“Marco, what is happening?”
“Bella donna, I will not lie to you. The people are to vote on your punishment.”
“Punishment? For escaping?”
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Yes. “
She swallowed. “What do they want?”
He hesitated and she wished she could see his face. When he spoke she heard the pain in his voice. “Usually it means a few strokes with a cane.”
“What is a few?”
“Usually no more than ten.”
She sat back on her heels, trying to absorb what he said. She had been caned once by a governess. She remembered the indignity of her skirts hoisted to her waist, of bending over a chair, then the sting of the strokes even through her underclothes. When her father had heard about it, the woman had packed her bags and left without a reference. She closed her eyes. Daddy couldn’t save her this time. “Who will do it?”
“The rule says the capo, the leader, must do it.”
She gripped his fingers tighter. “You have to beat me?”
“Unless I can persuade them otherwise.”
Her legs turned to water, and she sagged against the door. She was glad she was kneeling. It could only have been for a moment that her breath froze, absorbing the shock, but even after she exhaled and drew air into her lungs, she still couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen.
Fighting for control, she swallowed hard. “Come inside. You owe me that.”
For a long moment he hesitated, then let go her hand. A second or two later she heard the rasp of the key turning in the lock, and she scrambled to her feet as the door swung open to admit him.
He ducked his head to avoid the lintel and stood silent before her, the key in one hand. She stepped backwards, her eyes on him, and felt blindly for the bench. He looked away from her for a brief moment to lock the door from the inside.
In the half-light of the cell, no more than three paces away, he loomed large, seeming to fill the small space. It was as if his body radiated a magnetism, a force field that drew her inexorably to him. She was conscious of the closeness of the walls of the cell. She drew in what air she could and sank down, clasping her arms to her body to hide the trembling.
She had never been one to back down in the face of a challenge. As usual the tension in the air brought out her defiance, her determination to face whatever might happen with dry eyes and a firm chin.
“You had better bloody well tell me what this is all about. It had better be worth letting my father think I’m gone forever and me suffering a beating!”
She could not see his face clearly enough to read his expression. In three steps he was close enough to take her hand.
He took a seat beside her and slipped his other arm around her shoulders. Although she stiffened at first in resistance, he insisted, pulling her against his side so her cheek rested on his shoulder. Despite her fear and anger, the weight of his arm around her back was strangely comforting.
The nearness of his body once again began to drive logical thought from her head. His thigh was warm against her leg, even through the rough fabric of their clothing. She felt the involuntary clenching of the spot deep in her abdomen, then the tiny, insistent ache.
For a final fleeting moment she was able to consider objectively what was happening to her, the power he had over her. Until now she had found it easy to move on after an affair. No hard feelings, no strings attached, and no one got hurt. She had always been honest and told the fellow she had no intention of getting involved. Those were the words that should be coming out of her mouth right now.
The brief flash of lucidity came and went in a twinkling. She felt his chest move as he sucked in a deep breath and her nipples puckered and hardened in response.
He spoke, making the wisps of her hair flutter in his exhalation. “I don’t even really know who you are.”
It wasn’t what she expected. For a moment, she was at a loss for an answer, then understood the deeper meaning beneath his words. Their relationship had progressed to the point where total honesty was the only thing that could save them.
“You call me Emma,” she whispered at last. “That is my name.”
“They say Emma is dead.” His arm tightened around her.
She shook her head and felt the roughness of his jaw against her skin. “No. Catherine and I played a prank, a silly game we had played before. It cost her life.”
She turned in the circle of his arm and found a mere fraction of space separating his mouth from hers. “I am Emma Houndsdale, daughter of a British earl. A foolish girl who has spent too much time indulging herself. The woman who died was my maid,” she whispered against his lips. “I will not lie to you. Will you also tell me all the truth?”
She saw him close his eyes. The fold beside his mouth deepened as he tensed his jaw, struggling with his decision.
She had vowed to be honest. “As far as the world knows, I am lost at sea,” she continued in the same low voice. “You could keep me here, your people could kill me.” She swallowed against the surge of fear. “No one in my home would know. I would disappear without a trace. But you would know.” She paused and he opened his eyes. They were a deep, dark brown and she could see golden flecks in their depths. “And you are an honorable man.”
She raised a hand to stroke his face. He turned his head to plant a kiss on her fingers. She felt the burn of the sparks that snaked through her veins directly to her heart. Her blood pounded in her ears and pooled deep in her belly.
“So tell me why I am here,” she said, fighting the compulsion to melt against him, to lose herself in the warm strength of his body. “Why it is so important to keep me from my father, who has no other children and who has spoiled me all my life?” She gave a tiny smile and brushed the side of his mouth with her lips. “And why do Giovanni and these people want you to give me ten strokes with a cane? Don’t I deserve an explanation before I suffer a beating?”
In response he gave a groan, seized her hips and swung her onto his lap, so she straddled him. He buried his face against her shoulder, squeezing her in his arms, pressing her breasts hard against the wall of his chest.
