Borgia Fever

by MICHELLE KELLY,

  The thought brought home to him just how close to the edge of his desire he was, and He stepped back, angry with himself now for his lack of self-control around this woman. Marco Corelli, who was famed for his inscrutable demeanour, was thinking about seducing a woman—a suspect, no less—when the lives of his employers could be in jeopardy. He shook his head in self-disgust, unable to meet her eyes, angry at her as well as himself.

  ‘I will go and attend to this matter. You will wait for me, and be quiet.’

  She nodded, and he bowed stiffly and locked her in the room, leaving her no choice but to wait, while he strode away to do what must be done.

  Chapter Three

  Alone now in Marco’s room, trembling with a mixture of fear and lust, Bella pressed a hand to her chest as though the action might calm the hammering of her heart, the events of the night whirling through her mind. If any suspicion should fall on her...well, neither the Borgia nor the Rogue himself was known for his mercy. When Marco had offered to lock her in here rather than confine her to her room or drag her off to the dreaded Sant’Angelo, she’d felt a wild leap of hope that perhaps he saw her as more than a night’s conquest. But the look of anger he had thrown at her before locking her in had dashed that.

  She gazed around the small chamber that was currently her prison. He was better accommodated than she was, of course, with a fine mattress and warm blankets, and two adjoining rooms that she wandered into now, looking for any clues as to the man behind the rumours. And, perhaps, the possibility of escape.

  Of course, there were none. A stark washroom with a small mirror, and a small drawing room, furnished well enough for his comfort, but with no personal belongings that she could see. She wondered if he had a valet or maid to tend to him, but doubted it. The fire didn’t look as though it had been lit for a while. There was no other way in and out of his rooms that she could see, and only the smallest of windows. Bella’s heart pounded as she realised she was at his mercy. She both wanted this man and yet was now frightened of him in equal parts.

  * * *

  Bella had worked herself into a frenzy of anxiety and was pacing the room for the thousandth time when she finally heard the key in the lock. She whirled round, relieved to see he was alone and not with a troop of guards, but when she saw the grim line of his mouth and the blood on his shirt she blanched.

  ‘What is it? Tell me,’ she said breathlessly, crossing over to him, her eyes searching his face, which softened slightly as he looked down at her. He closed the door before he spoke, his voice just above a whisper.

  ‘I found your maid trying to flee. She tattled quickly enough. Did you know she had taken a lover?’

  Bella pressed a hand to her mouth. Susanna had been with her for a few months now, and while at times she exasperated her by her flightiness, she performed her duties well enough, and Bella had never believed her silly enough to do anything like this. Of course, she wouldn’t be the first young girl to have her head turned by a handsome man.

  ‘No, I had no idea. I’ve been so busy.’ This was all her fault. She should have been paying attention, but the pressure of the task at hand and uncertainty about her safety had been weighing on Bella heavily.

  ‘It appears the lover was in the pay of a certain cardinal,’ Marco continued. ‘He obtained the vial from your maid and then retracted his promises to her.’

  No wonder she had tried to flee.

  ‘But where is she now?’ Bella asked, already knowing the answer. She would be in that forbidding dungeon he had been so reluctant to consign her to. In spite of Susanna’s stupidity, Bella could hardly help but feel sorry for her. She would have to plead her case.

  ‘And the lover?’

  ‘Has been dealt with,’ Marco said, his eyes dark. Bella gasped, and was reminded of the reputation of the man she was currently alone with. For all that he was undoubtedly attracted to her, would he, if he believed her guilty, dispatch her, too, with such coldness? Marco saw the sudden fear in her eyes. ‘You have no need to be scared of me, Bella,’ he said, and her name sounded like a caress in his mouth. ‘Your maid confessed you had no knowledge of her plan. And Lady Lucrezia confirmed that she herself had given you the vial.’

  ‘So everyone is safe?’

  Marco was amazed at this woman’s concern not just for herself, but everyone involved. Such selflessness was a rare thing in a court where it was every man for himself. She was like a breath of fresh air through the dim corridors. The sooner she got away from this dark court, the better; there were too many who would take advantage of such a brave heart, especially one encased in such a sensual form. Including him, he thought, smiling wryly.

  ‘For now. Certainly none of the food and wine from tonight was tampered with, and guards have now been posted. Cardinal Baglioni—the same man who pawed you earlier—has been arrested, though of course he claims no knowledge, and in any case is too drunk to make much sense at the moment. The Lady Lucrezia has gone to her mother’s house for safety. My lord and his brother are away for the night,’ and probably the next few days, as their appetite for debauchery were rarely easily satisfied, ‘and His Holiness the Pope has retired to the Vatican. He will have new poison tasters by the morning.’

  Bella shook her head. Marco had done all this in the brief hour he had been away? The cold efficacy of this man reminded her yet again of just who she had chosen to take to her bed.

