Lingering on the verandah staring into the dark, Stuart’s jaw was hardened with resolve. Just why he wanted Cassandra so passionately was something that confounded him. He told himself that he couldn’t bear to think of her belonging to anyone else. But it was more than that. She was in his blood.
Dear God, what was the matter with him? He was thirty years old and had known and made love to more women than he could possibly remember, and yet here he was, mooning over a child woman like a callow youth. There was only one remedy to win her in so short a time, and normally it was one he would not hesitate in taking—he would relish it, in fact—but he could not in all decency seduce the delectable Cassandra Everson, even though he was very good at seduction and an accomplished lover.
Or could he? His eyes narrowed and after a moment’s careful thought he decided that, yes, he could.
Looking forward to her ride, Cassandra rose at sun up. She was apprehensive at meeting Stuart again, and was relieved when Julia said she would accompany them. Thankfully Rosa was feeling better, but not well enough to join them on their ride. John and Stuart were waiting for them in front of the house with the horses, and, on meeting Stuart’s open appraisal, she was glad she had groomed herself carefully and wore her best attire of scarlet silk.
‘How becoming you look this morning, Cassandra,’ he remarked smoothly as she settled herself into the sidesaddle. ‘I can see I am in for an extremely pleasurable ride.’
Cassandra did not miss the meaningful sparkle in his eyes. She had intended to treat him with cool formality, but his grin was so boyishly disarming that she smiled. ‘I’m sure it will be. I believe the countryside north of St George is worth seeing.’
John introduced Stuart to Julia, who looked as cool and elegant as ever, no matter how hot the temperature. Her eyes swept over the handsome sea captain appreciatively. Riding beside Cassandra, she smiled surreptitiously across at her and winked. ‘He’s wondrously handsome, my dear, in a dark, frightening sort of way. There’s also something dangerous about him, too,’ she added, ‘that puts me in mind of a buccaneer. Don’t you think so?’
Cassandra smiled, tending to agree with her. With his dark looks and wicked smile, Stuart Marston only needed a ring in his ear and a cutlass in his hand to be a swash-buckling pirate—like Nat.
John glanced up at the sky, where fitful drifts of dark clouds were being blown restlessly along on an easterly breeze. ‘A pleasant morning for a ride,’ he commented, ‘though I suspect there might be rain later. Best not go too far.’
Cassandra’s gaze was constantly drawn to Stuart, who rode a little way ahead with John. Mounted on a huge bay, and clad in black from his boots to his wide-brimmed hat that shaded his powerful shoulders, he was the most overpowering figure she had ever beheld—a stranger bent on making her his wife. She could think of little else. Her resolve to stand firm was set, but in some naïve, gentle part of her heart, she had an uneasy feeling that she was becoming his victim, as he had all the time intended that she should.
The track they followed through the fields of swaying sugar cane was cool in the early morning hour. Entering the parish of St Thomas, winding paths led them through dense green shade of palms and ferns, past brightly coloured flowering and herbal treasures. Exotic butterflies fluttered by, and overhead, singing their hearts out, was an orchestra of brightly coloured warblers and mocking birds.
They encountered several people out riding. Julia was acquainted with most of them, and they stopped to speak to one group. After introducing Stuart and Cassandra, Julia and John stayed on chatting, while Stuart and Cassandra rode on side by side at a leisurely pace.
They entered a gully that was awash with shadows and a tangled overgrowth of trees. The sudden quiet and seclusion sent a trickle of apprehension down Cassandra’s spine. Glancing across at her companion, she wondered why he hadn’t stopped to wait for John and Julia to catch up with them before entering the gully. There were any number of tracks they could have taken, which would certainly confuse John.
They had ridden some considerable distance when she turned, hoping to see John and Julia close behind, but something inside her told her they wouldn’t be. She was right: the track behind them was deserted. All her instincts bade her turn her horse around and gallop back the way they had come, but Stuart was close enough to stop her.
‘Don’t you think we’ve ridden far enough?’ she dared to venture. ‘John and Julia will never find us if we don’t go back. Does that not concern you?’
