Devil's Embrace by Catherine Coulter Page B

front of him and cursed the violent storm that had taken him from her side early in the morning. She had had a day to steel herself against him.
    “I would like a screen.”
    “There is none,” he said crisply. “I shall keep my back to you.” At least for the moment, Cassandra, he amended silently to himself.
    Cassie walked slowly to the tub and unwound the towel from her head. She made no move to pull off her dressing gown until he turned away and poured himself a glass of wine.
    The earl heard the gentle splash of water and turned to see her, chin high in the water, her wet hair fanning about her like a golden cloud.
    He downed the remainder of his wine, stretched loudly,and stripped off his own damp clothing. She lowered her head as he strode, naked, to the armoire, and shrugged into his own black velvet dressing gown. The wine relaxed him, and he eased into the large leather chair at his desk. It had been a damnably long and fatiguing day, a wasted day. He watched her from beneath closed lids as she clumsily tried to lather her hair. It was likely, he thought, a smile upon his lips, that this was one task she rarely performed by herself. Likely too that her arms ached from her exertion at the helm. Perhaps tonight, he thought, he could make her respond to him. He felt his loins tighten, picturing her naked in his arms. He rose and walked to her.
    “Since I have deprived you of your maid, the least I can do is offer my services.” He picked up a hank of wet hair.
    She jerked away and winced, for he did not release her hair. She felt her body tense with fear. “Can you not even keep a simple promise, my lord? You did say you would keep your back turned.”
    “For God’s sake, Cassandra, I merely wish to help you. You need not fear me, you know. I assure you that when I wish to make love with you, you will know it.”
    “I do not wish your help and I am not afraid of you.”
    He grinned down at her. “Such a liar you are, my dear. What a mane of hair—you’ve more than my stallion, Cicero.”
    “I don’t give a damn about your wretched horse.”
    “I don’t propose to argue with you further. Hush, and accept my help.”
    She ground her teeth and bowed her head. As he vigorously lathered her hair, she dropped her hands and furtively covered her breasts.
    “Would you like me to scrub the rest of you?”
    “No. And you may remove yourself, my lord, so I can rinse my hair.”
    He returned to his chair, sat down, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to be lulled by the gentle rocking of the yacht. When he opened them, she was sitting on the edge of the bed in her dressing gown, toweling her hair. He rose and stretched.
    “Prudish modesty really doesn’t become you,Cassandra,” he said as he stripped off the dressing gown. He was amused when her eyes, despite herself, fell to his belly, and he felt himself respond to her gaze.
    “There is nothing like a hot bath or a lady’s eyes to revive one,” he said as he eased himself into the tub.
    Cassie did her best to ignore him, but his booming baritone voice soon filled the cabin. He sang a lusty sea chanty, and she felt her cheeks flush red at the vivid image of the serving maid lifting her skirt for the amorous captain.
    “I would that you be quiet.”
    He laughed and stepped from the tub, huge and dark and dripping wet. “Would you care to hand me a towel?”
    “Fetch it yourself, my lord.”
     
    “Would you care for some more wine, Cassandra?”
    Her hair swirled softly against her cheek as she shook her head.
    “Shall I peel an orange for you?”
    “No, I am quite full, my lord.”
    “Excellent. I am delighted that my chef has again pleased you.” He paused a moment, and added softly, “And now it is time for me to show you that I, too, can please you.”
    “You will not, you must not.” She pressed herself flat against her chair.
    “Ah, yes, my love,” he said, and rose to pull at the bell cord.
    Her weariness fled, and she slipped nimbly