Devil's Embrace (Devil 1)

“Cassie, are you awake?”

“Yes, Edward.”

He sat down beside her and tenderly pulled her against his chest, and rocked her in his arms.

“Forgive me for leaving you, but I—”

She laid a fingertip against his lips. “Do not torture yourself, Edward.” Or me, she added silently. “Have you decided what it is you wish to do?”

“I told you my decision before I left, Cassie. I want you to become my wife.”

She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she buried her face against his shoulder. “I have been so miserably unhappy, knowing what I was keeping from you. Please forgive me for being such a coward.”

“It was I who was the coward for leaving you alone.”

“Oh no, do not say that. God, I should probably have never come to you.”

His hand stroked through her soft hair. “Hush, Cassie. I will not let you reproach yourself anymore.”

He felt her soft breasts heaving against him, and leaned down to close his mouth over hers. He sensed a desperation in her as she closed her arms about his back and returned his kiss urgently. It occurred to him that he did not know when her child was to be born. He felt her need for him, and knew that such questions must wait.

“Would you make love with me, Cassie?” He drew back so that he could see her face in the dim light.

He felt a shudder of relief go through her. “Yes, Edward, I should like that very much.”

Edward was gentle with her, and quite thorough in his attempts to arouse her. As his mouth closed over her and his hands drew her hips upward, she felt his tenderness, and allowed herself to be comforted. His entry did not hurt her, for his tongue had made her moist. She accepted him into her and clasped her hands tightly about his back, urging him to his climax.

“We have aught but time, Cass,” he said gently afterward. “I will make you forget all that happened to you.”

But he wondered, even as Cassie nestled against his shoulder to sleep. He knew the Earl of Clare by reputation, though his personal meetings with him had been few in recent years. He was a man who had women of all stations eager to enter his bed. It made no sense to Edward that, if the earl wished to marry her, he would repeatedly hurt her, that he should fail to arouse passion in her. He began to wonder what she felt toward the Earl of Clare, and the nagging doubts that had gnawed at him when he had walked alone on the street returned to haunt him. He tightened his hold about her, certain only that Cassie was with him now and that she would become his wife.

Chapter 25

Cassie brushed her freshly washed hair vigorously, until it rippled, free of tangles, heavy and damp down her back. She would have liked to open the curtained windows to let it dry more quickly, but the March air had turned chill once again. She dressed slowly, gazing toward the clock atop the small dressing table as she fastened the hooks on her bodice. It was nearly noon, and Edward had been gone since ten o’clock. She had managed to talk him out of fetching a doctor when she had awakened early in the morning, ill once again. She wanted no doctor about her in any case, but she knew also that it would be more than peculiar for Edward’s wife to have been with her husband less than a week and be more than two months pregnant. Edward had grimaced when she pointed this out to him, and finally agreed. He had finally left her, still abed, with a tray of dry toast for her breakfast on her lap, to see General Howe about arrangements for their return home to England.

She walked into the sitting room and forced herself to nibble at the cold baked chicken and fresh bread Mrs. Beatty had sent up for her lunch. The babe in her womb seemed to take no exception to the chicken wing, and Cassie was wiping her fingers when Edward walked into the room, lightly slapping his arms from the cold.

“Damn,” he said, “you’re right about the changeable weather here, Cass. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were even to snow.”

He leaned down and lightly kissed her uptilted cheek. “Your hair smells good. I apologize for the primitive conditions. With all that hair to wash, and only the hipbath to wash it in, it must have taken you hours.”

“Not quite hours,” she said, smiling up at him.

He unfastened his sword and laid it on the table.

“Lunch, Edward? I saved you a chicken wing and a leg.”

“Your generosity is overwhelming,” he said, grinning, and seated himself across from her.

“What did General Howe say?”

“Who?”

She cocked her head at him and repeated her question.

“Oh, General Howe.” He paused a moment and she saw him look fixedly at the chicken leg in his hand. “Actually, I wasn’t able to see him. Perhaps later.”

“You seem distracted, sir. May I ask just how you have spent the last two hours?”