Cassie sat before her dressing table, clad in her petticoats and wrapper. Rosina stood behind her, powder box in hand, on the point of sprinkling her golden hair when the earl’s voice stopped her.
“No, Rosina,” he said, walking with negligent grace to stand behind Cassie. “I do not wish for you to powder your mistress’s hair. A classical style, I think, but no white powder to hide her natural color.”
Cassie, who had herself been looking balefully at the powder box, turned in her chair and said sharply, in English, “Do you wish to direct everything that I do, my lord? Must you even interrupt me with orders whilst I am dressing?”
He allowed a black brow to wing upward in surprise. “I happen to know, cara, that you have no liking for the powder box. I thought you instructed Rosina to apply it simply because you believed it would please me.”
Cassie did not bother to respond, for she had turned around in her chair, and was distracted by the sight of him. He looked resplendent in his rich black velvet evening clothes. Layers of frothy white lace fell from his throat and wrists, and his black hair was powdered white as his lace and pulled back at the nape of his neck, held with a black velvet ribbon. Even to her jaundiced eye, he looked like a king.
“I am delighted that you approve my appearance, Cassandra.”
“You are passable, I suppose,” she said, and turned back to her mirror.
He seated himself near her, crossing one elegant leg over the other, and watched Rosina deftly style her hair into a braided coronet atop her head, through which she drew out a long thick tress. When at last Cassie was dressed in a low, square-necked lavender silk gown, he rose gracefully and drew a long, flat box from his waistcoat pocket.
“You may leave now, Rosina,” he said to the maid. “I shall complete your mistress’s toilette.”
“What do you mean, my lord?” Cassie asked warily after her maid had left the bedchamber. He answered her by withdrawing a long rope of pearls, lustrous and exquisitely matched. Before she could respond, he doubled the string of pearls and fastened the clasp at the back of her neck.
She stared at her image in the mirror for a long moment, and drew a resolute breath, her fingers touching the clasp. “They are lovely, my lord, but I must refuse them. I will not be bought.”
He said lightly, his hand closing over her fingers, “Nay, cara, they are not for you to refuse, for I have not offered them to you. I do not seek to buy you, simply to enhance your beauty. You will, of course, return them to me at the close of the evening.”
“I would rather wear nothing.”
“The gentlemen present this evening would be much pleased, I doubt not. However, I would prefer to have them only guess at what lies beneath your gown.”
“You wretched man, that is not what I meant, and well you know it.”
“Guilty,” he said with a quick smile. “I do apologize for teasing you, Cassandra. Would you do me the great honor of wearing the pearls, just for this evening?”
She regarded him suspiciously for several moments, but as the expression on his face remained serious, and indeed, he appeared to be contrite, she slowly nodded. “Very well, but only for tonight.” She added with ill-concealed bitterness, “I suppose that if I must be put on display, it is only fitting that I look the part of the expensive harlot.”
His thick black brows drew together. “I have told you, Cassandra, that it is not you on display this evening. My friends are here for your inspection. I would not hold this dinner party if I thought you would be slighted.”
“No, I do not suppose that you would.” She sighed. “It would make no sense. However, you will admit that my perceived position at the Villa Parese is not enviable.”
“And you will keep your promise?”
“You mean that I am not to stand upon the dinner table and shout to your guests that I am your prisoner?”
“Precisely.”
“Is it time to go downstairs, my lord?” As he made no reply, she added lightly, “You have more promises to wring out of me? Take care, my lord, it was but one sailboat that you gave me.”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, little one, no more promises. There is, however, something I should tell you. One of our guests this evening will be the Contessa Giovanna Giusti. I did not particularly wish to invite her, but Signore Montalto, a close friend and business associate, is much enamored of her and very much wanted her company.”
“Are you concerned that I will be rude to the contessa?”
“It is not your propriety that concerns me. If you would know the truth, the contessa was once my mistress. I of course broke off our affair before I left for England.”
