Borgia Fever (2 page)

He must have sensed her hesitation, for he pulled away, his
palm stilling on her leg. He gazed down at her, his eyes dark with desire and
his breathing ragged. Even so, he was still undeniably in control, whereas Bella
felt like a melting mess. He then pulled her against him again, slower this
time, leaning down and taking her mouth with his in a way that made her body
tremble and the liquid heat pool between her thighs. This time when his hand
made its slow path up her thighs she made no attempt to stop him. He paused
again as his palm neared her sex, a question in his eyes.

‘I'm not a maiden,' she whispered, her voice hoarse, but still
he hesitated, staring down at her with those dark eyes as if he would have her
beg before he touched her. Finally she felt his fingers brush her most intimate,
womanly place, and a soft moan escaped her lips. His eyes glittered with triumph
as he captured her mouth again, his lips moving against hers as his hand moved
in rhythm against, and then inside, her sex. Bella felt her body clench and then
release, opening for him, and feeling his hardness straining against her, she
reached a hand down to stroke him through the thin material of his breeches. She
wanted him. For all she knew she could die here. Well, she could do naught to
prevent that, but she would not do so without knowing this man in the most
intimate of ways. As she reached for his laces, however, a loud crash and then
raucous laughter came from close behind them in the hall. She paused, her eyes
wide at the thought of being seen. Marco stepped back, his hands falling away
from her, and the moment was lost.

‘I will not take you up against the wall like this,' he
murmured, his eyes drinking her in, ‘as much as I want to.'

She nodded, breathless, her body protesting and still eager for
his touch.

He motioned his head towards the open doors, where the sounds
of merriment continued to grow.

‘I must stay until my lord retires,' he whispered, his voice
thick with need, ‘but I doubt it will be long before some lady takes his fancy
and he has no need for me. If you wish it, I could come to your room.'

Bella bit her lip. Did she wish it? There was no denying she
wanted him, but it was one thing to be whisked away at a feast in the heat of
the moment, and quite another to plan a tryst in her own room.

As she looked up at him, his face half—hidden in the shadows,
his expression unreadable, she had a sudden longing to know the man underneath
his demeanor. ‘Yes, come to me later,' she whispered, throwing caution to the
winds. ‘I have a small room in the ladies' quarters, near...'

‘I know where you are, Signora Bella,' he murmured.

She flushed. ‘I thought you hadn't noticed me, at least not
until the other morning in the garden.'

‘I notice everyone. Especially newcomers to the palace.'

‘Oh!' she gasped, stung, ‘you have been spying on me then?'

‘Of course. And it was a pleasure,' he said, his eyes hinting
at pleasures still to come. She wasn't sure whether to be pleased that he had
indeed noticed her or disappointed that he had been watching her with suspicion
as well as want. But it was to be expected. She was indeed a newcomer, and one
rumoured to have knowledge of all sorts of poisons. Again she wondered how much
he knew about her real purpose here.

He was stepping away from her now, bowing and kissing her hand
with all the grace of a courtier, a mischievous look in her eye that made her
giggle like any coquette, almost giddy from the strangeness of their
encounter.

‘Until later,' he whispered, and was gone. Bella stood for a
minute, gulping in the night air and straightening her clothes before she
reentered the hall, looking around her warily. But none of the revellers noticed
her; they were engrossed with their own business. She crossed the floor quickly,
looking to escape through the side doors and go to her room to process the
night's events—and those to come.

Sweaty hands grabbed at her from behind, a drunken voice
slurring close to her ear as she turned to see one of the cardinals grinning
lecherously at her, clearly more concerned with the pleasures of the flesh than
the care of his soul. Bella twisted away from him, but he only gripped her
harder, laughing as if the idea of her trying to get away from him was
hilarious. She looked around wildly for help, then saw it in the shape of a dark
figure suddenly coming up behind the cardinal, one hand resting lightly but
noticeably on the hilt of his dagger.

‘I believe this woman is spoken for, Your Holiness,' the Rogue
said, his voice quiet and polite, yet somehow managing to drip with menace. The
cardinal raised his hands in protest, and Bella quickly stepped out of his
reach.

‘Of course, of course, only a jest,' he slurred, slapping the
Rogue on the back and then hurrying away remarkably fast for a drunken old man.
A cardinal might well outrank a spy in status, but no man wanted to quarrel with
the Rogue.

