Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(227)
“ ‘Tis not for Milly.” Shanna came to stand in the doorway with two sherry glasses she had found. She dipped into a low curtsy that made her printed taffeta skirts billow out wide around her. “The widow is no more. I’ve come out of mourning.”
Hergus grunted derisively. “Ye were never married long enough to even consider yerself properly wed. The least Mister Beauchamp coulda done was to live long enough to put a babe in yer belly. Had he done so, I doubt ye’d be fooling ‘round now with Mister Ruark.” She sighed wearily. “But I suppose if he had lived longer, it woulda been just the luck for himself to be without a fertile seed to give ye.”
Abruptly Shanna set aside the glasses, suddenly feeling as if she had, indeed, imbibed too much. She thrust the champagne from her sight, burying it beneath a pillow on her chaise. Observing her, Hergus was inclined to worry that she really had gone daft.
“I’d best get ye ready for bed. I hear Mister Ruark coming up the stairs, and I’ve had me say without letting him hear me.” Hergus shucked the taffeta gown from her mistress, leaving the delicate chemise for modesty as that seemed the girl’s wont lately. “Come to the dressing table and I’ll brush out yer hair, and then I’ll leave ye.”
It was a matter soon done. The gilded tresses spread in thick waves of silk over Shanna’s bare shoulders before the woman took herself from the chambers. Alone now, Shanna stared at her reflection, that image of soft woman, creamy skin and thinly clad breasts, white shoulders and wistful countenance. Ruark’s words of the evening echoed in her brain, and she could almost see herself standing alone on a hill, ignoring the plaintive cry behind her as she searched hard and fast for her knight in armor. A fickle dream to want something not worth the wanting. She could have Sir Gaylord in a trice, but even now she shuddered in revulsion at the thought of having to submit to his bungling caresses. Much more did she yearn for the vibrant warmth of Ruark’s hands upon her, softly titillating, weaving their spell.
The evening breeze stirred the draperies, and in the silence of the house she could hear Ruark moving about his room. Almost as one compelled, she went to the French doors, and like a wraith she was gone, not hearing the door of her sitting room open and close and footsteps coming across the floor.
“Yer pa just said he’ll be up shortly—” Hergus blinked in surprise at the now vacant bedchamber and gasped as the realization struck her. “Oh, me lord! She’s gone to him again. And there’s her pa coming!”
Stripped to the waist, Ruark leaned against the heavy footpost of his bed, his eyes like flaming golden brands as he watched Shanna saunter toward him, moving her hips with an undulating grace beneath the batiste garment. Her ripe breasts pressed wantonly against the gossamer confines, rousing his senses to full awakening. Her bare feet seemed to glide over the carpet, and her lips were bent upward in a totally wicked smile.
“My Captain Pirate Ruark, widow maker, virgin taker. Darkest of all dragons. You weave such a comely thread of words to ensnare an unwary maid. Now say me yea or nay. Was it some scaly beast who laid upon my virgin loins on a stormy winter’s night? Nay, I would not think it. ‘Twas some dark, handsome wooer who picked the plum but only nibbled the fruit before he vanished in the blackness. Was it some passion’s flower he yearned to pluck that brought him to this isle, or some thirst for revenge upon that one who but sought to save herself from that hoary wretch of the dungeons then found, all too late, he was an enchanted lover. What dark dragon do I see before me? What of the raven locks and strong human arms to twine about me? Is it beast’s blood flowing in your veins, my gallant cavalier, or the warm blood of man?”
His heated gaze seared her, and he beckoned with his words. “Come, Vixen, and I will show you.”
Shanna gave a deep, throaty laugh and placed her hands on his hard, flat belly, sliding them upward over his ribs and chest, caressingly, tauntingly, feeling the heavy thud of his heart beneath her palm.
“I perceive you are all too manly, my lord,” she purred as his hands came upon her waist. A low growl sounded deep in her, like a she-cat calling her mate. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned against him, first her hips and then the peaks of her thinly clad breasts, rousing his hot blood to boiling as the heat of her touched him.
“Shanna, Shanna,” Ruark rasped and folded her in his arms, crushing her to him and bending to cover her soft, reaching mouth with his.
A light gasp made him raise his eyes, and he saw Hergus standing shocked and still in the wide French doors where Shanna had passed but moments before. The woman had a hand over her mouth, and her eyes were wide, though whether from fear, horror, or surprise he could not tell. For Ruark it was like being drenched with icy water.