Stuart said quietly, ‘Not particularly. But there is no cause for alarm. You are quite safe.’
She tore her eyes away from his sombre smile, unable and adamantly unwilling to be charmed into believing such an implausible lie when she recalled their conversation of the previous evening. He had told her in no uncertain terms that he would make her his wife—that he would win her by fair means or foul. The memory brought a stirring rush of excitement searing through her, and her own need was there to answer him, but the sudden intrusion of Nat into her mind quelled the onslaught. She looked ahead, her cheeks ablaze with the ferocity of her own ardour. He was set on a course in which she was to play a part, she could see that—and he seemed completely assured of finishing it.
‘You have brought me here deliberately, haven’t you, Stuart?’
He challenged her with a mocking grin. ‘I can see you have read my mind.’
‘You tricked me. You must think me a stupid, gullible fool.’
‘Nay, Cassandra, never that. I sought you out to get to know you better, and in the course of that venture your fairness seized my heart. You entrapped me as surely as any sea siren. When you turned down my offer of marriage your refusal chilled my hopes, and yet I glimpsed in you a chance that you might in time yield to me. When your cousin and Lady Julia hung back, I realised an opportunity had been presented that could aid me in my desire, and allow me to court you at my leisure.’
Cassandra’s voice was ragged with emotion as she struggled desperately to ignore the sensual pull he was exerting on her. ‘You have a nerve taking such liberties. You will certainly incur John’s wrath if you continue to indulge in such foolery.’ Her rebuke only seemed to amuse him, for his grin deepened, making her doubt that she would be effective in discouraging his arduous tendencies.
‘When you know me better, Cassandra, you will realise that when I set my mind on having something, I am not easily dissuaded from that end.’
There was a sudden change in the light as the dark clouds became an indistinct mass, blocking out the sun. The air had grown increasingly chilly and an occasional heavy droplet of rain struck at Cassandra’s face. Reining her horse to a halt, she glanced across at Stuart, who looked remarkably unperturbed by the forces of nature gathering overhead.
‘We must go back. There’s going to be a downpour any minute and, besides, John and Julia will be frantic with worry.’
Stuart merely glanced at the frenzied sky and cocked a handsome brow. ‘There’s no time. We’ll be soaked before then.’ As if in collusion, the rain chose that moment to fall in big, fat drops. ‘We must find shelter until the rain’s passed over.’ He smiled leisurely as he gave her a lengthy inspection, and even through the material of her dress his eyes burned her and her cheeks grew hot.
‘I can’t. I can’t stay here alone with you. It—it wouldn’t be right.’
The black eyes sparkled and danced with unbridled humour. ‘This is no time to argue. I happen to have a well-developed instinct for self-preservation, and even you must see the logic of seeking shelter. Come, I know the perfect place.’
Cassandra was too alarmed by the prospect of being alone with him to stop to wonder how and when Stuart Marston had become so familiar with the highways and byways and the secluded haunts of Barbados. ‘No, I can’t,’ she said in a shaky, breathless voice, knowing she was being completely irrational, but even she was not naïve enough to ignore what might happen if she were to be alone with him.
Cassandra’s panic stirred and rapidly grew as Stuart calmly ignored her pleas to turn back and led her towards what looked like a curtain of vines on the rocky wall ahead of her. He told her the long green vines, wrapped and interwoven one into another, covered the mouth of a series of caverns, which would offer them protection from the storm. By the time they reached them lightning was streaking across the sky and thunder rumbled over the low hills. The rain had become a steady downpour and they were quickly becoming soaked. Dismounting with the agility of an athlete, Stuart dragged a still reluctant Cassandra from the saddle. Pulling back the vines of the nearest cave, he gave her a gentle push inside.
‘Wait there while I tether the horses beneath that rocky overhang.’