She looped her arms around his neck and held him, waiting.
He spoke close to her ear. “If I tell you, it will place a great burden on us both. On you, to obey my orders and to become a fugitive as we are, to never fall into the hands of the Blackshirts. On me, to keep you safe, because I cannot risk you giving us away. My people-” he hesitated.
“What?” she whispered, but she had half guessed what he would say.
“-my people have all sworn an oath to die rather than be taken.” The words came in one breath and he fell silent for a moment, allowing them to hang in the air. “Bella donna, my beautiful Emma, I cannot allow that for you. God forgive me, I want you to live more than I want my people to live. I cannot ask you to die for us.”
On the last word he turned his head and kissed her. His kiss was hard, carnal, demanding and her answering arousal was swift and powerful. Desire clouded her mind and shortened her breath. She reached for him, aching with a hunger partially sated during the darkness and which had built afresh in the past hours.
His lips that had spoken of death were warm and alive. The erotic touch of his tongue against hers sent a shudder through her. She felt his arousal through the skirt that covered her spread thighs, his erection pushing hard against the wetness between her legs.
Her muscles ached deep inside her. He released her mouth and caught her hand, holding it against his chest so that she could feel the thud of his heartbeat against her fingertips. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and turbulent. “It’s more than twenty-four hours since you’ve slept properly.”
The desire she felt was powerful enough to chase away exhaustion, urgent enough to provide temporary amnesia about the events of the last two days. She linked her hands behind his head, pulling him down until his mouth touched hers again. “Kiss me again.”
> His head bent slowly toward her until at last he joined his mouth to hers.
He reached down and slipped his hands beneath the fabric of her dress. She moaned and tried to catch his hand between her legs as it brushed against her hungry clit. All she wanted was for him to give her release. She would have done anything he said if he would only continue to caress her.
“Not yet,” he murmured against her mouth and let his fingers wander against her side until he reached the tender, sensitive flesh of her breasts. She tried to move her own hands between her legs, but he caught her wrists and held her.
“If you make me hold your arms, then I cannot caress your breasts, can I? Which do you want?”
“You know what I want.” She raised her arms to rest on his shoulders again.
He lifted her skirt around her waist and she raised up to bare the throbbing moistness at the base of her belly. With a grunt of approval, Marco stroked her breasts again, then reached down with one hand to slip his fingers between her thighs and into her. She moaned with pleasure as he stroked inside her and he gave a tiny nod of satisfaction at the sound.
“Loosen my trousers.”
She dropped her hands to the space between them and fumbled with the ties that held the material together. His erection throbbed and pulsed against the back of her hand until at last she undid the final knot and parted the opening to reveal his organ. The head glistened with a pearly drop, and she stroked the slit, smiling as she made it quiver under her fingers. She looked up, still holding his cock and gazed into his eyes. A deep flush had colored his high cheekbones, and his eyes were misty with desire. He returned her smile with a sensual curve of his lips, still stroking her breasts.
The fire pulsing through her bordered on pain. She needed him to fill her so full she would never want again. He stretched her with his fingers, but that wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
She kissed him hard, relishing the scrape of his growing beard against the softness of her mouth, then raised herself on her knees on the bench, gathering her skirts in one hand. He withdrew his fingers and allowed her naked cunt to brush his cock, mingling their juices.
His hands gripped her hips as she positioned herself over his thighs, then very slowly took the tip of his cock into her. She paused as she felt it nudge apart the lips of her cunt, giving herself the time to savor the small penetration. Gradually she lowered her body, taking a tiny piece more of him with each movement. When she wanted to go faster, he held her, making her wait.
When at last she had taken all of him inside her, she let out a breath and held still. She could feel the movement of his cock inside her as it sought to fill her even more, to penetrate even deeper. Marco held her tight against him, and they waited for several breathless, wonderful heartbeats.
Still holding her waist with one hand, he moved the other between her legs and touched her throbbing clit, once, twice. The spark snaked through her from her cunt to her breasts and her inner muscles grasped his cock tighter in response.
He smiled as he felt her reaction and thrust deeper. As if coordinated by a force beyond their own bodies, they inhaled together, then let out their breath as they peaked at the same instant. Emma could not hold back a cry, quickly stifled by Marco’s mouth on hers.
For a few glorious seconds, she felt the warmth and strength of his climax inside her, complementing and extending her orgasm. Eyes closed, she clung to his neck to keep herself from falling. She felt the shudders go through him, initiating and imitating the tremors deep inside her.
My God, sex was always good, she made sure of that, but she’d never experienced sex like this.
She wanted it to last forever, this closeness, this oneness, this wholeness she felt with him. When he withdrew from her she would feel empty, lacking. At last, as the waves quieted and died, she opened her eyes and found Marco’s gaze fixed on her face.
Words were impossible. She gave him a tentative smile. Had he felt the same shattering emotions?
