She undressed slowly and with remarkably steady hands donned the black attire. Finally she admitted to herself that she was going to go through with it. She wasn’t simply playing a game of dress-up to see what she would look like. There was absolutely no other way to get the mortgage money and recover her rubies; she’d been over every possibility until every other plan had been exhausted. According to gossip, highwaymen were thick as flies on a dog turd and the nobility actually bragged about their coaches being held up.
She put on the hat and stepped to the mirror. Her black hair fell to her shoulders exactly like a young cavalier’s. She was tall and slim in the male attire. In the dark she knew she could easily pass for a young man, and yet she needed something which would definitely mark her as a man in the eyes of the people she was about to rob. She sat at her dressing table and, picking up the scissors, snipped a small amount from her hair. With steady fingers she fashioned a black mustache and fixed it in place with the glue she used to affix her face patches. She picked up a black velvet eye-mask and tied it in place, then found her pistol. She carefully went over the details of her plan; she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Now that she was ready, she hesitated, looking into the mirror. Her mouth went dry and her knees suddenly began to tremble. If she didn’t go immediately, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. She looked into the mirror and said to herself, “Toughen up!”
Her black riding gloves protected her hands as she climbed down the vine from her balcony in the south wing. She dropped to the ground, listened intently, then, when she encountered only silence, she melted into the darkness of the gardens. Ebony recognized her approach and whickered softly. She rubbed his velvet nose and murmured affectionately to him. “Carry me safely, my darling … I need your great strength,” she whispered. She mounted and led him very, very slowly to the far end of the deserted yew walk, which was three or four acres from Helford Hall, and there she began what she knew would be a long vigil.
It would be a tricky business to single out the Shrewsburys’ coach until it was quite close, but then she should recognize it easily, for they had brought one of their own with its coat of arms upon the door.
In the quiet of the yew glade she heard the rustle of small, nocturnal creatures as they prowled the night for food. Some were hunters, other poor devils the hunted; and she knew which one she would rather be. She tried to keep calm, for she knew she could easily transfer nervousness to her horse and spook him. A pair of bats swooped toward her then arced away at the last minute. Her mouth was dry, her palms inside her black riding gloves were wet.
She remained absolutely stock still and silent, but her heartbeat thundered in her ears and she imagined her teeth to be chattering. She clenched her jaw so tightly it began to ache dully as the minutes crawled past. She schooled herself to patience, for she most likely had hours to wait yet. Of one thing she could be certain, there was no likelihood she would doze off. Her body was pumping blood and energy until she thought she would scream with the forced inaction. Then suddenly she heard a low rumble. It was a carriage which careened through the blackness. She felt panic rise in her throat. Nobody should be leaving yet. She told herself that all she need do was stand in the shadows until it passed, then ride back to the house and go to bed. Then she heard herself whisper, “Fortune favors the bold.”
She peered intently into the blackness and recognized it was the very coach for which she had been waiting. Don’t question it, she told herself sternly, just take advantage of it!
She rode out into the middle of the road, leveled her pistol at the intoxicated driver, and roared, “Halt!”
The startled driver saw no one, but he pulled on the reins and the horses slowed.
“Stand and deliver!” she bawled roughly.
“What the hell?” cried the coachman as he yanked the two carriage horses to a full stop.
She touched Ebony’s side with her heel and he walked forward three paces. She waved the pistol at the befuddled driver and ordered, “Tell them to stand down and deliver.” He did nothing but stare. The carriage door was thrown open and a red-faced man stepped down in an apparent rage. He was not, however, even aware of the highwayman. “I’m glad you stopped,” he shouted in a high rage. “I’m not going to Pen-bloody-dennis Castle tonight, madame,” he shouted at the woman inside the coach, “to be cuckolded again, thank you very much! Driver, back to London!”
The coachman, unable to make any sort of decision, did nothing.
The woman inside the coach said, “We cannot go back to London tonight, and besides we are expected in Portsmouth for the royal visit.”
