Devil's Embrace (41 page)

Edward nodded, but Cassie sensed he was not really attending her words. He turned suddenly, his voice harsh with anger.

“How could that bastard have forced you to live with him all this time?”

“Because he always believed that I would change.” At least he hadn’t asked her if the earl had forced himself upon her all those months. She did not know if she could lie to him.

Edward’s hand foolishly went to his side, but his saber was on the table and the earl was in Genoa. He looked again at Cassie’s face and saw a lone tear streaking down her cheek.

He felt stricken with remorse at his own fury. She needed him as she never had before in their lives. He clasped her arms and drew her to her feet. “Oh, God, Cass, please do not cry.” He nuzzled his cheek against hers and stroked his hands down her back. “It is all right now, my love. I will help you to forget, I promise you. All of it will pass like a bad dream, you will see.”

She sobbed quietly, her tension easing at his gentleness. But she knew it would not pass like a dream.

He spoke quietly, sensing her pain. “I will make it up to you, Cass. We will wed and return together to England. Believe me, I have no wish to remain here now.” He thought of Jenny and felt a shock of guilt that made him go numb. “Oh, God,” he whispered. He gazed down at the beautiful girl he had cherished most of his life. She had miraculously been returned to him. “All can be as it was, Cass,” he said.

“Yes,” she said slowly, sniffing back the tears, “all must be as it was.” Cassie pulled away from him, fighting to get hold of herself. She gave him a tentative, watery smile. “And now, Edward, you must tell me of yourself. I have
thought about you much, you know, and what you were doing and feeling.”

His eyes darkened in remembered grief. “I could not stay after I believed you dead. I received a letter from the ministry in London, asking me if I would consider resuming my command. It did not matter to me that I was to join General Howe here in the colonies.” He paused, remembering bloody battles against men ill-trained and poorly armed, but desperate to win. He had been a formidable enemy, for he had not cared whether he was felled by a rebel bullet. His men had followed him without question, not knowing that he gave not a damn for his own life. He was lucky to be alive. But he would not tell Cassie of that, just as he would not tell her about Jennifer Lacy.

“I have received letters from Eliott, not with any regularity, of course, but enough to know he is well.”

“I read in one of Becky Petersham’s letters to the earl that Eliott is planning to marry Eliza Pennworthy.”

Edward smiled faintly. “Eliott has written nothing about that.” He was silent for a moment. Suddenly, anguished memories wrenched words from his lips. “God, Cassie, you cannot imagine what it was like, the days searching for you, the nights, alone, cursing the wretched sea. And there was nothing, simply nothing I could do.” He caught himself, and turned away from her, to stride angrily about the room. “I swear that I will kill him for you, Cass. He does not deserve to live, after all that he has done.”

“It is likely, Edward, that we will never again see the Earl of Clare. If he does, sometime in the future, return to England, you must promise me that you’ll not do anything rash.” She lowered her eyes from his face, unwilling to let him see her despair at the thought that she might never again see the earl. She remembered the Contessa Giusti and her hands curled into fists in her lap.

“I can well take care of myself, Cass,” Edward said. “And you as well, now.”

Edward, her protector, her knight throughout her growing up years. She smiled, reminded of the many little things that bound them together.

“How did you spend your time when you were not getting yourself wounded on this Staten Island?”

He shrugged and she saw a cynical light enter his eyes. “I did naught of anything, really. Insignificant encounters with the rebels. And there were, of course, balls and dinners held by the New York Tories.” He paused a moment, the image of Jenny stark in his mind. He looked away from her. “Time passed, Cass, as it always does.”

Edward’s recital of his long months without her seemed as brief and stark to her as her own recital. She wondered, staring at his straight, lean figure, if he had omitted as much as had she.

C
assie took a last bite of Mrs. Beatty’s apple pie and sat back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. The landlady had appeared at their door an hour before, napkin-covered dishes weighing down her thin arms. It was thoughtful of her to have guessed that they preferred to be alone in their room their first evening together, and not come downstairs to the inn parlor. Actually, Cassie thought, if Mrs. Beatty had not obligingly brought them their dinner, they likely would have forgotten it.

