Borgia Fever

by MICHELLE KELLY,

  Marco lifted the cup to his lips, and just as the first drops of the liquid swilled into his mouth, two things occurred to him. One, that though the wine for the party had been recalled and checked, no one had thought to check the brewery, being as it was mostly the servants who drank ale. Secondly, that there was a faint bitter odour coming from the jug.

  Bella was nearly back to her room, and could see the guard that had been posted at her door yawn, when the gnawing anxiety in her stomach that had been growing since she’d left Marco intensified. Something was wrong, she knew it, something more than her own upset at his dismissal of her. A wave of nausea hit her, so strong that she had to steady herself against the wall, her head whirling with fragments of memory from the night before. The vial of poison, Marco’s pride when he’d admitted the strength of his spy network, the mention of the ‘dark lord’ by Baglioni’s manservant. A fitting name for Cesare, certainly, but perhaps also for his spymaster and assassin... The truth hit her with a horror that made her cry out loud. The Borgia family had not been the only target. It was whispered that a large part of their power was due to the fact that they seemed to know everything about everyone before it even happened. Marco was integral to that. And in the rush to ensure the Borgia family members were safe, would anyone have thought to ensure the safety of their bodyguard? One who preferred ale to wine? Bella broke into a run, and the yawning guard stood to attention immediately as she ran up to him.

  ‘Get a physician!’ she screamed. ‘And tell him to go to Don Corelli’s room at once! Quickly,’ she begged, when the guard just gaped at her. ‘He’s been poisoned!’

  The guard went white and broke into a run himself, while Bella rushed into her room and rummaged through the still disordered contents of her chest until she found what she was looking for. Then she picked up her skirts and raced as if a pack of wolves were at her heels, her thoughts all for Marco, praying that she was wrong, that she would reach his room to find him still sitting there, drinking his ale, looking up in bemusement at her sudden arrival.

  Her prayers were in vain. She ran into the room to find Marco collapsed against the table, bellowing like an animal in pain. Even in his obvious agony he fought to keep himself upright and not collapse to the floor. Bella rushed to him, grabbing him by the waist and helping him to the bed, staggering under his weight. She pushed him back on the mattress and he arched his spine and groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. Sobbing, but moving as quickly as possible, Bella put the lump of charcoal she had with her on the table and banged at it with the plate to crush it, then grabbed a handful and pushed it into Marco’s mouth. He retched and turned his head, gasping through his pain. ‘Bella, no.’

  For a second she didn’t understand, then remembered his warnings about revealing her knowledge. Even now, he thought of her.

  ‘I’m not going to let you die,’ she said firmly, pushing more charcoal into his mouth. ‘Now swallow.’ He heaved on the chalky substance, but fought to do as she bid, while Bella prayed to every saint she had ever heard of that her theory would work.

  Behind her the guard, the palace physician and a young cardinal rushed into the room. The doctor came to Marco’s side, looking at Bella in horror as he saw her pushing the charcoal into his mouth.

  ‘Are you mad? You’ll choke him.’

  ‘It will bind the poison,’ she said, with a confidence she didn’t feel.

  ‘What has he been given?’ the doctor asked, rummaging in his bag.

  ‘Cantarella, the ‘fever’.’ Bella said grimly. Next to her the cardinal crossed himself and murmured a prayer, while the physician looked at her in horror.

  ‘If it is cantarella then there is nothing we can do,’ he said, stepping away from Marco as if his suffering might somehow be transmitted to him also.

  ‘We have to try!’ she yelled at him. The physician seemed to come to his senses, and held Marco’s now thrashing head, lifting it so he didn’t choke while Bella administered the last of the charcoal. Marco seemed to quiet, his thrashing stopping, but he was sweating and panting, eyes closed, oblivious now to his surroundings. All she could do now was watch and wait.

  Bella stayed by his side all day, mopping his brow when the fever hit him, giving him the specially prepared herbal tincture when his parched throat cried for water. She thought he wasn’t aware of what was happening, until he clutched her hand, saying her name in a raspy voice.

  ‘Bella.’

  ‘I’m here,’ she said, clasping his hand in hers, hot tears stinging her eyes, ‘I’m here.’

  The cardinal came in and out, praying, and the physician hovered, more interested in Bella’s ‘cure’ than he was concerned whether Marco lived or died. A maid brought her food and drink, and the Pope himself briefly came by and said a blessing, his face white. Bella was hardly aware of any of them. She kept her eyes on Marco, her lips moving in silent prayer, willing him to live. Finally, when his breathing had slowed and his fever seemed to be cooling, she gave in to her exhaustion and fell asleep, leaning over him with her head on her chest. Just before sleep overtook her she felt his hand rest weakly on her hair.

  When she woke it was the next morning, the dawn light dim through the one tiny window. She sat up with a start, looking down at Marco, her heart leaping at the sight of him. He was breathing regularly, and when she pressed her hand to his forehead there was no sign of fever. His eyelids fluttered at her touch. He opened his eyes and smiled at her weakly. His face was deathly pale, but he was alive. He was alive. She grinned at him, feeling as if her heart would burst.

  ‘Bella,’ he said, lifting his hand as if to touch her, then dropping it again as the effort proved too much. ‘God’s teeth, I feel rotten.’

  ‘You need to rest. For at least a few days,’ she said softly, suppressing a smile at the look of horror on his face.

  ‘I have things to do,’ he protested. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  ‘Even you are not invincible,’ she pointed out as she sat back up. ‘Although that poison would have killed a lesser man.’

