Chapter 18 #2
She was no fool. For some reason Stefan was showing her a different side of himself, more like the man Isabel had so fondly described to her before she had met him.
In the fascinating whirl of the past weeks it was all Kassandra could do to remind herself of his true character, lurking just beneath his devastating charm.
Kassandra winced, her head racked with turmoil.
She would be a liar to say she was not affected by him.
Each passing day was becoming an increasing torment for her, and she had still to think of a way out of her predicament.
She tugged with exasperation at the jeweled locket dangling from her necklace, then looked down at it, frowning.
Set with precious rubies and diamonds, it caught the sunlight, glittering brightly in the palm of her hand.
Stefan had given her the necklace on Christmas Day with a touching sincerity that had left her breathless and perplexed. She had wanted to refuse it, but he had a deliberate habit of presenting her with gifts in front of Isabel, so she had no choice but to accept.
He had drawn it about her neck, his fingers brushing lightly against her nape as he fastened the clasp, causing her to tremble. The locket fell just above the hollow between her breasts, its smooth weight against the beating of her heart a much-needed reminder of his selfish treachery.
Kassandra rose abruptly from the sill and began to pace the library, chewing her lower lip.
What of the music box he had given her, with a tiny nightingale perched on a branch of ivory, which trilled when the silver lid was opened?
And, most unexpected of all, the beautiful Arabian mare he had presented to her on the first morning of the New Year, its gleaming coat the same pure white as the snow that blanketed the ground.
If he sought to touch her heart, he had come closest in that moment.
She had made no secret of her love for horses.
Damn him! she fumed. Did Stefan really think she would be so easily swayed by these gifts, and all that had passed between them would be forgiven, even forgotten?
A troubling thought struck her. Perhaps he hoped it was a way to cajole her into leaving her chamber door, the one leading to his own chamber, unbolted at night…
Kassandra froze in place and drew her arms tightly against her chest.
Every evening since she had moved into the room adjoining his, she had lain awake in her bed, listening wide-eyed to his pacing footsteps akin to a lithe, stalking animal’s.
Then he would try her door, and every fiber in her body went taut with shivering tension as he slowly turned the knob, only to find it bolted securely against him.
Sometimes his furious pacing would begin anew, while other times it would cease and there would be only silence, perhaps a sign that he slept at last. Then there had been the nights when she heard him leave his chamber, slamming the door behind him.
Moments later she would watch from her window as he rode out into the darkness on his stallion, not to return until the next morning
A sharp rap on the door startled Kassandra from her reverie. Stefan stepped into the library, a smile spreading across his rugged features.
“I was hoping I would find you here,” he murmured, his gaze raking over her.
She was ravishing in her lilac morning gown, its simple lines heightening her singular beauty.
He liked the way the silken fabric skimmed closely against her lithe body, buoyed only by a single petticoat rather than those infernal hoopskirts.
Unfortunately the gown was not suitable dress for the theater, and something more formal was required.
His black brow rose quizzically. “I see you are not dressed for our excursion into the city, Kassandra. Have you forgotten about the comedy this afternoon?”
“Co-comedy?” she asked blankly, blushing under his frank perusal, her flesh tingling.
Then with a start she remembered. Her eyes flew to the clock on the mantelpiece.
It was half past one already. Stefan had requested she be ready to leave by two o’clock.
“Oh dear,” she began, flustered. “I was reading…and the time has flown—”
“It’s no matter,” he interrupted, chuckling lightly. “There is still time for you to change.” He took a step toward her. “If I could dictate women’s fashion, I would have you go just as you are.”
Anger shot through her at the blatant desire in his eyes, yet it was tinged with a strange, unsettling excitement.
The man could make her feel as though she were standing before him as God had created her, though she was fully clothed.
Obviously he was becoming quite sure of himself, and far too sure of her… something she would remedy at once.
“I have decided I am not in the mood for a comedy,” she said in a rush. “Perhaps Isabel might accompany you in my stead.” Her gaze moved to the door, but she knew from experience not to brush past him. Instead she held her ground, her chin lifted defiantly.
Stefan’s expression tightened. “The invitation was extended to you, Kassandra, not Isabel,” he murmured.
“I am afraid you have little choice. Either be at the door within the half hour, or I shall personally see that you are suitably dressed and carried forthwith to the carriage.” He paused, his voice low and husky.
“If you have any doubts as to my knowledge of women’s clothing, rest assured I am well versed in lacing…
and unlacing,” he emphasized darkly, “those garments you call corsets. Am I understood?”
Kassandra drew herself up, glaring at him. He wouldn’t dare!
Then, as if reading her mind, Stefan nodded, his steady gaze glinting a challenge. She swallowed hard. Yes, he would, she thought grimly. However vexing, it was clear that he had bested her once again. “If you will excuse me, my lord,” she acquiesced, her eyes flashing, “I will go and change.”
Stefan stepped aside as she walked by him, her back stiff and proud. “Within the half hour, Kassandra,” he said softly.
She threw him a withering look, then fled up the stairs.