“The court, madame, is a cesspool. We return to London tonight! If the Duke of Buckingham tries to sniff round you again, I will call him out and shoot him for the vile coward that he is!”
The woman spoke again, very low.
“I’ll cause a scandal?” he cried at the top of his lungs. “You have already done that, according to the gossip that came to my ears tonight. I won’t allow you to drag my name through the mud, madame. The title of Shrewsbury has always stood for something noble!”
Summer pointed her pistol into the air and pulled the trigger. Its discharge jolted all the way up to her shoulder, but she got Shrewsbury’s attention at last.
“Who the devil are you?” he demanded.
Summer sketched him a slight bow. “The Black Cat, at your service, sir.”
“What the devil do you want?” he snapped angrily. “Your lady’s jewel case and I’m on my way … my oath on it, sir!”
Shrewsbury turned back to the coach door, saw the case on the seat beside Anna Maria, and opened it. There lay a diamond necklace and a ruby necklace and bracelets which he had not given to his wife.
“What’s these?” he roared. “Gifts from Buckingham?”
“The case, milord,” Summer demanded in a deadly voice, “or I’ll lighten your own pockets as well.”
Shrewsbury grabbed the case from the coach.
“Leave it on the road and drive on,” Summer ordered.
Shrewsbury, almost bursting a blood vessel by now, raged at his wife, “This is all your fault!”
Summer called to him, “I’ll keep my mouth shut about your lady’s indiscretion, my lord Shrewsbury, but if I were you, I’d give her a damned good beating!”
Shrewsbury looked in disgust at his coachman. “You … drive north!” He slammed into the coach and it lurched off, leaving Summer with an irresistible desire to bend double with laughter.
When the carriage was out of sight, she picked up the case and put it in her saddlebags. She had done it! She felt invincible. Her blood surged wildly with the thrill the danger had brought. Damn, it was easy … like taking candy from a baby. She felt slightly intoxicated … light-headed … light-spirited, and very merry.
She stabled Ebony at Roseland and took the jewel case up to her bedroom. She slipped her rubies into her doublet and put the jewels she had won at Stowe into the case with the diamond necklace and what looked like sapphires. Unfortunately Anna Maria had still been wearing her emerald and jade necklace, but Summer was ecstatic over the fortune in jewels she had acquired. Of course when she sold them, she’d never be able to get full value, but it would go a long way in paying off a great deal of the mortgaged debt. She frowned … the time had all but run out. In fact tomorrow would be the day the debt fell due. Spider would have to take what money they had to London to pay part of the debt. He could ride into Plymouth and easily take passage on a ship going to Portsmouth or even London, for the King and court would be leaving for those ports after just one more day.
She made her way on foot back to Helford House. She had no trouble climbing up to her bedchamber balcony undetected, for the guests were just taking leave of their host on the opposite side of the house. She locked away her precious rubies then carefully removed her black garments and put them into the trunk in the wardrobe. She honestly believed at that moment her career as a highwayman was
over.
Suddenly she heard her bedchamber door being tried and caught her breath in alarm. Thank heaven she had had the presence of mind to secure it before she had gone out. She stood naked, torn between searching her wardrobe for a bed gown and discovering who was outside her chamber door. To reassure herself that the door was still locked, she crept across the deep carpet without a sound and placed her ear against the panel.
“Summer”—Ruark’s voice brooked no refusal—“let me in.”
A feeling of déjà vu swept over her as she recalled standing naked behind his cabin door after the storm. She clenched her fists. She hadn’t let him in that night and she sure as hellfire wasn’t about to let him in tonight. She remained silent, willing him to leave, when to her horror she saw the key being pushed out of the lock, and a scraping metal sound came from the other side as she realized he was picking the lock. Lightning blast the man! She should have known it would take more than a lock to keep Helford at bay.
