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that my ardor is too much, that my passion will wound you more." He picked up her hand and kissed it. "In truth, Cassandra, if I must be content with only kissing it would be a hardship, but I would prefer that to another wound to you."
"I trust you. Only you."
Soberly he gazed at her. "Then I will try. But here is the promise you must give to me: that you never, never go where you do not wish. No matter how deep my hunger, no matter how far we have gone, you must promise that you will tell me when you are afraid. It will not hurt me."
An ache, pride and anticipation and fear, squeezed her chest. "I promise."
"All right, then." He leaned forward, touched his lips to hers, and laughed softly. "All teachers should have such a student."
"Why are you laughing?"
He shook his head, eyes glittering. "Anticipation," he whispered, and stood, tugging her hand. "Come."
"Will we begin tonight?" "Only the first lesson." He lifted her hands to his lips. "We shall savor the moments, yes?" Cassandra swallowed. "Oh, yes."
Chapter 7
As they walked up the hill to the villa, Basilio held her hand and considered what to do with his beautiful pupil, who had put such deep faith in his skill as a lover.
It was her faith that had made him laugh. He was not so skilled as she imagined. At university there had been the usual whores, sometimes an affair of a month or two with some willing shopkeeper. Once he had been besotted and sick with longing over a married matron, much older than he, who kept him in her pocket for a year before moving on to her next youthful conquest. Sometimes in his travels he had taken lovers, as a man will. He quickly forgot them.
He had never known a virgin, which would have been the best preparation for a task such as this. It would also be easier if he understood the exact nature of her husband's abuse. Hatred flared again, and he quelled it instantly, for tonight he did not need hatred or anger. He needed the purity of his passion for her, and all the gentleness and control he could muster, and patience.
Inside the villa, he paused, struck with inspiration. "Wait here. I will be right back."
She nodded, slightly subdued. Nervous by the look of her mouth. He paused to brush his lips over hers.
"I know you like kissing. Think of that. We can kiss for hours if you like."
"Hours?" A glitter in those eyes.
"Days, even."
She managed a smile. "I could not withstand days of kissing you, Basilio My skin would burst into flames."
He laughed. "That is very, very good. Wait. I will be right back."
He went to the kitchen and gathered wine and cheese and olives, which he put into a basket, along with a fresh loaf of bread sitting on the heavy wooden table in the center of the room. Cook scowled at him around her smile, and he said, "What other lovely things have you to give me?"
She shook her head, but heaved herself to her feet and went to a cupboard she unlocked with a great circle of keys. From within the cavernous space came a plateful of chocolates and marzipans molded into tiny fruits. Basilio grinned his pleasure. "Very good."
As he passed the library, he suddenly knew that it did not matter if he were wildly skilled, if he were the greatest lover in the world. This was his Cassandra, who had stolen his heart from far away, and he had only to be himself and trust his instincts. He took a book from the shelf and tucked it in the basket.
She stood exactly where he'd left her, by the open glass door to the courtyard. Her spine was very straight, her poise gathered around her like a cloak, and fresh desire flooded through him. He joined her, looking over her shoulder. "I have a very fine view of the sea from my chamber," he said. On impulse, he bent and very lightly kissed the back of her neck.
"I should like to see that view," she said, her voice husky. Some of the hurt had fallen from her eyes and he saw the frank hunger in her face.
But when they had climbed the many stone stairs to his suite of rooms, and
"I trust you. Only you."
Soberly he gazed at her. "Then I will try. But here is the promise you must give to me: that you never, never go where you do not wish. No matter how deep my hunger, no matter how far we have gone, you must promise that you will tell me when you are afraid. It will not hurt me."
An ache, pride and anticipation and fear, squeezed her chest. "I promise."
"All right, then." He leaned forward, touched his lips to hers, and laughed softly. "All teachers should have such a student."
"Why are you laughing?"
He shook his head, eyes glittering. "Anticipation," he whispered, and stood, tugging her hand. "Come."
"Will we begin tonight?" "Only the first lesson." He lifted her hands to his lips. "We shall savor the moments, yes?" Cassandra swallowed. "Oh, yes."
Chapter 7
As they walked up the hill to the villa, Basilio held her hand and considered what to do with his beautiful pupil, who had put such deep faith in his skill as a lover.
It was her faith that had made him laugh. He was not so skilled as she imagined. At university there had been the usual whores, sometimes an affair of a month or two with some willing shopkeeper. Once he had been besotted and sick with longing over a married matron, much older than he, who kept him in her pocket for a year before moving on to her next youthful conquest. Sometimes in his travels he had taken lovers, as a man will. He quickly forgot them.
He had never known a virgin, which would have been the best preparation for a task such as this. It would also be easier if he understood the exact nature of her husband's abuse. Hatred flared again, and he quelled it instantly, for tonight he did not need hatred or anger. He needed the purity of his passion for her, and all the gentleness and control he could muster, and patience.
Inside the villa, he paused, struck with inspiration. "Wait here. I will be right back."
She nodded, slightly subdued. Nervous by the look of her mouth. He paused to brush his lips over hers.
"I know you like kissing. Think of that. We can kiss for hours if you like."
"Hours?" A glitter in those eyes.
"Days, even."
She managed a smile. "I could not withstand days of kissing you, Basilio My skin would burst into flames."
He laughed. "That is very, very good. Wait. I will be right back."
He went to the kitchen and gathered wine and cheese and olives, which he put into a basket, along with a fresh loaf of bread sitting on the heavy wooden table in the center of the room. Cook scowled at him around her smile, and he said, "What other lovely things have you to give me?"
She shook her head, but heaved herself to her feet and went to a cupboard she unlocked with a great circle of keys. From within the cavernous space came a plateful of chocolates and marzipans molded into tiny fruits. Basilio grinned his pleasure. "Very good."
As he passed the library, he suddenly knew that it did not matter if he were wildly skilled, if he were the greatest lover in the world. This was his Cassandra, who had stolen his heart from far away, and he had only to be himself and trust his instincts. He took a book from the shelf and tucked it in the basket.
She stood exactly where he'd left her, by the open glass door to the courtyard. Her spine was very straight, her poise gathered around her like a cloak, and fresh desire flooded through him. He joined her, looking over her shoulder. "I have a very fine view of the sea from my chamber," he said. On impulse, he bent and very lightly kissed the back of her neck.
"I should like to see that view," she said, her voice husky. Some of the hurt had fallen from her eyes and he saw the frank hunger in her face.
But when they had climbed the many stone stairs to his suite of rooms, and
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