“Your mistress?”
The earl smiled, clasped her arms in his hands, and dropped a light kiss upon her closed lips. “Yes, but she needn’t concern you. I only tell you to give you fair warning that Giovanna might not be all that is pleasant.”
“Thank you, my lord, for the warning.” Her voice was clipped and flat, and he wondered what the devil she was thinking. He drew her hand through his arm and escorted her from the bedchamber. To lighten her mood, he said, “Caesare will of course be here. You will, I trust, enjoy his company.”
“Of a certainty I shall, my lord,” she said, but her voice was cold.
He continued in a gently teasing voice, “To keep you at ease and help you to remember your promise, I will contrive to stay at your side throughout the evening.”
“That, I daresay, is wise of you.”
There was laughter in her voice, and he relaxed. As he walked beside her down the wide stairway, he looked down at the creamy pearls about her throat. The pearls had belonged first to his grandmother, then to his mother. They were bride’s pearls, the only jewelry allowed to a young lady before and during her first year of marriage.
Once downstairs, the earl nodded in satisfaction to Scargill, who was dressed in butler’s wear, and surrounded by three young male servants hired for the evening.
“Don’t look so pained, Scargill,” the earl said. “All of us must occasionally make sacrifices.” At Scargill’s grunt, he added with a wide smile, “Just ensure that your men keep the wine flowing, and your success is assured.”
Cassie gazed about her with pleasure. Fresh flowers overflowed from vases that lined the walls of the wide entrance hall, and branches of candles had been added, making the villa as dazzling bright as if it were day.
The knocker sounded loudly, and Scargill motioned one of the footmen to the door.
“It would appear, my lord, that you have approached this evening with quite a flair,” Cassie said behind her hand as the wide front doors swung open to admit Caesare.
“I hoped that you would approve, cara. Ah, my dear brother, you are a vision to behold.” He pumped Caesare’s outstretched hand.
“As ever, Antonio, it must be I to carry on the Parese tradition of elegance. Ah, but you are the vision, Cassandra, not I,” he said, his eyes resting a moment on the pearls. “Antonio, expect all the gentlemen tonight to yearn for your imminent demise.”
The earl laughed. “I trust that you will protect me, Caesare.”
“Nay, dear brother,” Caesare said, “I shall be the one to head the list.” He turned to Cassie. “You know, of course, that any party given by the earl is a topic of conversation days in advance.”
Cassie raised her eyes from his bright plum velvet evening wear to the frothy silver lace at his throat, and cocked her head to one side questioningly.
“What Caesare refers to, my dear,” the earl interposed, “is my English predilection for providing an abundance of food.”
“But what has that to say to anything, my lord? Of course one would provide a splendid meal for one’s guests.”
Caesare grinned, and shook his head. “Surely the earl has told you of the famous Genoese thriftiness? It extends, alas, to providing the most niggardly of refreshments to guests. Genoese society, I am persuaded, forgives my brother his half-English blood for this vagary.”
Cassie was grinning reluctantly when the earl turned to greet the newly arrived Signore Montalto, a paunchy, heavy-jowled gentleman of middle years.
“Marcello,” the earl said smoothly, “this is Signorina Brougham, the young lady I mentioned to you.”
“Enchanted, signorina,” Signore Montalto said, bowing with some difficulty.
Cassie inclined her head and bid him welcome. His almond eyes flitted an unasked question toward the earl. As Cassie’s attention was drawn by Caesare to Signore and Signora Accorambonis, she did not see it.
“How delightful to meet you, signorina,” Signora Accorambonis said in a pleasant voice. “We so rarely have new faces in Genoa. I do hope that you enjoy our city.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Cassie said ambiguously, knowing the earl was listening. She was aware that Signora Accorambonis was scrutinizing her from beneath her heavy eyelids, and stiffened for an instant. But she could not fault the lady, for she could well imagine how a foreign lady, living unmarried with an English gentleman, would be treated by the English aristocracy.
