Borgia Fever

by MICHELLE KELLY,

  And where did that leave her with Marco? What was supposed to have been one night of passion had moved her in ways she couldn’t explain. Even if she never set eyes on him after this night, the memory would be burned in her heart until she was old and grey and could barely remember her own name. Assuming, of course, that she got out of any of this alive.

  ‘You’re worried,’ he said, breaking through her reverie.

  ‘What will happen now?’ she asked,. ‘To Susanna...and to me?’

  Marco sighed. ‘Your maid should, by rights, be hanged, but I will do what I can to save her from such a fate. A few days in the castle and a banishment from Rome should be enough to put the fear of God into her. ‘As for you, that is down to Lucrezia. Have you finished the task she set you?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  Marco frowned at her. ‘You were lying earlier, about this refining business,’ he stated. Bella nodded. Of course he had known that; the gossips said that the Rogue could sniff out a lie while it was still just a thought.

  ‘My lady didn’t want even her brothers to know,’ she said, her eyes questioning.

  Marco bowed his head to her in assent. ‘Your secret is safe.’

  ‘As are yours,’ she said softly, forgetting her own plight as she looked at him, lean and scarred and as handsome as sin. Who was he really, this man? She lifted her hand to his chest, tracing the scars that marred his otherwise perfect torso. ‘What happened?’

  Marco was silent for a long moment, his gaze clouded, and when he spoke his voice came as if from far away.

  ‘I was born to this life in a way, though I did not think it would be in Rome. My father was spymaster to King Ferrante of Naples. I served in the Neapolitan army for a while, was educated with Ferrante’s brood of illegitimate children, and poised to take over from my father. I was betrothed to a girl whose father owned the finest orange groves in all of Naples.’

  Bella felt a twinge of jealousy at that, and at the look in his eyes when he spoke of her, but his next words made her press her hand to her mouth in horror.

  ‘When the French came they destroyed the groves...and my family, and my betrothed. I got these scars trying to defend them. They left me for dead, and it was Cesare, hot on the heels of the French to rescue his brother, who found me and had me restored to health. A man with my talents was useful to him. And he gave me the means to track down those who had murdered my family.’

  Bella’s eyes were wide. ‘You killed them?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, matter-of-factly. Bella felt tears spring to her eyes unbidden, though she was not totally sure why. Horror, certainly, but also compassion for the suffering he had endured.

  ‘So the rumours about you are true?’

  Marco shrugged. ‘That rather depends on the rumours.’

  ‘That you know all the secrets of the Borgia family?’

  ‘I doubt anyone knows them all. But I am Cesare’s ears, yes.’

  ‘That you control the largest and most secretive spy ring in all of Italy?’

  ‘I believe so.’ There was no mistaking the pride in his voice.

  ‘That you are a killer?’

  He frowned. ‘I have killed, yes. But never in cold blood.’ His frown deepened at the distaste in her face, ‘This shocks you? You who concoct poisons for Lucrezia Borgia herself. The most deadly of all the family.’

  Bella shook her head. He had answered her questions, revealed more of himself, she sensed, than he had for a long time. She owed it to him to reveal her own secrets. ‘My hands do not kill, Marco, they heal,’ she explained. ‘I am here not to make poisons but to find an antidote. Just as my lady is the only one who knows its recipe, she would be the only one who knows its cure. As we have seen tonight, there is no use in a weapon that can be wielded against you.’

  Marco sat up, eyebrows raised, whistling softly through his teeth. ‘It’s clever,’ he said, ‘and now I know why she would have it kept secret. If there is a cure, she would have as few people know of it outside the family as possible, or it would be no use as a weapon at all.’

  Marco did not voice the certain knowledge that crept into his heart. Whatever Bella had been promised by Lucrezia in reward for her work, he doubted she would live long enough to enjoy it before she was silenced. Of course, if a Borgia requested something from you, you did not refuse. Bella’s fate had been sealed the moment Lucrezia sought her out. ‘Bella, you must tell me, have you found a cure?’ His voice was urgent.

  ‘No,’ she said, and the relief in his face was palpable, until she went on, a note of pride creeping into her voice. ‘But I believe there is a substance that, ingested straight away, could block much of the poison’s effects. If it works, there are tonics that can be taken afterwards that will help the body recover. Of course, much depends on the constitution of the person.’

  Marco was quiet, his face grim, and she knew instantly what he was trying to say, the cold fear that had gripped her ever since she had first come to the attention of the Borgias taking shape in her gut.

  ‘I know I’m in danger, Marco. I’m no fool. But what choice did I have? No one refuses the Lady Lucrezia. I can only hope that if my work pleases her, she will have no reason to harm me.’

  Marco shook his head. Of course Bella would be aware of the dangers—he would never have desired her if she were some simpleton—but it was one thing to be aware and quite another to be all too well acquainted with the monsters that kept people awake in the night. Hell, he was one of those monsters.

  ‘She will not let you leave with this knowledge. You will be tied to her for as long as you are useful,’ he said. There was no need for him to say what he feared would happen when she was no longer useful. ‘You may be safer pretending you have found nothing.’

