Lost Love Found (29 page)

Throughout the meal, a liveried servant assigned to each diner kept the silver goblet filled with a pale golden wine that was the most delicious Valentina had ever tasted. The duke told her that it came from his own vineyards, and that San Lorenzo was famous for these particular wines.

“My uncle’s half brother is the master of Archambault in the Loire, and we have always obtained our wines from him,” Valentina said. “When I have my own home again, Highness, I shall want some of your fine wines in my cellar.”

“Your
own
home, madonna? I do not understand,” the duke replied.

“I am a widow, Highness. My family did not think it proper that I remain alone in my husband’s house. We were wed only a short time and I have no children,” Valentina told him.

“A widow? How curious, madonna. I am a widower. But I am fortunate in that my wife left me with two fine sons. Twins! Georgio, after my father, and Nicolo, after Madelaine’s father, who is the Duc de Beaumont de Jaspre.”

“Nicholas St. Adrian?” Padraic Burke exclaimed.

“Why, yes,” said the duke. “Do you know him?”

“My mother was once the Duchesse de Beaumont de Jaspre,” said Padraic. “She was wed to Duc Fabron. When he died and Nicholas inherited the kingdom, he sought to marry my mother, but she wed an old friend instead,” Padraic finished. There was no need to attempt to explain the Byzantine events surrounding his mother’s passionate love affair with Duc Nicholas, his own father’s sudden reappearance, his mother’s desperate attempt to save him, her failure, and her eventual marriage to Adam de Marisco. It was much too complex. Padraic turned away from his cousin and the duke in order to help himself to a dish of small quail being offered by a servant.

“Nicholas St. Adrian was wed to Madelaine de Monaco,” Sebastian di San Lorenzo explained. “His son, Nicholas, was born in 1571, but it was not until twelve years later that his wife produced further offspring, twin daughters, Louise and Madelaine. That birth killed her. My father-in-law has never married again. Louise married into a Venetian ducal family whose eldest daughter, Giovanna, is now married to my brother-in-law, Nicholas the younger. My lovely Madelaine died birthing our sons.

“How sad that you do not have the comfort of children, madonna,” Sebastian finished, turning his full attention to Valentina once again.

“Edward and I were wed less than a month when he was thrown from a horse,” Valentina replied.

“You were no more than a bride, madonna,” cried the duke. “You had not even time to learn about love, did you? How I envy your bridegroom even the few lessons he taught you.”

Valentina felt her cheeks grow warm once more. “Highness! You are too bold, and you make me blush!”

“You are adorable when you blush, madonna,” he told her.

“You are wicked,” she told him. “My cousins and the earl will hear.”

“Have you never wanted to be even just a little wicked, madonna?” he teased her.

“Please, monseigneur,” she warned him.

He laughed softly. “They are far too involved in their conversation with my Jesuit to notice what we are saying.”

Valentina turned her gaze to the others for a moment and discovered that the duke spoke the truth. Murrough, Padraic, and Tom were all heatedly debating England’s breach with Rome of over fifty years before with the duke’s personal confessor, who had joined them for supper. They were not one bit concerned with her.

The duke took her by the hand and pulled her up, drawing her away from the table and into the shadows of the balustrade. “You are so beautiful, madonna, but then I am certainly not the first man to tell you that,” he said, and nuzzled the softness of her cheek. “We have only met, yet I find myself inexplicably drawn to you. I long to steal you away from here and make love to you.”

Valentina gasped. She had certainly never met a man like this one!

“You are shy,” the duke said. He smiled, pleased. “You were a virgin when you wed, weren’t you?”

“Monseigneur! What do you take me for?” Valentina said, outraged.

His answer was to draw her into his arms and press his lips to hers. Her instinct was to struggle, but somehow after the first shock, Valentina found she did not want to struggle against the duke’s warm mouth. He kissed very well, though her toes did not curl, as they did when Padraic kissed her.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the embrace, allowing him to part her lips and permitting his tongue to play hide-and-seek with hers.