The wizened Signore Accorambonis was all complaisance. By the time all the guests had arrived and the earl and Cassie had made their welcomes, Cassie firmly on his arm, she was forced to admit that the earl seemed to have chosen his guests well.
She grinned crookedly at the earl when Scargill entered the brightly lit drawing room and announced dinner in the most formal voice she had ever heard from him.
The earl guided her firmly to the foot of the long table in the dining room and seated her himself. He gave her arm a slight squeeze before walking to the master’s place at the head of the table. She gazed down the expanse of table at him, but he merely smiled at her reassuringly. She stole a look at their guests, fourteen in all, and found to her amusement that the heavily laden table was the focus of their attention. Seated at her left was Caesare and to her right, a Signora Bianca Piasi, a young woman as vivacious as she was lovely.
“I see that you have decided to stay with us, signorina,” Signora Piasi said, her fork already in her hand, hovering over an abundant portion of braised pheasant.
Cassie could not understand how Signora Piasi saw anything of the sort, but she merely smiled and said lightly, “Everyone is very kind, signora.”
When Signora Piasi gave her attention to her plate, Cassie turned to Caesare, who was regarding her, a strange expression in his eyes.
“Whatever is the matter?” she asked him. “Have I gravy on my chin or wine spots on my gown?”
His expression changed instantly. He cocked his head at her and said in an amused voice, “You have nothing untoward on your person, Cassandra. I have observed that you are quite the success this evening.”
Cassie said, “I think it is all because of my ghastly accent. People find me an amusing oddity.”
“I think not,” he said.
Caesare’s conversation floated over Cassie’s head some minutes later as she gazed around the table. Save for the fact that everyone spoke Italian, she could see little differences between the manners of Genoese aristocracy and the English. Perhaps laughter was freer, she quickly amended to herself, and certainly their guests very much needed their hands to emphasize their conversation. Her eyes stopped at the Contessa Giovanna Giusti, seated toward the middle of the table, Signore Montalto at her side. She was undeniably alluring, and a center of gaiety. Cassie had only spoken a few words to the beautiful contessa, for she was the last guest to arrive. The contessa had looked at her closely, and turned abruptly away.
“Cassandra, you have not heard a word I’ve said.”
“Do forgive me, Caesare. Much here is new to me.”
He gave her a look of mock reproof. “And here I was telling you about Genoese velvet, and how some Genoese ladies adore its quality to such a degree that their undergarments are also of velvet.”
“But I have never heard of such a thing.”
Some minutes later, at a signal from the earl, Cassie rose with him and led their guests back to the drawing room to enjoy more wine and cakes. After some moments, the earl drew her aside. “I hope you do not mind sharing a short business meeting with me, cara. Signore Montalto is awaiting me in the library.”
Cassie looked up at him, puzzled. “I hardly think that appropriate, my lord. Surely Signore Montalto would not expect you to bring me to your meeting.”
“I see you are too hidebound by societal rules, cara. Did I not promise not to leave you alone this evening?”
“I suppose so, my lord,” she said doubtfully.
“A bit more enthusiasm, if you please,” he said, and opened the thick double doors to the library. He stepped back to allow Cassie to precede him.
Signore Montalto looked up from his chair, clearly startled. He looked to the earl, expecting him to peremptorily dismiss the girl. But the earl appeared unperturbed at Signore Montalto’s stiff countenance, and planted a guileless smile on his face.
“You are enjoying the party, I trust, Marcello,” he said easily. “You, of course, have made the acquaintance of Signorina Brougham.”
Signore Montalto rose ponderously from his chair and offered Cassie a stiff bow.
“You will share a glass of sherry with us, signore?” The earl added smoothly, an imp of mischief compelling him, “Marcello is here, Cassandra, to discuss a rather thorny problem with me. Perhaps you would not mind giving us your opinion.” Much to his delight, a slight smile indented the corners of her mouth, and she inclined her head in graceful assent.
