DEVIL’S EMBRACE by Catherine Coulter

“Given the circumstances, my lord, I can hardly believe you would doubt me.”

Again, he fell silent. Cassie felt suddenly uncertain. “You no longer wish to wed me?”

“I have never before offered you the choice, Cassandra. Now I find that I must. Would you, you adorable girl, you most exquisite creature in all of England—and the colonies—do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

Cassie pursed her lips, stifling laughter at his flowery delivery. It was odd, she thought, but she preferred him to be overbearing. He was easier to deal with that way.

She said matter-of-factly, “If you do not wed me, I shall have to gullet you and throw your miserable body in the bay.”

“In that case, to save my wretched hide, I shall fetch a discreet parson on the morrow. Is that soon enough for you?”

“I suppose that it must be,” she said. “But be warned, my lord. I will have you leg-shackled by tomorrow noon, else you will be the worse for it.”

It suddenly occurred to her that all her clothing was still at Edward’s lodgings. “Oh dear,” she wailed, “I have nothing to wear. This dressing gown would hardly be appropriate.”

He rose slowly and walked over to the armoire. He flung open the doors. “I think, my dear, that all you need is right here.”

“I don’t think you ever doubted my answer for an instant.” She made to rise, to go to him, but found to her chagrin that she weaved where she stood.

“Drunk again,” he said, shaking his head. “I believe the best place for you, my love, is in bed.” He yawned prodigiously. “Do you mind if I join you? It has been a long, quite fatiguing day.”

“But we are not yet married, my lord.”

“True.”

“And my shoulder is paining me terribly.”

“I shall be very careful of it.”

He laughed, a deep, satisfied laugh and scooped her up into his arms. She clung to him when he set her upon the bed.

“Madam, you cannot seduce me unless you allow me to remove these damned clothes.”

She lay back, watching him peel off his clothing. When he stood naked in front of her, she pulled her dressing gown more closely about her and sat up. Words came from her mouth in a torrent. “It is my fault—all of it is my fault. I sold myself, just as would a harlot. I let him take me though I hated it and hated myself. I had nothing to give to him for you had already taken everything—my love, my passion. How can you forgive me? How can you say nothing when you know what I did?”

“Are you now quite through?”

“I am afraid that I have nothing to give you, don’t you understand? I am afraid that I can no longer feel passion after what I did.”

“I have never heard a more comprehensive recital of recriminations. Remind me, when you are an old woman, and I a doddering old man, to provide us both with the amusing tale of Cassandra’s fall from grace. I might even tell our grandchildren if ever your termagant’s tongue pushes me too far.”

“But you must hate me, you must.”

He grabbed her arms and pulled her forward on top of him. “If I yell and rave at you will it make you feel better? Or, perhaps I should beat you senseless. Would that assuage your ridiculous guilt? I do apologize for refusing to wallow with you in this spate of self-hatred. Actually, what you have done required a good deal of courage and determination. And, more importantly, my love, Edward Lyndhurst is no longer in your heart.”

She stared at him, opened her mouth, and closed it again. He laughed and gently flicked her chin.

“Now, Cassandra, what is it to be? Lovemaking with your future husband, or sleep?”

“You are strangling me with your nobility.”

“Oh no, I am your devil, do you not remember? I assure you, there is not a noble bone in my body. You have not answered my question, cara.” He stroked his hands gently down her back.

“You swear that you are not noble, that you are being honest with me?”

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