Page 15 of The Irish Gypsy

Kitty kept to herself as much as possible while the young men were there; however Simon made it plain to her that he did expect a hostess at the dinner table each evening. She became adept at keeping them in their place with a word or a look. She had a native wit and she developed a cutting edge to her tongue. Before the meal drew to a close, they usually had imbibed enough for their hijinks to begin, and Kitty excused herself as soon as was politely possible. She could hardly believe the juvenile nonsense that amused them.

For Kitty the week passed without incident until the last day of their stay. She breakfasted early to avoid everyone, but as luck would have it, two of the young men were up before her. Her interest was caught when she overheard Ninian say.

"That was the most ingenious peephole I've ever looked through."

"I agree,"

replied Basil.

"When they are in the ceiling like that, you get a view of the whole bedroom; nothing is hidden."

"The most glorious black curls!"

"Tantalizing buttocks."

Kitty was outraged to think she had been spied upon while undressing, and by the sounds of it at Simon's instigation. Her dander was up now and she was damned if she would tolerate such behavior beneath her roof. She stepped into view and said.

"Well, the more fools, the more fun, so they say. You can both pack up and leave now, and that goes for the rest of your stupid friends,"

she ordered.

"I'll tell you what it is, Basil: she's jealous,"

jeered Ninian.

"No, just low-bred,"

drawled Basil, whereupon Kitty sent him a ringing blow across his ear and stormed from the room.

What she needed was a brisk ride and some fresh air, she decided. She put on riding breeches and a jacket and took up her riding crop. Simon burst into her room and she could see immediately that he was as angry as she was herself. He wore only a silk dressing gown negligently belted and as he advanced upon her, she knew he had nothing on beneath it.

"You've insulted my friends, and I intend to punish you for it,"

he threatened.

Kitty was damned if he was going to thrash her bare bottom again, so she struck out at him with the riding crop. His eyes got that certain gleam in them and he became instantly aroused. Kitty hit out at him again and his robe fell away from his body, exposing his erect member to a horrified Kitty.

"The elastic of my patience just snapped! Get out! Don't ever enter my room again under any circumstances. If your precious friends are so important to you, you'd best get the hell to London after them, because I can't bear the sight of you."

"Maybe I will,"

he said menacingly, but all the fight had gone out of him. After she had bathed and changed, she discovered that Simon had departed for London and taken Terrance with him. A swell of relief swept over her and she fervently hoped he would stay away for a month. As she sat arranging her hair, Mrs. Hobson came to her, upset and agitated.

"Mr. Hobson has been looking worse and worse since I buried them blue marbles, ma'am. I do fear that the spell has come back on me. What can I do?"

she pleaded.

Kitty fully realized that Mrs. Hobson had fallen prey to the only danger that spells and superstition represented. If one believed in them, only then could they do any harm.

"Mrs. Hobson, you must dig up the marbles immediately."

Mrs. Hobson shook her head.

"It did no good. I dug them up yesterday, and this morning Hobson took to his bed. I don't like the looks of him. You must take the spell off! You're a Gypsy--you can help me,"

she said fervently.

"All right, Mrs. Hobson. It's really very simple."

Kitty's mind raced as she sought out a little ritual that would convince the woman.

"You must take the front door key and place it in your Bible. Mr. Hobson will be better almost immediately."

"Will it work?"

she asked hopefully.

"Oh, yes,"

Kitty assured her firmly.

"Keys are ancient magic symbols and placing one in a Bible can lift any spell."

A week hadn't elapsed before Simon returned with more dissolute friends in tow. They were gambling in the library, and his pockets were empty, so he put up Kitty for grabs. Only the thought that he had lost again angered him; he gave not a fig for what he had lost.

"Christ, you're a lucky dog, Savage!"

the winner was told by his companions.

"Fortune favors the bold, so I'm told,"

the cruel-looking youth retorted. He added with a sneer.

"I hope your wife measures up better than this stuff we're drinking. It tastes like stallion piss!"

Simon eyed Duke Savage sullenly. Duke wasn't as far gone in his cups as the others, and although the thought of Kitty whetted his appetite thoroughly, he was shrewd enough to realize Simon would be jealous. Simon would reason that whatever the Duke and Kitty could enjoy, the Duke and Simon could enjoy more.