She gazed at Edward over her coffee cup. He had grown ill at ease during their dinner, and she easily guessed the reason. Night had fallen and they were alone but a few feet away from his darkened bedchamber, as man and wife.

It was fortunate that their lives had been so closely intertwined, for it had allowed them to fall easily into pleasant reminiscing. During the afternoon, they had allowed themselves to blot out the months they had been apart. Edward had reminded her of the time he had knocked down Edmond Danvers for calling Cassie naught but a bothersome little girl who had more tangles in her hair than a sparrow’s nest. Her unrestrained laughter still sounded in her ears. But now it was evening, and they could no longer pretend to be carefree children.

During the last few weeks aboard
The York,
Cassie had argued with herself for hours at a time about how she would approach this moment with Edward. She knew that consideration for her feelings was as natural to him as was his sense of honor. And given what she had told him about the past months, she did not doubt that he was in a quandary about the prospect of lovemaking with her. It was her
belief that he loved her deeply that eased her mind. And because he loved her, she wanted to give him all of her that she could. He was her lifelong friend, the man she was to have married, the man she now would marry. “I should very much like a bath, Edward.”

He blinked at her. “A bath? Certainly, Cass. I shall see to it now.” There was relief in his voice as he rose stiffly from his chair and strode with alacrity toward the door.

He returned some fifteen minutes later, followed by the boy, Will, each of them carrying steaming buckets of hot water.

“There is a hipbath in the bedroom,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

She would have smiled at his obvious discomfiture were she not herself so nervous about their first night together. She rose and trailed after him. The bedchamber was a small, square room, its furnishings, like those in the sitting room, built for utility. She saw Edward looking toward the bed.

She walked to the hipbath. “I would imagine that you are far too large to fit in it, Edward.”

“It is quite adequate,” he said, stiffly. “I will leave you now, Cass. If you have need of anything, please call.”

“Thank you. I shall be fine.”

Edward saw Will out the door and sat himself down in his favorite chair, a high-backed mahogany affair with solid unfinished arms. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Each time he tried to think about what the incredible events of the day meant to him in a controlled, reasoned light, he was stopped by a quickening in his loins. Cassie was in his bedchamber, now likely naked, and in his bathtub.

He frowned down at his enthusiastic member straining tightly against his cream breeches, then eyed the blunt-edged, thinly cushioned settee in front of him. He supposed it would be his bed until they were married. It would have to be a very private ceremony, since Cassie was already known as his wife. He reviewed the request he would make to the only Anglican parson he knew, and shook his head.
The florid-faced Mr. Danvers would never keep a still tongue in his mouth.

Fury, pure and undiluted, took control of him at the thought of the Earl of Clare, dampening his passion. “You bloody bastard,” he said aloud. He would have killed the man without a qualm for having ravished any English gentlewoman. But it was Cassie he had forced himself upon, had repeatedly taken against her will during the long months Edward had thought her dead.

Edward rose and slowly removed his coat and boots. He and Cassie had talked throughout the day of everything that did not touch the months they had been apart. He smiled, remembering her unaffected ready laughter. But he realized he still knew very little of what her life had actually been like during the past months. She had spoken not at all of the earl, and Edward, not wishing to cause her pain, had not pressed her.

“Edward.”

He turned at the sound of his softly spoken name. Cassie stood in the open doorway of the bedchamber, dressed in a light muslin wrapper. He caught his breath at the sight of her. She was as exquisitely beautiful as the near-perfect vision of her he had nourished in his mind during the lonely nights of autumn and winter. He restrained his impulse to crush her in his arms.

“You enjoyed your bath, Cass?”

She smiled at the painful calm in his voice. To his discomfiture, his body leaped in response.

“The water is still warm, Edward. Would you like me to scrub your back?”

“Cassie, for God’s sake.”

Under his horrified gaze, she lowered her face and began to sob into her hands.