“I would be delighted, my lord, to provide you whatever assistance I can.”
She graciously accepted a chair held for her by the flustered Marcello, settled her heavy skirts about her, and sipped the sherry the earl offered her.
The earl said, “It involves a Dutch shipping group trading with the southern colonies in America, which has recently suffered rather large financial losses. The losses are, unfortunately, much my concern, since I provided much of the capital. A Dutch representative has brought Marcello a proposal that he believes will pay us handsomely. You may tell la signorina, Marcello.”
Cassie turned her eyes from the earl’s sardonic expression and fastened them on Signore Montalto’s heavy jowled face. He seemed to struggle with himself to speak, and Cassie barely managed to suppress a grin of amusement.
“As you know, signorina,” Signore Montalto began ponderously, imagining full well that she knew nothing at all, “England’s southern colonies are exporting more cotton and tobacco by the year. Even their timber is gaining in importance as the English denude their own forests.”
Cassie tried to curb her impatience at his condescending tone. “Your point, signore?”
Signore Montalto tugged uncomfortably at his black waistcoat. “The Dutch trade has been primarily with the West Indies. Pirates and Caribbean storms have brought them—and his lordship—substantial losses, and thus, their recent shift to trade with the colonies.”
“A logical course, it would seem to me, signore.”
“Ah, but there is more, Cassandra.” The earl waved Marcello to continue. Cassie was aware that the earl was regarding her intently, and she grew more alert.
“For every cause, there is an effect,” Marcello said grandly. “The southern colonists have constant need of labor for their cotton and tobacco plantations. The Dutch proposal, a proposal, I might add, that meets with my approval, is simply to capture African savages, transport them to the colonies and sell them to the plantation owners. Immediately, there is a sizable profit. Cotton, tobacco, and timber could be brought back to England and Europe, and thus the profit is doubled.”
“I am not certain that I understand, signore,” Cassie said. “You believe that we should encourage, through our financial backing, the capture of people to be sold as slaves in a foreign country?”
“People,” Marcello scoffed. “They are naught but savages, dear lady. Their only value is that they breed at an appalling rate and work well in the fields.”
“And how does one go about capturing these savages, signore? Are they trapped?”
“Oh no,” Marcello hastened to correct her, “trapping would mutilate them and lessen their value at auction. They are like children, signorina, and can be herded together quite readily with but one musket shot over their heads.”
“How odd it is that you now liken them to children. If it is true that they live in a state of primitive innocence, like children, then they should be protected from predators.”
“Perhaps calling them ‘children’ was unfortunate,” Marcello ground out. He shot a silent plea toward the earl, but received only an ironic smile.
“Everyone buys and sells these black beggars. Even the Church is not certain that they have souls.”
“And, of course, they do not speak the civilized Italian tongue, do they, signore?”
“No, ’tis gibberish they utter. One can make no sense of them at all.”
Cassie slowly rose from her chair. As Signore Montalto was not a tall man, she was very nearly at his eye level. “So it is your proposal, signore, that we should agree to the capture and sale of innocent men and women to fatten our coffers.”
“I have told you, signorina, that they are animals, uncivilized savages.”
“It is very curious, you know,” Cassie said. “I was very near to believing that the Italians held no claim to civilization, since they do not speak the English tongue and do such barbaric things as locking their female children away in convents. But look how very wrong I was.”
Signore Montalto turned a mottled red, and the earl intervened. “So, Cassandra, we will agree to leave the Africans to other, less scrupulous, men. However, my dear, our financial problem still remains.”
The earl knew he was placing her in a situation that called for experience she did not possess, and he was on the point of rescuing her when she asked abruptly, “Is it not true that there are vast, unpopulated lands in the colonies?”
Signore Montalto had learned painfully not to patronize her, and thus responded cautiously. “Yes, signorina. It is so vast that all of Europe—and England—would fit on the eastern seacoast.”
