Scargill wanted very much to ask his master the source of his confidence, but he realized that such an inquiry would be impertinent.
“I hope that ye may be right, my lord,” was all that he said.
“Trust me, my friend,” the earl said. “Now, if you will ask Marrina to fetch up breakfast, I will awaken Cassandra.”
The earl walked quietly across the long expanse of his bedchamber and drew up to the side of the bed. Cassandra lay on her side so close to the edge of the bed that he imagined any sudden movement on her part would send her toppling to the floor. Her thick hair fanned about her face on the pillow. She had drawn herself into a tight ball, her knees close to her chest. His expression softened.
He was on the point of waking her when she moaned softly in her sleep and turned on her back, flinging one arm above her head on the pillow. He grinned to himself and gently eased the covers from her shoulders down to her waist. He stared down at her, gazing at the gentle hollows and curves of her body. She was almost too slender, he thought, pulling his eyes away from her breasts, to the outline of her ribs and her waist.
He pulled the covers lower. Her thighs were slightly parted, but he could not see the small spot of pink skin he had teased her about the night before. He lightly laid his flattened hand over the smooth hollow of belly. His hand didn’t span the width of her, a good thing.
She shivered and brought her legs up, momentarily trapping his hand. He slowly moved his hand and pressed his fingers downward to touch her. He heard a soft moan, followed shortly by an outraged gasp.
“How dare you.” She struggled frantically away from his hand, rolling away from him to the center of the bed, and pulling the covers about her.
He grinned engagingly at her and gingerly sat down beside her. “I was just returning your favor, cara. You were enjoying my touch, I believe, before you decided it wasn’t ladylike to do so.”
The final webs of sleep fled Cassie’s mind and she sat up, drawing the covers about her like a shield.
“I was asleep.”
“I know,” he said. “That altogether encouraging moan was woven from an erotic dream, no doubt.”
For a moment, Cassie’s tongue lay leaden in her mouth. He always seemed to be able to twist her words and their intent. “You were looking at me.”
“True, and a most pleasing sight you are, cara. Now, as much as I regret it, our breakfast will be arriving shortly and I fear that Marrina would be shocked to the soles of her rather flat feet were she to see you tousled and quite naked in my bed.” He rose leisurely and fetched her dressing gown.
“Here, Cassandra.” He tossed her the dressing gown, turned, and walked to the other end of the room to sit himself in front of the small table.
And not a moment too soon, he thought, gazing at Cassandra from the corner of his eye as she struggled into the dressing gown.
“Entri!” he called.
Marrina walked slowly into the bedchamber, her arms laden with covered dishes, and her full lips drawn into their now familiar tight scowl. Although Marrina did not wish to, her eyes slewed in the direction of the bed. The young foreign lady—lady, ha!, she thought—did not in Marrina’s eyes appear to be undergoing any cruel treatment from her master. She did look rather flushed, and rightly so, in Marrina’s opinion. Perhaps the girl did have some shame.
“Buon giorno, signore,” she said stiffly, forcing her attention back to her master’s face. “I have brought your breakfast.”
“Mille grazie, Marrina. Ho appetito.”
Il signore said something in English to the girl and she moved reluctantly toward the table. He turned to Marrina.
“Grazie,” he said shortly, and waved his hand in dismissal.
She curtsied stiffly and walked from the bedchamber.
The earl said between mouthfuls of warm toast, “I am at your disposal for the next couple of days, Cassandra. There are many places for you to see and, I trust, enjoy. You can begin to accustom yourself to Italian sights, people, and living before you meet Genoese society.”