  Bella glared at him. ‘This is my work, Marco, just as you have yours. Surely finding an antidote to a lethal poison can ultimately only be for the good?’

  ‘And how do you think she would have you test this cure of yours? Do you think she would wait until she or one of her loved ones was poisoned? She would have you testing it on anyone she deemed expendable, or if you protested, on yourself.’

  Bella was no coward, but his words had her feeling sick with fear. It had never occurred to her that others might be endangered by her task, not just herself.

  Marco gathered her into his chest, wanting now to protect her. She fitted into his arms as though she had always been there. He pushed the thought away in a flash of annoyance; she was making him soft, an attribute he could not afford to possess.

  ‘You go to Naples,’ he suggested. “I have a cousin there who could use your skills, and I can give you a horse and some funds. But we must get you out of here by dawn.’

  He watched the emotions tumble in her eyes as she thought over his plan, then was amazed when she sat up and shook her head firmly.

  ‘No. If I run so far, I will appear guilty, and will be looking over my shoulder forever. I will do as you said, and lie, and hope that that is enough. I had already thought that if I got away from here, I have a cousin in Bologna with whom I could stay. It will look less like fleeing.’

  Seeing her resolute expression, Marco felt proud of her bravery. She was so courageous, so compassionate. Again he found himself thinking he had never met anyone quite like her.

  ‘I will do what I can to help,’ he said, thinking fast. If he let it be known she was his woman, that would offer her some level of protection; but in the long run, it might wel
l put her in even more danger. He could not bring her into his world, as much as he would enjoy the thought of her at his side—and in his bed. Marco had sworn after the loss of his family to never feel attachment again, his loyalty to Cesare the only feeling since that had come close. Yet after just one night with Bella he wanted to make her his.

  ‘You must go as soon as possible,’ he said, ‘and forget everything you have seen and heard here.’

  She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Even you?’

  He swallowed, trying and failing to regain his usual unfathomable expression. The regret in his face was obvious, but still he said, ‘Yes. Especially me.’

  She sat very, very still, and Marco wondered if she would cry, or shout, or simply ignore him. She did none of them. Instead she turned to him and laid a hand high on his thigh. His manhood stirred, oblivious to anything except the thrill of her touch.

  ‘Then perhaps,’ she murmured, ‘you should give me another memory worth forgetting.’

  Marco looked at her for a long moment, then pulled her towards him. He hesitated before he kissed her, running a hand down the long, swanlike curve of her neck and across the fullness of her breasts. She was glorious, strong yet sweet.

  ‘How is it you are not married? Do you have a lover at home?’ he asked, remembering her forthright admission about her virginity—or lack of it. He could hardly believe men weren’t clamouring at her door. Bella smiled, but there was a sadness in it.

  ‘I was betrothed once, when I was younger. I thought we were in love, but when it became apparent he expected me to give up my work, that he considered it wasn’t a respectable trade for a wife and mother...’ Bella shrugged, but Marco saw the hurt in her eyes ‘...well, he married a girl from the next village, a pretty girl with no learning, who produces a baby every year.’

  ‘Fool,’ Marco all but growled, trying to suppress the desire to find the idiot who had rejected her, even as he knew that, essentially, he must also send her away. Nevertheless, the thought of her being hurt so, being taken and discarded by someone who should have protected her, made his blood boil. Marco realised that whatever the realities of their situation, something about this woman had got under his skin. He would defend her with his life, if need be.

  Bella shrugged, oblivious to his warring feelings. ‘I was upset, of course, at the time. I fancied myself in love, if only because it was expected of me. But in time I realised I could never have been happy to be the quiet wife he wanted. And now I am glad.’ She met Marco’s gaze boldly.

  ‘Why so?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing as she parted her lips and leant towards him, her own eyes heavy with lust.

  ‘Because had I not been here tonight, such pleasure would have escaped me,’ she said, and ran her hands down his body, revelling in the feel of his smooth muscles against her palms. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and he squeezed her buttocks in turn, lifting her on top of him, then slipping a hand in between her thighs where she was still wet. As his fingers fondled her intimately, flicking over her nub and dipping inside her, circling her slick, wet inner walls, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, her eyelids fluttering in pleasure.

  ‘Your touch is so good,’ she whispered, rocking her hips, her body taking over.

  ‘You feel good,’ he replied, his voice thick with desire. He was so hard he was throbbing, and he removed his hand, preparing to slip himself into her ready warmth.

  This time their coupling was fevered and urgent. They kissed as though they would devour one another, and when he thrust up into her she met his body with her own, crying aloud without a care for who might hear them. She leant over him, delivering her breasts to his mouth, as his hand fisted in her long hair, tugging at the nape of her neck. They were more urgent as lovers this time, but it was no less intense or tender than before, their eyes locked and their need and raw emotion plain on their faces. Bella savoured every sensation: the feel of him hard inside her, his mouth nipping at her breasts and his hands rough in her hair. He could talk about forgetting all he liked, but she wanted to burn the memory of this night into her head forever. There would never be another like him. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.