Cassie chewed furiously on her lower lip and turned to the earl, a hint of apology in her voice. “I ask that you forgive my ignorance, my lord, but since there is so much unused land, would not free men and women do just as well as slaves?”
“What do you mean, cara?”
“Could not the Dutchmen transport Englishmen and Europeans to the colonies? Men and women who want to begin a new life on their own land. Would not such men and women swell the colonies’ population and increase the valuable exports Signore Montalto speaks of? Perhaps I am being naive, my lord, but would there not be profit to be made from such a venture?”
Silence fell, and Cassie shuffled her feet nervously.
Signore Montalto wiped the look of surprise from his face, and waved a dismissing hand. “A possibility, signorina, certainly, and one that I have considered. However, there is little profit in such a notion.”
The earl said thoughtfully, his long fingers stroking the line of his jaw, “The profits would not, of course, be as great, for such men as Cassandra describes have little money. And the Dutch would of necessity have to refit their ships, since their cargo would not be slaves, but free men. But it can be done, Marcello. You will present the idea to the Dutch representative.”
“It would serve, perhaps, if you insist,” Marcello said.
“Excellent. Now that we have come to an amicable decision, I suggest that we return to our guests.”
As they left the library, arm in arm, the earl turned to her, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed her fingers. “I thank you, cara.”
She looked up at him wonderingly and shook her head. “I do not understand you, my lord. What am I to make of a man who abducts me, brings me to a foreign country, and then proceeds to let me meddle with his fortune?”
His eyes rested a moment on the strand of pearls. He said smoothly, “You need make nothing of me, Cassandra. You need only to become my wife.”
Cassie frowned him down, turned on her heel, and walked quickly back to the drawing room.
“You are enjoying yourself, Cassandra?” he asked, when he caught up with her.
“Let us say,” she said deliberately, “that I am pleasantly surprised. Have you bribed your guests to be kind to me?”
“If you consider good food and drink a bribe, then the answer is yes.”
“How interesting it would be to know the question.”
Cassie whirled about at the sound of the Contessa Giovanna Giusti’s bright voice.
“My dear Antonio,” Giovanna said softly, her slender white hand touching his sleeve, “I have had the opportunity to speak only a few words to your charming guest. Things English, you know, I find most fascinating. Would you not leave the signorina and me alone so that we may learn more of each other?”
The earl hesitated, for the smile on Giovanna’s lips was dangerous. He was on the point of including himself when Cassie said easily, “Yes, my lord, do leave us for a while. I have heard so much about the contessa that I am most desirous of learning more about her.”
He looked at her searchingly for a moment. “Very well, my dear. But do not be too long, for there are other of my friends who wish to enjoy your company.”
The earl stared after the two women, scarcely heeding the words of his friend, Jacopo Sandro, an aging aristocrat whose only pleasure appeared to be the purchase of outlandish wigs from Paris.
“So, signorina,” the contessa began, “you are enjoying your stay in Genoa?”
“I daresay it is always interesting to visit a foreign country, contessa.” Although Cassie had not had much experience with ladies who were bitches, she knew enough to be on her guard.
Giovanna’s eyes roved to the pearls about Cassie’s neck. “The pearls are lovely and quite distinctive.”
“Grazie, signora,” Cassie said simply, wondering what the contessa was about. It occurred to her that perhaps she had misread the lady’s intentions toward her, and she unbent a trifle. “And your jewels are quite elegant.”
The contessa inclined her graceful neck, her smile still firmly affixed to her full lips. “Did the earl teach you Italian?”
“No, it was my governess. I fear that my accent is quite fearful.”
So Caesare was right, Giovanna thought, if the little slut had a governess, she is likely of acceptable birth. She looked again at the pearls and felt anger knot in her throat. “So you intend to wed with the earl, I see.”
Cassie looked at her, puzzled. “What makes you believe that, contessa?”
“The pearls, of course. They have served as bride’s pearls in the earl’s family for several generations.”
