“Ah, yes, much better, I see. Poor Eliott has never been a match for your acerbic tongue. And if he marries Miss Eliza Pennworthy, I fear that his God-given wit will rust with disuse within a year. As for what Edward Lyndhurst would say about your spirit, I daresay it would not be loving.”
She did not answer him, and he continued lightly, “Nor do I believe that you would have managed to subvert your opinions and ideas for very long with Edward Lyndhurst. He has very set notions about the wifely behavior of English ladies, you know.”
Cassie felt a raw surge of grief. “Edward must believe me dead by now.”
“Probably not yet. I’ll wager that he will scour the coast for you for some days to come before he finally accepts the fact.”
“You must listen to me,” Cassie said, easing herself up on her elbows. “Now that you have used me, will you not cease this cruel charade and take me home? Since I am no longer a virgin, there can be no sport left for you.” She was aware that his eyes wavered from her face, and she grasped the corner of a sheet and pulled it over her.
“My lady shows such modesty.” He grinned as he rose. “I am naked too, and yours for the asking.”
“Answer me.” she yelled at him.
“If you speak nonsense, you leave me nothing to say,” he said easily. He stretched, and Cassie’s eyes dropped to the thick bush of black hair at his groin. His man’s sex lay flaccid and soft.
“I cannot be erect for you all of the time, my lady. Even your faithful servant must rest upon occasion.”
She felt tears sting her eyes, and gulped down a sob, turning away from him. She felt his hand touch her loosened braids.
“You must brush out your hair, else it will be a mess on the morrow.” She made no move and he sighed. “Very well, then I shall do it for you. Will you hold still, or must I tie you up again?”
She turned back to him wearily. “Give me the bloody brush.”
Though her arms ached, she ruthlessly jerked the brush through the masses of hair, smoothing down the deep ripples from the braids with her fingers.
“Your hair, like the rest of you, is exquisite.”
She stared stonily ahead of her.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn and look toward the clock atop the ornate oak desk. “It is time to sleep, Cassandra. It has indeed been a long, quite fatiguing day.”
“Where will you sleep?”
His dark eyes twinkled. “Wrapped around your lovely body, of course.”
“I wish a nightgown.”
“I am sorry, my lady, but a nightgown is the only item of apparel that you will not find in your wardrobe.”
“I never sleep without a nightgown.”
“Then it is time to break such prudish habits.”
She choked down an angry curse and gave in to her exhaustion. The earl moved about the cabin and extinguished the lamps. He again stretched his muscles in the darkness and allowed his nerves their first respite in two months. With a smile of contentment, he climbed into bed beside her.
He lay on his back, his arms above his head, listening to her angry breathing. “Come here, Cassandra,” he said finally, bringing his arms down. “I will not take you again, I promise.” He could picture her drawn into a small ball, pressed against the starboard wall. “If you do not do as I bid you, I shall go back on my promise.”
She cursed and moved reluctantly against him.
He gathered her stiff body in his arms and pulled her tightly against his chest. “Good night, love,” he whispered, and pressed her cheek against his shoulder.
He felt her lashes brushing against his flesh, as she lay wide-eyed in the darkness. He sought for words to comfort her, but as he was her nemesis, he could think of nothing that would not upset her more.
He thought about the vagaries of fate that had led him to commit what he himself considered an outrageous act, an act that would keep him from English shores for many years to come, and for an unwonted moment, he felt doubt in himself that he would eventually succeed.