Bella looked at him gratefully and he winked at her, mouthed
‘
Soon'
and was gone again, his movements lithe
and feline. Bella hurried to the door, allowing herself one last glance back to
see him now deep in conversation with some ambassador or another, and she
pressed her fingers to her lips as if some trace of his kiss might still linger
there, before disappearing into the corridor that led to the ladies'
quarters.

She had been given a simple and spare room, but at least it was
her own, and she didn't have to share with Lucrezia's ladies or the maids. Bella
tossed her mask onto the small pallet she had been given for a bed, bubbling
with excitement at the thought that she may not be sleeping alone in it tonight,
when a stirring of alarm froze the smile on her face.

Something was wrong. The finely honed intuition that she had
inherited from her mother, but kept carefully guarded lest it raise accusations
of witchcraft, now hit her in the gut like a fist. She scanned the room, finding
nothing amiss, but knowing that someone had been there. Her eyes fell on the
large wooden chest in the corner and she hurried over to it with her heart
hammering.

It was still locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, Bella fumbled
under the bed for the key and opened the chest, trying to calm her fears.
Lifting the covering cloth out of the way, she examined the neatly stacked
bottles, packets of herbs and notebooks. Everything seemed to be in place.

Except a small red vial that should have been at the bottom of
the chest, in the farthest corner, was missing. The substance that was vital to
her work here.

The small vial contained a sample of that mysterious concoction
known as the ‘Borgia fever.' A poison so deadly it could kill a grown man with
just a drop. The secret weapon against the many enemies of the Borgia reign.

The vial had been entrusted to her care. And it was gone.

Chapter Two

Marco Corelli smiled his polite, enigmatic smile at the
Venetian ambassador, who was still droning on about trade ships and drainage
systems, and to any onlookers he seemed thoroughly interested in the
conversation. However, Marco had one eye on Cardinal Baglioni, the priest who
had attempted to grope Bella. The surge of protective anger that had welled up
in Marco when he'd seen the old man put his hands on her had surprised him; it
hadn't just been the expected chivalry to defend a woman's honour that had made
him interfere, he had been furious to see another man pawing at her. He hadn't
wanted a woman so badly in a long time. From the day she had arrived at Santa
Maria he had watched her, entranced by the sway of her lithe body and the tumble
of her rich chestnut hair, and intrigued by her calm air of self-assurance and
independence. She was so different from the giggling court ladies and
professional courtesans he was used to that his interest was undoubtedly
piqued.

‘Watch her,' he had been instructed by Cesare, son of the Pope
and Marco's employer and friend. ‘She is up to something. Or rather, my sister
is.' Indeed, Lady Lucrezia was being as secretive as Marco himself about the
reasons for this woman's presence. And Marco was only happy to watch her—too
happy, in fact, due to the strong physical attraction he felt for her. He sensed
that she was an honest woman, that there was no reason to distrust her, but the
intrigues of the Borgia court were so convoluted that a person could well be
caught up in the centre of a plot without even being aware of it. For the last
few years Marco had thrived on his role as spy and bodyguard, only too glad to
work for the man who had once saved his life. But recently he had found himself
growing tired of the pomp of Rome and longing for his homeland of Naples.

But there was nothing to return to; the invading French army
had seen to that years before. He had no family, no land, and no allegiance to
anyone other than Cesare. Marco had given up all hope of a wife and family years
before. On the occasions when he took a woman he was always careful, always
discreet, and always gone by the morning. He tried to tell himself that his
fascination with Bella was only because it had been so long since he had lain
with a girl, and he would be better off tumbling one of the kitchen maids than
the woman he had been assigned to watch. That should be a reason to keep away
from her, but his desire to have her writhing beneath him was too strong. Her
and no other. Her passion and strength intrigued him. He would take her tonight,
allow himself one night to enjoy her, and by morning his desire for her would be
sated and out of his system. The itch effectively scratched. Then he would be
able to watch her more objectively. She had admitted she was no virgin, after
all, no she would know to expect nothing from a man like him.

