Borgia Fever (3 page)

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. Shall 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.