Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(167)

“Then my Lord Captain Pirate,” she gritted, “can find himself another bed and another bitch!”

Primly she presented her back, slipped out of the skirt, the blouse, and loosed her hair. Fluffing the pillow, she slid beneath the sheet and laid her head back upon the feather-filled rest. Casting her gaze beyond the foot of the bed, she saw the face of her Ruark smiling back at her, the lazy grin spreading across his lips. She raised her head, and there he was again and again and again. Each mirror was set to cast back to those upon the bed whatever occurred upon it. A full dozen Ruarks stared back at her, as if the one were not beyond endurance. The roguish face haunted her, but lo, each mirror has a weakness and no less the likes of these. She gave a derisive grunt and, wetting her finger on her tongue, snuffed the candle.

Mouthing a low curse, Ruark punched his pillow heartily with his fist, yanked up the sheet to cover himself, and felt the rough coarseness of the blanket against his back. Sometime later his voice was heard in the dark.

“Woman,” he muttered, “I yield that you are certainly mad.”





Chapter 18




THE NIGHT HELD NO COMFORTS for Ruark in sleep or blissful pleasures. He tossed restlessly and could find no solace for his mind. Though the rough blanket separated them, he was ever aware of Shanna’s presence beside him. The silvery glow of the moon shining in through the open shutters cast shadows with its brightness, and in its light Ruark rose to fetch himself a strong bracer of rum. He prowled the room, liberally sampling the brew and casting more than occasional glances toward the softly curving form in the bed.

In abject frustration he slipped into the shortened breeches, filled a pipe from a small cask of tobacco, lifted the bolt and eased open the door, taking care not to wake his peacefully slumbering wife. He went below to the common room. It was empty save for Mother. No sound came from the eunuch to give him clue whether he slept or was fully awake. Ruark stepped quietly to the fireplace and lifted a small charred stick, blew the coal at its end into life, and touched it to his pipe. He puffed until the tobacco caught too, then seated himself at the table to enjoy his smoke.

“ ‘Tis a warm night, Mister Ruark.”

Ruark stared in surprise at Mother and saw the small, alert eyes watching him in the dim light of the subdued lantern.

“Aye,” Ruark finally nodded and gave the excuse. “I’ll never be accustomed to this heat.”

A snicker of amusement set Mother’s rolls of flesh quavering. “The Trahern wench warmed ye a mite, eh? She were a spirited one, even as a tot. She’ll lead some man a merry chase for the want of her favors. Beware ‘tis not you, me hearty.”

Ruark grunted and averted his face. He drew on the pipe then leisurely blew a slim column of smoke into the air, leaning his head back to watch it curl down upon itself.

“I was not always a buccaneer.” Mother interrupted his thoughts, and Ruark contemplated the man in the meager light, amazed because his voice no longer bore any hint of the guttural tones or crude speech which he had used earlier.

“I was a young man at the peak of my profession,” Mother continued. “A tutor at Portsmouth. The cream of the blue bloods came to hear my lectures, but alas, one of the hypocrites twisted my reasoning, and I was accused of preaching treason. They gave me a quick trial and threw me in the gaol. Then I was placed on the lists and impressed into the service as a common seaman.”

He paused, staring into the low-burning embers in the hearth. Ruark waited, his interest aroused, until the eunuch snorted and resumed his tale.

“Would you see the stripes on my back, Mister Ruark? I was a slow learner and did not take to the sea as well as the mate thought I should.” He sipped from a mug of strong rum to wet his tongue before he sighed heavily. “The captain deemed me useless and sold me to Trahern as a bondsman. ‘Tis Trahern’s justice that finds me here amid this scurvy lot. Be careful you do not fall victim to his revenge. His daughter is his pride, and he’ll see you gelded for having used her. You can never go back to Los Camellos without losing some portion of your life, if not all of it. I give this advice freely. Do not let the wench get in your blood, lad, else you might be tempted to test the fates to have her again.”

“Bah,” Ruark returned gruffly and played his part well. “What’s one skirt from another? I’ll tire of her before her father pays the ransom.”

“Then ‘tis wise you be.” Mother nodded at his own wisdom as he murmured, “I know that you are no common thief. And I know, too, that you will not long stay with us.”

Ruark would have denied the statement, but Mother held up a hand to delay him.