Devil's Embrace (18 page)

“May Allah protect you. I hope to hear of your speedy recovery, my friend.
Addio.
”

“
A rivederci.
”

None of them moved or spoke until Mr. Donnetti appeared in the doorway. “He’s gone, captain. And by the look on his face, I’d say he had seen the devil himself.”

“He has just made the acquaintance of a witch, Francesco,” the earl said. The smile on his lips turned to a grimace.

“Well done, madonna,” Scargill said, beaming at her with approval. He turned briskly back to the earl. “Ye can explain to Francesco later, my lord. Now, I must draw out the ball.”

“I cannot eat more, Scargill,” Cassie said with a sigh, and pushed her plate away. The little food she had eaten lay heavy in her stomach. She glanced toward the earl, stretched on his back, a light cover drawn to his waist. The white bandages over his shoulder were stark against his deeply tanned body and the black hair on his chest.

“How long will he sleep?”

“If we are lucky, until morning. Thank the lord that the ball wasn’t deep. If there is no infection, he should be quickly on the mend.” No thanks to you, his eyes told her, and she looked away from him. She rose, shook out her skirts, and walked slowly toward the door.

Scargill’s sharp voice forestalled her. “Nay, madonna. I promised his lordship that I’d not let ye out of the cabin. It’s here ye’ll stay until he tells me otherwise.”

“You think I would jump overboard in my skirts?”

“I wouldn’t have thought that ye’d have shot him, madonna. Nor would I have believed that wounded like he was, he’d still have gone in after ye.”

She felt drained, both emotionally and physically. “Was I so very wrong, Scargill? What would you do, pray, if you were held against your will and saw an opportunity to escape? I did not want to shoot him, but he tried to stop me.”

“Aye, he would. But do not try to draw me into an argument with ye, madonna, for it will gain ye naught.” He began to clear away the plates from the table.

Cassie walked slowly to the settee and sat down. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. The events of the day, jostled and fragmented, whirled through her mind. She heard the deafening report of the pistol, felt her arm beneath his chin as his weight and her fatigue threatened to pull them both into the depths of the sea. She saw the pirate, Khar El-Din, his fierce blue eyes boring into her.

“Can I trust ye alone with him?”

She shook away her lie of madness and saw Scargill standing uncertainly at the door.

“You believe that I would smother him with a pillow?”

Scargill ignored the irony in her voice and allowed a faint smile to crease the corners of his mouth. “No, it was a foolish question. After all, ye could have left him to drown, but ye didn’t. We will hope that that is what the men will remember and not yer shooting their captain. Go to sleep now, madonna, it has been a long day. I’ll be in during the night to check on his lordship.” He turned away from her, and she heard him turn the key in the lock.

Yes, she thought, her eyes again on the earl’s motionless body, a long day and one that I am ending just as I began it—your prisoner. She wearily tugged off her clothes and curled up on the settee.

Cassie awoke with a start at the sound of a low moan. She shook the sleep from her mind, pulled her dressing gown about her, and sped to the earl’s bed. Dull shafts of early morning light shone through the narrow windows, bathing the cabin in soft gray.

She laid her hand on his forehead, and gave a sigh of relief. There was as yet no fever. She gasped in surprise when his fingers closed over her wrist.

“Cassandra.” His voice was low and slurred from the effect of laudanum.

“I am here, my lord.”

For a long moment, his dark eyes searched her face. A ghost of a smile flitted across his mouth. “You must wash the salt from your hair.”

“Is it so important that your whore be to your liking at all times?”

“Whore is your term,
cara.
I thought we had established you are a madwoman, and yet I will still take you to wife. It is my English honor, I suppose.”

He closed his eyes, and his forehead furrowed in pain.

“You are in no condition to bandy words, my lord. Do you wish more laudanum?”

“How strange you are, Cassandra,” he said, his eyes still closed over his pain. “Young English ladies are not bred to have such a fondness for pistols. Nor, I suppose, are they
likely to be such strong swimmers. Although your skill with a pistol hasn’t done me much good, I am relieved that you are a good swimmer. A good swimmer and a good actress. After your performance with Khar El-Din, I am almost tempted to forgive your other quite believable lie.”

