Devil's Embrace (49 page)

He grinned at her and set down the wine glasses. “Could it be, my love, that we are here for more than to solve my own predicament?”

“Yes, if you would know the truth.”

His eyes danced. “May I always have a ready remedy, my lady.”

“And I for you, my lord.”

When the earl was naked, he grasped her hand, and they eased each other onto the bed. They caressed each other leisurely, each savoring the other’s touch, the feel of each other’s flesh. Cassie wanted desperately to give, give in the same measure as he had given to her. She wriggled out of his arms to run her lips over his chest and downward over the taut muscles of his belly. She laid her face against his thigh and lightly touched him, caressing his swelled member, and breathed in the male scent of him.

He sensed the freedom she felt, freedom to show him her love as he had always shown her. He felt stretched like a bowstring, his sex aching to be taken into her mouth. He lightly stroked her hair. And waited. He felt her pressing her breasts against him, and the pulsing of her heartbeat.

When her lips softly touched him, and finally covered him, he thought his body would betray him. He tried to pull away from her, but she would not release him. She thought she would die of pleasure when he moaned.

When he could bear it no more, he cupped her face in his hands, and pulled her toward him. She gazed up at him, her eyes asking him what he wished.

He groaned and pulled her astride him. And then he was driving inside her, his hands caressing her until she was beyond herself, lost in the sensation of him. She felt him exploding within her as he groaned into her mouth. She wanted that moment to be timeless.

“I love you,” she said, stroking the black hair from his forehead.

“And I you,” he said. He thought about his long voyage, halfway across the bloody world to find her, the long empty nights on the endless ocean, with nothing but his rage and his nagging fear. “I alternately beat you, ravished you, and pleaded with you. Then I would imagine you dead and that angered me even more, for you would have escaped my wrath and all the venom I was storing up.”

She was silent for some moments, until her mind gave meaning to what he had said. “At least you did not hate yourself. You see, I could not imagine that you would come after me. I thought I had lost you.”

His arms tightened almost painfully about her. “Do you know that I planned our meeting at Kennedy House, that I had even rehearsed my speeches to you, for I believed that I had lost you, that you had willingly wed Edward Lyndhurst.”

She nuzzled her chin into the hollow of his throat. She thought of the small babe in her womb, but she would not tell him tonight. This was their wedding night, a night for them alone. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would tell him. She raised her face, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “And do you know what I felt when I first saw you?”

“The devil had come to claim you again.”

“Nay, nothing so dramatic. If you would know the truth, I thought you dazzling, devastatingly handsome. But your anger made you unfamiliar, somehow alien to me. I think I would have gladly accepted oblivion at that moment.”

“Your pride is as great as mine,
cara,
and you gave me measure for measure.” He grinned at her suddenly, and his hands loosed from about her back and dropped downward to her hips. “You have complained not one whit about your shoulder. Perhaps you should have your promised thrashing today.”

“The pain is great, my lord, it is simply that I am a stoic. You promised me two days. I shall hold you to it.”

He eyed her silently for a moment, and grinned. “I do not believe it.”

“Believe what, my lord?”

“That you are still awake, my love. Have I given you so little pleasure that our lovemaking no longer serves as a sleeping drought?”

“I would never be so inconsiderate to my husband,” she said, “only to my lover.”

S
he talked with boundless energy, of everything. There were no more private, secret places in her mind from which she kept him. Except for the child.

Her only bout of morning sickness happened when she was alone. She was creeping quietly along the companionway after washing out the basin herself when Scargill appeared.

He looked at her pale face, and the basin, and shook his head. “Ye must tell him, lass.”

He held out his hand, and she silently handed him the basin.

“Ye’re being foolish, ye know, ’twould give him great joy.”

She sighed. “I know. At least I think I do. You and Joseph, both of you always knew what was in my mind.” She felt her mouth tremble; she gulped and straightened her shoulders. She still felt weak from being ill, and it was making her behave foolishly.

“I can’t imagine, lassie, how ye could ever believe otherwise. Joseph would have told ye the same thing. Go lie down now until ye recover yer energy. Ye’ve so much. The men would likely blame the captain if they saw ye so woebegone and limp.

