by Renee Rose
As they came together again, he continued where he'd left off. "You know that, don't you? I would've seen you to Parma, or given you money. Hell, I would've wed you, if you'd have had me."
She met his eyes in shock at that last statement. He looked completely earnest. Tomi, the rakish, teasing flirt of her youth, appeared serious. As they spun away again, she tried to cover her surprise.
Though she wanted to question him about it (such as Why? And how he thought that would work, if her father threw him out too,) she decided to ignore it in favor of graciousness. When the dance was over, she simply said, "Thank you, Tomi. Your kindness means a lot to me."
He didn't answer before Marco appeared, offering himself as her dance partner. She accepted, sparing Tomi a quick glance over her shoulder as the count led her back to the floor. Tomi still regarded her, his brows knit.
* * *
Demanding compensation from the Duke of Tuscany was worth a try. He was powerful—born of the house of Medici—but he might have some shred of a conscience. Marco didn't have high hopes, but he owed it to Celia to make the request on her behalf.
Ignoring the opulence of the exquisitely appointed villa, he followed the servant briskly into the sitting room, where he was instructed to wait for His Grace.
"Well, Marco," the duke said, entering the sitting room. "How's your new vineyard coming along?" The duke was the type of man who possessed a natural charm. He remembered everyone's interests and had the ability to draw people into easy conversation. He was also handsome and powerful. It was easy to see how Celia could have lost her better sense with him.
"Excellently, thanks to the Dante twins," he said, raising his eyebrows a bit to acknowledge their mutual interest in one of those sisters.
"Yes, indeed."
A servant poured them each a glass of Dante wine and quietly slipped out the door.
"I believe you are previously acquainted with my wife's sister?"
"Indeed."
"She has been disowned by her father as a result of that acquaintance, which means her dowry is lost to her." He sat back and crossed his legs, keeping his voice even and reasonable, as if this were the most normal of business proceedings. "I've come to request you make a payment toward the establishment of a new dowry now that she is under my guardianship. It may prove difficult for me to arrange a marriage for her if word gets out, and a reasonable dowry might sweeten the deal."
The duke raised his eyebrows. "Please. I've admitted her acquaintance, no more. The girl is a liar. She wrote to me months ago to tell me she was with child. Obviously it was a ploy, as she looks as slender as she did when I saw her last."
Marco forced his rising temper back. Standing, he wrapped a fist in the duke's velvet doublet and hauled the man to his feet. "I saw that child's remains in quantities of blood on my floor, Niccolo," he hissed. "She's not a liar."
The duke narrowed his eyes.
His point made, Marco released him and stepped back. Though Marco's irritation was real, it was all part of his calculated performance. He was careful not to make any threats, merely to show his impassioned offense. After all, the duke was a Medici, and they had more blood on their hands than all the crusaders put together. And almost as much power as the Pope. Appealing to the duke's emotions and making it easy for him to comply was the only route he could see working in this situation.
He sighed, making a show of looking reasonable. "Listen, she's paid dearly for her mistake. All I'm asking is for you to pay for yours. I will take full responsibility for her, and the relationship will never be mentioned again. You owe her that much." He paused for effect and then said softly, "She lost her heart to you."
The duke met his eye at that, and he did see a trace of regret there.
"How much are you asking?"
Ah, always the difficulty with negotiations: where to start. "What do you think is reasonable?"
"Fifty florins."
"The dowry she lost was worth 450. One hundred."
"Fifty is my offer."
He considered the duke and tried again for an emotional appeal. "Her father threw her out, and she was raped trying to reach my villa. She deserves better than that."
The duke's face didn't change, and he didn't speak for a moment. "All right. One hundred. With her word and yours I'll never hear of it again."
He nodded.
"Nor will my wife," the duke added.
"You have my word."
The duke called to the servant, who entered immediately. "Bring me a purse with 100 florins."
"Yes, my lord." The servant bowed.
The duke sighed. "Marco, if I didn't like you, I would make you sorry for this."
"I know," he said grimly. "I appreciate that."
When the servant returned with the money, he took it, bowing to the duke. "We will see you tonight, then."
The duke nodded once, slowly.
* * *
"Celia's maidenhead was worth 100 florins." Marco tossed the bag of coins on the table with a wry smile. Lucia beamed at her husband, thrilled not only that he'd taken on the duty, but had been successful in exacting a payment from the duke.
Celia had been pacing about the apartment, trying to pretend she didn't care about Marco's errand. She gasped now and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, happily.
"You're pleased with that amount?" he said, chuckling at Celia's exuberance.
"It's not the money." She shook her head. "It's just—" she paused and waved her hands around in the air, as if searching for her thoughts. "I'm just glad you made him pay, that's all."
Marco nodded, as if he understood that.
Lucia went over to plant a kiss on him as well, and he caught her lips with his, dipping her backward with a hand behind her head and an arm behind her waist. She laughed and kissed him again when he pulled her back up.
"Now, listen. There was a condition. Neither of you must ever speak of what happened. Particularly not to the countess, capiche?"