Duke Savage also realized Kitty's brother Terry would present a problem. They all expected Duke to collect his bet tonight so the rest could get their kicks as voyeurs, but Savage had a better plan. After everyone had left for London tomorrow, he would double back and take her at his leisure.

Terrance knew better than to act anything other than indifferent. When the revelers got to the point in their drinking where he wouldn't be missed, Terrance slipped away to warn Kitty.

"Terry, I thought nothing that Simon did could shock me anymore, but I was wrong."

"Well, the Duke of Savage is the one who has won you."

"Terry, he isn't a duke. That's just his nickname,"

she answered unhappily.

"Do you know, Kitty, I lie awake at night, planning to kill Simon."

"Oh, God, Terrance, not you too? Promise me you won't do anything foolish? I'll figure a way to get us out of all this. Anyway, Duke Savage is a more pressing problem than Simon. I'll be sure my door is bolted tonight. Come up with me now and we'll make sure no one's hiding in that hideous wardrobe. It frightens me to death. I swear I'll get it moved tomorrow."

She kissed him good night, then firmly threw the bolt and didn't undo it again until after the hour of noon the next day. By this time, all had departed for London and she was left alone with the Hobsons. Mr. Hobson had fully recovered as a result of Kitty's 'magic' and the couple would gratefully do anything Kitty wished.

"Mr. Hobson, I would like you to go over to the farm and get a couple of those really hefty, strong farm boys for me. I want that big wardrobe moved out of my bedroom. I don't have many clothes anyway, and that thing gives me the shivers."

"I'll go over now then and get a couple of the lads. You might have to wait until they're finished their chores."

"I might as well walk over to the farm with you. We need some eggs,"

said Mrs. Hobson.

"I'll just go and get my basket."

It was a warm day and as Kitty was getting a drink from the kitchen she heard an unfamiliar step behind her. She whirled about to face Duke Savage. In one illuminating second that seemed suspended in time, his purpose became crystal clear. Pretense would have been ridiculous as she looked at the sensual curve of his mouth and knew he was already aroused.

"I'm not alone here,"

lied Kitty.

He cocked an amused eyebrow.

"On the contrary, my dear, I've just seen them leave for the farm. We are completely alone."

The air of lust in the room was almost tangible. His face was brazen and knowing with an unmistakable leer.

"To pay a gambling debt is a point of honor,"

he whispered, and a lynx at bay could not have given her a crueler glance.

"Honor?"

she mocked.

"I'll swear you know little of honor."

"I know much of other things, sweetheart."

He reached out easily to encircle her waist and draw her body up against his. As his hand covered her breast, she let out a piercing scream, so he quickly bent his head and cut off the sound by covering her mouth with his. He did not release her mouth until he thought she might be in danger of suffocation. He then proceeded to tell her what he intended to do with her in graphic words, hoping she would relish the hinted indecencies.

She was trembling now, but feared to fight him in case she enflamed him to madness. She hoped that by keeping calm she could postpone the violence that seemed inevitable.

He caressed her breasts and whispered.

"I bet you enjoy a good roll in the hay, don't you, sweet? I know Simon's no bloody use to you. You must be mad for it by now."

Kitty made a desperate effort to break away from him.

"You're not struggling, are you?"

He pulled up a straight-backed chair and forced her down upon it none too gently. He took off his neckcloth and bound her wrists to the chair behind her.

"Like a spot of bondage, do you?"

he teased.

He was standing behind her and Kitty shuddered with revulsion as she felt him pressing his erection against her back. He came around to face her, his eyes upon her mouth.

"With a little cooperation on your part, we can get the first thing I want done without untying you or even mussing up your clothes."

His fingers started to unbutton his trousers.

Although Kitty had had no experience of this sort of thing before, she was left in no doubt of his meaning. She raised her eyes to his and said very clearly.

"Duke Savage, if you put that thing anywhere near my mouth, I promise you I shall bite it off! I'll maul it so badly it will never work again. It will give me the greatest pleasure to ruin you for life!"

He knew she meant it, and a grudging admiration came into his eyes.

"Come then, I'll take you up to bed. That way we'll both enjoy it."

He lifted her in his arms and started for the stairs when Mr. Hobson came in with two young giants. Duke Savage set her on her feet at once as one of them asked.

"Was there something you wanted us to shift, ma'am?"

"Yes, this gentleman. Kindly take him off our property and give him a bloody good beating."

Savage turned pale green.

