DEVIL’S EMBRACE by Catherine Coulter

Cassie started, for he had not told her of a half-brother.

Before she could ask him more about this hitherto unknown relation, he said, “Come, let us go upstairs, and I will show you our room.”

She flinched at this reminder of their intimacy. She walked stiffly beside him up the wide staircase, while he told her the classical themes of the colorful frescoes upon the white stucco walls and pointed out more Parese ancestors, who were displayed in what seemed an endless procession from the earliest century. The brightly polished oak stairs made not a sound as they ascended. She smiled, remembering the groaning of the stairs at Hemphill Hall when the slightest weight was on them.

The earl turned at the top of the stairs and addressed Scargill, who stood in quiet conversation with Marrina and Paolo in the entrance hall. “Bring up the luggage when it arrives, Scargill.”

“Aye, my lord.” Scargill nodded and turned again to the woman. Cassie heard a sudden sharp tone in his voice but could not make out his words.

The earl chuckled. “If I am not mistaken, Scargill is likely upbraiding Marrina for her overt disapproval of you. No doubt he is telling her that you are to be treated as a valued guest in the villa and not as a mistress brought here for my dissolute pleasures.” He patted her stiff shoulder. “I daresay, cara, if you consented to wed me, she would unbend toward you immediately.”

“I don’t want her to unbend.” Cassie turned away from the carved oak railing to walk quickly down an imposing corridor. There was carpeting under her feet now, of thick, dark blue wool, touched as if with an artist’s brush with small circles of white.

They passed many closed doors, bedchambers undoubtedly, and Cassie would have preferred any one of them to sharing a room with the earl. He paused before a wide double door, turned the ivory knobs, and said grandly, “Our bedchamber, cara, and my favorite room in the villa.”

She stepped past him into an awesomely large room, more nearly the size of a ballroom than a bedchamber. The white stucco walls were only rarely broken by portraits, giving the room an even greater feeling of airiness and space. Gold brocade curtains lined the opposite wall. At either end of the room were white marble fireplaces, adorned with swags of fruit and winged cherubs. The oak floor was strewn with several brightly woven carpets, each individual in color and design. There was an open arch at the southern end of the room, and as she neared it, she realized the room was even larger than she imagined and in the shape of an L.

She turned to the earl, who stood watching her intently.

“It is impressive, my lord,” she allowed. She looked a question toward the heavy brocade curtains.

“Now you will see why this is my favorite of all the villa’s chambers.”

She watched silently as he walked to the end of the curtains and tugged on a velvet cord. The gold brocade material slowly opened upon floor-to-ceiling windows that extended the length of the room. She stared out to a terraced garden filled with exotic flowers, thick ivy, and many kinds of trees. To the north, beyond the highest terrace, were rolling green hills that rose to meet the sky. She tightly clamped her tongue over an exclamation of delight and walked through the arched portal. Genoa spread out before her to the south, its distance only adding to its startling grandeur. The Mediterranean glistened in the afternoon sun, and she could see the tall masts of ships bobbing up and down in the harbor.

The earl suddenly turned a latch on a window and it became a door that led to a long, narrow balcony. Its white stone railing was covered with a profusion of flower boxes that made the air redolent with their scent. There were pink and white carnations, dazzling white camellias, jasmine, and even orange and oleander trees standing upright in pots at either end of the balcony. She leaned over the railing to look down into the terraced gardens and saw white marble statues of men and women in classical poses surrounded by bowers of orange and myrtle blossoms. She heard the cool, tinkling sound of water and saw on a lower terrace a graceful fountain, shaped like a huge cup, covered with ivy. A statue of a small boy, a water jug over his shoulder, stood upon it, pouring a steady stream of water into the fountain.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *