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“I hope you do not mind, Joseph. As I recall, I really had no choice in the matter other than to tell her. She can be quite insistent, you know.”
“And she took no offense at the part you played, my lord?” He whistled, clearly amazed that the earl had told her.
“You may be sure that she did, much to my delight. She will be a fiercely loyal wife. If ever in the future I am tempted to stray, I would fear as grave a punishment as Khar El-Din planned for you.”
During the next several days, the earl left Cassie to herself, sensing that she needed to be alone. She was often silent, her brows drawn together in thought. He was able, at least, to plan her meals carefully, and she was ill only once.
One evening after they had finished their dinner, a silent meal in which Cassie had spent most of her time pushing her food back and forth on her plate, she suddenly laid down her fork and raised her eyes to his face.
“You have eaten practically nothing,” he said, frowning at her near-full plate.
She waved away his words. “I would speak with you, my lord.”
She pulled her shawl more closely about her shoulders, and he saw her fingers nervously twisting around the stem of her wine glass.
“What is it you have to say to me, cara?”
“I am pregnant.”
She sounded very positive and he allowed himself a slight grin. “Indeed, I believe that you are right.”
“I have given it much thought and have decided that I can no longer return to England, or to Edward, in my current condition.”
He drew a sharp breath, aware that his heart was racing, and waited.
“I suppose that you could not have really planned for me to become pregnant. However, the result is the same. I cannot allow my child to be born a bastard.”
He nodded, and waited for her to continue.
His dark eyes widened in amazement when she said in a calm voice, “I have observed, my lord, that you have been avoiding me, both during the day and at night. Is it that you now find me distasteful?”
“Distasteful? Good lord, woman, I have merely done what I thought you wanted of me—left you time to yourself to sort through your feelings. Now, cara, I will show you how distasteful I find you.”
He rose from his chair, scooped her into his arms, turning a deaf ear to her protests, and carried her upstairs.
“Tell me, my love,” he whispered, as they made love, “do I seem like a man who holds you in distaste?”
He allowed himself to move deep within her, and she moaned softly, her golden hair swirling about her face.
“Do I?”
“No.”
He was moving with her, his hard body covering her, consuming her in its heat, and she clutched him to her, burying her face against his shoulder. For the endless moments her body exploded into climax, she felt bound to him, possessed by him, body and soul. When her body calmed, her mind reeled from that incredible feeling, and she burst into frightened sobs.
The earl, who was blissfully recovering from his own pleasure, gazed down at her, astonished. She was clinging to him like a limpet, and he could feel the wet of her tears against his chest.
“Good God, woman, whatever is the meaning of this?”
“I hate you,” she sobbed, but her hands tightened about his back.
“Ah, a natural enough feeling, I suppose.” He became concerned that his weight was too great for her and rolled over on his side, bringing her with him. He imagined that her pregnancy was making her unpredictable and allowed himself to tease her. “At least you haven’t taken your pleasure with me and rolled over to sleep and to snore.”
He felt her breasts move against his chest as she reared up to frown at him. “How dare you, you wretched man? I don’t snore.”
“No, of course you do not.” He stroked her tousled hair back from her flushed face.
He said, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