Cassie looked at her stupidly, until understanding of what the earl had done made her tremble with chagrin. Bride’s pearls! Perfidious wretch that he was, the earl had convinced her to wear them. Was that why all the guests had treated her so kindly? Had they accepted her because the pearls announced his intention to wed her? She said stiffly to Giovanna, “It is merely a necklace, contessa. It has no particular meaning, I assure you.”
Giovanna looked at her, perplexed, and then felt a surge of relief. Could it be true that the earl had no intention of wedding her? What a fool the little harlot was to so openly admit it.
“But my dear signorina,” Giovanna said sweetly, “you have so many persuasive charms.” Her eyes fell to Cassie’s rounded breasts, rising above the row of lace at her bodice.
“I fear, contessa, that charms have little to do with anything, though they admittedly lead some people to outrageous deeds.”
As Cassie’s Italian did not allow Giovanna to glean the nuances her words intended, she decided that the English girl was rather stupid, and not at all to the point. The earl couldn’t abide stupid women, Giovanna thought, and with a pleased smile, she patted Cassie’s sleeve and left her.
Cassie watched the contessa approach Bianca Piasi and heard her say in a low, laughing voice, “I think the earl must feel Genoese society lacking in diversity. But look at what he has done for our amusement—thrown an English whore in our midst. The little slut told me that the bride’s pearls, dear Bianca, have no meaning at all.”
Cassie’s face flushed with anger and humiliation. How could she have been so stupid? Her fingers went to the wretched pearls. If only the earl had left well enough alone.
Cassie turned in feverishly bright conversation to Caesare. She found that she could not continue and stopped abruptly, bidding him dismissal over her shoulder. She walked quickly upstairs to the bedchamber and pulled the glass door open. The evening breeze from the Mediterranean cooled her burning cheeks. She closed the door behind her and leaned disconsolately over the railing. Her fingers closed over the necklace, and with a sudden, furious jerk, she sent them careening to the balcony floor. She heard some of them hit the marble statue in the garden below.
She stood momentarily frozen, aghast at what she had done. She sank to her knees, unmindful of her gown, and began to gather the pearls. But snatches of Giovanna’s conversation sounded in her mind, and she flung the handful of pearls she had gathered away from her. She smoothed down her gown, forced her chin up, and walked back downstairs.
The earl was at her side in an instant, his eyes questioning. She resolutely ignored him as she mouthed polite good-byes to the guests. The absence of the pearls was noted by all, she knew.
“How very appropriate you look now, my dear signorina,” Giovanna murmured, as she took her leave.
“Bitch,” Cassie said under her breath. Still, she found herself smiling in genuine pleasure as other guests bid her good night.
When Scargill had closed the great front doors upon the last of them, the earl turned to her, his dark eyes glittering.
“I believe you owe me an explanation, cara.”
She thrust her chin up stubbornly, and regarded him in dogged silence.
“Why, Cassandra?”
Words clogged in her throat, and to her disgust, she started crying.
He pulled her into the circle of his arms and stroked her silky hair. He said gently, “Forgive me, cara. I had hoped that you had enjoyed a pleasant evening.”
“I did,” she gulped, pulling away from him. “It is just that the contessa—your amata—” she paused a moment, her eyes flashing.
“My former mistress,” he said.
She gave a watery sniff and hunched her shoulders. “She did me in. I was such a fool!”
The earl arched a sleek brow. “What is this? I would have laid a fortune on your ability to shut her down.”
“Well, you must lose, my lord. She asked me about the pearls and I told her they had no meaning whatsoever.” Cassie added, “She used it against me. I heard her whispering to several ladies about your English whore.”
“Ah. And what, may I ask, did you do with the pearls?”
She smiled up at him, reluctantly. “They must be restrung, my lord, that is, after we find them all.”