"They wouldn't dare. I'd press charges!"

"Shut your cake hole!"

one of the farmhands said bluntly.

"Are you sure that's what you want us to do, ma'am?"

Kitty looked Savage straight in the eye and said sweetly.

"Put the boots to him!"

Terrance was determined upon his course. He wasn't going to let one more day pass without informing Patrick of Kitty's plight. As soon as they arrived in London, Terrance gave Simon the slip and wondered whether it was better to try to catch Patrick at home or at his office. Terrance finally decided to try the latter, as he probably spent as little time as possible under his sister's roof, even though the house in Cadogen Square was his.

Patrick greeted him with raised eyebrows.

"Terrance! Your very presence tells me something must be wrong."

Terry nodded miserably.

"It's about Simon."

He hesitated.

"Go on,"

Patrick said shortly.

"He's not normal--he's queer! He sleeps with other men."

Patrick stiffened.

"Wherever did you hear such filthy rumors?"

he demanded.

"They aren't rumors,"

Terry said quietly.

Patrick looked at him with disbelief.

"How do you know?"

he demanded.

"How the hell do you think I know?"

Terry shouted.

Patrick went pale.

"My God, why didn't you tell me sooner? He hasn't harmed her, has he? She doesn't share his bed, does she?"

"No, she has her own bedroom, but he uses her as bait to attract young men and she is in constant danger from them."

"I'm sailing for America before the week's out. Why the hell didn't you come sooner?"

Patrick shouted.

"I'll just have to put the sailing date ahead for another week. You must have known it was a mistake from the very beginning. Why didn't you inform me earlier?"

"Kitty doesn't know men have sexual relationships with other men, but she knows Simon isn't normal. He calls her Kit, a boy's name, and he has her wandering about the place in boy's riding breeches. He even cut her hair like a boy, but it's growing again."

"Terry, go at once to Cadogen Square and have them pack me a bag. I have some things here I must attend to, but I can leave for Surrey in about two hours."

"I'll go back to Simon and make sure he stays in London. How long will you need?"

"Give us a week alone, if you can. After that I'll have to leave. Take Kitty and stay with Julia until I return from America, but be assured the problem of Simon will be eliminated. Permanently."

Kitty rode out a little way from the house, dismounted and sat down with her back against a tree in a little glade on the edge of the forest. The bridle jingled as her horse cropped the grass beneath the leafy arches. The trees sighed and murmured to each other in the slumberous, gentle wind. She sat with unseeing eyes, trying to come to a decision about her future. She knew she could not remain with Simon any longer, but she was unsure of where she should go. Kitty longed to go home to Ireland, but the prospect was bleak and she realized she probably would fare better if she went to London and tried to find some kind of employment. What she really wanted was Patrick. The flowers lifted their faces to the sun and filled the air with their languorous perfume. Her eyes lifted heavenward, brimful of tears when Patrick caught his first glimpse of her. Screened by the thick-budded foliage, he gazed breathlessly upon her, entranced by her beauty, dewy-eyed and languid. He saw how the thin ruffled shirt clung to her shapely body, and he was filled with desire. Her horse whinnied softly to him; she was startled into awareness. The sight of him took her breath away. She thought for one fleeting moment that he was only a vision, but her heart lifted with such a wild surge that she knew he was real.

"Kitty, how are you?"

he asked softly.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and a solid lump came into her throat when she tried to speak. She hesitated, then said with stiff pride.

"Things are marvelous, couldn't be better...."

but could go no further.

They looked into each other's eyes and in that moment their souls touched. Patrick held out his arms to her. With an incoherent cry she stumbled into them and sobbed out all her troubles against his chest. His arms were comfort and safety to her. Nothing could hurt her now, so secure did she feel against the firmness of his shoulder. When she had cried herself out, he lifted her chin until her eyes met his.

"I want you to go and change into a gown for me. Your breeches are so tantalizing I won't be able to keep my hands from you, and we have a great many things to talk about before I make love to you."

Her eyes widened in apprehension, but before she could voice a protest he set his mouth to hers and kissed her with all the pent-up longing he had known since they had been apart. She clung to him with a desperate need of her own. He was the first to withdraw from the kiss, but only long enough to whisper.

"I love you, darling."

"Oh Patrick, I've always loved you,"

and their mouths fused again.

He caught her in his arms and lifted her against his heart. Desire overpowered him, his hands were hard and fierce and her sweet, moist mouth trembled as she whispered.