Marco frowned as he realised thinking about Bella had
distracted him from the task at hand. He had completely lost track of the
Venetian's conversation—or monologue, to be more exact, the man was such a
bore—but more importantly, he had also lost sight of Baglioni. The old priest
was acting strangely tonight, drinking more than usual and seeming nervous and
twitchy. Marco's gut told him something was up, and there were whispers abroad
about a plot aimed at Cesare Borgia himself, though so far even his network of
spies had not uncovered anything concrete. However, the night had so far gone
without incident, and indeed, a quick sweep of the room showed Baglioni back at
his seat, a glass of wine in his hand and a pretty young courtesan on his lap.
All as usual then. In truth, Marco doubted the gluttonous cardinal had the
temerity to strike at the very heart of the Borgia clan, but one never knew.

Marco took his leave of the ambassador, who promptly turned to
a young lady next to him to ask her advice in matters of canal sewage, and the
Rogue moved through the crowd, ever alert to what was happening around him. He
saw Cesare, looking resplendent in purple hose and a jewelled tunic, wave him
over. Marco swallowed a sigh of impatience, hoping he wasn't about to be given
some task that would keep him up all night and out of Bella's waiting arms.

‘Corelli!' Cesare slapped him on the back with enough force
that a weaker man would have winced. ‘I'm going to pay a visit to a certain, er,
establishment with my brother here. Are you joining us?'

Marco bowed slightly, relieved. If Cesare and his brother were
visiting a brothel together, they would have no need of him.

‘I think I will leave that to you, my lord. I have other
matters to attend to.'

Cesare rolled his eyes good-naturedly and left with his
brother. Marco watched them go, then turned and left the hall by the same side
door Bella had used. He hoped she was alone and not attended by that simpering
maid she had bought with her, a foolish girl. Marco had his network keeping an
eye on her, also; empty heads could all too easily be turned.

As he made his way towards Bella's room he felt the desire for
her low in his belly. It had taken all his usually iron-clad self-control to
pull away from her on the balcony; he had wanted nothing more than to free her
from her dress and have her up against the stone wall there and then, and she
had responded so passionately.... It was making him hard again just remembering
the soft heat of her lips against his and the firm curves of her thighs as his
hand had slipped beneath her skirts. But as ever, duty called. It would have
reflected badly on him to be seen rutting on a balcony rather than keeping his
watchful eyes on his lord. Now that Cesare had retired for the night, however,
Marco's time was his own, for just a little while, and he fully intended to
assuage the fire in his loins. As he walked down the poorly lit corridor that
led to her room he allowed himself to imagine being inside her, of her body
melding to his. He took a breath, regaining his usual composure before he rapped
quietly at her door.

Whatever reception he was expecting, it wasn't this. Bella
opened the door looking wild-eyed and terrified, clutching a hand to her chest.
Her unpinned hair fell around her shoulders and her cheeks were flushed with
panic. Even as he strode past her into the room, his hand on his dagger, ready
to confront whatever had scared her, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful
she looked.

There was no one in there, only an open chest with its contents
strewn about. He turned to Bella, who had shut the door after looking feverishly
up and down the corridor.

‘What is it? Has someone been in your room?'

She looked at him and nodded mutely, her gaze flickering
towards the open chest. Marco frowned; there was something badly wrong here.

‘Has anything been stolen?' He crossed over to the vials and
packets on display, but Bella rushed to stop him, grabbing his arm and looking
up at him with pleading eyes. Marco tried to ignore the feeling of distrust that
automatically began to gnaw at him, but he knew there was something she wished
to hide. Everyone at the Borgia court had secrets.

‘Yes. A medicine. For Lady Lucrezia.' She bit her lip,
betraying the lie. Marco cupped a hand under her chin, none too gently lifting
her face to his. She blushed, and realising his gaze was on her soft, full lips,
he met her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was serious.

‘Bella, what is it? You must tell me.'

She looked down, lacing her fingers together as if steeling
herself, then met his eyes squarely even though she was perceptibly trembling.
He had to admire her courage. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

‘You know the rumours about Lady Lucrezia,' she said, a
statement, not a question. Marco nodded; he knew more than most about what was
rumour and what was truth, and also how rumour could be cultivated to one's
advantage.

‘You know about the poison they call the ‘Borgia fever'? Well,
it is no rumour. My lady is indeed in possession of the recipe for it.'