“His lordship will be here at any moment, lass. He is never long apart from ye.” He nodded encouragement and left her, carrying the basin under his arm.

Cassie waited for the earl, watching the white-topped waves and the sails billowed by the stiff March breeze. She tired of waiting for him, and shaded her eyes against the
bright morning sun, making her way nimbly toward Mr. Donnetti, who hovered as always like a lean hungry hawk over the wheel.

“Where is his lordship, Mr. Donnetti?”

Her tone was diffident, for she did not know Francesco as well as Scargill.

Mr. Donnetti smiled down at her in what looked to be an assessing way, but it was merely the habitual set of his mouth, and the measured droop of his eyelids.

“The captain is settling a minor dispute.”

“What dispute? He told me nothing of it. What has happened, Mr. Donnetti?”

“Nothing to cause any particular concern, madonna.” His voice was almost indifferent. These were halcyon days for his master and mistress, and he wished now that he had kept his mouth shut.

But Cassie was not to be put off. “I repeat, Mr. Donnetti, what is the dispute?”

He shrugged and hunched more closely over the giant wheel. “One of the men, madonna, a new man, in fact, hired on just before we left Genoa. Capable enough, I suppose, and until last night, quiet to the point of being surly toward the other men. Unfortunately, he got his hands on a bottle of gin. Turned nasty he did and drew a knife on Arturo of all people. Claimed Arturo was feeding the crew swill fit only for pigs.” Mr. Donnetti shrugged again, philosophically. “I disarmed him, of course, but the captain had to be told.”

“What is the captain doing?”

“Twelve lashes. I’d throw the swine overboard myself.”

Cassie turned inadvertently toward the mainmast.

“Below-deck, madonna,” Francesco said, following her eyes. “The captain would not want you to witness the flogging.”

She gulped, remembering the sting of the earl’s belt upon her own back.

“What is the man’s name, Mr. Donnetti?”

“Luigi. I would not have hired him on save for the fact that the fellow came highly recommended from another
trading captain. He does his work well enough, I suppose, and leaves the other men be, as a rule.”

When Cassie asked the earl about the incident at luncheon, he, like Mr. Donnetti, merely shrugged. “It was all quite unnecessary. The fellow should not drink spirits. He will recover soon enough, I would imagine.”

“You flogged him yourself?”

“Yes.” He shook his head, swirling his wine thoughtfully about in its glass. “Odd fellow. Whimpered like a coward but refused to take off his shirt. Left him with a bloody rag on his back.”

“However did Luigi get the drink?”

“From Arturo, if you will believe that. The fellow was mucking about in the galley and discovered Arturo’s stash.”

Cassie grinned. “I wonder now if Arturo put some of that vile stuff in my Yorkshire pudding.”

“If it would make you eat more, I shouldn’t dislike it.” His eyes traveled assessingly from her face to her breasts, thrust upward over the lace of her bodice. “Perhaps you are adding some pounds, my love.”

Cassie lowered her eyes to her glass of wine. It was true that her gowns had grown a trifle snug.

The earl tossed down the remainder of his wine and pushed back his chair. He sat back, and made himself at ease, crossing his arms over his chest and stretching his long legs with negligent grace. “It occurs to me,
cara,
that I did not keep my promise.”

“Promise, my lord?” She raised her eyes and saw a wide mocking grin on his face.

“I will examine your shoulder most thoroughly, though, before I proceed.”

“I shall toss my wine in your smug face if you do not cease speaking nonsense.” She raised her glass, as if readying to hurl it.

“Like that first night, Cassandra?” he asked, his voice thick with memory.

“Aye,” she said slowly, recalling now, vividly, the furious, terrified girl who had naught but foolish bravado.

“I prefer to remember our second night together.”

“I am certain you would, my lord. Will you now tell me how your precious Contessa Giusti—and
she
doubtless needed little encouragement—reveled in your marvelous masculine talents?”

“I do not think you would enjoy the telling.”