She kissed the side of his mouth, where a tiny white scar marred the line of his lower lip.
He licked the spot she had touched with the tip of his tongue. “I never want to let you go,” he murmured.
“I know. Nor I you.” She gave a little laugh. “Not a very original conversation. But I’ve never said that before to anyone.”
She felt his chest move against her as he drew in a deep breath. “Bella donna, forgive me for what I have brought you into.” He leaned his cheek against her hair. “On the beach, my people were taking a delivery of contraband. We thought you had seen, could betray us-”
She frowned, searching her memory. There had been a number of people on the shore when they’d found her. “Was that what they were doing? Silly me, I thought they were looking for survivors.”
She eased herself off his lap at last. Her skirts fell to cover the top of her legs and she stood beside him, still holding his hand. “Believe me, Marco, even if I’d known what was going on, I would never betray you.”
“I know.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her fingers and sighed. “Pray that I can convince my people here of that.”
“What are the chances?”
“Not good. The people are tense, afraid-”
She had seen him with his people. Despite what he had said earlier, that he cared more for her, she knew they were dear to him. In her heart as well as in the flesh she and Marco had become one. She straightened her back and took a deep breath. If she thought about the caning any more she would change her mind. “Don’t spend your time and energy. You have things to do. I’ll take the punishment.”
He tightened his grip on her hand, a frown creasing his forehead. “Emma-” he began in protest.
She put her fingers on his lips. “I’ve decided. It’s best for you and for your people. I can’t say I think it’s a good idea…” A small shiver went through her and she turned her thoughts away from what would happen, “…but all things considered, it’s the only solution. When you’ve settled it with them, I hope you’ll tell me what it’s all about.”
She gave him a brave smile and forced back the tears that threatened.
Chapter Six
For fifteen minutes after Marco left her, Emma paced her cell. Ten steps one way, six the other. Turn. Ten, turn, six, turn.
What had she done? She’d started with strong ideas of resistance but had finished by giving in to this man in every way. She’d let him tie her up, bring her to this godforsaken spot, subject her to hostile stares and threats and what was his reward? A couple of the best fucks of his life. And of hers, if the truth were told.
That wasn’t the point. She was tired and dirty and her feet hurt. Her hair, what was left of it, was stiff with sweat and probably harbored flies and bugs trapped during the journey. She looked at her once beautiful nails now torn, the polish half gone. Her thighs ached, and not only from the hard climb. Once again, she forced her thoughts away from the memory of Marco’s body, of the masculine scent of rope and horse and leather.
She needed to gather her courage for what was in store, not revel in the sensual feel of his hands on her, of the wetness between her legs-
She whirled at the sound of the door opening.
They had come for her.
Her heart pounded in her throat. How would they do it? Tie her? Strip her? She swallowed the tiny amount of saliva in her dry mouth, lifting her chin and saying a silent prayer that she would acquit herself well.
To her surprise, instead of Marco or Giovanni, Irena and another young woman came into the room. Their arms were full of cloths of different hues. Irena bobbed a little curtsey and said something in Italian. The other girl spoke immediately in English.
“Signora, the dottore has sent us. Please to come with us.”
“You speak English,” Emma said foolishly in her confusion. Her heart was still beating painfully in her chest. “Where are you taking me?”
The girl answered the first question. “Before we came to the caves,
I was a student in the university in Naples. I learned English. Someday I hope to resume my studies. Come, signora, Signor Marco wishes to make you more comfortable.”
Comfortable? He was going to beat her in front of all these people. How could he make her more comfortable? Still, it looked as if these girls had brought clean garments and Lord knew she could use a change-
She had nothing to lose by going along with them, and might gain a fresh set of clothing.
She took a step toward them, but still hesitated. “Where?” Maybe this was a trick to get her out of her cell quietly. Maybe they thought she was going to resist, to kick and scream while they dragged her to the whipping post…
The girl who spoke English gave her a reassuring smile and placed a hand on her arm “Outside, signora. There is a place you can bathe in privacy. The dottore has given orders you are not to be followed or disturbed. There will be a guard, but he will be discreet.”
Marco was responding to her compliance about the beating, sending her a message of confidence. She was to be allowed out of the cell, trusted not to run. For some reason, this was a crucial time for him. She had understood that, and Marco knew she wouldn’t go back on her word.
Plus there was an offer of clean clothes and a bath. This was too good to refuse. Though how they could get a bathtub up here, she couldn’t imagine. While these thoughts raced through her head, she followed Irena and her companion out of the cell. Two guards, armed with long rifles, stood at the entrance to the caves, and one fell into step behind them as the three women left the shelter. Irena turned left and took a path Emma hadn’t noticed before. It climbed gently away from the caves and soon led to a deep cleft between two large outcrops of rock. Emma turned to look behind her. The guard halted a few paces back, his rifle held at the ready. Emma saw the tension in his fingers on the stock. He probably thought he would be duty-bound to shoot her dead if she took a step away from the path.
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