Devil's Embrace

  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, modestl
y.

  “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.”