Marco nodded impatiently. This was no news to him. It was the
Borgia family's preferred method of dealing with their enemies, though contrary
to court gossip, not one that Marco had ever administered. Poison, and a knife
in the dark, were cowardly methods. Lady Lucrezia, however, was the only one who
knew the exact ingredients, although many had tried and failed to recreate
it.

‘Well...' Bella swallowed nervously, though her eyes did not
leave his. ‘There was a vial of it in my chest earlier today, which my lady had
given me. And it has gone.'

Marco swore. Noticing Bella recoil at the display of temper, he
took a deep breath and lowered his voice, though his words came out as a growl.
He was the Rogue again, the lover forgotten.

‘Gone? Are you sure?'

She nodded, looking affronted. ‘I keep a careful inventory. And
it was definitely in my possession before I went to the ball.'

‘Who has access to your room? To the chest?'

‘To my room, anyone, I suppose. To the chest, only myself,
though my maid, Susanna, could have found the key. But why would she steal it?
She has no idea what it is.'

‘Someone does. And exactly why do you have it in your
keeping?'

Bella hesitated before answering. ‘Lady Lucrezia asked me if I
could refine it for her. There are currently...difficulties when it comes to
making a certain compound.'

She was lying, he knew, and yet he got no sense of malice from
her, and Marco prided himself on his ability to detect the villains from the
innocent. It had kept him alive more than once. Even so, until her story was
corroborated and the maid found and questioned, Bella must be watched. Kept
under lock and key, even. The thought of the Castle Sant'Angelo and its torture
chamber turned even his stomach. Too many had entered those grim walls, never to
return.

‘Come with me,' he commanded, holding his hand out. Bella
hesitated, and he knew he was scaring her, but this was no time to be indulging
the feelings of this woman. The poison needed to be found before it could be
used. There was only one reason someone would want it to kill.

‘Where are we going?' Bella stood, but didn't take his hand.
When he gripped her arm and steered her out of the room, she turned on him in
indignation. ‘You are accusing me? Of what, exactly? It is my things that have
been stolen!'

‘If that poison has been taken, then His Holiness and the whole
family are in danger. It can be no coincidence. And there is something you are
not telling me. If you have any idea what is happening here, you must tell me.
Now.' Marco saw the fear in her eyes, but he couldn't let a pretty face cloud
his judgement. After all, he barely knew her, even if he had spent the last two
weeks, since he had first set eyes on her lush curves, fantasizing about her in
his bed.

‘I know nothing,' she retorted, angry in spite of her fear.
Marco's eyes searched her face. He was torn between his duty and his desire in a
way that he had never been since entering the service of the Borgia family. This
woman was stirring up wants and needs he had thought long since discarded. Even
so, duty must win out.

‘I must investigate your claims,' he said, ‘and I cannot be
seen to let you roam around in the meantime.'

Bella's eyes went wide with horror. ‘The Castle Sant'Angelo?
You would throw me in there? Not an hour ago you were whispering a lover's
promises, and now you would be my jailer?'

Marco shook his head once, sharply. Whatever she was hiding
about her purpose here, he was certain she meant no harm, was part of no plot.
But he had to make sure.

‘No, I would rather not see you in that God-forsaken place. You
will be safe in my rooms until I can talk with you further. Now will you come,
and quickly?'

He moved swiftly down the corridor, not holding her this time
but trusting her to follow, and she hurried to keep up with his long strides,
gathering her skirts in her hands.

‘My things,' she protested, but did not hesitate.

‘I will post a guard,' he said without turning round. The heels
on his boots echoed ominously on the stone floors.

When they reached his rooms he ushered her inside and gave her
a long look before he went to lock the door on her.

‘Wait!' she cried. He paused, cursing himself as he did so.
What was it about this woman that made him want to be her champion? He was no
knight.

‘My maid,' she explained, her eyes full of concern not for
herself but for the girl now also under suspicion. ‘I don't believe she would
have stolen from me voluntarily. She may be hurt....' Bella's voice trailed away
as she contemplated the various scenarios, each more gruesome than the last. If
she had thought herself in danger before, now she truly feared for her life. She
raised a face filled with such anguish that Marco stepped forward involuntarily,
as if to comfort her. He reached a hand to her, then thought better of it. What
comfort could he give her? And as she stood facing him, her breasts heaving
against the confines of her dress and her face flushed, he knew if he laid his
hands on her it wouldn't be to give her comfort, but pleasure.

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.