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She tensed and tightened her fingers more tightly about the shelf edge, more from surprise than from pain. But when the belt slammed against her back again, she felt a tingling of pain that made her start.
Six lashes, the earl counted, knowing that he could give her no less. He rigidly controlled the strength of his arm, but still, it was not enough.
Cassie’s eyes burned as the pain increased, but she made no sound. Her fingers dug into the shelf as she swore over and over that she would not disgrace herself and collapse. Suddenly, the burning pain ceased. She held herself rigid for several moments, waiting. She turned slowly and felt a raw throbbing as the shelf touched her back. She gazed up, unseeing, into his pale face.
“Is it over?”
“Yes.”
“I am so glad. I feared that I would make a fool of myself.”
She blinked her eyes upon his face and said, her voice breathless and high, “May I lie down now?”
“Yes. Let me help you.”
He clasped his hands beneath her hips and raised her, careful not to touch her back. He laid her on her stomach, a
nd she felt the softness of the cover beneath her breasts.
The earl stared down at her quiet figure. How many times he had read guilt and hatred in her eyes before he had brought her to pleasure. Yet now, he had inflicted pain and she had willingly accepted it. There had been no hatred in her fine eyes, only her fierce pride.
He shook his head and made haste to mix some laudanum with wine.
“I never faint, you know,” she said as he handed her a filled glass.
“No, I wouldn’t imagine that you would. It is wise that you lie still, Cassandra. This will make you feel better.”
“What is it?” she asked after she had downed the wine.
“Laudanum and French burgundy. In a few minutes you will feel drowsy.”
He fetched a soothing cream to rub into her back, but did not touch her until her head lolled on the pillow and her breathing evened into sleep. Six welts stood out against her white skin, red and ugly, but none so deep as to cause him worry. He gently rubbed in the ointment.
He eased her out of her clothes and pulled a cover to her waist, then drew up a chair beside her. He found himself studying her closely. Her beauty was startling, but he knew that his feeling for her was drawn strong by her own strength of character, and he reveled in the knowledge that he possessed her. Had she ranted at him, or even resorted to tears to save herself from punishment, he would not have loved her less. Perhaps, he thought ruefully, if she had guessed that her fierce sense of honor would result in his wanting her all the more, she would have behaved differently. But she would not know, for the time being; he would not tell her.
He had caused her many kinds of pain, he knew, and his jaw tightened in stubborn resolve. Someday, in the aftermath of their lovemaking, she would smile at him with love. Dammit, it would be so, he would make it be so.
Cassie stirred. Before she could plant her mind firmly in reality, she moaned dully from the effect of the laudanum. She opened her eyes and saw the earl gazing intently at her.
“What day is it?” she asked, and saw him blink.
“You have been sleeping for but an hour.”
“How odd,” she mumbled, and tried to raise herself on her elbows. She realized that she was naked and let herself fall again.
“There is no sign of the Spanish frigate?”
“No.”
“Will my back be scarred?”
He grinned at her belated display of vanity. “I do not believe so. You will be sore for several days.”
“You will not tell the men, will you, my lord?”
“I do not think that will be necessary,” he said. Actually, he imagined that he would have a mutiny on his hands if his men were to discover what he had done.
He started forward in his chair at a tear that fell from the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek.
