Chapter 16

Spider’s eyes widened in amazement as he circled round his sister, taking in the luxurious velvet cloak trimmed with fox fur. What he saw made him uncomfortable; he feared that after London, Cat would never be the same again.
“I have so much to tell, but first of all you’d better know that I was too late, Father had already died of his wound before I arrived.” She noticed her young brother’s eyes were glassy with tears. She didn’t think it could be sorrow which caused them, as their father had always been particularly brutal to Spencer. Perhaps it was relief or more likely regret for what might have been, could have been … should have been.
“Auntie Lil was very kind to me; I liked her excessively. Father unfortunately left us a wonderful legacy … he mortgaged Roseland to the hilt and I’ve to come up with twenty thousand pounds in a month or it will likely be sold out from under us.”
“Rancid old bastard,” spat Spider, clenching his fists with impotence.
“He had a bill of sale on him for Ebony, too. They haven’t been to collect him yet, have they?” she asked anxiously.
He shook his head quickly to reassure her, but his heart had sunk. He’d been dying to tell her of the smuggling deals he’d arranged to earn them some money, but in the face of a twenty-thousand-pound debt it amounted to no more than pissing in the sea. “What the hell are we going to do?” he asked her.
“I have another piece of news. Lord Helford has returned to Helford Hall. I sailed home on his ship. I think he’s quite taken with me, so all I have to do is get him to propose before the mortgage is due and we’ll save Roseland.”
“Propose to you or proposition you?” he asked bluntly, his eyes blazing.
“It doesn’t matter which,” she said quickly. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself to that fat, old swine,” he said flatly.
“Spider, he isn’t fat and he isn’t old….” Her voice trailed off; she wasn’t as convinced about the swine part. In her experience all men were capable of being vile. “There’s just a tiny fly in the ointment … the King has appointed him high commissioner and magistrate to eradicate smuggling.”
Spider dropped onto a kitchen chair like a bag of sand. “Christ, girl, are you insane? I’ve fifty barrels of brandy coming in tomorrow night.”
A look of panic crossed her face. “What about that tobacco?”
“I sold it yesterday, thank God. But what about the brandy?”
“What time is the tide?” she questioned.
“Early … just at moonrise … a few minutes after nine … it should be safely stowed by ten.”
“I’ll keep him busy,” she promised.
“Will you keep all his nights busy?” He sneered.
“Spider, it’s not like that; he thinks I’m a lady.”
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.