He looked at her as if she really was cracked, then he laughed so loud he fell off the chair onto the kitchen floor.
“I think it would be best if you and Ruark Helford did not meet,” she said stiffly.
“Suits me, I can’t take all this lord-and-lady stuff,” he said, wiping tears of amusement from his eyes.
“Is the brandy coming off a Frenchie?” She deliberately changed the subject.
“Well, naturally it came off a French ship originally, but I’m buying it from a privateer who unburdened the Frenchie recently.”
“You mean a pirate. What’s his name?”
“Bulldog Brown,” he said on a challenging note.
“Ugh.” She shuddered. “That’s the one who had part of his nose bitten off in a fight. For God’s sake, be careful, Spider.”
He waved his hand airily with the negligent arrogance of the titled class and she remembered the clothes she had bought for him. She opened one of the boxes and pulled out the black velvet suit and long, black, calf-skin boots. “I brought you some new clothes.”
He gingerly felt the black velvet between thumb and forefinger and eyed his sister with distaste. “If I pranced around in this fancy stuff, I’d be the laughingstock of the town. Viscount bloody Spencer would soon have his teeth knocked out.”
“You’re a bloody lord now,” she reminded him, “not a viscount. In London men wear pink satin and powder blue ostrich feathers,” she said, remembering.
“Don’t try to gull me, Cat, I’m not exactly a kid anymore, or hadn’t you noticed?”
She sighed. “I noticed,” she said with regret, closing the lid on the box of clothes.
“Come on, I’ll carry these boxes upstairs for you. I know you’ll want to unpack all your new clothes before you go to bed. These are the first pretty things you’ve ever had, aren’t they, Cat?” He smiled sweetly at her. “It’s good to have you back.”
Ruark Helford had slept only fitfully the first night back in his home. Restlessly he had arisen before dawn to roam about the half-forgotten halls of the estate. It was so beautiful he didn’t know how he had been able to stay away from it for so long. He went up on the high widow’s walk to watch the sunrise—up among the gilded weathervanes which were fashioned after sailing ships—up among the twisted chimneys of Helford Hall. He looked out to sea as the golden dawn turned it into a rippling mass of molten gold, while behind him the dark green yew walks held pockets of mist which wouldn’t burn off until the sun was full.
Summer had arisen before dawn to spend some time with her beloved Ebony. The sunrise was going to be spectacular; the air was soft with a hint of the warmth that the day would bring. The breeze off the sea was playful and she couldn’t wait for a fast gallop down the deserted beach. Without bothering with a saddle, she slipped on a bridle, caressed the velvet nose, and was astride the tall animal in minutes.
She rode down the coast five or six miles at a leisurely canter, but when they turned to head home, she felt Ebony quicken between her legs and she let him have his head. He surged forward, thundering through the surf, sending up sea spray to make her shirt cling wetly to her breasts. Her hair flew about in wild disarray and she clung to the horse’s mane for support, whispering encouragement into his pricked-back ears to gather ever greater speed.
Ruark Helford’s eye was caught by a movement way off in the distance, down the beach, and he watched curiously as the speck became horse and rider and then to his astonishment the rider became Summer. There was no mistaking the wild, wanton pagan, her spirit as free as the wind and the sea.
This girl was nothing like the shy, proper, Lady Summer who always stood at arm’s length with downswept lashes. Desire raged through him uncontrollably.
Desire to tame her.
Desire to mate her.
Desire to bury himself deep within her.
The damnedest thing was that even at her most prim, with two guardians at her back, she aroused him. Even from up here she looked naked to the waist. The vision of her magnificent, proud breasts thrusting through the wet shirt was too much for him. He must go down to the beach, to her.
He strode from the house and took the path that led down the cliff to the beach, but she was nowhere in sight when he arrived. He could hardly credit that she had disappeared so quickly and reasoned that she must have turned inland to ride up the Helford River. The tide had washed away her hoofprints and the beach was deserted in both directions as if she had been an apparition. A foul oath was snatched from his lips by the playful sea breeze. Frustration almost choked him, and yet he knew her elusiveness merely whetted his appetite and hardened his determination to have her.
Lord Helford had to contend with a mountain of paperwork and dispatches connected with his new post, yet a dozen times that day he threw down his pen with the intention of riding over to Roseland. He was torn between the need to see her and the desire to keep his promise.
Finally he gained control over his yearnings, reasoning that if he could not keep his word for at least twenty-four hours, she might develop contempt for him. He hoped against hope that she would visit him before the day was over.
By early evening he had given up hope and took an early dinner in the vast, elegantly appointed dining room. He was totally unused to the feeling of loneliness which assailed him. Usually so self-sufficient, he put his mood down to the fact that he had grown used to stinking, brawling London with all its violent energy. The change from the city to the country would take some adjusting. In London all was noise. On the streets people shouted and pushed and laughed and exchanged clever insults; here the silence was deafening.
He threw down his napkin and pushed back from the table. His longtime steward Mr. Burke approached him with an easy familiarity. “Ruark, there is a young lady outside to see you, sir.” He had come from Ireland with Ruark’s mother, Lady Rosalind, when she had come to wed the first Lord Helford and had outlived them both. Though it seemed natural for Burke to use his master’s first name, Ruark would never have dreamed of calling his man anything but Mr. Burke.
“Didn’t you invite her in, Mr. Burke?” he asked as his eyes lit with pleasure.
“I did, but the lady is unchaperoned and naturally awaits you without,” said Mr. Burke, his face as impassive as if he had announced that dinner was served.
