“I am,” he said calmly, and once again lifted her into his arms.
“What do you mean?” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
“I have not been protected from either birth or death, Cassandra. I delivered the babe of a serving maid when I was but twenty years of age.”
“Was it yours, my lord, or aren’t you certain?”
He grinned at her, refusing to be drawn.
When he had laid her gently upon their bed, he pulled a light cover over her and straightened. “Lie still, my lady. I will fetch you some medicinal brandy.”
She watched wordlessly as he strode from the bedchamber. Even if she had not felt so wretched, she would have been silent, for her thoughts were in jagged confusion. Her hand moved tentatively to her belly, and she moved her fingers over its flat surface. It seemed incredible to her that a child could actually be lying snug within her womb, and that she could have been unaware of its existence. Her becoming pregnant had been what he had hoped for all along, she thought, and her own unbridled passion had most assuredly assisted him toward his goal. Unwanted tears welled up and streaked silently down her cheeks. How very pleased he must be, and so puffed up in his male accomplishment. She cursed him, and railed at fate, until she lurched to her feet to dash to the basin in the dressing room.
The earl found her leaning limply over the basin, her face pale and wan. “Come, sweetheart, let me help you.”
“I think, my lord,” she managed to say, “that you have helped me quite enough. If only I were a man, I would surely make you pay for this.”
She seemed to realize the incongruity of her words, for she held her tongue even though she saw dancing laughter in his eyes.
“I know,” he said only, and helped her back into bed.
He had put several drops of laudanum in the brandy, and within minutes her head lolled on the pillow. He quietly pulled a chair up beside the bed and eased his large frame into it. His long fingers formed a steeple and he tapped them thoughtfully together, his eyes resting intently on her face.
He smiled slightly, remembering her hurling the charge at him that he had planned her pregnancy. He supposed that if it were indeed possible to plan such an event, he might have given it some consideration. With such a change coming in her body and in her life, he was hopeful that after she had finished ranting at him, she would come to realize that she did wish to be with him.
There was a distinct gleam of pride in his eyes, and if Cassie had been awake, she would doubtless have yelled at him. He sat back in his chair and allowed himself a grin.
Some time later, he rose from his chair, lightly stroked his fingers over her face, and left the bedchamber.
He met Scargill downstairs in the entranceway, and proceeded with a wide grin on his face to tell him the news.
“So, ye’ve won, my lord,” the Scotsman said slowly, pulling on the shock of red hair that fell over his forehead.
“Don’t, I pray, accuse me of having planned it.”
“I’ll wager that is what the madonna thinks—wee innocent that she is. She has just told you, my lord?”
“Nay, old man, it was I who informed her of the happy event. She is, at present, asleep, for she bec
ame ill.”
“Ah.”
“Ah, what?”
“That starchy bitch, Marrina, was filling my ears with yer immoral behavior. She was yelping about that ye were carrying the madonna up to yer bedchamber, in the middle of the morning, mind ye, for more debauchery.”
The earl frowned. “I had thought, my friend, that you had managed to put a muzzle on that woman. If she does not mend her manners after Cassandra and I are wed, I shall have her bound and gagged and taken to a convent.”
Scargill shrugged philosophically. “At least ye have naught to concern yerself about with the girl, Rosina, or, for that matter, the rest of the servants. It’s fond of her they are.”
“Now, Scargill, I’m off to tell Joseph. It’s to be hoped that he can curb some of her more devil-may-care activities.” He said over his shoulder as he strode down the staircase, “If she lashes out at you when you see her, consider yourself warned.”
“My congratulations, my lord,” Joseph said when the earl had tracked him down in the stable. But there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. He laid down the haying fork and turned to stroke the earl’s stallion, Cicero. “I suppose you’ll not be needing me anymore.”
“On the contrary. She’ll certainly need you more than my horse does. I trust you, you know, to keep her in line and prevent her from from doing anything foolish.”
Joseph nodded, his calm gray eyes clear again. Suddenly, he laughed and shook his head. “Do you know, she told me that you had recounted the story of my near-disastrous end with Khar El-Din. She called me a fool, but assured me that she was pleased that I had remained a man. She was certain that I would not have been happy as a eunuch.”