  ‘And the poison?’ she asked. He handed her a piece of cloth, and she could feel the vial wrapped within it.

  ‘Can you tell if there is any missing?’ he asked, coming closer to her. ‘We will get little out of the cardinal until the morning at least, and his manservant who had taken it from Susanna said it had not yet been used. He said only that it was meant for “the dark lord”—Cesare, no doubt—but I couldn’t get much sense out of him, as he was too scared. I doubt the attentions of the rack will ease his fear.’ The Borgias’ appetite for torture was as great as for poison and decadence. They were known throughout Europe as both fiercely loyal to their own and murderously ruthless to those perceived as enemies.

  Bella’s head swam. How did Marco deal with it, all these plots and intricacies and secrets? It was not a world she could fathom. She missed her home and her garden and the everyday business of her apothecary shop. Simple pleasures that were within her control; that did not threaten her freedom. She didn’t belong here. Her independence and freedom were vital to her, and now both—perhaps even her life—were in jeopardy because her talents had brought her to the attention of the Borgias. Perhaps she would have been happier as a simple country wife with a brood of children, after all.

  Carefully, she unwrapped the cloth and held the vial up in front of her eyes. It seemed to contain the same amount, but that instinct of hers told her it had been tampered with. A fleeting feeling of dread gnawed at her, but she shook it off, carefully rewrapping the vial and handing it back to him.

  ‘It’s hard to tell,’ she said, noticing his eyes sweep over her breasts ,where his mouth had been not so long before. Pausing until he returned his eyes to hers, she allowed herself an inner smile. It felt good to be desired by him, even in the midst of this drama. ‘It doesn’t look as if there is any missing, but only a drop is needed. I would advise caution.’

  He nodded, setting the vial down on a little table that had an empty wooden jug and plate upon it.

  ‘Then we can only watch and wait. There is nothing more that can be done tonight, at any rate. Shal
l I escort you back to your room?’

  There was nothing but courtesy in his tone, and Bella felt a rush of disappointment that the moment had passed for them.

  She took a step towards him, unsure of what to say, then saw him wince suddenly, and stopped. Her eyes flickered to the blood on the sleeve of his shirt as she realised that some of it might in fact be his.

  ‘You are hurt!’ Bella reached for his arm, but he moved away, his face stubborn.

  ‘It’s nothing. A mere nick from tussling with Baglioni’s man. I disarmed him before he could do much damage.’

  ‘Even so, it needs to be cleaned and bound,’ she said firmly. She fixed him with a gaze that said she would brook no argument, the concerns of a physician taking over from her female desire for him, at least for the moment. Marco sighed and sat down, holding out his arm for her grudgingly. Bella fetched water and a cloth from the adjoining room and he rolled up his sleeve, to reveal a jagged cut along his forearm that disappeared under the cloth of his tunic. Bella swallowed.

  ‘I’ll need you to remove your top,’ she muttered, feeling herself flush and unable to meet his eyes. He hesitated only a moment before slipping off his tunic and undershirt, to reveal his tanned and taut body, like an artist uncovering his finest sculpture. Bella could not tear her eyes away; he was beautiful, yet in a wholly masculine way. As she cleaned his wound, her breath thick in her throat, the light of the candle lamp highlighted an intricate pattern of fine scars across his torso. Barely realising what she was doing, she traced them with her fingertips, an unspoken question in her eyes.

  ‘The French war in Naples,’ he answered simply, and though his voice betrayed no emotion, she saw the brief flash of pain in his eyes. A surge of compassion for whatever he had been through welled up in her, along with her fierce desire for him, and she knew in that moment without doubt that whatever or whoever he was, this was a man she could love. Her hands shook as she finished cleaning the wound, and tore a strip of cloth to wind around it.

  Marco looked down at her, felt the tenderness of her touch and wondered at this woman who seemed able to reach a part of him he had thought forever buried. The way she had touched his scars had both stirred up memories he had fought hard to forget, and yet made him want to share them with her. To share himself with her. She looked up, those beautiful golden-brown eyes meeting his, and he reached for her. Then she was in his arms, her sweet-smelling hair falling around him, her lips as hungry as his.

  * * *

  He stood and backed her towards the bed, one hand at her waist and the other cupping her buttocks, the strength in his arms and the force of his kiss nearly lifting her off her feet.

  He laid her down and Bella followed his lead, soft and willing in his arms, giving herself over to the urgency of the heat between them. Raising himself above her, he pulled her dress down over her shoulders, exposing more of her breasts, and began to kiss and nibble along her collarbone and the soft swells below, pushing her gown away until her nipples sprang free and he caught one in his warm mouth, causing her to gasp out loud. He sucked until she was writhing under him and clutching at his shoulders. Lifting herself on her elbows, she again traced the lines of his scars, then lowered her mouth to them, her lips leaving burning trails as if she could melt them and the painful memories away simply with her touch. She was eager in spite of her relative inexperience, wanting to savour him, to have all of him.

