He realized that her wits were indeed addled when she clumsily pushed herself onto her side, facing him, heedless of her bare breasts. Her eyelids appeared heavy, her cheeks flushed.
“It is dreadfully uncomfortable to lie on one’s stomach,” she mumbled.
“I daresay that you are right.”
“I feel rather strange, as if I were floating outside of myself. And my words don’t seem to speak themselves easily.”
The earl sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “It is because you are drunk, Cassandra,” he said.
“I have never been drunk before, you know,” she said aloud, trying to focus her eyes upon his face. “Nor,” she added thoughtfully, “have I ever been beaten before.”
“I did not want to thrash you, but you gave me no choice.”
Her hazy thoughts wove themselves together as his gently spoken words penetrated her mind. “No, there was no choice. You did what was just.” She sighed and whispered, her words so slurred that he could barely make them out, “But there have been other things you have done to me, things you have made me feel that I did not wish. There was choice there, I think.”
Before he could decide how to respond to her, she said, “Your laudanum and French burgundy have worked. I do not hurt now.”
“I’m glad.”
She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the pillow.
He leaned forward and smoothed a strand of hair from her forehead. Her breathing was even. She slept.
He rose and pulled the cover again to her waist, and returned to his chair.
Chapter 11
The cabin door burst open, and Cassie quickly stepped back and clutched the satin chemise to her breast. The earl filled the doorway, looking, as ever, powerful and confident. “Can you not at least knock!”
“E una bellissima giornata, cara.”
“I do not care if it is foul or beautiful weather, my lord. You have no right to burst in unannounced.”
He disregarded her outburst and studied her carefully. He could detect no remnants of pain, no discomfort, save, of course, her usual unease in his presence. He smiled, pleased with her temper. She had been too restrained the last day and a half. Of course, his dosing her wine with laudanum because he could not trust her to admit to any pain she felt had dulled her mind and rendered her more tractable.
“It would appear,” he said easily, closing the door behind him, “that your temper at least is back to normal. I have come to help you dress. We are in the Straits of Gibraltar and have the good fortune of a westerly wind—very uncommon for the summer months.”
For an instant, Cassie forgot her ire and the fact that she was clothed only in her petticoats. “The Pillars of Hercules,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“So you have learned your history, I see. Such knowledge you possess, Cassandra.”
“I have enough knowledge to realize that you are an overbearing ass, my lord. Now, if you would cease your nonsense and leave, I will dress.”
“How is your back?”
His abrupt inquiry took her off guard. Though she rarely felt any pain, she had been on the point of fetching another chemise, for this one was embroidered with stiff lace that would bind tightly across her back. She didn’t want his concern.
“I am quite all right now, my lord.”
He frowned at the frothy satin and lace garment she still held protectively against her breasts. “Surely a muslin chemise would be more comfortable for you.” Without a by-your-leave, he strode to the dresser and tossed undergarments aside until he found a soft, lightweight muslin chemise that was cut high in the back.
“Ah, here it is,” he said, grinning at her. “It is fortunate that I thought to add this dowdy garment to your wardrobe, is it not?”
“It is obvious that you had in mind all along to beat me.”
“Oh no,” he said cheerfully. “Indeed, I can think of fewer things less pleasurable than beating you. But it is a question of control, is it not, Cassandra? I think we have both learned a lesson.”