He was actually trying to make her believe that he had done the noble thing by Spencer. “And the ravishment?” she demanded. “Talk your way out of that one!”
“Mea culpa,” he crooned, knowing he was close to committing the offense again.
The carriage stopped and she knew she must get out instantly. She tried to bolt through the door and heard a sickening rip as the delicate fabric of her gown was torn open from ankle to hip. She looked at him in dismay and he smiled into her eyes with unconcealed lust. With one smooth movement he swung her legs up onto the seat and his strong brown hands went up inside the gaping gown to slither up her thighs and beyond. His mouth sought hers and she withdrew from it until she was lying full length upon the carriage seat. Her breasts swelled from the overtight bodice until one popped out and his avid mouth had captured its rosy crown before her hand could cover it. Too late! He tasted the drop of fluid and it was such an unbelievably erotic experience he almost ejaculated.
She shuddered. “No, no, no,” she cried.
“Darling, I know your body so well, it’s crying out to mine right now.”
“Not anymore, Ruark. I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”
The words had the same effect as a slap in the face. He withdrew from her immediately. She sat up shakily and covered her naked breast. The silence stretched between them unbearably. She had gained a few minutes’ respite, perhaps she could gain longer. “If I let you see Ryan, will you promise to leave us in peace for another three months?”
His voice was cool, distant. “I think I can safely say I’ll be occupied elsewhere. The Dutch are going to hit back and hit back hard.”
The baby was crying when they entered the house. The moment she heard his cry, drops of milk ran from her swollen breasts and wet the bodice of her gown. Mrs. Bishop carried him down the stairs, secretly delighted to see Ruark was with her.
Ruark held out his arms for his son and naturally Mrs. Bishop proudly handed him over to his father. Self-interest made Summer keep a close watch on his face. A finger of fear touched her heart as she saw the possessive look on Ruark’s face. His dark eyes sent a quick message to Bish to leave them private and she retreated up the stairs unobtrusively.
“My sweetheart,” whispered Summer, her heart turning over with love at the sight of her child. The moment he heard his mother’s voice, baby Ryan had eyes for no one else. He began to cry lustily, demandingly, and Summer knew she must somehow get rid of Ruark so she could feed him. “It’s late,” she said apologetically. “You do understand, Ruark?”
Still holding his son, he lowered his eyes to her breasts, which swelled lusciously from the tight bodice. The two wet spots grew larger as he watched.
“I understand perfectly,” he said hoarsely.
Her cheeks grew warm. She took the child from him firmly and said pointedly, “I have to feed him, as you can see. If you have looked your fill, sir, would you leave?”
“No,” he said quietly, “I’m going to watch you … I’ll never have my fill.”
Her breasts ached so much she knew she had no choice. She carried Ryan into the salon and sat down in a rocking chair. She turned her shoulder away from Ruark to partially conceal herself, gently withdrew a full breast, and offered it to her baby. For the first few seconds he made little noises of distress as if he feared he would be deprived of the source of his happiness. Then he quieted as he gripped it firmly with his tiny hands.
Ruark moved around in front of them with a look of awe on his face. Never in his life had he felt so protective before. He wanted them both, and of course he knew a sure way to get what he wanted. If he took his son, he knew the mother would follow.
“Ru, I beg you, leave us in peace,” she begged.
“A baby belongs with his mother, but later on, you know I will want him, Summer. I won’t allow my son to be brought up in London. You know as well as I that he belongs at Helford Hall.”
Tears glistened in her eyes as they fiercely challenged each other over the precious burden. Rather than hurt her child, she was willing to hand him over now. Then she saw Ruark’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, Summer, I can be such a swine at times. I’ll leave you in peace,” he promised sadly.
Summer entered that period of her life where she sought to know herself. Since that fateful day long ago when she arrived in London and glimpsed Lord Ruark Helford, her life had been tumultuous. The passion which had almost consumed them had been too scorching not to cool and by his rejection he had sent her headlong into the arms and bed of his brother. She had committed the mortal sin of letting both men make love to her until it had culminated in a child.
She was now completely celibate and at last her conscience was at rest. It was such a relief to have everything sorted out, to get off the seesaw of loving two men. The only one she loved now was Ryan. He was the only male in her life who meant anything and everything to her. Peace and quiet had brought her contentment, especially now that she had been able to put the ghost of her excessive love for Lord Ruark Helford to rest.
Her contentment was short-lived. The Earl of Bristol was taking her to the King’s Playhouse on Drury Lane to see Ben Jonson’s Volpone. It was the talk of the town and she dressed with great care because she knew the house would be packed with fashionable women. She chose a sophisticated black gown to set off her rubies and swept her hair up in a rather severe, yet most elegant fashion.
Summer was amused by the envious glances she received from the other women at the play and knew it was because of the earl’s devastating good looks. She liked George immensely; they were good friends because she wasn’t the least bit infatuated by his handsome face. It took a more rugged countenance to set Summer’s pulses beating. The earl held her seat in the private box and she gave him a dazzling smile as she shrugged the black fox fur from her shoulders and looked across the theater to see a small group arrive. It was the King, and Summer was amused to see that he had escorted both Barbara Castlemaine and Frances Stewart to see the fashionable play. Barbara was resplendent in purple; she laid claim to the color because of its association with royalty. She flaunted her diamonds and Summer grudgingly admired her. Sitting there, filled with another royal bastard, she had more than earned her diamonds. Summer’s eye fell on Frances Stewart and again she wondered what possible attraction the girl could hold for a voluptuary like Charles. She was so young, so slim, so pale. Only a prim little strand of pearls adorned her small bosom. She felt a fleeting stab of pity for poor Charles caught between two loves, then the pity was swept away as she saw clearly that Charles was an aging roué who lusted for the girl’s extreme youth and virginity. Her lip curled and she was about to make a cynical remark to her escort when her eyes traveled to the next box. “Good God!” she exclaimed.
“What’s amiss, my dear?” asked George, who saw clearly her look of distress.
“It’s Helford. He’s with a chit young enough to be his daughter!” An unreasoning hot jealousy swept her with such ferocity it deprived her of breath.
George chuckled and she turned to bestow a look of outrage upon him. “Actually it’s my daughter.”
Her brain had ceased to function. “Your daughter?” she repeated stupidly.
“Georgie. She’s up from the country for the first time and Ruark has taken her under his protective wing … to keep off the fortune hunters,” he added confidentially.
“Georgie?” she echoed with unconcealed loathing. She felt acutely unwell. A sudden pain almost cut her in half and she realized with dismay that it was her heart which was hurting. Her throat constricted so much she began to pant. Her eyes narrowed and swung between Helford and the King. Both dark faces smiled down at little girls and she saw Charles reach out to fondle Frances’s knee. They were like two peas from the same disgusting pod! Whoremongers! Lechers! It was unbearable; she was outraged.
