Page 44 of Unmasking the Earl

“She’s been married,” he said, and she loved the way his voice reverberated through his chest where he was pressed tightly against her. “She knows what a naked man looks like.”

“But she’s never seen me in the clutches of one before. How am I going to explain…this? What if she demands we marry?”

“She won’t,” he said easily, his breath stirring her hair. “We’re in the country, not high Society. She’ll understand. There was hardly time for more than a kiss.”

“Wretched beast.” Now that the sensual spell had been broken, Cassie couldn’t find the courage to turn around and face the man who had just taken complete control of her body and her will. The temptation remained, but the madness had gone. “I’d better go to her. Salvage the situation, if I can.”

“Very well,” he agreed, releasing her. “I’ll mop up the water before I come down. But I suggest you change your gown before supper. I would hate for you to catch cold.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. Was he feeling smug, thinking he’d just won some kind of victory over her? She would have to put him right on that score. But for now, she must mollify Portia.

Not daring to look behind her, she hurried off to change her gown, then made her way quickly down the stairs.

Expecting to find her friend appalled and in total shock, it came as a huge surprise to see her sitting bolt upright at the table in the parlor, an unsliced ham in front of her, wreathed in smiles.

“Cassandra Blythe, who would have thought you had it in you!” Portia declared.

“I behaved abominably. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was worth a damp ceiling to witness what I did. What superlative muscles the earl has—what I could see of them.”

Cassie blinked in confusion. She’d expected rebukes and recriminations, if not an outright demand that she and Ned marry immediately. “But…you rushed away in horror!”

Portia’s smile widened. “That was glee. I didn’t want to spoil the moment for you.”

Cassie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think you probably saved me from ruin,” she said.

“Now, that would be a great shame,” Portia said decidedly.

Cassie shook her head. “You must know I’m not interested in Lord Stranraer in that way.”

Portia looked singularly doubtful. “Why ever not? I think his good qualities—particularly his physical attributes—outweigh the bad. His temper can be improved with a little work. I don’t think his body can. It’s practically perfect.”

“Shame on you, Portia! I never knew you had such wanton thoughts about men.”

“It happens when you’ve been without one for too long. But really, why do you say you’re not interested? Your actions suggest the opposite.”

A good question, indeed. One Cassie had started asking herself.

“I’ve loved Julian since I was thirteen years old. There is no other man for me.” The words came out as if she was repeating them from a primer, having said—and thought—them so often over the years.

Her friend gave her a knowing look. “Are you quite certain? Don’t you need to spend more time in the company of other gentlemen, like Lord Stranraer, so you can make comparisons?”

There was a creak on the stair, and Cassie’s body trembled in anticipation at the approach of the man himself. This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t have this much power over her person. She forced her shoulders down and tried to appear poised.

He ducked his head as he came into the room. He didn’t look at her, but she knew instinctively he felt her presence, as she felt his. She could not take her eyes off him, drinking in the splendid sight, examining his face for a hint as to what he was thinking. Because what he thought of her, and her behavior, suddenly mattered very much indeed.

“Please take a seat, my lord. Shall I re-kindle the fire?” Portia asked.

“Only if you yourself wish to, Mrs. Fiennes,” he said, with a courtesy Cassie hadn’t thought him capable of. “I must apologize for the spillage. I hope your ceiling is not irretrievably ruined?”

How was it he’d never been this gallant to her?

“Don’t trouble yourself. I can always have it painted over,” Portia said, waving her hand dismissively. “Shall I carve you some ham? It’s not at all the kind of quality you’re used to, I’m afraid.”

He sat down in the chair indicated. “Believe me, I’ve forgotten what quality tastes like, having lately dined only on the kind of food meted out to servants. And criminals,” he added wryly.

If only he would look at her! She needed to see that flame in his eyes, she craved reassurance that she hadn’t disgusted him with her wantonness. She was totally shocked by her own response to him and hardly knew what to do with herself. The ham was dry as cinders in her mouth.