DEVIL’S EMBRACE by Catherine Coulter

The earl held himself stiffly, his arms rigid at his sides. Her ridicule of the situation made him all the angrier.

“I will say it again, madam. You disobeyed me. You will now tell me why.”

She stood her ground and raised her chin. “I did not think your order reasonable, my lord. The frigate was a good mile distant from us when we fired. Given that she was heavily loaded and thus unable to elevate her guns easily, we would have been able to outrange her, handily, even if she had chosen to engage us. The yacht is much faster and if there had been the need, we could have outrun her.”

He was taken aback. “Just how the devil do you know that?” She had analyzed the situation with impeccable accuracy, and it did nothing to improve his temper.

“I do not know why men persist in believing that women are stupid, useless creatures who have nothing in their heads but spun cotton. You know that I have sailed all my life. Do you believe me so buffleheaded as to be ignorant of the subject?”

“Very well, Cassandra, I commend your education. But the fact remains, madam, that you did not do as I bid you. Given all your experience and reading, you must know that without obedience and strict discipline, a captain cannot effectively command. Just what do you think would have happened if all of my men had decided to do whatever pleased them, rather than obey my orders? That, Cassandra, is insubordination, and subject to exacting punishment.”

Her forehead knitted into a thoughtful frown, and her eyes wavered from his set face. She drew a deep breath. “Though I am not one of your crew, what you have said is just. A captain’s orders cannot be ignored. I will submit to whatever punishment you deem fitting for what I have done.”

“The punishment, madam, is at the very least a flogging that would take the flesh off a man’s back.”

She paled visibly.

He pressed his point, wanting to assure himself that she would never again do something so foolish and dangerous. “If a man were not to obey my order in the face of impending battle, I would seriously consider hanging.”

There was silence between them for some moments. Finally, she said, “I think it would be wasteful of you to hang me.”

A slight smile hovered at the corners of his mouth, and he sternly repressed it. “I doubt not that you are right. I have never cared for wasteful hangings. The offense, however, remains the same.”

The earl found that his anger was rapidly dissipating. He had made his point well, and she had clearly accepted his reasoning. He thought to remove her obvious fear when she squared her shoulders and said in a calm voice, “I would ask only that you not demean me by flogging me in front of the men. Nor do you have to tie me up, for I will submit to your flogging.”

He stared at her, at a loss. Although he greatly admired her courage, he wanted to enfold her in his arms and reassure her, to see the fear disappear from her eyes. But she would see that as an insult to her courage, condescension to her as naught but a weak woman. He would well imagine that she would be enraged, and justifiably so, for everything that he had said to her would have a hollow ring. He was struggling to find an answer to this ridiculous situation when she asked in the same calm voice, “What kind of whip will you use, my lord?” She added, poised still, “Do I take it from your silence that I must be flogged in front of the men? And tied to the mast?”

“No,” he said finally, “I shall not beat you in front of my men, nor will I tie you down.”

“Thank you,” she said, her mouth now quite dry with fear. She closed her eyes a moment, praying that she would neither cry out nor faint. It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize to him, to beg him not to whip her, but she could not bring herself to do it.

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