She ran to her wardrobe and quickly pulled a velvet robe over her nakedness and was standing in the center of the room with hands on hips when he opened the door and let himself in. Ruark wore only a robe and alarm bells went off in her head to keep him at arm’s length no matter what. “What do you want?” she demanded.
His eyes traveled the length of her slowly. Though they were enemies at this moment, he had to admit her allure. He could not love her, but he definitely wanted her … wanted to master her, ravish her, seduce her to the point where she would beg him to take her. His deep voice sent a shiver up her spine as he sounded concerned over her. “I heard you were unwell.”
“I never felt better.” She lifted her chin. “These people thrive on gossip.”
“Yes,” he said, slowly shortening the distance between them, “they are certainly gossiping about you.”
“Really?” she drawled. “And what pray are they saying?”
“One rumor had you gambling away your rubies,” he said evenly, watching her reaction to his words.
She flushed and her heart hammered in her chest as she realized the close call she had had. Triumphantly she unlocked her jewel case. Like a conjurer revealing a rabbit, she stood back to display her rubies. Her stubborn mouth and defiant eyes dared him to take them from her. Tonight, however, Helford was after another jewel.
“Another rumor which swept the hall when you retired said I had already gotten you with child.” With the lithe, quick movement of a panther his hands parted her bed gown and his eyes swept down over the lovely curve of her belly.
“Stop this, my lord. You cannot tell me our marriage is over and expect your rights at the same time,” she said with contempt, closing her bed gown over her nudity.
“Can’t I?” he asked silkily as his thumb moved to undo the belt of his robe and it swung apart. “I can do anything I please. I am still master of my own hall.”
She knew exactly how irresistible was his allure. For her own self-preservation she knew she must not allow him to break down her resistance. If he loved her and left her again, she would crave him for weeks. “I’ll fight you,” she vowed.
He laughed deep in his throat. Such a promise only spurred him to render her to complete submission. He reached out strong hands to take her by the shoulders, but she shrugged from her bed gown and, naked, ran to the other side of the curtained bed.
He threw the empty nightgown to the floor, deliberately took off his own robe, and began to stalk her. She knew he was dangerous, but danger always excited her and she knew she must keep her eyes from his magnificently muscled torso. She turned to flee, but his arm swooped down to catch her ankle, and as she tumbled to the carpet he was on top of her in a flash.
She raked her nails down his face, then down his chest.
“Stop it, Summer.” He pinioned her wrists to the floor and hung over her until his wide shoulders blotted out the whole room. As he bent to take her mouth she managed to free one hand and again she raked his flesh. “Damn, you little wildcat, do I have to tie your hands?”
“Leave me alone … damn you to hell,” she hissed as she took two handfuls of black hair and pulled savagely.
“That’s it!” he exploded. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He lifted her to the bed, kicking and struggling, and ripped the cord from one of the bed curtains. He secured her wrists above her head and fastened the cord to one of the bedposts, closing his ears to the profanities she screamed at him. When she was breathless from cursing, he hung over her again, the green flame of his eyes almost burning her with his towering lust.
Though she had put up a magnificent defense, it was in vain. She lay pinned between his powerful thigh muscles and his hands were free to caress her body in all the places he knew exactly she couldn’t resist. Her breasts had ached so much for his love play that the moment his palms cupped and lifted them she moaned and remembered the feel of her nipples against the crisp, coarse hair of his chest. She prayed that he wouldn’t take them into his mouth, but her pupils dilated with pleasure as he first kissed, then tongued, and finally sucked until her twin peaks became diamond hard.
His thighs pressed against hers, letting the velvet head of his marble shaft rub against her belly, just above her sensitive mons. After he roused her to near madness, he began to stroke and caress her, to gentle her like some wild creature until all her resistance was broken away. When the kiss came, it was unbelievably gentle, changing subtly to one of overwhelming sensuality. His lips traced her throat in old remembered patterns until she wanted to scream with need. All the while his lips brushed her ear and he whispered, “Yield to me, yield to me!”