“Ah, madonna,” he murmured against her ear. “Now I
know
I must make love to you,” and he bent her backward and pressed hot kisses over her throat and bosom.

Too late, Valentina realized that the duke was most serious. Her arms were pinioned against her sides by his embrace, and she could no longer struggle. Frightened, she gasped, “Monseigneur! Please, no! You must not!”

Sebastian de San Lorenzo was an experienced lover. He could easily recognize when a woman was being coy and when she was being truthful. Valentina was genuinely afraid. He ceased his sweet assault immediately. “Madonna, forgive me,” he told her gently, loosening his hold on her. “You are too beautiful and my passion for you is an honest one, but I see I must go slowly with you, for you are not a lady of great experience. I do mean to pursue you, but for now, let us join the others.”

“Ye have had a little adventure,” Murrough teased her softly when she took her place at the table.

“Is he so passionate with all the ladies?” Valentina whispered. “He quite took my breath away, Murrough.”

“He is considered a great lover by those who believe themselves knowledgeable in such matters, sweet coz,” Murrough replied. Then he said thoughtfully, keeping his voice low, “He
is
in the market for a wife, Val. ’Twould not be such a bad catch for ye.”

“It was not marriage he had on his mind, Murrough.” She laughed. “ ’Twas seduction, pure and simple. Even I am competent to recognize seduction. Besides, do you not think two suitors enough for an old widow of twenty-one?”

The captain chuckled. “When a woman lacks the lure of virginity to entice a lover,” he said, “a small taste of well-aged honey is a fine inducement to elicit a proposal! Ye would make a lovely Duchesse di San Lorenzo.”

“Murrough! You sound like more and more your mother. Perhaps the duke would be an eligible suitor for your Gwyneth.”

“Her blood is not noble enough for such a match,” Murrough answered his cousin.

“And mine is? Nonsense, cousin! We are shoots from the same tree, our grandfather’s, Dubhdara O’Malley’s, tree.”

“But ye have great beauty to recommend ye, Val. Beauty such as yours is a great asset. My daughters, bless them, are just like their mother, sweet-natured and passably pretty. Ye have wit and intellect to go with your beauty. Ye are more like my mother than ye realize.”

“Sebastian di San Lorenzo could not enjoy a wife like that,” Valentina whispered, taking care that their host not hear. “He is a man who must be dominant. Eventually he will marry a sweet, docile little Catholic princess or duke’s daughter who will defer to him in everything and bear him many children as she grows plump with his loving and too many sweets.”

Murrough burst out laughing at her astute observation, and the eyes of the others at their table went to him questioningly. “A family joke,” he said, chuckling.

“Will you share it with us, Murrough?” the duke called from the head of the table.

“ ’Twould not be understood without much background, Sebastian,” Murrough excused himself. “Val was naughty to bring it up at all.”

“Were you naughty, madonna?” the duke inquired. “I should like you to be naughty with me.” His amber eyes glittered.

Lord Burke’s fists tightened beneath the table, and the earl’s jaw grew taut. The young men had not failed to note the duke’s interest in Valentina. It went far beyond the bounds of mere good manners. The duke was obviously taken with Valentina, which pleased neither of them.

“I have a surprise for you all,” the duke said expansively. “You will be here for several days while your ships are supplied with food and fresh water is brought aboard for the next phase of your journey. I thought you would enjoy living ashore during that time rather than in the cramped quarters of the ship.

“Do you see the charming little pink villa just below this terrace? I have had all your luggage taken there. Your servant as well, madonna. You will remain there in comfort for the length of your stay in San Lorenzo.”

“ ’Tis uncommonly kind of ye, Sebastian,” Murrough said gratefully. “We shall all enjoy your villa, and Valentina may indulge herself in daily baths, which she cannot do aboard ship.”

“What a lovely little villa!” Valentina said, delighted. “I shall enjoy staying there. Thank you.”

“The villa has a romantic but sad history,” the duke told them. “In the time of my great-great-great-great-grandfather, Sebastian II, the pink villa was home to the Scottish ambassador. The ambassador’s daughter was a beautiful maiden who was betrothed to my great-great-great-grandfather, who became Rudolpho V.