"Capito," they both agreed.
"And Celia," he turned to her sister, looking suddenly serious. "Promise me you won't let him under your skirts again."
Celia flushed at his directness. "Of course not," she said defensively.
"Give me your word," he prodded gently.
She flushed even deeper. One of the detriments of being a redhead was never being able to hide her embarrassment. She met his eye and murmured, "I promise."
"Thank you." He pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. "I will put this money toward a dowry for you. In case you're tempted by an honest man, next time."
"Marco!" Lucia slapped his shoulder.
Celia had blanched.
Lucia flashed him an indignant look and lifted her chin toward her sister, who had turned away.
Marco reached out and caught her sister's arm, pulling her back. He held both of Celia's shoulders to peer into her eyes. "I judge you not, Celia. I certainly didn't mean to shame you. Honestly. I'm damn sorry the duke took advantage of your innocence." Celia blinked a few times and Marco pulled her in for an embrace. "I apologize if I hurt you. I didn't mean to." He looked over the top of Celia's head to give Lucia an apologetic look.
She smiled to show he was forgiven. He excelled at managing it all.
They ate a light afternoon meal and discussed the remaining business Marco had to conclude during their stay in Florence. "I need to make a deal to purchase a quantity of oak barrels, glass bottles and cork. Do you remember who your father dealt with for those?"
She nodded, trying to remember the details. "Tomaso Delfino sold the best oak barrels. His never leaked or rotted. I think for glass bottles, my father would just get bids and take the lowest. He found no difference in quality. I don't remember about cork, do you, Celia?"
Celia looked thoughtful. "Was it Sandoval?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, "You're right."
"Do you know what prices he paid for things?"
Lucia shook her head. "I'm afraid
he never shared that part with us."
"The real question is whether he will do business with me now. I still like your idea of selling him last year's wine to mix with one of his better wines to make a blend."
"I can't imagine he wouldn't do business with you."
Except she wasn't as sure as she sounded.
"And how much do you think he'd pay per barrel for it? It would help me to have a starting figure when I go in."
She shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea."
"Tomi might know..." Celia said slowly.
"True, but would he tell?"
"He might be convinced." A slow smile curved her lips.
That night at the duke's party, Celia seemed far more confident than she had the night before. She'd taken on the challenge of finding and convincing Tomi to share her father's financial secrets, and it seemed to help her forget the strain of seeing their father or the duke again. In fact, she looked fabulous, her head held high, a wicked sparkle in her eyes. It was a form of revenge on their father, she supposed, and she was in agreement with her twin that he deserved it.
An hour into the party, Celia must have seen an opportunity. "Come on." She grabbed Lucia's elbow and pulled her over to where Tomi stood by himself against a wall.
"Tomi," she said brightly.
"Ladies," he drawled, grinning his rakish smile at them. "Always a pleasure to see you."
"Indeed," Celia purred. She peeked behind a heavy curtain near where he was standing and then beckoned them both into the alcove it concealed. "Come here, I want to ask you something."
Tomi looked intrigued and glanced back at Lucia.
She smiled and shrugged and followed them both. The curtain masked a small area under the stairs. A perfect seclusion for them.
"We need some information." Celia spoke in a low voice when the curtain had dropped and they were alone.
"I see." Tomi grinned and folded his arms across his chest. "And precisely what information do you need?"
"Some figures. What Papa pays for things."
"Oh no." He shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'd like to help you, but I can't."
Celia stepped closer to him. "Sure you can."
"Listen, I understand you're looking to get even with your father, but I can't be that vehicle."
Celia snorted. "Yesterday you told me you'd have married me, today you can't tell me a few numbers?"
Lucia digested that bit of information. Celia hadn't mentioned Tomi had offered marriage to her.
Tomi wavered. "Well..."
Celia stepped right into his body, pressing her own against it, running her hands up and down his chest. Her hand slid down between his legs, and he grunted in surprise.
Lucia took a step in toward them, as well, nervously. She had caught up quickly to her sister's game, and knew her sidelong glance was a request for backup. Still...this was a dangerous game.
But Tomi teetered on the edge. She saw desire flaming in his face, but her extraneous presence made him nervous. She stepped up to the side of him, put her arms around his neck and breathed into his ear in her sexiest voice, "Come on, Tomi. You can tell us."
He leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily. Celia lowered herself to her knees and slid his pants down, freeing his erection.
He groaned.
Celia took his cock in her hand and dragged her tongue from his balls to his cock.
Lucia ran her fingers over his chest, making soft sultry sounds in his ear. "You know you want to help us...and Celia would be happy to show her gratitude..." Her job was just to add to the stimulation—to overwhelm his senses with the experience of two women at once. She reached down and squeezed the base of his cock firmly for Celia, who gripped his two thighs with her hands and slid her mouth over his length.
"You like that?" Lucia breathed. "Do you want it to go on?"
"Ye—es," he groaned.
"How much does Papa pay for oak barrels?"