"Your embrace will crush me."

He set her down gently.

"Forgive me, darling. It won't be like last time. I promise I won't hurt you. I want you to be my wife. You belong to me and no other. Repeat with me a simple marriage vow, 'I receive you as mine.'"

She clasped him close, beset by sudden fear.

"What if Simon returns?"

He said simply.

"I'll kill him!"

Kitty changed into her one pretty gown. It was pale lavender silk which flowed and billowed sensuously as she walked.

Mrs. Hobson wrung her hands, exclaiming over and over that she'd never be able to feed such a fine gentleman, until finally Patrick took her by the shoulders and said kindly but firmly.

"We don't care what we eat, ma'am, all we want is to be together. Nothing else matters."

She bobbed a curtsy and disappeared.

The day had been warm, but as the evening lengthened into shadow, the air emitted a slight chill, so Patrick lit a fire. There was nothing stronger than tea to drink, so after dinner they sat before the fire and Kitty poured Patrick a cup and handed it across to him, thinking all the while, if only we could do this for the rest of our lives.

"Darling, I have to tell you right away that when Terry found me I was about to leave for Liverpool. My ship was to sail tomorrow for America."

"Oh, no,"

she whispered in despair.

"Love, don't be upset. I'll put off the sailing for a week. I've thought of taking you with me. It would be paradise, but too selfish of me. You could come only as my mistress while you are still married. That would distress you and leave you open to gossip and insult. When I come back, we'll be married properly,"

he said confidently.

"But how can that be?"

she asked uncertainly.

"You don't really mean to kill Simon, do you?"

He avoided answering her directly, as he knew that was exactly what he would do if Simon stood in their way. He waved his hand airily.

"There are many ways: divorce, annulment...."

"But....to get an annulment you have to be able to prove....that your marriage never was consummated...."

He stiffened.

"My God, Kitty, he didn't touch you, did he?"

he demanded fiercely.

"No, he didn't, but you did!"

He relaxed and laughed at her fears.

"My darling, you don't suppose I'd let you face the indignity of an examination, do you? You are so innocent! Money is simply exchanged for the certificate you would need to obtain the annulment."

"You mean a bribe?"

she asked.

"Of course!"

He sat back in his chair like a young, bronzed god setting the world straight. He was triumphant and high-spirited, and he exuded confidence. Under this man's protection, she would never be afraid again.

"I'll be going to Bagatelle Plantation in the Carolinas for their cotton crop, and then on to New York to the Hind Food Company offices. Someday I hope to be president of our American branch. How would you like to live on Millionaires' Row in New York?"

"I could be happy anywhere with you,"

she said shyly.

"You are my darling little girl, but you mustn't look at me like that or we won't get any further with our plans."

"How long will you be away, Patrick?"

"That's the devil of it. You can never be sure with an ocean voyage, but if I'm lucky I could be back in four months. You can't stay here, of course; you must go to Julia in London. I'll explain to her that you will be coming and you must have no contact whatsoever with Simon. I'll be right back."

Her eyes widened in surprise when he returned and held out a gun to her.

"It's a Colt .45, recently designed in London. I'll teach you how to use it."

"I'm not sure I want it, Patrick. Guns are for killing,"

she protested.

"It's simply for your protection. My God, how can I bear to leave you, knowing how vulnerable you will be?"

he demanded.

"If it will make you feel easier, I will keep it by me, of course."

"Darling,"

he whispered. He set down the gun on the tea table and pulled out a long leather wallet.

"I've some money for you here. Five hundred pounds is all I have with me, but that might meet your needs. If not, Julia has a line of credit at one of my banks and I'll instruct her to let you have whatever you need."

"Five hundred pounds is more than I've ever seen in my whole life,"

Kitty exclaimed.

"It may sound like a lot, but I'll be gone for months, sweetheart, so you will have to be very careful with it."

She took the bank notes and put them in her reticule. As she moved he thought how slender and delicate her wrists and ankles were. She was so exquisitely fragile, he knew he would have to exercise an iron will to keep from ravishing her the moment he touched her. Desire almost overpowered him. His need for her was so intense, it was more pain than pleasure.

She stood hesitant in the gathering shadows. Her small foot peeped from the perfumed mystery of her silken skirts and he was transformed by the spell of her haunting beauty. The next instant she was in his arms. He lifted his hands and interlaced her hair; his thumbs brushed the velvet of her checks. He lifted her faintly parted mouth to him.