Cassie dismissed Rosina for the night and sat at her dressing table, trying not to look at the earl as he shrugged out of his dressing gown. But she always looked. He lazily stretched his large body. He was not a particularly vain man, but he knew well enough that his body was well made. Her furtive, embarrassed scrutiny always delighted him. He strolled up behind her and laid his hands lightly upon her shoulders.
“Have you no modesty?” she said, terribly aware that her body, as usual, was responding to him.
He leaned over and kissed her temple. “Very shortly, cara, I shall have the opportunity of accusing you of an equal lack of modesty.” He took the hairbrush from her limp fingers and stroked it through her thick hair.
“Your shoulder has healed,” she said, her eyes upon his reflection in the mirror.
He flexed it unconsciously. “Yes. I’m pleased that you have done no permanent damage to my body.” He added with a wolfish grin, “I continue to enjoy, however, the temporary disability you force upon me.”
“No more of a disability, my lord, than your infamous party forced upon me.”
“Come, my love, you have admitted that you did enjoy yourself, at least for the most part.”
“Joseph,” she said suddenly, her voice heavy with accusation.
“Joseph, cara?” He laid the hairbrush on the table top and let his hands slip beneath her dressing gown to caress her shoulders.
She closed her eyes a moment, her body aching for his fingers to continue their movement, and leaned her head back against his belly. Long strands of golden hair weaved themselves into the thick black hair at his groin.
“Joseph?”
“Yes,” she said, and with great effort pulled herself away from him to rise.
“You are exquisite.”
She looked down and saw that her dressing gown had parted and her breasts were bare. She clutched the material together and turned her back to him, for her wretched eyes would not stay upon his face.
He laughed, walked to the huge bed, and stretched his full length upon his back. He patted a spot beside him. “Come here, Cassandra. I am not against a little conversation. Anticipation cannot but heighten pleasure.”
She sat down beside him for the simple reason that her traitorous eyes would be shielded from his body. She frowned a moment, remembering. “Joseph acted quite strangely the other day. I asked him why a Corsican would serve the Genoese, whom he hates. He told me that his loyalty was only to you. When I asked him why, he informed me that such a story was not for my innocent ears. As you know, my ears are not so innocent, my lord. I am now asking you.”
Her eyes were wide with sudden curiosity. The earl was silent for some moments as his fingers wrapped themselves around a thick tress of hair that fell upon his chest.
“Actually, Cassandra,” he said finally, “you are much too innocent. Joseph was right in not telling you.”
“I am not innocent. Do you not make love with me?”
“The fact that I have made you a woman, my dear, does not diminish your childlike innocence.”
She was on the point of hurling insults at him when it occurred to her that guile would serve her better. “Have you ever asked a child to assist you in your business dealings?”
He looked up at her through half-closed eyelids and shook his head.
“Ah. And would you have expected an innocent to suggest a solution that served so well?”
He held in a bubble of laughter. Since she was handling the reins so lightly, he did not want to discourage her. “Certainly not,” he agreed.
“Then, my lord, you yourself must conclude that I am no innocent, for you have agreed with my every point.”
“Very well, cara, you have convinced me. I will tell you.” He saw her gazing at him with suspicion, and hastened to say, having already censored the story in his mind, “ Actually, I saved Joseph from being castrated at the hands of the pirate, Khar El-Din.”
“What does castrated mean?”
“Castration, my dear, is the act of unmanning a man, the result being either death from bleeding or life as a eunuch.”
Cassie gazed at him open-mouthed, and swallowed convulsively. She was beginning to wonder if she indeed wanted to know the tale.
“Joseph made the incredibly stupid mistake of fancying himself in love with one of Khar El-Din’s harem girls. How he even got near enough to see her, I do not know. Although Joseph was high in the pirate’s favor, Khar El-Din was so furious when he discovered a note written by Joseph to the girl that he had him staked out on the palace floor, his intent to castrate Joseph himself. It just so happened that I myself was a guest at the time and had gotten to know Joseph somewhat. Although his offense was grave, I did not want him to meet such a gruesome fate, and interceded with Khar El-Din.” The earl paused a moment, at a loss as to how he would tell the rest of the story.