Half blinded by the rain and her own hair, Cassandra stumbled through the yawning mouth of the cave. Adjusting her eyes to the dim interior, she had enough light to see the size of the limestone cavern. It was large, large enough to hold four to five hundred people, she thought, and there was more than one cavern, carved by the slow but steady work of underground streams over the centuries. She stared at the fascinating rock formations and at the huge stalactites hanging from the roof. The caverns tapered away into a dark, brooding stillness, and somewhere from the interior could be heard the sound of rushing water.
Removing her hat, she shook the water from the brim before setting it down on a rock. A footfall behind her swung her round to face Stuart. Legs slightly apart, tall and wide, he filled the narrow entrance, and with the light behind him, his presence seemed to invade the whole cave.
‘We’ll be safe enough until the storm has passed over.’
His voice was soft and rich with resonant strength, reminiscent of sultry nights beneath open skies. To allow more light inside the cave he pulled back some of the vines and secured them with a rock. Removing his doublet, he threw it down along with his hat. With her breath locked in her throat, Cassandra watched him. Beneath his loose shirt his muscles flexed as he moved. Her gaze took in the sheer male beauty of his wide shoulders and narrow waist. Something in the sombre way he was looking at her as he walked towards her made her tremble.
‘H—how did you know about these caves?’
‘I’ve been to Barbados several times. They were pointed out to me by an acquaintance, who was showing me the island when I had some time on my hands four years ago.’
‘I see. What is it?’ she asked, meeting his inquiring frown. She watched him warily, dwarfed by his towering height. The very air bristled with the energy sparking between them.
‘Take off your dress. It’s soaked through.’
In a sudden panic she grasped the neck of her gown, shaking her head and stepping back. ‘Certainly not. I prefer to keep it on,’ she said quickly, aware that she must look a sight, with her hair hanging down her back and clinging in wet strands to her face.
‘Remove it,’ he insisted quietly. ‘You’ll catch your death if you don’t.’
To Cassandra’s horror, without preamble he turned her round and began to unfasten the tiny buttons up the back. She struggled to keep the bodice in place, protesting most objectionably, but her gown slipped down over her hips to her feet. With only her shift as protection from his burning eyes, she tried to cover the gentle swell of her creamy breasts with her hands. Stuart picked up her dress and draped it over some rocks close to the entrance of the cave.
Coming back to where she stood, his hand reached out and touched her cheek tentatively, and before she could put up any resistance his lips claimed hers, warm, passionate and demanding. In the dim light Cassandra caught a flash of steel in his eyes. She pulled back.
‘No, Stuart. Stop. Would you dishonour me?’
He captured her face between his hands, his eyes dark with desire, his voice when he spoke smooth and persuasive. ‘Nay, Cassandra. I would not do anything that is against your will. I will take nothing you do not freely offer when you are in my arms. But you cannot know the torment I suffer of wanting you. How could it be otherwise?’ Caressing her cheek with his thumb, the movement sent shock waves through Cassandra’s body. ‘What we have is too special to deny, but wanting you is torture, my love.’
Lowering his lips, he brushed the flesh where his thumb had been before. Raising his head slightly, he met her gaze, his look stealing her breath and robbing her limbs of power, his lazy, amorous smile almost destroying her resolve.
‘I—I would not wish you to suffer because of me, but this is madness,’ she gasped, desperately hanging on to the fragile thread of her sanity.
‘I agree, but ’tis the kind of madness that appeals to me.’ His lips made contact with her face once more, moving to her ear, his breath warm. ‘A kiss, Cassandra,’ he breathed huskily. ‘Just one more kiss. Would you deny me that?’
Cassandra closed her eyes. Her thoughts were scattered and her heart pounded. One kiss, he said. Just one more kiss. If that was all he wanted, where was the harm in that? Some small, insidious voice inside her head urged her not to do it and she hesitated, torn between right and wrong, between honour and dishonour—but where was dishonour in just one kiss?
Stuart felt her hesitation. Even then he knew that he could conquer his mounting desire and step back, but he also knew that the triumph he would feel at conquering her rejection would be equalled by the pleasure she would give him. ‘Sweet Cassandra,’ he breathed, ardently placing kisses on her burning cheeks, ‘I want you. You want me.’