“Your wits are obviously addled, my lord,” she snapped. “I have no notion what you are talking about.”

“Do you not, my love? ’Twas our first night together. If I consider Khar El-Din a gullible fool for believing you mad, then I must say that I was no better. You really shook me, you know, when you told me you were pregnant with Edward Lyndhurst’s child.”

He heard her draw in a sharp breath. “I did not want to force you, Cassandra, but I knew of no other way.”

“As you have said, my lord, it has not been a question of anything at all after that first night. Even if I still do not possess the skill of a whore, I seem to have the soul of one.”

He chuckled, and if he had not been lying helpless, she would have struck him. “I marvel at your recriminations. I should not leave you alone,
cara,
your mind is too fanciful, and the conclusions you draw about your own character really quite unfounded. The truth of the matter is that I am a very desirable man and an excellent lover, most skilled at bringing a woman to pleasure. Curse me, Cassandra, for your awakened woman’s passions, not yourself.”

“Just as you have given Zabetta pleasure?” She drew back, aghast at the venom in her voice, but his fingers tightened about her wrist.

“Just so,” he said softly. “But with such a fiercely loyal and jealous wife, you need never fear that I will again fall into old habits.”

“I am not jealous and I shall never wed you. If you fancy otherwise, my lord, I fear you will know disappointment until the end of your miserable life.”

The door suddenly opened, and Scargill entered. The earl released her wrist, and she backed away from the bed.

Scargill took in her flushed and angry face and said sharply, “I hope ye have had the good sense not to arouse his lordship, madonna.”

“She has tried, Scargill, but alas, I fear I am not up to it. I hope you have brought me some breakfast. If left to her own devices, I fear that my nurse would starve me.”

“I think ye’ll do, my lord.” Scargill nodded his approval as he studied his master’s face. He saw pain darken the earl’s eyes but knew enough not to say so. “Afore ye eat, my lord, I must see to the wound. Madonna, ye’ll help me, if ye please.”

As Scargill pulled the earl forward, Cassie unwrapped the thick bandages. She felt herself go white at the sight of his shoulder. The wound was sewn with black thread. It looked obscene. She felt him tense as Scargill gently probed the area.

“Ye’ll be at the helm in a day or two, my lord,” Scargill announced as he straightened. “But I’ll not allow ye any wine, for it’s said to bring on a fever. I’ll bind ye tighter this time, my lord, so yer flesh will grow together more quickly.”

“Just be done with it,” the earl said in a low voice.

Cassie felt her forehead damp with perspiration by the time the earl fell into a drugged sleep. He had made no sound, and she wondered if she could have been as stoic.

She spent the rest of the morning in the copper bathtub, letting the hot water relax her. She washed the salty grit from her hair. She pulled up a chair near the bed and quietly brushed her damp hair. Every few minutes, she found that she looked at him, her eyes alert to any signs of fever. But he lay quietly, his breathing even, his chest rising and falling gently in sleep.

“I do not know why I should care,” she said. But she did care, and the admission surprised her. “Please do not die, Anthony.”

She sighed deeply, shaking her head. Tendrils of hair touched her cheeks. She thought again of her attempt to escape him and felt a shaft of fear slice through her. Even if she had succeeded, she would never have reached the English settlement. She would have become Khar El-Din’s captive, to do with as he pleased.

The earl moaned softly, and Cassie laid her palm gently on his forehead. He was cool to the touch. She studied him,
the sculptured contours of his face, the proud straight nose, the thick black-arched eyebrows, and the hard line of his jaw. He suddenly lurched toward his side, then fell again onto his back.

She pressed her hands gently against his shoulders. “No, my lord,” she said quietly, “you must not move.”

He grew quiet once again, and Cassie resumed her vigil. Her eyes passed from his face to his massive chest. In his restlessness, the cover had slipped below his waist to his belly.

She looked at him, at the curling black hair that covered his chest narrowed at his waist, thickening out again below. Even in sleep, he looked magnificent. She reached out her hand and lightly touched his belly, her fingers curling about the thick black hair. His warm flesh was smooth and taut. Her fingers explored him innocently. The cover fell away, and she saw his sex lying softly against him. She felt an intense curiosity and let her fingers close tentatively over him. She lightly caressed him, not used to his softness, and ran her other hand over his thighs. She gasped in surprise as his member began to grow in her hand. Her eyes flew to his face. He was watching her. She flushed scarlet, but she continued to hold him.