  Her kisses moved lower, until her lips met the top of his breeches and she reached for the laces. But he took her hand and gently manoeuvred her back onto the bed.

  ‘Let me pleasure you first,’ he said, his eyes glinting in the half-light as he pushed up her skirts. ‘This colour suits you,’ he murmured, admiring the rich red against the chestnut fall of her hair and creamy skin. ‘It takes a beautiful woman to wear red.’

  Before she could reply he silenced her with another kiss, his tongue insistently teasing hers as if they were making love with their mouths alone. Bella felt her secret places swelling and melting, longing for his touch, for the feel of him, and she pushed her hips up to urge him on. This abandon was nothing like her initial fumblings with her betrothed. Never had she realised she could feel such pure physical need.

  Marco peeled her dress and bodice from her as if peeling a fruit, exposing her succulent flesh as a feast for his eyes, untying her chemise where it knotted under her breasts, and allowing them to fall free into his hands. He lifted them together and bent his head to flick his tongue over both nipples at once, such a delicious sensation that she mewed in delight. His touch was expert, her body flaming wherever his hands went. Bella flushed as he lifted her chemise over her head, leaving her naked except for her stockings and slippers. He pushed her legs apart, revealing her to his gaze, and she sucked her breath in sharply as he moved down the bed until his head was level with her sex. She turned her head, blushing as she felt his fingers part the silky curls of her mound and his tongue lightly flick her swollen nub. It felt both exquisite and forbidden at the same time. He sucked at her until she felt herself grow fluid, and pushed the back of her hand into her mouth to stifle her moans. He paused and looked up at her, meeting her eyes, and the sight of him was enough to tip her over the edge. She climaxed with his mouth on her and her hands in his hair, bucking her hips and arching her back shamelessly now. Then as the waves of pleasure subsided, she collapsed back onto the bed in a pool of liquid heat.

  He raised himself over her again, his lips glistening with her orgasm, and they paused, drinking each other in for a long moment before she reached again for his breeches. His erection sprang free into her palm, and he closed his eyes and groaned as her hand clasped round him and moved up and down and around the tip of him, with inexperienced but eager strokes.

  ‘My God, Bella, that’s good,’ he murmured, his eyes closed. His obvious enjoyment spurred her on and she used her other hand to caress the soft skin of his sac, marvelling at the way it became high and tight against his body as his arousal grew. She bent her head and flicked her tongue across it, and he moaned audibly.

  Indeed, Marco felt he was ready to burst with his own pleasure. He had been with more experienced women, but never one whose very touch made his skin catch fire as Bella’s did. Never one who had touched him with compassion as well as desire. He was torn between the urge to ravish her and the sudden unfamiliar sense of protectiveness that made him want to wrap her in furs and keep her safe from his corrupt and dangerous world. He raised her up to her knees and they knelt in front of each other, trailing hands and mouths down each other’s bodies before he pushed her back onto the sheets, gazing down at her. He traced the curves of her face with his fingers, lingering on her lips, looking at her as if to capture the image of her in his mind.

  He could give her only tonight, but for tonight at least she was his and his alone. He raised her leg to fit over his hip, and nudged her damp heat with the tip of his swollen member. She nodded and guided him with her hand, holding her breath, eyelids fluttering as he eased himself inside her.

  Their mouths came together and they moved in rhythm with one another, slowly at first and then picking up the pace. She made no protest when he rolled her onto her stomach and entered her from behind, almost losing control at the sight of her lush buttocks under his hips. He buried his head in her neck, breathing in the sweet musky smell of her and gripping one of her hands in his own. They seemed melded together as they moved in the candlelight, one being, and as he felt his own climax approaching he could
feel her tightening around him. As she bucked underneath him and cried out her delight a second time, it tipped him over the edge, and he thrust one last time inside her and groaned loudly as his own release took him over.

  He lay on top of her as they both fought to recapture their breath, then moved to the side and gathered her into his arms, only to see that her eyes and cheeks were wet, as if she had been crying. He wiped her eyes with his hand, feeling an unfamiliar tug at his heart, and an accompanying fear. He, who was scared of nothing and no one, found the sensation more than unnerving. How could she touch a heart he had lost long ago? He shook his head to clear away the thought, and turned his attention back to Bella.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ he asked, but she only shook her head and turned her mouth to his hand, kissing his palm. She had no words for the tangle of emotion inside her.

  The only word that came close she dared not utter.

  Chapter Four

  They lay in each other’s arms, silent for what felt like an age, before Bella raised herself on her elbow and looked down at him. His face appeared softer after their lovemaking, as if his mask had slipped a little and her touch had uncovered something of the man underneath. It was a bittersweet triumph for her; once morning came he would be the Rogue again, and lost to her.

  The thought brought with it a harsh reminder of the night’s events, and she sighed as it all came flooding back.... The poison had been found, yes, but she was in even more danger now than before.