She swallowed nervously. ‘No—no…’
‘And there speaks the lie.’
It was his tone, not his words, that conquered her. She was being drawn by a stronger will than her own—drawn by the heat of his lips and the magnetism of his eyes. Surrendering to the call of her blood, resting her hands on Stuart’s chest, she offered him her lips. The touch of his mouth on hers brought a soft sigh to her throat—the scent of sandalwood hovering like a seductive whisper between them.
His lips moved over hers with an expert thoroughness, kindling a fire she had not guessed existed. With his hand gently caressing the nape of her neck, his kiss was a masterpiece of passion and persuasion, his lips seeking, finding, provocatively caressing as he proceeded to use every nuance to bring the woman in his arms to submission. His mouth was firm upon hers, infinitely coercive, demanding her surrender.
Beneath such mastery Cassandra’s innocence was being drawn like a moth to a flame. Inexperienced as she was in the ways of love, she was being lured into a situation she could not control, and so potent was the spell that Stuart wove, she had not noticed how skilfully he had pulled her down with him on the floor of the cave—which was to become a bed softer and more sumptuous than any she had ever lain on.
Caught in a web of his own desire, impeded by their garments, Stuart quickly stripped them away. As he looked down at Cassandra’s naked form his breath caught in his throat. Her hair was a pale shadow against her flesh, her stomach as flat as a boy’s, and her small proud breasts were tipped with pale pink. The gentleness and yielding in the melting dark blue depths of her eyes nearly unmanned him. She was beautiful, utterly so, and he knew instinctively that no man had ever seen her like this, naked and in the full bloom of womanhood—and he swore that no man other than himself ever would.
Cassandra gazed up at the iron-hard, bronzed figure looming over her, and in the watery light what she saw made her heart beat harder. Stuart’s face was all angles and shadows, hard and dark with passion, and the dark eyes looking down at her were blazing with it—and yet there was as much tenderness in them as desire. The combination made her body ache with sudden yearning, and when he stretched out beside her and caught her warm, inviting body in his arms, his touch was fire. They clung together, neither of them speaking, losing all sense of time, content to let their bodies touch, but the sudden trembling of her limbs awakened Stuart and he kissed her.
It was hard and violent, relentless in its demand, and Cassandra felt a burgeoning pleasure and astonished joy that was almost past bearing. She did not draw back as their uncontrollable hunger for each other took command, for she was lifted beyond herself by a desire stronger than fear or modesty. Unashamedly she pressed herself into him and clung to him as he moulded her pliant body to his rigid contours, feeding his hunger, feeling the agonised need in him. The moment was a feverish crescendo of desire and desperation. The pain of ecstasy was increasing, and Cassandra could feel something wild and primitive building deep inside her, racing through her veins. The brief frenzy ended and her lips became soft and pliable and warm as her whole being turned to liquid.
With extraordinary skill and prowess Stuart’s hands moved over her gently and with deliberate slowness, exploring the secrets of her body with the sureness of a knowledgeable lover, savouring what he found and feeling her skin ripple and come alive under his slightest touch. He reminded himself that this was her first time, that he must be gentle with her, not to succumb to the tempest of the moment. Raising his head, he gazed down at her, seeing her eyes large and dark with need, and when she reached up and dragged his head down to hers once more, the touch of her fired him and he groaned, driven to unparalleled agonies of desire. His breathing quickened against her cheek as he surrendered to a primitive, powerful need to possess her.
Her lips were soft, her body too yielding, and he responded to their spell with a wild passion, his lips becoming hard, almost cruel in the savagery of his need. He was amazed and delighted by her sensuality as he covered her body with his own, ignoring the moment when she felt pain, which momentarily jerked her out of her passionate haze, her natural instinct compelling her to cry out and try and pull back. But instinctively she relaxed and wrapped her arms around him, lost in coherent yearnings to have this moment continue for evermore.