"Darling Kitty,"

he murmured and she looked into his deep blue eyes with apprehension.

"I receive you as mine,"

he whispered. An ancient unsolved mystery, a fragile, haunting, whispered vow.

"I won't unless you wish it, beloved,"

he swore, though it took every ounce of willpower he possessed.

"I'm finished with childhood. I want to be a woman,"

she whispered back.

He lifted her tenderly and carried her up the stairs. One eyebrow, like a raven's wing, went up to question which her chamber was, and she indicated with her eyes which door to open. Instinct told him she was far too shy to make the first move, so without hesitation he undid the small lavender buttons of her gown. He drew aside the fabric and kissed her on the curves of her breasts. She loved the look of adoration on his face as he slipped off her gown and undergarments and lifted her onto the wide bed. The room was filled with moonlight so he didn't light the candles out of consideration for her, but he promised himself they would make love with every light blazing before their week was up. He took off his tiepin and cuff links and placed them on the table by the bed next to a little pot of violet-scented face cream. He undressed quickly and slipped in beside her, gathering her into a very tender embrace. He knew that tonight he held the key to Kitty's future enjoyment of her own sexuality. Gently, he drew back the cover and gazed at her. Her nipples and aureoles were such a deep bronze color, they excited him until the blood pounded in his head and made him dizzy.

"My God, kitten, you are so lovely,"

he breathed hoarsely.

"I must have been mad not to have married you long ago."

"Why didn't you?"

she chided lovingly.

He stroked her shoulders and breasts and gazed at her thoughtfully.

"I think you were too exotic for me to think of as a wife. A man would only think of you in terms of a mistress because of your beauty. When you look at me imperiously, you could be Russian, the black clouds of your hair and slant of your eyes remind me of the Orient. You have the dainty hands and feet of a Balinese temple dancer."

She was in a dreamlike trance as his words revealed his enchantment with her.

"At other times you are so sleek and pantherlike you could even have a drop of black blood; Egyptian perhaps."

She smiled up at him.

"It's Gypsy, my darling."

"My exciting, exotic, Irish Gypsy."

He lowered his mouth to hers worshipfully. He kissed her eyelids, her temples, her throat and lingered over each delicate breast. He wooed her with honeyed words as his hands moved across her waist, tracing small circles around her navel. He stroked her thighs and finally the soft black curls on her mound of Venus.

She drew in her breath quickly at his touch, but before she could protest he said.

"Shh, my lovely, try to relax."

She was fever dry to his touch, so he used a tiny drop of the violet-scented cream and with sensitive fingertips traced the folds between her legs.

"Tell me what you like, darling,"

he urged, and his fingers gently probed again.

"Does that give you pleasure?"

"Mmmm."

He increased the tempo of his movements and could tell she was becoming aroused.

"Does that excite you, sweet? It excites me!"

She moaned with pleasure, and with deft fingertips he brought her to climax. She arched against his hand as the strange sensation reached all the way to her toes. It was the first time she had ever experienced sensual pleasure and she was filled with the wonder of it. Patrick held her very closely and whispered such words of love, she felt her very bones would melt from the delicious sensations that swept through her. He was in no hurry, he forced himself to savor her enjoyment without marring her pleasure with his haste. He held her to his heart and stroked her back. Her arms swept up behind his head and when she moved her body closer to fit it to his, she gasped at his enormous phallus, swollen with passion. He soothed her fears away with caresses and words of love. He began to kiss her, gently at first, then more demandingly. His skillful lovemaking worked its magic until she became aroused again, and the intensity of her mouth matched his own. Gently he placed her on her back and crouched above her in towering excitement. A searing white heat shot through him at the first contact of their bodies.

"I can't, Patrick. You're too big!"

"Yes, you can, darling. Open your legs. That's right. Now kiss me."

he would not be denied now, and firmly penetrated her trembling body and achieved his heart's desire.

She was surprised to feel the delicious sensations arise again so swiftly, but this time magnified a hundred-fold. When she felt certain she could not bear such intensity one moment longer, he brought them to climax with a few swift thrusts, and they lay in each other's arms, savoring their mutual ecstasy. He cradled her possessively until they both slept.

