DEVIL’S EMBRACE by Catherine Coulter

Cassie sat up, pulling the covers over her breasts. “How can you profess caring for me when you will allow me no freedom? If you want me to be happy, then give me choices. Let me go. I cannot and I will not surrender to you.” She shook her fist at him. “You think it your God-given right to possess me, to add me to your worldly possessions as you would a house or a carriage! I will tell you, my lord, I belong to myself and never, do you hear, never will I let myself become a chattel.”

“I said nothing of chattel, Cassandra,” the earl said, growing anger breaking the calm impassiveness of his voice.

“Then let me go. To the world, I am naught but your current mistress, worthy only to be slighted. Your precious half-brother doubtless believes me the loosest of women, a harlot, a slut. Perhaps Italian ladies cower at your masculine arrogance and are seduced when you coat your words with honey. But I am not.”

“You are tangling yourself in an argument that makes no sense. I do not want to own you. I want to cherish you, to love you.”

“Ha.”

“You are being unreasonable, Cassandra.”

She sucked in her breath, so furious that she wanted to strike him. But she held in her anger and said in a cold, taunting voice, “You have told me, my lord, that I do not have a harlot’s instincts. Therefore I must assume that your only claim to me is your talent in the bedroom. If I have wish to please myself with your body, I shall so inform you.”

“Ah,” he said, his voice so smooth that she was momentarily taken off her guard, “I believe that I shall have to write a letter to Edward Lyndhurst, congratulating him on his good fortune. To have leg-shackled himself to a shrew like you would likely have sent him back into the army, that is if you would have allowed him the breeches to wear to make good his escape.”

“You are despicable.”

He said quite calmly, knowing that he once again held the reins of command, “I am many things, cara. It is only you who must needs focus on my more undistinguished traits of character.”

“I order you to cease calling me cara.”

“Order away, little witch. Your conversation is very wearying, Cassandra.”

He turned on his back away from her, snuffed out the candle, and pulled the covers to his chest. He fell asleep thinking that it would simply have to be his lot, for the time being at least, to enjoy the rose by night and the thorns by day.

Chapter 14

Il Conte Caesare Bellini stood at a marbled white fireplace, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his pale yellow waistcoat, his expression questioning.

“My servant told me you wished to see me, Giovanna. I am delighted, for I believed you otherwise engaged this afternoon.”

La Contessa Giovanna Giusti smiled slightly, revealing small white teeth, and waved her slender hand impatiently.

“You know, my dearest Caesare, that I would much rather be with you than that doddering old man, Montalto. He told me in that self-important way of his that the Earl of Clare has returned and he must needs attend him at the villa.”

She strolled gracefully to him and laid a shapely white hand on his sleeve. “Would you care for a glass of wine, Caesare?”

“If I cannot have your lips, Giovanna,” he said. She gave a tinkling laugh and wrapped her arms about his neck.

“You, caro, can have whatever you wish.” She nuzzled his neck, and lifted her mouth to his. He drew her quickly into his arms and possessed her soft lips until she pushed him away, gasping for breath.

She waved an admonishing finger at him. “You have been without me for but a day, Caesare, and already you behave like a man long marooned on an island.” She paused a moment and gazed up at him through thick black lashes. “The servants are to be gone all afternoon. Only I am left, a poor, lonely widow.”

Caesare felt her small hand lightly touch his swollen member, and shuddered. He looked at her slightly parted lips, and imagined them caressing his body. It surprised him that after nearly five months as his lover, she still held such fascination for him.

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