  Afterwards they lay in each other’s arms, both of them turning over the events of the night, both aware that there would be no returning to their normal lives unchanged. They fell asleep with her head on his chest and his hand tangled in her hair, the words still unspoken on their lips.

  Chapter Five

  Bella woke to a knocking at the door, and sat up with a start, for a moment forgetting where she was and wondering who could possibly at her chamber at this hour. Then she saw Marco’s broad back as he opened the door, clad only in his tight leggings, and wondered how long he had been awake.

  A manservant entered the room, bowing his head to Marco, but looking at Bella with undisguised curiosity. She drew the blanket farther up her chest to cover her nakedness, and glared at the man, who only smirked and turned back to pouring a jug of weak ale into Marco’s own, smaller jug. Then he was gone, with another insolent glance at her.

  ‘Do you always drink that in the mornings?’ She grimaced. It was more usual for men of his stature to drink the fine Spanish wine the Pope laid on so freely.

  Marco shook his head. ‘Not always, but I have a thirst this morning.’ Desire flickered in his eyes for a brief moment as he considered the reasons for his thirst. ‘And our breweries here produce good ale, very fortifying. Fresh water is a precious commodity in Rome, after all, and wine clouds the mind.’

  Bella nodded. Indeed, one of the things she missed most about home was water from the spring. Although the Pope was in the process of restoring Rome’s aqueduct system so that everyone, even the poorest, had access to fresh water, it was proving to be a slow process. And no one in their right mind would drink water from the River Tiber.

  She watched Marco as he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to pull his boots on, admiring the way the strong muscles in his back and shoulders rippled as he moved. She felt a sharp stab of desire at the memory of how they had moved together only a few hours before, then the pang of loss as she remembered his words forget me. Could he really dismiss as her so easily, as if last night had meant nothing? Perhaps she was being foolish, but from the way he had held her, the look in his eyes when his body was deep in hers, and his concern for her safety, she couldn’t believe this had been nothing more than a romp.

  Yet when he stood and handed her her dress, courteous as ever, but noticeably distant, his face closed, Bella felt her heart sinking. Whatever last night may have meant to him, she knew he would never admit it. She couldn’t hide the disappointment she felt when she rose from the bed to dress, and he averted his eyes from her nakedness, as if he hadn’t explored every inch of her body in this very bed only a few hours before with his hands and his mouth and his sex.

  Dressed, she regained enough of her composure to clear her throat and say coolly, ‘Am I in danger still, do you think?’

  Marco looked at her seriously. ‘I hope not, not if you do as I say and claim you found no antidote at all for the poison. I will make it clear you had nothing to do with its theft. The Pope and his sons will be too busy dealing with Cardinal Baglioni to care about a country girl, and if the Lady Lucrezia believes you found nothing and know no secrets, she may just let you go, now that there are other matters to attend to.’

  Bella nodded, but felt desolate, as if she hardly cared whether she was allowed to leave or not. What was there to go back to, really? She had been happy enough before with her plants and her shop and her simpler way of life, but now it felt tainted with a
ll that she had seen and heard here at court. She would not return the same, and even if life could truly get back to normalcy in time, she knew she would be thinking about this man every day. How could she return to her solitary life after knowing such passion?

  But it seemed he would give her little choice. He watched her impassively as she coiled her hair into a braid and put on her slippers, then held open the door for her. She stared at him, horrified to feel tears stinging her eyes, but he did not look at her as she passed him.

  ‘I will keep you informed as to what is happening, and do what I can for your maid,’ he said in stiff tones, still without looking at her. Bella nodded, ducking her head so that he could not see the tears now threatening to spill over onto her cheeks, and hurried past him. She turned to look back, her mouth open to say she knew not what, but he had already closed the door.

  Inside, Marco sat down heavily on the chair next to the table, poured himself a cup of the ale and gave a sigh that was almost a groan. Letting her go like that, seeing the distress in her face, had wounded him more than he cared to realise. But it was better that she feel the sting of rejection now, a pain that he was sure would quickly fade when she returned to her old life, rather than stay with him and be dragged into a life of danger. He tried to ignore the pang of conscience that told him he was no better than the idiot who had been betrothed to her. This was different. Marco couldn’t offer her a traditional life; indeed, he was no in position to offer her any kind of life. For a fleeting moment last night, when he had suggested that she escape to Naples, he had thought of going with her. Although the memories of his family’s deaths were still raw, he missed his homeland. He had more than repaid his debt to Cesare, but doubted the man would let him go. And how would Marco provide for them? It was a dream, and that was all it could ever be. Bella, for all her independence, needed someone who could give her security. In truth, he was angry at himself for allowing this night of weakness, for becoming involved as a man when he should have remained the cold and callous interrogator. It would not happen again, he resolved. He had allowed himself to become distracted by Bella, and although he had done what he could to foil the plot—and would have more work ahead of him today—still the thought that there was something he had missed nagged at him.