Devil's Embrace (Devil 1)

“Is your shoulder paining you?” she asked, unaware that her eyes narrowed in sudden concern.

“A bit, perhaps, but I shall survive. After luncheon, cara, I will introduce you to a sacred Italian custom.”

“Pray what is that?” she asked warily.

“In English one would call it a nap. Here it is called a siesta. When the sun is at its zenith, Italians retreat indoors, close their shutters, and sleep. It is, of course, a marvelous opportunity for other pursuits as well.”

He closed his hand over hers and caressed her fingers.

“When will you believe that I have no such demands of you, my lord?” She tried to jerk her hand away, but he held it fast.

“I will believe that, cara, when you cease to find pleasure in my arms.” He rose and drew her up with him. “Let us have lunch, little one.”

Perversely, Cassie was a trifle peeved when the earl made no sexual demands on her when they returned to the bedchamber after a light luncheon. Yet she found that she quite enjoyed the siesta. Clothed only in her chemise, the curtains drawn against the hot afternoon sun, she stretched out on the large bed and was soon asleep.

She was awakened by the gentle touch of a hand on her bare arm. An angry rebuke rose to her lips as she opened her eyes. To her surprise, she peered up into the fresh round face of a young girl who was staring curiously down at her.

“Voglia scusarmi, signorina,” the girl said in a soft musical voice.

Cassie shook English words from her mind. “Who are you?” she asked in Italian, struggling up on her elbows.

The girl grinned at the heavily accented Italian. “I am Rosina, signorina, niece to Marrina. I am to be your maid. Il signore asked that I help you to dress. He wishes to see you in the library.”

“Very well,” Cassie said, and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Rosina, she saw, was dressed in somber black, her glossy black hair pulled tightly back from her round face in as severe a knot as that worn by her aunt, Marrina. She looked quite young, perhaps sixteen. Cassie became aware that the girl was staring at her. “Well, what is it?” she asked, thinking the girl would be as sour-minded as her aunt.

“It is your hair, signorina. It is like spun gold, and so thick. I have occasionally seen hair of a fair color, but not like yours. I am said to have an ability with hair. If you would allow me, signorina, I would be most honored to dress yours.”

Cassie felt instantly guilty at her rudeness and said in a friendlier voice, “Thank you for your compliment, Rosina. I would be most pleased if you would help me.”

Rosina nodded her head and smiled. Two deep dimples appeared in her plump cheeks. “I will fetch you a gown, signorina.”

Cassie rose and walked to the commode in the dressing room to splash cool water on her face. When she returned to the bedchamber, she stood for a moment watching her new maid. She looked to Cassie to be a gentle creature, her dark brown eyes guileless. Cassie wondered whether she would ever see Rosina’s placid expression replaced by tight-lipped disapproval.

“You are very young, Rosina,” Cassie said as her new maid helped her into a light muslin gown of pale blue.

“Si, signorina,” she answered brightly, motioning Cassie to be seated before her dressing table. “The nuns told my mother that I was too efficient a servant to waste myself getting married just yet.” She shrugged philosophically. “Perhaps when I am seventeen I will want a husband and babies.”

As she brushed and arranged Cassie’s hair, she continued in her soft voice, “It is honored I am, signorina, to be allowed to come to the Villa Parese. Il signore is an honored and much admired nobleman despite the fact that he is—”

A flush rose to Rosina’s plump cheeks.

“Despite the fact that he is half-English,” Cassie finished, smiling.

“Si, signorina, though most do not think of that now. It is only that he has just returned from England that makes one remember.” She paused for a moment, concentrating on the thick plait she was braiding. Cassie, who had little liking for braids, frowned, but held her tongue waiting to see the result. In a very few moments, she stared at herself in the mirror, startled and quite pleased with the style Rosina had created. The maid had fashioned her hair in what Cassie thought of as a Roman style, with a coronet of braids atop her head, and the remainder of her long hair falling from the circle down her back.

“It is lovely, Rosina,” she said, and shook her head to feel the mass of hair swinging free. “I could never achieve such a result.”

&nbs

p; Cassie saw a gleam of pleasure light the girl’s dark eyes, and added, “I must thank your aunt for bringing you here.”

Actually, the last person Cassie wanted to see was Rosina’s aunt. But Marrina stood at the bottom of the staircase, her eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, a dust cloth in her hand.

“Che cosa Le abbisogna, signorina?”

Cassie pursed her lips at the rude tone. What did she want, indeed. It was time, she decided, squaring her shoulders, to put this thorny woman in her place. Cassie stopped on the bottom step purposefully, so that she towered over the housekeeper, and said coolly, “I would like you to fetch me a glass of lemonade, Marrina. It is to be cold, mind you, and not too sweet. I shall be in the library with il signore.”

Marrina had very small, crowded front teeth, Cassie observed dispassionately, teeth unsuited for snarling.