The scent of him filled her head as he reached above her to untie her wrists. She thought she would never yield, she would die first, and yet … and yet … she knew she had a power over him. Her hands sought his hard body. Perhaps if she ravished him, he would never be able to bear their parting. Suddenly she was on fire for him and wantonly she let him know her body’s needs. She was kissing him back sinfully, letting him know that his seduction had caused her body to beg him. Then she opened herself to the flame that was Ruark Helford.
Suddenly he took his mouth from her and sat up. “I needed to know that you are still trained to my hand … that I can still tame your wildness … that you will yield to me whenever and wherever I desire you, my little pagan bride.”
She was panting with need and the painful ache of frustration as he picked up his robe and walked away. “You swine! I hate you!” she screamed, not caring if the servants or Mr. Burke or the whole damned world heard her.
The King’s weather held and the next day was absolutely glorious. Ruark had organized races using his ten fastest horses. They drew lots among the men to see who the lucky riders would be and the serious business of placing their wagers began. Ruark had decided to combine the races with Summer’s suggestion of cooking lobsters on the beach so the sands could be used for the races.
A large tent pavilion was set up down there and the house servants spent two hours carrying down tables and chairs, cushions and blankets to make the guests comfortable.
A lot of the ladies wore wide-brimmed hats to protect them from the sun, but Summer and a few of the more adventurous went bareheaded and let their hair fly loose in the sea breeze.
Since the King’s great height and weight would be a disadvantage in a horse race, he contented himself with being a spectator. Buckingham was in charge of the betting and held all the money. Jack and Bunny Grenvile had both drawn lots to be jockeys, as had Lord Buckhurst, Sir Charles Berkeley, Henry Jermyn, and Wild Harry Killigrew. Three riders were men of Cornwall: John Arundell, Richard Carew, and Sir John St. Aubyn. The tenth man was George Digby, the Earl of Bristol. Ruark Helford chose not to ride since he would have an unfair advantage in being able to choose his fastest horse.
Only two horses at a time raced each other as the beach was not wide enough to safely race more at once, which made a total of nine races before a winner could be declar
ed.
The men weighed up the horses very carefully before they made their wagers, but the women bet strictly on the men. In each race they either chose the better-looking man or a particular favorite. When the Earl of Bristol raced, every woman present bet heavily on him. Summer, too, placed a large wager on him, not because he was the best-looking man at Court, but because he was astride Ruark’s beloved Titan and she knew the horse’s capabilities.
By being reckless enough to wager a thousand pounds, Summer had doubled her money and was now in possession of two thousand. Only two horses remained which hadn’t yet raced. One was ridden by Wild Harry Killigrew, who was known to ride hell-for-leather as he did everything else in life. He was definitely the odds-on favorite with the crowd, but Summer put her whole two thousand on Jack Grenvile. She knew he’d been in the cavalry and the story of his mounting his father’s horse after Bevil had been killed by the enemy gave her total confidence in him. The crowd screamed and cheered them on, championing Wild Harry, but Jack Grenvile outrode him in every way. He showed such superb horsemanship, the crowd was swayed to his side and at the finish he was being cheered on even by those who had bet against him.
By the time the final race was ready to be run, Summer knew without a shadow of a doubt who the overall winner would be. It came down to a race between Jack Grenvile and George Digby— the Earl of Bath against the Earl of Bristol, but since the latter was mounted on Titan, she knew the race would be between the two horses, not the men.
Buckingham, of course, was hidden by the throng placing wagers. When it was finally her turn and she bet her whole four thousand on the Earl of Bristol, Buckingham said, “You won’t be flattered by the comparison, but you do things with abandon exactly like Barbara.”
“All or nothing at all,” said her husband’s voice in reply to Buckingham.
“And I don’t really give a damn which!” she threw at him. Her blood was up and she was in a mood to be reckless. She didn’t need to watch the race; its outcome was a foregone conclusion. She’d show them abandon … she’d give them something to whisper about behind their damned aristocratic hands!