Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(177)

Some moments later Shanna’s voice came, small and quiet, hesitant. “Am I so lacking that you must seek out others?”

“There’s been no one else, Shanna,” he stated simply.

Shanna leaned her head back against his arm and tried to see his features in the dark. “Milly?”

A streak of lightning illuminated his face, and he met her inquiring gaze. “That little vixen brewed a mischief in her mind, love, and used it to prick you. There was never anything between us. I swear.”

Shanna rolled onto her back, struck by her own folly and what it had wrought. In shame she covered her face with her arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ruark raised himself on an elbow and leaned over her, resting his hand upon her flat belly. “You never gave me a chance, Shanna.”

A miserable moan escaped her, and tears began to trace down the side of her face. Gently Ruark lifted her arm and kissed her trembling mouth, hushing the sobs which shook her. Her worried whisper came against his lips.

“Do you hate me overmuch, my Lord Captain Pirate Ruark?”

“Aye,” he muttered hoarsely. “I hate you when you hold yourself from me. But it never lasts beyond your first, soft kiss.”

Fiercely Shanna locked her arms about his neck and began to spread eager kisses mingled with salty tears upon his face and lips, half crying, half laughing until her fears, much subdued, vanished completely. Trusting now as she had never done before, Shanna nestled snugly in the comfort of his encircling arms. Thus, even with the threatening peril below and nature gone mad without, they drifted like tender babes into the nether world of slumber.

Howling winds still beat the gables, and torrents of rain battered against the rattling shutters as the sky lightened to a dark, leaden gray. Shanna paid no heed to the storm as she stirred from sleep, for as long as it continued they need not hasten from the bed, and Ruark would remain in her arms. Her eyes, soft and caressing, traced the sleeping face pressed upon her breast, and she smiled warmly with kind recall of the hours past, as sweet in her mind as any treasured nectar upon the tongue. Releasing a sigh of contentment, she sank again into blissful sleep.

At the noon hour Gaitlier brought them food but hastened away after depositing the tray on the table, seeing that Shanna frowned at him over a highly clutched sheet, while Ruark, hair tousled and shortened breeches hurriedly donned, waited beside the door, seeming impatient for him to leave.

When the man retreated from the chamber, Ruark leaned back against the door, closing it, while his eyes turned to Shanna. At her soft, welcoming smile, he crossed to the bed and fell upon it to take her into his arms and nuzzle her throat while his hand slipped beneath the sheet to explore softer places. She giggled, nibbling at his ear, and answered his caress by curving her body seductively against him.

“Madam, you have the wiles of a vixen,” he lightly teased. “Now say the truth, are you seducer or seduced, ravisher or ravished, witch or bewitched?”

“Why, all of course.” Shanna rolled away from him, laughing. “What would you have me be, sir? The seduced?” Lazily she stretched, arching her back.

Ruark watched her soft, curving body, shimmery pale in the glower of enraged day. She was lovely beyond words. Becoming aroused, he reached for her, but with a throaty chuckle, Shanna averted his outstretched hand and came to her knees.

“Or perhaps today the seducer?” She pushed him down upon his back then boldly leaned low until her breasts touched against his hard, brown chest and kissed him with such passion that Ruark trembled with his eagerness.

“Or do you prefer a witch?” Shanna tossed her head, flinging her hair wildly, and made a claw of her hand, raking her nails lightly across his naked ribs.

With a low growl Ruark rose, and in a sudden moment it was she who lay beneath him. There was a merry twinkle in her eyes, but he had lost all the mood of playing and was most serious as his lips met hers.

In the hall outside their chamber, a loud clump of boots thudded, and Harripen’s booming voice roared, “Ruark! Ruark! Ahoy there, Captain Ruark!”

With a curse Ruark flung himself across the bed and snatched his pistol and sabre. Shanna made frantic haste to place herself beneath the sheet and jerk it high about her neck. The door swung open and with a crash rebounded against the wall. In that moment Harripen found himself staring at an enraged man who held a full-cocked pistol centered squarely on his forehead. The empty scabbard still slid across the floor and clattered against the table legs. More than a trifle worried, Harripen flung his arms wide.

“Avast there, laddie!” he bellowed. “Belay that now!”