"Oh god, you are the devil," he groaned. "Both of you. One hundred for a florin."
"From Tomaso Delfino still?"
"Um hmm."
"How much does he pay for poor quality wines? To make a blend?"
"Ohh. I don't know."
"Make a guess."
Celia removed her mouth and looked up expectantly. Tomi groaned. "All right, I would guess he'd buy five to eight barrels for a florin."
"Thank you," Lucia purred. She turned his face to hers and kissed him on the mouth, slipping her tongue in his mouth briefly as his reward. Celia finished off the better part of the reward, working her mouth over him as Lucia continued breathing in his ear and stroking his chest. When he climaxed, Celia rose to her feet smiling.
Tomi stared at her and gave her a slow, satisfied grin. "I can't believe that just happened."
"It didn't," Celia said with a note of warning in her voice. "Did it?" She raised her eyebrows.
Tomi shook his head. "No. It didn't." He straightened his pants. "You two go out first. I'll wait a few minutes. It will give me the chance to relive it all first." He flashed them his devastatingly handsome grin again, and they both smiled back.
"It was a pleasure," Celia said breezily.
"Pleasure was all mine." He sighed as they left.
Chapter Seven
"So, we got some numbers out of Tomi," Lucia announced at breakfast. She looked tremendously pleased with herself, which made him return her smile fondly.
"How did you manage that?"
Lucia shifted in her seat. "We just asked him and he told us!" she said, not meeting his eye.
He frowned. He had seen her lie better than that before. He tugged on his ear. "Why does that sound like a lie?"
"Lucia had nothing to do with it!" Celia said quickly, only increasing his suspicion.
He pushed his plate away and sat back in his chair. Turning to Lucia, he said, "What did you do?"
She looked caught, her eyes open wide, blinking rapidly.
"Well," she said slowly.
He took a sip of juice.
"I sucked him off," Celia interjected.
He choked hard on the juice, gagging and coughing, thumping his chest. "What?" he exclaimed in disbelief.
Both women nodded, soberly. His mind swooped around to come to terms with this unexpected bit of information. If Celia sucked him off, and Lucia looked guilty...his heart began to hammer.
"What did you do?" he asked Lucia again.
"She had—"
"Silence," he roared, holding up his palm to Celia. He stared at Lucia. She wouldn't lie again, now that she'd been caught. She stared back at him, the heaving in her chest belying her quickened breath.
"I played second for her," she whispered at last.
"I see," he said with a dead calm he didn't feel. A searing pain constricted his throat. He closed his eyes, feeling his own rapid breath, the slamming of his heart in his chest. He cast about in his mind for what on earth to say or do in this moment and came up empty.
Leave them. That was what he must do. He was too angry to speak, and there was nothing they could say that wouldn't make him more furious at that point. He stood from the table and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. His eyes burned with unshed tears, and his stomach roiled.
Betrayed. By Lucia. Granted, she was only the 'second,' whatever that meant, but his heart did not seem to understand that. All he felt was pain.
This was the bitter taste of his own medicine, wasn't it? The image of Lucia's puffy, red eyes that morning after he let the village whore into his chamber floated into his mind, and he felt a fresh wave of regret, truly understanding for the first time how she must have felt. He walked blindly along the narrow streets, his long legs carrying him swiftly away, as if he could somehow leave it all behind him.
He understood it. Really, he did. Rationally, he knew they'd been acting to benefit him. And he had no claim on Celia. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He was her guardian, and it was within his rights to censure her behavior. But con
sidering that same behavior had been acceptable in his own chamber, it would be hypocritical to condemn it now. And he had no claim on her heart.
But Lucia...the sense of betrayal twisted like a knife in his chest. Even though he hardly blamed her. She'd said she played the secondary role, and he believed her. He knew her love for him was absolute. He felt almost as if he was merely a victim to circumstances he had no way of foreseeing. He had no way of knowing something like this would hurt him so deeply.
Walking did not diminish the ache in his chest, though he walked until his shoes had rubbed his feet raw. At last, he found he had circled back around to the neighborhood of his apartment. He stopped in the stables for a riding crop. He may understand it, but that didn't mean he would let it go unpunished.
He went up the stairs and entered the apartment. It was dark and quiet. He opened the door to his chamber. They were both inside, curled up on top of the covers, like a pair of cats, twined together for warmth. They jumped and scrambled up to face him.
He took a deep breath and searched for his most reasonable and calm tone. "I understand you were acting for my benefit. But the ends do not justify the means. Your punishment is that you may not leave this apartment for the next week, and you'll be spanked every night. And I want you to tell me why your actions were wrong."
Celia opened her mouth to speak.
"But not now," he cut her off. "Now you will take off your clothes and bend over that bed."
He walked over to the dresser and poured himself a glass of wine, throwing it back with a few big gulps. He poured a second glass. When he turned around, they were in position, obeying without a word of protest. Lying there, their buttocks lifted, their long legs bent, he couldn't tell which was his wife and which was her sister.