DEVIL’S EMBRACE by Catherine Coulter

The stiletto flashed out and Giacomo screamed. A thin red line appeared across his belly, and blood slowly trickled from it.

“Prepare yourself, my friend. I don’t want you to die. I want you to always remember your punishment for raping another man’s woman.”

The stiletto rose slowly. Giacomo’s mind snapped. He screamed uncontrollably and tore himself free of the two men holding him. He clawed at the pistol Francesco held and bore it down to his chest.

A loud explosion tore through the room, its sound reverberating off the oak-paneled walls. There was a ghastly look of surprise on Giacomo’s face, and he slumped backward, his chest torn open.

Scargill fell to his knees beside Giacomo. “He is dead, my lord.”

The earl slowly laid the stiletto upon the desk and straightened. He gazed impassively at the gaping wound and stepped over Giacomo’s body.

“It is a pity,” he said. He added over his shoulder as he walked from the room, “Do remove the scum. Even in death he offends me.”

Chapter 19

Fingers were digging into her, rough fingers with jagged fingernails that tore her flesh. She screamed and struggled to free herself of their hold. She sobbed helplessly as her legs were wrenched apart.

“Cassie! Love, wake up.”

The earl was shaking her, pulling her from the horror, but she couldn’t seem to stop the wrenching sobs that tore from her throat. Her nightgown clung to her, damp with sweat, yet she trembled uncontrollably.

His strong arms closed around her, and she felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek. Cassie pressed her face into his shoulder, waiting for the terror to loose its grip on her.

“The nightmare again?” he asked gently. He held her close as she drew a shuddering breath.

“Yes.”

The earl smoothed her tangled hair back from her forehead and eased her onto her back, careful of her bruised ribs. Her eyes were huge and dark in the dim light of dawn.

“It’s over, Cassandra, and you are safe, I promise you.” He balanced himself on his elbow and looked closely into her face. “Are you in pain?”

“Please make it stop,” she whispered. “I cannot bear it. It is so real—”

He stroked her cheek. “I know. I cannot make it stop, Cassandra, but I think if you talk to me about it, it may help you to forget.”

She gazed up at him uncertainly. His dark eyes were tender, but she looked away from him.

“Can you not tell me about it?”

She shook her head. The pain in her body was almost welcome to her, for it focused her mind on the present.

The earl did not press her. It had been two days since her rape, but the nightmare kept taking her back to it.

“Would you like some laudanum, cara?” At least, he thought, she allowed him to care for her body.

“No, I do not want to be drugged anymore.”

He nodded, and lightly kissed her forehead.

“I don’t want your pity.” Oh God, she hated herself and him for her pain. She felt she could not tell him, for he would withdraw from her in disgust, just as she withdrew from herself.

“Pity you,” he repeated, frowning down at her in surprise.

She covered her face with her hands. “I know that you must hate me, that I repulse you. Five men took their pleasure with me.”

For an instant, his mind refused to work. Five men? No, there had been but four. Joseph had been certain of that. “Cassandra, you said five men, but there were only four.”

She grew very quiet. She had not realized what she had said and even as she sought to remember clearly, her mind would not allow it. Only in her nightmare could she see them clearly.

“May he rot in hell,” she said.

“Who?” he said, sitting up.

Cassie blinked and stared beyond the earl’s shoulder. “It was the fifth man—their leader. Joseph was unconscious and I thought him dead. When I pleaded with the man to see to him, he said, ‘May he rot in hell.”’

“So Joseph never saw this man?”

“No, he came later.” Her mind was resisting her, pulling the man’s image away from her. “He was different somehow—and he did not rape me. But it was he who told them to kill us.”

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