Cassandra learned in that single, joyous and irrecoverable moment what it was to become one with another human being, what it was to be a woman. Stuart was implacable, loving her with an ardour that, with his guidance, she became caught up in. Enveloped in the heat of his body, life began to surge anew in Cassandra; never in her life had she believed the act of love could be like this—all consuming, so that she became convinced she was possessed by a madness, by a delirium beyond anything imaginable so that there was nothing else.
With waves of pure physical pleasure washing over her, and lost in the sheer beauty of what Stuart was doing to her—something she believed was unique to themselves—her world began to tilt, and she knew it would never be the same as it was before she had met Stuart Marston.
In the afterglow of love, their passion spent, they lay together, limbs entwined. It was an enchanted time, a time set in a vacuum of peace, with no end and no beginning, and yet they both knew it could not last, that they could not remain as they were forever. Stuart was in awe of what had transpired as he marvelled in the tranquillity of contentment. He realised it had stopped raining, and that it must have done so some time ago, but he couldn’t remember when. Dappled sunlight streamed through the opening, warming their naked bodies.
Holding Cassandra close, he clung to the euphoria of the moment as he tried to keep the reality of what he had done at bay, for with his passion spent, there was no hindrance between his brain and his conscience. The sickening truth was that he had deliberately set out to seduce this beautiful, defenceless, virginal young woman, and succeed admirably.
With self-disgust he decided that seduce was perhaps too polite a word to describe what he had done, for he hadn’t even had the decency to seduce her in the soft comfort of a bed, but had stripped her naked and taken her on the hard floor of a cave like the meanest beast. The fact that she hadn’t fought him and pleaded with him to stop, and that she had given herself to him willingly, did nothing to assuage his guilt.
The responsibility of what had happened was entirely his, and it didn’t take a genius to work out that John Everson would be well within his rights to run him through for what he had done, which, he now realised, was what he deserved.
With aching gentleness he kissed the top of Cassandra’s shining head. She shifted slightly and he felt a dampness on his chest. That was when he became aware that she was crying. Placing his hand beneath her chin, he tipped her face to his.
‘Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, what I have done was inexcusable. If I could undo the wrong I would, but it’s too late.’ Brushing wayward strands of hair from her wet cheeks, he swallowed down a knot of remorse. ‘Why do you weep? Did I hurt you?’ Shaking her head, she smiled through her tears. It was the sweetest smile Stuart had ever seen, and the relief that flowed through him acted like a balm on his guilty heart.
‘That isn’t why I’m crying. I often cry when I’m happy. I came to Barbados because my life seemed so empty—so meaningless and hopeless. You have made me happy because, for the first time in my life, when you made love to me I knew what it was like to feel wanted—to feel needed. It was a special feeling and I shall never forget it. Thank you. Whatever happens after this, I want you to know that I have no regrets.’
A reprieve was certainly not what Stuart had expected. Humbled by the raw emotion in her voice, he gazed into her glowing eyes with disbelief. The shattering tenderness of her words caused his heart to contract with an emotion so intense it was painful to bear it. ‘Under the circumstances you are being extremely generous. I don’t deserve it. If you had resisted—struggled and begged me to stop—I would not have forced myself on you.’
Cassandra lowered her eyes, unable to resist the memory of what she had done, and how glorious it had been—a sensuous, wondrous experience. The wantonness she had displayed shocked her. How abandoned she had been, how eager to share the pleasures of the flesh—already she ached for it to happen again. The magic of his body filling hers was still there, and she could still feel the heat of his seed inside her.
‘You were very sure that I would want you—and I did. I wanted you so much, without thinking what I did. My self-control was well and truly toppled beneath your deliberate attack on my senses. I yielded to you willingly and without thought. Your forceful persuasiveness was my downfall.’ She saw him wince at her brutal honesty, and she smiled. ‘I’m being frank, I know, but if two people can’t be frank with one another at a time like this, I don’t know when they can be.
‘I was unable to withstand your ardour. You brought me to sweet fulfilment, knowing full well what you were doing to me, and that it would leave me hungering for more of the same.’