His stocking feet made no sound on the oak floor. He gently pulled her against him, though her hands still covered her face. “Please don’t cry, my love.” He nuzzled his cheek against her silky hair, savoring its sweet sandalwood scent. He felt her stiff and unyielding against him and set about to soothe her, and himself, with low, soft words of reassurance.

“No one will ever hurt you again, Cass. I swear it to you. You are safe now, and this time I shall protect you.”

Cassie lowered her hands and mutely raised her face. There was no one to protect her from now.
You cannot protect me from myself, Edward.

“You even cry beautifully,” he said as he touched a fingertip to her cheek and gently brushed away her tears.

“I am sorry, Edward. It is not my habit to be a weeping woman.” Her hands stole up his arms and her fingers locked about his neck. “Please stay with me tonight.”

He looked down into her clear blue eyes and knew himself to be lost. “If you are certain it is what you want, Cassie.”

It must be what I want.

“Yes.”

“Then we shall be ahead of the parson by a few days.” He scooped her up into his arms and laid her gently in the center of his bed. Cassie sank deep down into the trough she created in the soft featherdown mattress.

She laughed. “Oh dear, I fear that we shall be sleeping like two cards in a deck.”

Edward gave her only a slight answering grin. He was pulling off his clothes with a speed that would have surprised his batman, Grumman.

Cassie watched him. He was of slighter build than the earl, his body wiry and taut from his years of campaigning. She turned her eyes away from his erect organ. Instead of desire, she felt a surge of panic. For an instant, he was a stranger to her, frightening and unknown. She drew a deep steadying breath.
Don’t be a fool, Cassie. Your life is as it was supposed to have been. You are with Edward. It is he who will be your husband.
She fastened her eyes upon his face and held out her arms to him.

“Let me help you off with that wrapper, Cass.”

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, and jerked open the sash. She felt Edward’s hands pulling the soft material from her body. She heard his sharp intake of breath.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

“You have already seen me unclothed. Do you not remember, Edward?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, easing himself down beside her. “But I tried to forget, Cass.” Had he continued to think of her as he had those long months ago, he thought, he would have gone mad. He looked at her breasts and swallowed convulsively. Just the thought of the Earl of Clare touching her, forcing her, made his belly cramp.

He looked down at her, his eyes wintry. He felt her fingers tentatively touch his shoulders, and slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Although she was not a virgin, he knew he should treat her as gently as he had that long ago afternoon in the cave. He pressed his mouth softly against hers, until he felt her part her lips to him. As his hands stroked over her, he thought of the man who had taken her innocence, the man who had caressed her body as he was now doing. Although he did not wish it, he thought again of the months of pain, the nights of empty bitterness, at the cruelty of fate. He felt consumed again by the wrenching loneliness. She had left him, had made life itself seem meaningless to him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and rolled on top of her, feeling the soft giving of her beneath him.

Cassie froze, numbed with confusion. Whenever she had thought of this moment with Edward, she had remembered only his tenderness, his gentleness. She felt her body tense in protest. You love me, she wanted to tell him. Why are you doing this to me? He released her mouth and his lips closed over her breast. She heard his breathing, ragged and deep, and knew that he wanted her, wanted her so badly that what she felt no longer mattered to him. She prayed silently to feel something, but an instant of desire. She tangled her fingers in his curling chestnut hair, and forced her hands to stroke down his back.

“Oh God, Cass.” He reared over her and pushed her thighs apart. She felt herself stiffen as his member touched her. But I am not ready for you, she wanted to yell at him. She swallowed a cry in her throat as he thrust into her unwilling flesh.

Cassie moaned softly, for his every movement hurt her.
But her muted cry broke Edward’s control. He drove into her wildly until his body tensed uncontrollably above her. He felt as if he were breaking apart, each convulsive spasm pulling him farther out of himself, away from all reason. Jagged groans tore from his mouth. Suddenly there was a great easing within him and he fell forward, resting his cheek next to her face on the pillow.