He walked to where she sat, and with a firm, careful motion, pulled down the gown from her shoulder and gently lifted the small bandage covering it. The wound was healing nicely. “Do you have any pain?”

“No, as you said, it was but a scratch.”

He let his hand travel slowly to her breasts. “Then it is time you paid the piper, madam. My promise. Do you not remember?”

She did remember and her eyes widened. “You would not, would you?”

She saw the caressing laughter in his dark eyes, and smiled impishly. “If ruthlessness is a part of your character, my lord, I suppose it would be unfair of me to break your spirit completely.”

Because she wanted to, he let her undress him. By the time he was naked, Cassie was red in the face from exertion. Because she was still on her knees in front of him, her inquisitive eyes had not far to travel to take in all of his body, and her face remained flushed for a different reason. “If I could look like you, my lord, I daresay I would not mind at all being a man.”

He passed a caressing finger over her cheek. “I thank the lord that he saw fit to leave you just as you are.”

“You are tempting, my lord.”

He suddenly pulled her to her feet. “Now off with those damned clothes,
cara.
I’ll not be driven to distraction, only to have to call a halt to bring you to your natural state.”

After he stripped her, he lifted her into his arms and carried her swiftly to the bed.

Before she knew what he was about, he sat down and flipped her face down over his thighs. He pressed his hand against the small of her back when she tried to rear up.

“I am a man of my word,
cara,
” he said.

“I do not want you to beat me, I want you to make love to me.”

Her voice was a wail of protest, and he chuckled. She ceased her struggles when his palm stroked over her buttocks. When he turned her over to kiss her, she whispered, “I think love and lust go together quite nicely.” And when at last they lay replete, she said, “I thought perhaps that you were asleep.”

“In the middle of the afternoon? I beg you, madam, to grant me some stamina.”

He slipped away from her and she drew herself up on her side. “There is something I would tell you.”

He quirked a black brow, and raised his hand to smooth her hair from her face.

“I would never have married Edward, regardless.”

“I know,” he said only. He sat up and pressed her upon her back, propping his head on his hand.

“You do not understand.” Somehow she could not make her eyes meet his. His fingers gently cupped her breast, his eyes still thoughtful upon her face.

He was not making it easy for her, she thought. The words still seemed stuck at odd angles in her throat. She heard a soft whimper, and realized with a confounded start that it had come from her own mouth.

His fingers stopped their light caressing.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered, her voice liquid with tears.

“I cannot imagine why.”

“I am being a fool.”

He merely smiled, and kissed her lightly, and waited.

“Oh damn you. I am pregnant.”

He remained silent. His hand moved from her breast to her belly, and remained there.

“I know, Cassandra.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at him, utterly undone. “I do not understand. How—?”

“When I brought you here, after the duel, you became ill from the wine I gave you.”

“But everyone is occasionally ill.”

He looked faintly amused. “Yes, that is true. But you forget that I know your body very well. Your breasts,
cara.
Your pregnancy has made them swelled, heavy.”

She felt very much the fool. “Then why, my lord, did you not say something?”

“Because, my little simpleton, it was for you to tell me. Now that you know babes do not come from cabbage patches, I thought it only fitting that you be the bearer of the news this time.”

She gazed up at him in silence, and when she finally spoke, her voice was uncertain. “And did you not doubt me? Believe me conniving, dishonest? Believe that I wanted to return to you only because of the child?”

“Only until last night.”

“And why last night? It makes no sense. Last night was no different from any of our preceding nights together.”

He looked taken aback. “I do believe you are right. Last night was no different. Perhaps,” he continued, his hand caressing her belly, “it was not last night, but the night before.”

“You are making sport of me, my lord. This is a very serious matter.”

“Indeed you are quite right, Cassandra. If my calculations are correct, our babe will be born in mid-October, and I will have a fat wife after the Season and during the autumn round of visits that many of my friends make to Clare Castle.” He drew a resigned breath. “I suppose I shall simply have to invite Eliott, and the wife he will doubtless have by that time, since you will be far too bulky to travel to Hemphill Hall.”