He turned his face into the rumpled mass of hair spread over her throat. ‘And do you still hunger for me, Cassandra?’ His voice was deep and husky as he inhaled the sweet scent of her.
‘Yes, but I doubt I am strong enough to withstand another full-fledged attack of your ardour at present,’ she remarked on a suffocated laugh. Reluctantly she left his arms and scrambled to her feet. ‘We must be getting back. John is bound to ask questions, so we must have our answers prepared.’
‘And we will be as circumspect as we can be. It will be our secret delight when we look at one another in the days ahead, and remember the pleasure we have shared. No matter how unconventional our beginning, we will always have this. The short time we have spent in this cave will be a time encapsulated in our memories for all time.’
Having pulled on her silk stockings and donned her shift and dress, which had dried remarkably quickly in the hot sun at the cave’s entrance, Cassandra paused and looked at Stuart. He had stood up and was fastening his breeches. She caught her breath at the marvellous perfection of the powerful man displayed before her eyes. Her body was still tender from its contact with that magnificent, virile flesh, and she marvelled at the way they had fitted together. It had been perfect, as if God had intended that it should be so.
Suddenly a plain and simple fear gripped her heart. ‘You do you realise what this means, don’t you, Stuart?’
‘Fully, my love,’ he murmured. Pulling her into his arms, he shoved her hair aside and trailed his lips down her neck, his breath feather-light on her flesh. ‘Now you will have to marry me—but the way I see it, you and I are as married now in the eyes of God as if any priest had already joined us. The ceremony will be a mere formality.’
Cassandra’s eyes pricked with tears at the simple statement. This was no pretender, who would abandon her after taking her body. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered simply.
‘You’re welcome. A love like ours was destined to be. We belong together now. Nothing and no one can take this away from us. You are the woman I want to spend my life with, and I want all of you—heart, mind and body.’
She smiled tremulously. ‘I find it hard to believe that anybody could want me that much.’
‘Do you need convincing still?’ he murmured, claiming her lips once more.
She drew back in his arms and stared up at him, thinking how handsome he was, with his dark eyes and an errant wave falling rakishly over his brow. ‘I don’t know.’ This was a man she hardly knew, a stranger still, despite what they had done, and yet she wanted to know this man to whom she had just given her maidenhead better.
Stuart grinned at her frowning face. ‘You will. However, until you are my wife, my love, celibacy will be the order of the day. My intentions where you are concerned will be entirely honourable from now on and will have to wait until after the wedding. I shall try to restrain myself, difficult though that will be, but I shall start to conserve my strength, since it is obvious I’m going to need it in our marriage.’
‘Why, does it wain so quickly?’ Cassandra asked lightly, a gurgle of laughter bubbling to her lips. She could see a mischievous gleam lighting up his eyes, and her heart beat quickened when he placed his lips in the warm, pulsating hollow of her throat.
‘It renews itself with astounding fortitude, thank the Lord, as I shall delight in proving to you when we are wed. Before I return to Bridgetown I will speak to your cousin,’ he said, thrusting his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. ‘The sooner the better.’
‘What if he refuses?’
Stuart’s brow quirked in sardonic amusement. ‘He won’t. He’ll agree for your sake. I shall damn anyone who stands in my way.’ Seeing the apprehension on her face, it hit him then that her reason for refusing his proposal last night had not been removed. He was curious as to what it could be, but decided not to pressure her into disclosing it. Maybe it would become clear in time. Gently cupping her chin in his hand, he gazed deep into her eyes, understanding the direction of her thoughts. ‘No matter what it is that troubles you, Cassandra, do not fear me. Do you want to be my wife?’
When Cassandra looked at him, it came with a slow dawning that she wanted this more than anything she had ever wanted in her life before. She would marry him, but may God help her if he should discover her secret. ‘Yes, I do. I shall be content to be your wife, Stuart, in every way.’
John and Julia had taken refuge from the storm at the plantation home of one of Julia’s friends. John felt some concern because Cassandra was alone with Captain Marston, but he was confident they would find shelter until the storm had passed over, and that Captain Marston would take care of her. After all, he was an honourable man—a gentleman who acted like one—and John was assured that no man of breeding would take a young unmarried girl of good family to a private place and treat her wantonly.
