Devil's Embrace (Devil 1) - Page 57

Caesare shot him a mischievous smile. “But Antonio, with but your company to sustain me in the past, I really had no enduring interest. All is different now.”

“I will look forward to seeing you again soon, signore,” Cassie said, and meant it.

“May we always be in such agreement, signorina.” He proffered his half-brother a mock bow and gave Cassie a droll smile when Marrina came into the library to see him out.

In the evening, as the earl and Cassie ate their dinner in a small protected veranda that overlooked the gardens, she lowered her fork to her plate and said in a silky voice, “I find myself wondering, my lord, what your very kind half-brother would do if I told him of your infamy. Surely he would not approve your ruthlessness.”

The earl cocked a sleek black brow and sipped his wine before replying, “Actually, cara, I was pleased that you held your tongue. If you had not, I fear you would have been much mortified. Although Caesare much enjoys playing the gallant to a beautiful woman, his loyalty to me cannot be questioned.”

Cassie looked away, angered by his amused drawl. “So you told him nothing.”

The earl sat back in his chair and crossed his long legs. “I told him that you were English and m

y honored guest.”

“Honored guest. You know very well that he now believes me your mistress.”

“Doubtless you are right, Cassandra, but let us not argue about it. If you have wish to throw yourself at my poor half-brother and beg for his protection—” He shrugged eloquently. “He will likely admire my audaciousness.”

Her shoulders slumped forward. His dark eyes softened upon her face, and he gentled his voice. “I told you, did I not, that Caesare is my only living relation? It is from our mother, and her dowry to my father, that I inherited the Villa Parese.”

Cassie looked up. “Parese—that was her family name?”

“Yes. It is a very old, revered family in Genoese history, dating back many hundreds of years to Andrea Doria, when Genoa still ruled the seas.”

“Andrea Doria—he is the one who tossed away all the silver plates.” The earl paused a moment, his long fingers deftly peeling the skin off an orange.

He gave her an engaging smile. “Yes, he is the one. He was a brilliant man, an admiral, who saved Genoa early in the sixteenth century, primarily from the French, but of course there were others, like the Spanish and the Milanese. It was he who gave Genoa an oligarchic constitution and reestablished peace on the Riviera.”

The earl leaned forward and handed Cassie a succulent orange slice. “It tastes quite sweet. I hope you will like it.” His long fingers lightly touched the palm of her hand.

He watched her nibble at the orange slice between her even white teeth and smile as a drop of juice trickled down her chin. He sat back in his chair and continued, his tone somewhat pensive. “Unfortunately, since Andrea Doria, Genoa has been sadly bereft of heroes. But we survive, as Europe’s bankers, primarily. And that, Cassandra, is what occupies my time when I am not being a nobleman of leisure, or traveling.”

She looked up, startled. “You—a banker? An English earl is not involved in trade,” she said succinctly.

“It is only the Genoese half that is so involved.” He uncrossed his long legs and stretched them out in front of him. Her eyes were drawn momentarily to his thighs, encased in the black tightly knit breeches. “It is a long tradition,” he said, handing her another orange section. “Back in the early fifteenth century, during one of the darker moments in Genoa’s history, a group of local merchants pooled their talents and their resources and created the Banco di San Giorgio. Over the years, these men from Genoa’s patrician families perfected the art of credit. If Philip II of Spain needed money for foreign conquest, it was to the bankers of Genoa that he applied. But, of course, things change. Genoa cannot protect herself from foreign intervention. In our century, we have known cruel conquest by the French, and the Austrians in league with the Spanish. Only eight years ago we had to sell that accursed island of Corsica to France.” He leaned forward and gently wiped Cassie’s mouth and chin with a white napkin. “It is sticky, but I hope you liked it.”

“I very much liked it, my lord. It tasted very sweet.” His gentleness confused her, and she did not draw away from his lightly caressing fingers.

“Enough of Italian history, cara.” He tossed down the napkin and gently wrapped his fingers around a thick tress of hair on her shoulder. “I do not think I told you how much I admire your new style. It is very elegant.”

“I wish you would stop being so nice,” she said and pulled away from his hand. His lips were slightly parted, revealing his strong white teeth.

He grinned at her, a boyish grin so engaging that she smiled in response.

“But, cara, it comes quite naturally to me. I am really not such a bad sort of fellow, you know, if you will give me a chance. And it is my wish always to please you.”

His eyes fell to the white expanse of bosom that swelled above her pale yellow silk bodice. She laced her fingers over her breasts, aware of a delicious tingling sensation spreading through her body.

She pushed back her chair and rose abruptly. “I am cold, my lord.”

“I trust, my love, that I have a pleasurable remedy.” He rose leisurely and walked to her. She licked her lower lip, but did not try to move away from him. For several moments, he did not attempt to touch her, but merely stood before her. When he finally reached out his hand to her, Cassie stepped into the circle of his arm and arched her back against his chest. She raised her face to his, mutely. He teased her mouth with his tongue, until with a deep sigh, she parted her lips and let his tongue mingle with hers. He felt the deep heaving of her breasts against his chest and tightened his arm about her back to press her closer.

“I cannot carry you, cara,” he whispered, his mouth so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath. She thought crazily that he tasted of sweet oranges.

“I know,” she sighed softly, nuzzling her cheek against his chin.

He kissed the tip of her nose, and the base of her white throat. She parted her lips and moaned softly as he took her mouth.

Tags: Catherine Coulter Devil Historical
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