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“Do ye wish more laudanum?”
“No, just peace and quiet.”
Aware that Cassie was moving restlessly behind him, Scargill said softly, “Would ye mind if I took the madonna on deck? The fresh sea air cannot but do her good.”
“Yes, please, my lord, I would like it much.”
At the earl’s continued silence, Scargill said, “Ye need not worry that she’ll escape ye, my lord. ’Tis a close watch I’ll keep on her.”
“You are a coward, cara,” the earl said, and closed his eyes.
Chapter 12
“There she is, Cassandra, Genoa—La Superba—the queen of the Mediterranean. Is she not beautiful?”
Cassie had the impression that she was shrouded in white; even the air was white. As the yacht drew into the harbor, she leaned over the railing just behind the bow and shaded her eyes to better see the city, bathed in dazzling afternoon sunlight.
“Yes, but so very different from any city I have ever seen or imagined.” It seemed to her that the tall, narrow buildings, many of them as white as the stark sunlight, were pressed so closely together that it was difficult to tell where one began and another left off.
The earl smiled down at her, guessing her thoughts. He had himself experienced the same feeling many times before. “As you can see, the city has had no choice but to press itself together. The hills behind the city are the Apennines. And farther back are the Maritime Alps. Genoa is compressed like a lady in her corset, the mountains at her back and the sea pressing at her—” He grinned. “I grow fanciful and see from your lips that you do not approve my simile.”
He pointed westward. “You see the lighthouse on the point of land? That is La Lanterna. My home lies slightly northward, in the hills. You will find the view of Genoa and the sea most striking, particularly from the gardens. They are deeply terraced and so laden with trees and flowers that you will think that you have wandered into some impossible, exotic novel. Beyond the Parese vineyards, to the east, is a small lake, also called Parese. I trust you will find enjoyment sailing there.”
Cassie thought of her small sailboat, crushed at his order against the rocks. “I don’t think I shall,” she said.
“We shall see,” he said. He turned and flexed his shoulder. She saw a frown of pain briefly narrow his eyes.
It had been but four days since she shot him. Yet, if it were not for the white sling under his left arm that crossed his chest to tie behind his neck, she doubted that anyone would guess that he experienced any discomfort at all, for he made no reference to it. She recalled touching him, curiously exploring his man’s body. A flush tinted her cheeks and she quickly looked away from him. She wondered in confusion if she were not his prisoner in her own mind and by her own volition. She drew back when he gently brushed tendrils of hair from her cheek.
The earl said, “You see the dock starboard? That is where The Cassandra will berth.”
Cassie wrinkled her nose at the overwhelming smell of fish and sweat. Shoremen dressed in little more than heavy homespun trousers formed a human chain from the gang-planks of the ships to the dock, heaving huge crates and bales of foodstuffs. She saw men upon the decks of the ships, dressed in various uniforms, shouting orders that sent other men scurrying about to obey them. The din of men’s voices was almost overwhelming, and she wondered how anyone could be understood, particularly since so many languages were being spoken.
The earl made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Every country, I believe, is represented here. Normally, as I told you, either a ship pays tribute to the pirates or she travels with a sister ship to protect her cargo.”
Cassie did not reply, for her attention was caught by a British cargo ship. “A Union Jack.”
“Ah yes, the English are great traders and their ships dot the harbor. They sail from Genoa to the American colonies, even to such exotic places as the West Indies and Mexico.” A hint of distaste entered his voice. “ Unfortunately, their cargo is many times human.”
She looked at him, cocking her head inquiringly.
“Human beings, Cassandra, black men and women captured on the coast of Africa to be sold as slaves.”
“How fortunate for you, my lord,” she said in a voice deep with sarcasm, “that you had to pay nothing for me.”
He grinned at her. “You are really quite mistaken, cara, my payments will be endless.”
“I will see that they are.”
He laughed and said in an amused drawl, “Don’t look so hopefully at the British ships, Cassandra. For the most part, the men who captain them are scoundrels. Traders in general have few scruples. If you offered your striking person aboard one of those ships, you would likely find yourself in a harem in Constantinople.”
“We are, however, back to civilization, my lord.” Her voice was clipped, inviting no response.
He gazed at her and shrugged, wincing as the untoward movement brought pain to his shoulder. He said easily, “We will ride in an open carriage through the city. I trust it will give you enjoyment to see Genoa. Scargill will follow with our luggage to my home—the Villa Parese.”
She nodded, her attention drawn to the filth that floated in the harbor, refuse, she supposed, from the many ships. She saw a dead sea bird, and swallowed convulsively.
“Excuse me, Cassandra, but I must see Mr. Donnetti.”