When they met up with them on the road he accepted their explanation that they had sought shelter in a cave and waited for the rain to subside, and he was satisfied that Cassandra showed no aftereffects of the storm. Although when he looked at her more closely as they rode side by side back to Courtly Hall, he realised that wasn’t quite correct.
She was unusually quiet. A small, secretive smile played on her lips, and her eyes were brilliant and warm with emotion, looking away into some world where he was forbidden. In fact, she was positively glowing. Only once did her eyes meet those of Captain Marston, and the look that passed between them was the gleaming look of successful conspirators. The resulting suspicion was farfetched, yet the moment it entered John’s mind it nagged him and filled him with unease.
Cassandra was young, inexperienced in the ways of the world, and not even Captain Marston would have the temerity, the sheer effrontery, to interfere with the cousin of a man who had invited him into his home. Not in his worst fears did he imagine that Cassandra might have given more than a kiss, but whatever it was that had occurred between the two of them, as the days passed there seemed to be a new maturity borne of the time she had been alone with Captain Marston.
John was surprised—and more than a little relieved—when Stuart Marston asked for his permission to wed Cassandra. Elated by this unexpected turn of events, he had no hesitation in giving it, and was delighted that the marriage was to take place before the convoy sailed for England.
On the day of the wedding Rosa bathed and covered the bride’s body with lightly scented jasmine before dressing her in a shimmering gown of creamy white silk gauze, embroidered all over with tiny pearls. A gold and pearl necklace of the utmost delicacy adorned her throat. Her head was modestly covered in a cloud of diaphanous material for the ceremony, which was then folded back to reveal her shining wealth of hair hanging down the curve of her spine.
The wedding proved to be an exciting diversion for John’s and the Courtlys’ many friends and acquaintances, with Sir Charles and Lady Julia providing an excellent wedding feast.
Stuart’s attire was unostentatious. He wore black knee breeches and a handsome knee-length black coat with broad scarlet-and-gold embroidered cuffs. With pride mingled with joy, he only had eyes for his bride, and he was impatient to return with her to his ship where they could be alone at last. She looked positively radiant and his arms ached to hold her.
It was not until they were climbing into the boat that was to take them out to the Sea Hawk, when the sun was a crimson blaze of glory on the horizon, that Cassandra experienced a feeling of doubt, of alarm, as she considered the enormity of the step she had taken, when she realised it was too late to turn back, and that she was to spend a lifetime with this man she knew so little about.
She looked towards where he sat across from Rosa, his profile turned away from her towards the sea, his finely etched features inscrutable in the fading light. Unconsciously she fingered the ring he had placed on her finger, a ring composed of a circle of diamonds of an extraordinary size, its centrepiece an enormous sapphire exhibiting a deep, exotic lustre.
She recollected how Stuart’s dark gaze had held hers when he had placed it there, and she also recollected how soft his lips had been when he had placed them on hers, sealing their union with a kiss. With these thoughts filling her mind, any doubts she might have were expelled.
On the point of leaving the shore, she turned to John, who had accompanied them to the boat. He was to remain in the Caribbean on Company business, and to continue to enjoy the uninterrupted favours of Elmina until the time came for him to return to England. He must have sensed Cassandra’s slight hesitation and the doubts passing through her mind, for he leaned forward and hugged her, kissing her cheek with deep tenderness.
‘Go, Cassandra, my dear, dear cousin. Go with your husband and be happy. He is a good man. He will take care of you. See that my letter is given to Meredith, and give her my love. I will contact you as soon as I return to London.’
John watched the boat leave the shore. The convoy of something like forty heavily laden merchantmen was assembled out in the bay, among them the Sea Hawk, which he hoped would take Cassandra to a new and happier life from the one she had known. He prayed most fervently that she would come to love her husband, and in so doing put the memory of Nathaniel Wylde behind her. Let him sink into oblivion. Wasn’t that where most legends went?