  ‘It might, if you hadn’t been here. But you’ve put yourself in danger.’ He looked agitated and she stroked his face.

  ‘We’ll find a way around it. My lady isn’t completely heartless. Have I not just saved the life of her brother’s favourite? That must count for something.’

  ‘But now you will never get away from them.’ Marco looked haunted.

  Bella took a deep breath. ‘Then there is no reason for us to be parted. I can stay here, with you, if of course you want me to.’

  Marco closed his eyes briefly, and fear that he would still profess to not want her gripped her like a vise. But when he opened them they were soft.

  ‘I would have pushed you away to keep you from this, Bella. I wanted you to go home, forget me.’

  ‘I would never have forgotten you.’

  Marco looked deep into her eyes, his near brush with death making him want to be honest with her, to drop his mask. He had been given a second chance at life, and he intended to take it with both hands.

  ‘Nor I you. I never thought to feel like this about a woman. In just one night, you have bewitched me.’

  ‘It was quite a night,’ she agreed, a mischievous smile on her lips, and bent over to kiss him again. He responded weakly at first, then grew stronger, sucking on her lower lip in a way that made other parts of her throb. A small cough behind them made her straighten up in surprise.

  At the bottom of the bed stood Cesare Borgia, looking the picture of health and not at all as if he had just spent the last two days drinking and cavorting. He gazed at Marco with concern. Even so, Bella could sense the menace that hung around him, and she shuddered.

  ‘You’re alive then. Thank God. When I heard, I thought I had lost you.’ She was surprised to see his face was f
ull of a genuine concern. He bowed to Bella. She went to stand and curtsey, but he waved a hand at her.

  ‘Sit down. You saved Marco’s life, and I am in your debt. How can I repay you?’

  Bella smiled ruefully. ‘I would ask the one thing you cannot give me, my lord. Marco himself.’

  Cesare gaped at her, and for a terrifying moment Bella wondered if she had gone too far. Then he let out a bellow of laughter.

  ‘Wonderful, isn’t she? So refreshing! No wonder you like her.’

  Marco smiled, then turned his head to Bella. ‘Leave us, sweetheart. We need to talk.’ He lifted her hand to his lips, regaining his strength by the minute. ‘I will send for you later.’

  She nodded, dipped her head to Cesare and left them. She was drained and tired, but joy bubbled up in her, too. He wanted her; he wasn’t going to send her away. Reaching her room, she stripped off the now bedraggled red dress, washed and put on her usual everyday gown, then busied herself tidying her things back into her chest. She finally lay back on her bed, at last able to replay memories of her and Marco in her mind, this time with no pain of parting. She tried to push away the doubts that said life in Rome, as the mistress of a notorious spymaster, was not quite what she wanted for herself. The future had in some respects been taken out of her hands, but she chose Marco willingly, whatever it entailed. As she had sat by his side, tending to him, and in those awful moments when she had not known whether he would live or die, she had known that she would give anything to be with him, that she would never again love like this. Bella dozed off, only to dream of his arms around her.

  She woke with a start at the sound of footsteps by her bed, and sat up in alarm, eyes wide.

  ‘You should be resting!’ she exclaimed. Marco chuckled and sat down next to her.

  ‘I’m weary of resting, and I have news for you.’ He was pale and drawn still, but nevertheless recovering admirably. It clearly took more than a drop of poison to fell le birbante. The smile on his face told her it could only be good news, and her heart leapt in her chest as he took her hand.

  ‘In saving my life you have probably saved your own. Lucrezia is thrilled you have found a cure, and will require you to explain to her exactly how to administer it, now that we know for certain it works. I believe Cesare will be able to convince her it is better you do not stay at court, lest you attract too much attention to yourself.’

  ‘But then how can I stay here with you?’ she cried. Was he going to dash her hopes again by sending her home? Expect her to wait, perhaps, for the occasional visit? She knew she would refuse that; she wanted—no, needed—more from him. But he was shaking his head, his grin wider.

  ‘Tell me!’ she said impatiently.

  ‘It is agreed that a watchful eye must be kept on you, and unfortunately—’ his lips twitched ‘—that burden has fallen to me. Cesare has agreed we go to Naples. His brother is about to marry their princess, and my eyes and ears there will be to their advantage. It will be an easier life than Rome, and it is time I saw my homeland again. You can ply your trade there—as my wife, if you will have me.’

  ‘Wife!’ Bella stared, incredulous. Marco nodded as if there had never been any question of anything less. ‘I can hardly take you with me as a mistress, and you are more to me than that already, my love.’ He went to raise her hand to his lips, but she threw herself into his arms and kissed him hard, her lips locking with his.

  ‘Is that a yes?’

  For answer, she kissed him again. Life with her Rogue would perhaps never be quiet, or indeed easy, but it would never be dull, and they would have each other. It was enough. More than enough; it was perfect.

  * * * * *

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Michelle Kelly is a former English teacher living in the beautiful Amber Valley countryside in the heart of England with her own real-life hero, two rug rats and a rodent. She is a hopeless romantic with a passionate interest in history, and so writing historical romances is a dream come true! Her first historical novel was written at the age of twelve, tied together with string and still kept in her grandmother’s dresser. She is also a published author of contemporary romance, poetry and memoir, and this is her second story for the Harlequin Historical Undone line.

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  IMPRINT: Historical Undone, Digital Exclusives

  ISBN: 9781488715709

  TITLE: BORGIA FEVER

  First Australian Publication 2014

  Copyright © 2014 Michelle Kelly

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. N.S.W., Australia 2067.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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