lord Ruark Helford, I will.”
He groaned and took her into his arms. She hoped that in the morning he would remember his proposal, but she was so much in love with him it didn’t really matter.