“Most assuredly I do, cara.”
He was taken aback when she suddenly stepped toward him, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed him lightly on the mouth.
“I suppose it does feel more like Christmas now,” she said, and backed away from him quickly, in embarrassment. “Eliott was forever giving me the most unromantic and practical kind—new fishing poles, the most scientifically proven baiting hooks and the like.” The light momentarily left her face, and he knew her thoughts were upon her family, Edward Lyndhurst, and undoubtedly the giant fir tree set up in the drawing room of Hemphill Hall every Christmas. He felt a knot of frustration, but managed to force lightness into his voice. “Would you like to join me now for dinner? Caesare was unable to come, as he was already promised elsewhere.”
“I would be delighted to, Anthony, but not just yet.”
He looked at her, a black brow raised in inquiry. Tentatively, she pulled a small box from a pocket in her skirt and shyly thrust it forward. “Merry Christmas, my lord.”
He felt the pleasure of surprise as he carefully unwrapped the square box. He opened it slowly, and stared a long moment at a gold ring. Carved in black jade in a circular setting was a small chess piece, a king.
“I hope you like it,” she said uncertainly, as he was silent overlong.
“I shall treasure it, Cassandra,” he said quietly, and slipped it upon his third finger.
She laughed nervously. “Since you beat me so regularly in chess, I thought your skill should be recognized. I designed it, and Scargill commissioned a goldsmith in Genoa.”
“You are very talented, cara,” he said. She looked up at him, and did not stiffen when he gently pulled her into his arms and touched his mouth to hers.
As the earl walked alone in the gardens, he admitted to himself that he was starting to plan Cassandra’s return to his bed as carefully as he had planned her abduction from England. His body ached for her, and he could not help himself. He frowned, his thoughts momentarily at an impasse. He resisted the urge to simply inform Cassandra that enough time had passed, that she was now going to wed him and be done with it. She had come to trust him over the past months, and he knew that she needed the undemanding companionship he had offered her. But he knew too that their relationship could not continue in the gentle limbo he had created for her. During the past several weeks, he had found being in her company increasingly a trial to him, as his need for her grew harder to keep in bounds.
He looked up to see Liepolo, his master winemaker, approaching him. He forced a smile to his lips.
“All goes well with you, Liepolo?”
“Si, my lord. Marrina said that I might find you here. Forgive me, my lord, but I wanted to tell you that the grapevines you had shipped from France have arrived safely.”
“Excellent, Liepolo.” Although he did not care at the moment if the wretched grapes became wine or vinegar, he forced himself to comment appropriately on Liepolo’s plans.
“Wine!”
“What, my lord?” Liepolo asked, eyeing his master uncertainly.
The earl grinned widely and thwacked Liepolo on his stooped shoulder. “Forgive me, Liepolo, but I must leave you now.”
He turned and walked briskly away, leaving his winemaster staring after him.
The earl found Cassie seated in front of her dressing table, already gowned formally for dinner, brushing out her hair.
“Why do we not have our dinner here, Cassandra, on the balcony?”
She cocked her head at him and smiled. “If you like, my lord. Caesare has decided not to join us this evening?”
The earl omitted mention of the note he had hurriedly scrawled to his half-brother, postponing his visit. “He had to make other plans, unexpectedly, I understand.”
Cassie lowered her hairbrush. “In that case, since we are not entertaining, I shall not bother myself with hair pins.”
After Marrina served their dinner, the earl nodded his dismissal, and turned his attention to Cassie. He kept his conversation light and her glass filled with light fruity wine from the Parese vineyards. “Is not the full moon breathtaking, Cassandra?”
“Indeed it is, my lord,” she said, tilting her head upward. The night was clear and myriad clusters of stars shined brightly in the black sky.
“It reminds me of some of the evenings aboard The Cassandra.”
She gave him a censuring look. “The dinners are better here, I think,” she said.
“I thought Arturo had a fine way with octopus,” he said blandly as he filled her glass once again.
“Octopus?” She gulped and looked suspiciously at the scallops on her plate. “You are a wretched tease, my lord,” she said, pursing her lips at him.