“I am sorry to awaken you, my lord,” she said, her voice oddly high and breathless. “It is just that I have never, that is, I wanted to—”

“Do I please you, Cassandra?”

“No. That is, you moved and the cover slipped. I was curious. I’ve never really looked at a naked man before.” Her eyes went inadvertently to him, straining against her fingers.

“You see the effect you have on me. No, do not move your hand, your touch gives me great pleasure.” He smiled at her, his dark eyes devoid of arrogance or amusement. “Indeed, I am sorry that I have interrupted your explorations. You have me at your mercy, my lady, for I have not the strength to show you how very much you please me.”

“I don’t wish to please you, my lord. I only wanted to to see you.”

She released him and he moaned. “Are you in pain, my lord?”

“Yes,
cara,
but it is not from my shoulder.”

“I have caused you pain?” she asked, bewildered.

“To give me such pleasure and then to cease it causes me great discomfort.”

“Oh.” Lightly, she laid the palm of her hand flat against his belly and felt the muscles tighten convulsively.

“Touch me again, Cassandra.” His hand closed over hers and gently guided it downward. As her fingers closed about him, he drew a deep breath.

She blurted out, “I wanted to touch you to try and understand why you make me feel as you do.”

“And do you understand?”

She was silent for a moment, and her eyes roved back to his belly. “I can scarce hold you.” As if suddenly aware of what she was doing, Cassie drew back her hand and clasped it in her lap. She shook her head, and he heard confusion in her voice. “No, not really. I only know that I much enjoy your body.”

He wanted to grin, but the pain in his shoulder curved his mouth into a grimace.

She sat forward and touched her fingertips to his forehead. “I am truly sorry that you are in pain.” She drew a deep breath. “And I am sorry that I shot you. I really did not want to, but you gave me no choice.”

To her surprise, he nodded. “Yes, you are right. I did force you to pull the trigger. I only ask,
cara,
that you not become a better shot.”

“Why did you not tell me that those wretched pirates were about? It is possible that I might have believed you. Instead, you acted the arrogant bastard.”

“Damnation,” he growled. At her start of surprise, he added quickly, “we will continue this conversation, Cassandra.”

A moment later, the door opened and Scargill walked into the cabin.

The earl was very much aware of the bulge under the light cover and concentrated his wits on turning his desire to ashes.

“What be it that ye’re doing, madonna?” Scargill looked at her questioningly.

“I was but seeing that his lordship is all right.”

“She tells the truth, Scargill. She is an excellent nurse, and in truth, your presence is not at all necessary.”

Scargill frowned. He peered down at his master’s smiling face and shook his head. “Ye need sleep, my lord, not conversation with the madonna. Besides, the two of ye canna be together without cutting at each other. I do not want ye angered or excited.”

The smile on the earl’s face widened into a grin. He saw Cassie flinch, her face turning red. “Very well, you old preacher, I’ll do as you bid.”

“Do ye wish more laudanum?”

“No, just peace and quiet.”

Aware that Cassie was moving restlessly behind him, Scargill said softly, “Would ye mind if I took the madonna on deck? The fresh sea air cannot but do her good.”

“Yes, please, my lord, I would like it much.”

At the earl’s continued silence, Scargill said, “Ye need not worry that she’ll escape ye, my lord. ’Tis a close watch I’ll keep on her.”

“You are a coward,
cara,
” the earl said, and closed his eyes.

“T
here she is, Cassandra, Genoa—
La Superba
—the queen of the Mediterranean. Is she not beautiful?”

Cassie had the impression that she was shrouded in white; even the air was white. As the yacht drew into the harbor, she leaned over the railing just behind the bow and shaded her eyes to better see the city, bathed in dazzling afternoon sunlight.

“Yes, but so very different from any city I have ever seen or imagined.” It seemed to her that the tall, narrow buildings, many of them as white as the stark sunlight, were pressed so closely together that it was difficult to tell where one began and another left off.