“Just be done with it,” the earl said in a low voice.
Cassie felt her forehead damp with perspiration by the time the earl fell into a drugged sleep. He had made no sound, and she wondered if she could have been as stoic.
She spent the rest of the morning in the copper bathtub, letting the hot water relax her. She washed the salty grit from her hair. She pulled up a chair near the bed and quietly brushed her damp hair. Every few minutes, she found that she looked at him, her eyes alert to any signs of fever. But he lay quietly, his breathing even, his chest rising and falling gently in sleep.
“I do not know why I should care,” she said. But she did care, and the admission surprised her. “Please do not die, Anthony.”
She sighed deeply, shaking her head. Tendrils of hair touched her cheeks. She thought again of her attempt to escape him and felt a shaft of fear slice through her. Even if she had succeeded, she would never have reached the English settlement. She would have become Khar El-Din’s captive, to do with as he pleased.
The earl moaned softly, and Cassie laid her palm gently on his forehead. He was cool to the touch. She studied him, the sculptured contours of his face, the proud straight nose, the thick black-arched eyebrows, and the hard line of his jaw. He suddenly lurched toward his side, then fell again onto his back.
She pressed her hands gently against his shoulders. “No, my lord,” she said quietly, “you must not move.”
He grew quiet once again, and Cassie resumed her vigil. Her eyes passed from his face to his massive chest. In his restlessness, the cover had slipped below his waist to his belly.
She looked at him, at the curling black hair that covered his chest narrowed at his waist, thickening out again below. Even in sleep, he looked magnificent. She reached out her hand and lightly touched his belly, her fingers curling about the thick black hair. His warm flesh was smooth and taut. Her fingers explored him innocently. The cover fell away, and she saw his sex lying softly against him. She felt an intense curiosity and let her fingers close tentatively over him. She lightly caressed him, not used to his softness, and ran her other hand over his thighs. She gasped in surprise as his member began to grow in her hand. Her eyes flew to his face. He was watching her. She flushed scarlet, but she continued to hold him.
“I am sorry to awaken you, my lord,” she said, her voice oddly high and breathless. “It is just that I have never, that is, I wanted to—”
“Do I please you, Cassandra?”
“No. That is, you moved and the cover slipped. I was curious. I’ve never really looked at a naked man before.” Her eyes went inadvertently to him, straining against her fingers.
“You see the effect you have on me. No, do not move your hand, your touch gives me great pleasure.” He smiled at her, his dark eyes devoid of arrogance or amusement. “Indeed, I am sorry that I have interrupted your explorations. You have me at your mercy, my lady, for I have not the strength to show you how very much you please me.”
“I don’t wish to please you, my lord. I only wanted to to see you.”
She released him and he moaned. “Are you in pain, my lord?”
“Yes, cara, but it is not from my shoulder.”
“I have caused you pain?” she asked, bewildered.
“To give me such pleasure and then to cease it causes me great discomfort.”
“Oh.” Lightly, she laid the palm of her hand flat against his belly and felt the muscles tighten convulsively.
“Touch me again, Cassandra.” His hand closed over hers and gently guided it downward. As her fingers closed about him, he drew a deep breath.
She blurted out, “I wanted to touch you to try and understand why you make me feel as you do.”
“And do you understand?”
She was silent for a moment, and her eyes roved back to his belly. “I can scarce hold you.” As if suddenly aware of what she was doing, Cassie drew back her hand and clasped it in her lap. She shook her head, and he heard confusion in her voice. “No, not really. I only know that I much enjoy your body.”