“Well?”
He saw no hope for it and continued in the most expressionless of voices, “Khar El-Din had purchased a young virgin from the Caucasus, captured by the Turks and sold at auction for an incredible sum. The pirate had such lust for her that he did not allow her time to forget her humiliation and accept him as her master, and as a result, she fought him like a tigress. He became obsessed with her, though each night he had to struggle with her to possess her. At the time I was visiting, she had been with him for some three months, and he confided to me that he was at his wits’ end. To Khar El-Din, a woman’s capitulation and pleasure at his hands was a point of honor, and he was so vexed he was considering having her throat slit. When I had the temerity to intercede for Joseph, Khar El-Din came up with a most ingenious wager.”
“Yes?”
“I would spend one night with the girl with Khar El-Din watching. If I could bring her to pleasure, Joseph would be freed. If I did not succeed, then it would be I who would wield the knife.”
He eyed Cassie closely at this disclosure and saw to his delight that her lips had tightened into a thin line. “I take it,” she said, “that you succeeded, my lord.”
“Yes, I succeeded, much to Joseph’s relief, I might add.”
“I don’t suppose,” Cassie said, amazed at the cold anger she felt, “that the girl’s name was Zabetta.”
He grinned at her, and Cassie’s hand itched to slap him.
“What a memory you have, cara.”
“And she named you the English stallion.”
“Yes,” he said, modestly.
“Well, I do not think you a stallion, my lord. An ass, perhaps. I am glad that you saved Joseph, though.” She frowned, remembering their confrontation with the pirate. “Khar El-Din did not seem to be such a good friend when he boarded the yacht.”
“Our relationship has deteriorated by the year.”
“Why?”
“Because, Cassandra, Khar El-Din regretted his wager. It would have given him great pleasure to take you from me. If it had not been for your quick wit in taking advantage of his Moslem aversion to madness, he would have exacted a very sweet revenge indeed.”
Cassie was beginning to believe that perhaps she was mad, for a quite inexplicable anger was washing over her. “How much you must have gloated after forcing that girl to pleasure.”
“Actually,” he said with disarming candor, “there have been few times in my life when I was more wishful that I had kept my mouth shut and minded my own affairs. And the point of the wager, cara, was that I was to force her to do nothing.”
“Miserable wretch.” She attacked him, smacking her fists against his chest.
“So my lady wishes to play, does she?”
His laughter rang in her ears. In a very short time, or so it seemed to Cassie, he had stripped off her dressing gown and flung her on her back.
“Our party lasted far too long,” he said, still laughing, and before she knew what he was about, he grasped her legs and pulled them over his shoulders.
“What are you—” The rest of her question remained unspoken as he buried his face in her woman’s softness, holding her hips so firmly in his large hands that she could not move. She felt his tongue, and went limp, a deep groan of pleasure tearing from her throat. His mouth closed over her, lightly caressing her, teasing her, and she gave herself over to him. He straightened, her legs still upon his shoulders, and slowly thrust his full length into her. She cried out, and he quickly eased back, cursing himself. She was too small to hold him thus.
“Oh, please do not.”
“I have no wish to hurt you, cara.”
“You do not hurt me. I will tell you if it is otherwise.”
“By your leave then, my lady.”
When he was again deep within her, he watched her face carefully. While her eyes darkened in pain, he felt her thighs tensing in pleasure.
“I love you, Cassandra,” he said. Her eyes widened, and he thought that her lips moved, but he could not be certain. In the next instant, she was writhing beneath him, pulling them both to release.
The earl lay on his back, Cassie tightly locked against him, her body relaxed, her breathing already deepening into sleep. He found himself grinning ruefully into the darkness. Making love to her appeared to be more effective than a dose of laudanum, for always, she curled up against him, languid and trusting, and almost instantly fell comfortably asleep.