Once, in the dark before dawn, Patrick awakened and looked down at the beloved face next to his on the pillows. Desire flared instantly through his loins. He bent his head to seek her lips, then stopped himself. He did not wish to give her a disgust of his male appetite, so sighing, he closed his eyes and willed the fire in his blood to cool.

When the morning sunlight patterned the bed with its delicious, warm rays, Kitty panicked. My God, the words he'd whispered and the things they had done seemed shocking in the light of day. He was the master and she the servant, and now that he had had his way with her, he might discard her, toss her aside with all respect gone. She wanted to bury her blushes in the pillow, but could not resist one swift glance through her lashes. Patrick was gazing at her. He adored her with his eyes. Relief swept over her. She sprang up joyously and missed him repeatedly, saying.

"Oh, Patrick, I love you."

"Say it again, Kitty. Again and again! Foolish little darling to think you could get away from me. You are mine. Mine! I'll keep you always. You'll never get away. Never! Never! Repeat the vow you made me. Only love me, and I'll manage all the rest!"

Kitty was filled with such power she feared her heart would explode.

Later that morning Patrick made them fishing rods and they set off for the trout stream. They wrapped the fish in leaves and baked them to a tender golden brown. When they were finished, Kitty lay with her head in his lap. The heat made her drowsy and each time Patrick bent to kiss her, delicious sensations ran through her body, and they repeated a hundred times the whispered promise, "Tonight!"

They strolled upstream to where it was dammed off a little. He urged her to swim with him, but she was too shy to strip and play in the water naked. He refused to go in without her, and pressed her so insistently she promised that she would swim with him before he went away. When their fingers touched, or their eyes met, everything was forgotten except the magic of belonging to each other. Time ceased to exist for them. Day blended slowly into night and they exulted that at last they would be sharing a bed.

In the aftermath of passion, she asked.

"When it can be so beautiful, why did you ravish me that first time?"

"I was a selfish fool, my darling. I suppose I wanted to put my mark upon you so indelibly that you would always remember me even if you were with another. I wanted to master you, but I was the one who became enslaved."

Each night it was different for them. Sometimes their love was wild and hot, almost an assault of the senses. At such times Kitty surprised him with a passionate ardor that equaled his own. Then the next evening she came to the bed shyly, in a pristine white nightgown, making her look like a young novitiate, and a tenderness swept over him, along with a deep desire to protect her always.

Sometimes they fantasized about what their married life would be like.

"If we go to America, I'll buy you a mansion on Millionaires' Row. I'll cover you in jewels and silks and thoroughly enjoy showing you off."

She spoke with her lips against his.

"Can I have my own carriage?"

"Lady Jane Tut,"

he teased between a dozen tiny kisses.

"We'll entertain every night. I'll be the most famous hostess in New York,"

and she traced the outline of his lip with the tip of her tongue.

"Not every night; I'll want you to myself,"

he said possessively.

"Oh Patrick, perhaps Julia won't want me under the circumstances. After all, I'm still married to Simon. Julia will probably feel awkward and object to my living there."

"My dearest Kitty, I am the paymaster in that house, and I will have things exactly as I wish them."

"Patrick,"

she chided.

"you are so arrogant!"

"Lord Muck, eh?"

he laughed.

"Exactly!"

she agreed.

"That's not being arrogant, that's being masterful. Let me show you,"

and he pinned her beneath his body so there could be only one outcome.

One evening they discovered some Gypsies camped by the woods.

"I can dance like that. Would you like to see?"

she whispered to Patrick.

"Very much,"

he said, caught up in her excitement.

She picked up a tambourine and began to undulate slowly. The beat of the music began slowly and deeply. A young Gypsy male came over to Kitty and began to partner her in the dance. He was very slim and swarthy and his teeth flashed white whenever their eyes met. They moved closer and closer in the hypnotic rhythm, never quite touching, and as Patrick observed the possessive look the Gypsy bestowed upon Kitty, he thought: And she called me arrogant!

The music sped up and they whirled faster and faster. Her skirts swirled higher and higher about her bare legs until Patrick felt his anger build with the music. He felt a jealous rage grip him as he watched the pair fit their body movements to each other. He strode up to Kitty, took her arm in a grip of iron and commanded, "Come!"

"You are angry. Didn't my dancing please you?"

She knew very well what emotions plagued Patrick at this moment, but she wanted him to tell her of his jealousy.

