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Anthony wrapped his fingers about strands of her hair that whipped across her face in the crisp afternoon breeze. For some moments, he simply looked down at her, savoring her closeness, secure in the belief that she had finally accepted him.
“I have been given to understand, wife, that England is lovely in the spring.”
Her eyes glistened with pleasure, for she had expected him to say Genoa. She laughed. “I do hope that we do not beat my letter to England. To be faced with a supposedly dead sister would be no mean shock to Eliott. And of course, there is Becky to be considered.”
The earl dropped his hands to her shoulders. “Becky loves you, cara, as would a mother. Surely you can find forgiveness for her, just as you have for me.” He added with masculine arrogance that he knew would gain her attention, “You must admit that everything worked out just as I planned. Becky but followed my instructions.”
“Conceited man,” she said, no heat in her voice. “I suppose since I am so very happy that I can afford to be generous.” She turned abruptly, her eyes alight with her joy, and flung her arms about his shoulders. She hugged him tightly to her. “It is so marvelous to be able to show you how I feel, with no more pretense, no more reservations.”
“And how do you feel, Cassandra?” He held her lightly in his arms, imagining that Scargill and Mr. Donnetti were in all likelihood staring at them, self-satisfied grins on their faces. He wanted her to tell him now that she loved him. She raised her face, her blue eyes shining with mischief.
“I feel, my lord, that if I stand close to you much longer, you will become an embarrassment to your men.”
“And just what, madam, do you propose doing about my masculine predicament?” The humor in his voice matched her own. He had long ago learned the value of patience with her.
“I suppose,” she said, “that I shall simply have to ask you down to my cabin.”
“Your cabin?”
“I trust you will be just, my lord. Since you have finally convinced me to wed you, is it not fair that you bestow upon me at least half of your worldly possessions?” She added, her eyes all wicked, “I am sure that my half of the cabin is the part that holds the bed.”
“I shall think about it, madam.” He drew her arm through his. Once below-deck, he said, “If you please me enough, perhaps I shall be generous.”
“Then I shall feign a mighty passion.”
When they were in the cabin, he grinned at her and turned to grate the key in the lock. “No interruptions, madam.”
When he turned back to her, he felt a surge of desire twist in his groin. Cassie was standing in the middle of the cabin, busily stripping off her clothes. He stood watching her, her face slightly flushed, in seeming concentration on the long row of buttons down the front of her gown. He walked to the table and poured two glasses of wine, still watching her from the corner of his eye. She wriggled out of her gown and, without pausing, pulled the lace straps of her chemise off her shoulders. At last, aware of his eyes upon her, she raised her face and looked at him squarely. The chemise rested only a moment about her hips before it fell softly atop her gown. “I want you now, husband.”
He grinned at her and set down the wine glasses. “Could it be, my love, that we are here for more than to solve my own predicament?”
“Yes, if you would know the truth.”
His eyes danced. “May I always have a ready remedy, my lady.”
“And I for you, my lord.”
When the earl was naked, he grasped her hand, and they eased each other onto the bed. They caressed each other leisurely, each savoring the other’s touch, the feel of each other’s flesh. Cassie wanted desperately to give, give in the same measure as he had given to her. She wriggled out of his arms to run her lips over his chest and downward over the taut muscles of his belly. She laid her face against his thigh and lightly touched him, caressing his swelled member, and breathed in the male scent of him.
He sensed the freedom she felt, freedom to show him her love as he had always shown her. He felt stretched like a bowstring, his sex aching to be taken into her mouth. He lightly stroked her hair. And waited. He felt her pressing her breasts against him, and the pulsing of her heartbeat.
When her lips softly touched him, and finally covered him, he thought his body would betray him. He tried to pull away from her, but she would not release him. She thought she would die of pleasure when he moaned.
When he could bear it no more, he cupped her face in his hands, and pulled her toward him. She gazed up at him, her eyes asking him what he wished.
He groaned and pulled her astride him. And then he was driving inside her, his hands caressing her until she was beyond herself, lost in the sensation of him. She felt him exploding within her as he groaned into her mouth. She wanted that moment to be timeless.
“I love you,” she said, stroking the black hair from his forehead.
“And I you,” he said. He thought about his long voyage, halfway across the bloody world to find her, the long empty nights on the endless ocean, with nothing but his rage and his nagging fear. “I alternately beat you, ravished you, and pleaded with you. Then I would imagine you dead and that angered me even more, for you would have escaped my wrath and all the venom I was storing up.”
She was silent for some moments, until her mind gave meaning to what he had said. “At least you did not hate yourself. You see, I could not imagine that you would come after me. I thought I had lost you.”
His arms tightened almost painfully about her. “Do you know that I planned our meeting at Kennedy House, that I had even rehearsed my speeches to you, for I believed that I had lost you, that you had willingly wed Edward Lyndhurst.”
She nuzzled her chin into the hollow of his throat. She thought of the small babe in her womb, but she would not tell him tonight. This was their wedding night, a night for them alone. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would tell him. She raised her face, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “And do you know what I felt when I first saw you?”
“The devil had come to claim you again.”
