Cassie said coldly, still smarting from the earl’s provoking hand and Marrina’s pursed lips, “You mean that after a couple of days I am to be spared your presence, my lord?”
“Oh, never that, cara,” he said cheerfully. “Surely you would not believe me so ungallant. But I will need to spend some time in Genoa, though I do conduct most of my business from here.” He paused a moment, then said meaningfully, “Joseph will be arriving shortly. He will watch over you when I am not here.”
“What you mean to say is that poor Joseph is to be my guard.”
“Perhaps, if you wish to view his presence in that light. I trust you will not try to shoot him.” He softened his tone. “Your life is with me now, Cassandra. I pray that you will soon accustom yourself.”
“I think not,” she replied, quite softly, and rose from the table. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I wish to bathe and dress now.”
“As you will, my love,” he said easily, and moved to pull the bell cord. “I will have Paolo fetch your bath water.”
The day passed pleasantly enough for Cassie, though she did not admit it to the earl. She became acquainted with the palm trees, whose bizarre layered trunks and wide serrated leaves lined the perimeter of the terraced gardens, and the odd gray weathered olive trees that seemed content in the most arid soil and climbed up the steeper slopes of the hills in neat layered rows. All the marble statues had titles, and each a fascinating story. When the earl showed her a colossal statue of Jupiter, framed by a rose-covered marble bower in a lower garden terrace, he said with a grin, “Each time I see old Jupiter, I think about another statue of this esteemed god, built over the tomb of a dog given by Charles V to Andrea Doria, who was, incidentally, one of my illustrious ancestors. The story goes that for his maintenance of the tomb, he received the principality of Melfi. To thank the Emperor, Andrea Doria entertained him and a hundred others to a banquet, where the astonished guests saw three services of silver plates from which they had eaten flung into the harbor after being removed from the table. Andrea Doria, in the true Genoese spirit of thriftiness, achieved this magnificent gesture without being a penny the poorer—he stationed fishermen with nets below the terrace to catch the plates as they fell.”
She laughed heartily and plied him with an endless stream of questions. It struck her forcibly that the earl was an amusing companion, and she frowned at her lapse.
“You are troubled, cara?”
“Must you even read my thoughts?” She sat down on a marble bench that faced another fountain.
“But, dear one, have I not told you that we are to be as one in all things?” As she stared stiffly ahead of her, he added softly, “I do thank you for sitting down. As you have said, my advanced years compel me to rest.”
“Is your shoulder paining you?” she asked, unaware that her eyes narrowed in sudden concern.
“A bit, perhaps, but I shall survive. After luncheon, cara, I will introduce you to a sacred Italian custom.”
“Pray what is that?” she asked warily.
“In English one would call it a nap. Here it is called a siesta. When the sun is at its zenith, Italians retreat indoors, close their shutters, and sleep. It is, of course, a marvelous opportunity for other pursuits as well.”
He closed his hand over hers and caressed her fingers.
“When will you believe that I have no such demands of you, my lord?” She tried to jerk her hand away, but he held it fast.
“I will believe that, cara, when you cease to find pleasure in my arms.” He rose and drew her up with him. “Let us have lunch, little one.”
Perversely, Cassie was a trifle peeved when the earl made no sexual demands on her when they returned to the bedchamber after a light luncheon. Yet she found that she quite enjoyed the siesta. Clothed only in her chemise, the curtains drawn against the hot afternoon sun, she stretched out on the large bed and was soon asleep.