"Your dancing aroused me, but it aroused him too, as you very well know,"

he ground out.

"He was just a boy,"

she said and laughed.

"He felt a man's desire for you."

"Darling, you're jealous,"

she whispered.

His mouth came down upon hers savagely and she clung to him, savoring his brutality. "Come!"

he commanded.

"Where are you taking me?"

But she knew.

"You promised me,"

he asserted as he urged her onward toward the swimming place. She didn't protest when he began undressing her with impatient hands. Soon all her loveliness was revealed in the moonlight and he drew in his breath sharply at the picture she made. He stripped quickly and towered above her, not to be denied. The water was momentarily forgotten in his urgency, and she reached out to touch the quivering organ. Her fingertips ran along the entire length that grew hard and rigid at her touch.

"Darling Patrick, never be jealous. You're the most beautiful man in the world."

"Kitten, desire and anger are a deadly combination. I'm warning you, there'll be no holds barred this night."

She licked her lips in anticipation as he pulled her down into the grass. She felt her own pulse merge with the earth's beneath her body. He intended to make passionate love to her, then bathe together. After their swim, he would love her yet again.

It was three o'clock in the morning. Kitty stood by the window, looking down into the garden. Tears made silver streaks down her cheeks. Patrick roused from sleep to find the bed empty. Quickly he slipped out of bed and came up behind her.

"Sweetheart, you'll catch cold. What's wrong?"

"How can I bear it? Tomorrow you'll be gone and I may never see you again,"

she said, sobbing.

"There could be a storm at sea, or you could catch a fever in America, or what about Indians?"

"Indians?"

he laughed incredulously.

"Oh, sweetheart, your Irish is showing. Don't expect the worst; expect the best! I'll be back before you know it and by that time Simon will be out of the way and we'll be married immediately."

He made a mental note to seek out the young hothead who had stabbed him in Bolton and give him a certain job to do.

"Come and be warm, love."

He picked her up without protest and carried her to the bed. Instead of tucking her beneath the covers he stood her upon the bed before him and removed her nightgown. She shivered slightly as the cool air touched her naked skin, then shuddered convulsively as his warm breath teased her breasts and his hot mouth took possession of the impudent crests that thrust boldly forward like tiny spears.

His rough tongue began to lick her aureoles, then he took the entire crown into his mouth and sucked fiercely. A low moan broke from her throat that sent prickles along the back of his neck. He wanted to hear the love cries she would make when his mouth plundered her woman's center.

His powerful hands gripped her waist firmly as his mouth moved down her rib cage, then across her belly.

Kitty no longer felt cold. Her blood had heated to molten gold, flowing through every vein like liquid fire. She gasped as she realized his goal. Surely even Patrick could not be so boldly wicked as to put his mouth there. She tried to pull back from his mouth, but his iron hands gripped her like a vice, holding her for his ravishment. The kisses he bestowed upon her were so thrilling she threaded her fingers through his crisp, black hair and arched herself against his lips.

He murmured against her hot center.

"Beautiful, beautiful."

His love words aroused her to a passion she had never experienced. His thumbs moved down to open her center and his tongue plunged inside to curl about her tiny jewel.

She was sobbing now at the exquisite torture of his scalding mouth as he licked and thrust, licked and thrust, exploring every secret crevice of her womanhood. Every nerve in her body responded to the hot center where he plunged so deeply with pure sensual enjoyment. Suddenly she became hot and wild and insatiable. She was all Gypsy, all woman, as she threw back her head and screamed her joy in a splendidly uninhibited frenzy of sexuality.

Patrick pulled her down beneath him. He knew she had experienced one delicious climax and he intended to arouse her immediately to another and satisfy her with the fulfillment of being hard and deep inside her so that his body could feel every last tremor.

After their explosion, neither of them could bear his withdrawal. Her hands clung to him desperately.

"Don't leave me, I may never have you again,"

she sobbed.

"I'll take you with me in the morning. I'll not leave you here to brood unnecessarily,"

he said firmly.

When morning arrived however, fate had conspired against them, and Mrs. Hobson had come down with an ague.

"I can't leave her alone, Patrick. It's best this way. All my fears have fled with the sunlight. You go and make things right with Julia, and as soon as Terry returns, we'll leave for London, I promise."

They both felt pain at parting. However, both knew it would be worse to drag it out endlessly. With one passionate embrace that implied a promise never to be broken, he was gone.