Devil's Embrace (Devil 1)

The earl raised his body from the copper bathtub and shook himself, somewhat in the manner of a wet mongrel. He wrapped a towel about his waist and strolled into the bedchamber, only to draw up short at the sound of Rosina gasping at him. Rosina stood behind Cassie with a brush in her hand, her face a vivid shade of red. Cassie sat comfortably in front of her dressing table, consuming an orange. “You may go to bed now, Rosina,” Cassie said in an amused voice.

When he heard the bedchamber door close upon the maid, he walked forward to stand behind Cassie. She was covered in a thick blue velvet dressing gown. Beneath it, he knew, was a nightgown. “You know, cara, I have been thinking.”

“It is a marvelous process, my lord, and I am most pleased that you have finally been granted the privilege.”

He grinned, wrapped a thick tress of hair about his fingers, and pulled. She yelped and turned on him. “If you cannot use your wits, my lord, may I suggest—” She stopped in mid-sentence. The earl looked at her quizzically and saw that she was staring at him pointedly in the mirror. His knot was working itself loose and the towel had pulled open.

“You were speaking about wits, my lady?”

Cassie lowered her eyes, aware of a surge of feeling that left her cheeks a rosy red. She wasn’t certain whether or not she wanted to ignore his nakedness. “You were saying, my lord, that you had been thinking,” she said finally, trying to disregard him as he eased his body into an immodest pose into a leather chair near her.

“Well, actually, I have been waiting for you to tell me, cara, that fall in Italy is simply not as it is in England. No clouds bloated with rain and no frigid winds.”

She hunched her shoulder at him, resolutely keeping her unruly eyes upon her fingernails. “I am convinced that you have the fires lit only out of English habit.”

“You are probably right,” he said. In truth, he had wanted to ask her if she would enjoy a trip to Paris, perhaps in the spring, but all thought had fled upon her reaction to seeing him naked. He walked quickly to the great bed and climbed in between the covers, for his member was swelled with desire. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her.

He watched her finish brushing her hair, wondering what she was thinking. At last she rose, shrugged off her dressing gown and slipped into bed.

A single candle sent its spiraling flame toward the ceiling, bathing them in a soft glow of light. He gazed at her for many moments before moving toward her. Her eyes were closed and her golden hair spread out upon the pillow, framing her face.

“There is no reason for the nightgown, Cassandra,” he said finally, gently stroking her halo of hair. “I believe we have both grown quite tired of it.”

Cassie opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him, a mute question in her eyes. “I am not certain what you mean, my lord.”

He balanced himself on one elbow and let his fingers lightly trace the contours of her face. “Perhaps we can reach a compromise about your nightgown.”

“Compromise?” She felt the warmth of his breath on her face, and then the light touch of his mouth upon hers, undemanding. His fingers stroked her throat, and then closed over the ribbons on her nightgown. She grasped his fingers, staying his hand.

“Trust me not to hurt you, cara.”

She stared up at him, her eyes almost black in the dim-lit room. Slowly, she pulled away her hand from his, and he pulled apart the ribbons.

Cassie sucked in her breath as he gently bared her breasts. She closed her eyes at the shiver of pleasure that coursed through her when his mouth closed over her. “Your compromise, my lord,” she whispered.

“How can I discuss it with you, cara, if you will not look at me?”

Her eyes flew open, wide with confusion, and he drew back his hand from her breast, afraid that he was moving too quickly with her. He forced lightness into his voice, and tweaked the tip of her nose.

“My compromise, dear one, is that we give your nightgown a place of honor at the foot of the bed.”

The thought of being held naked against him after so many weeks was delicious, and she nodded mutely. She wanted him to enfold her with his strength and tenderness, to make her part of him. He laughingly folded her nightgown, and hurled it across the room. She lay naked beside him and felt his hand again caressing her breast. “It has been such a long time, cara.”

“I know.”

He grinned, and moved his fingers slowly over her belly. His expressive dark eyes became clouded, and she knew what he must be thinking. Her belly would have been rounded by now, if she had not lost the child. But she was flat, her body empty. She remembered the terrible pain of that night and shuddered involuntarily.

He felt her tremble and stayed his hand. “Are you afraid, Cassandra?”

“A little. When I remember the hurt, I cannot seem to help myself.”

“I know, I feel the same way. Even though it has been many weeks now, that night still comes to me and I am terribly afraid.”

“You, afraid?” She looked at him, surprised. “I have never thought of you being afraid of anything.”

“I would be a fool were I not. Is that what you think of me, madam?”

“Oh no, ’tis just then when I think I know you, you say something that I do not expect.”