“The young couple were very much in love, but the ambassador would not allow his daughter to marry until she was fifteen, so the young people were forced to wait. The young woman, whose name in Italian was Gianetta, was somewhat eccentric in that she loved swimming in the sea and sailing a small boat about the numerous coves and bays of our coastline. She could not be dissuaded from this pursuit, and ’twas this very passion that was responsible for her unspeakable fate.

“One afternoon in winter—it was, in fact, just this time of year—Donna Gianetta left the pink villa with her African slave to go to a favorite beach, two miles down the coast, out of sight of Arcobaleno. That beach and its cove have ever since been called Gianetta’s Folly, for there the young girl was captured and kidnapped by slave traders. Her slave, a gelded male who had been a gift from the young Rudolpho, escaped to return to Arcobaleno. It was believed that he was involved in the kidnap. He was tortured, and he admitted his culpability before he died.

“Gianetta was taken to the great slave market in Candia on the island of Crete, where a representative of my ancestor, attempted to purchase the lovely Gianetta’s freedom. Alas, she was purchased by an agent of the Ottoman sultan and disappeared into his harem. Heartbroken, her father and family left San Lorenzo, never to return.

“The next ambassador from Scotland would not live in the villa, for his wife said it was unlucky. Since it belonged to my family, we housed the ambassador elsewhere and used our property ourselves.”

“Poor girl,” Valentina said sympathetically, “but tell me, Highness, what happened to the young bridegroom, Rudolpho? Did he mourn her loss greatly?”

The duke smiled. What a charmingly romantic creature she was! “I am afraid not, madonna. It was necessary that Rudolpho marry and sire sons. Three months after Gianetta’s fate was determined, Rudolpho di San Lorenzo married my great-great-great-grandmother, the Princess Marie-Hélène of Toulouse.”

Valentina sighed. “Was Gianetta happy in San Lorenzo?”

“It is said that she loved my country very much.”

“Then, although your tale has an unhappy ending, the villa was a happy house,” Valentina reasoned.

He reached out and took her hand. Turning it over, he placed a warm kiss upon the sensitive flesh of her wrist. “How wise and kind you are, madonna. You have a
simpatico
heart and soul. That is a rare and precious gift.”

Murrough could see that his brother’s temper was close to exploding. “This has been a long day for us, Sebastian,” he said. “I think we had best retire.”

“Of course, my friend,” the duke replied graciously. “A carriage will convey you to the villa, but there is a path that leads from this very terrace down to the pink villa’s gardens, and I claim the privilege of escorting Donna Valentina there myself.” Smiling at the gentlemen in parting, he offered his arm to Lady Barrows. “Madonna?”

There was no gainsaying him. Valentina took the proffered arm. In a way it was amusing, for there was nothing subtle in the duke’s manner. Most of her life she had lived in relative obscurity at Pearroc Royal, and few gentlemen had courted her seriously despite her beauty, for she had an aloofness that frightened them away. Now she was suddenly the object of desire to three very attractive men. She did not understand why. Was there something different about her now?

The duke led her from the terrace down a flight of marble steps to a gravel path below. Valentina wondered why she had not noticed the path before, but then she realized her eyes had been on the moonlit sea and, of course, on the duke. Bordering the path were tall silver torches burning scented oil, casting a flickering golden light over the path. Along their route, marble niches were fitted into the hillside. Within each niche was a marble statue draped in the classical manner. Valentina raised an eyebrow. “Do you always keep this path lit so well, Highness?”

“Only when I have need of it, and you will call me Sebastian, madonna,” he answered her. He stopped suddenly. Putting an arm about her waist, he turned her toward him. “I must hear you say my name, madonna!” he murmured urgently. His amber eyes were glowing with an almost savage gleam.

She could feel the fingers of his hand splaying over her rib cage and she found it difficult to breathe. Her amethyst eyes widened slowly with the shocked realization that her body was responding in a frightening fashion!

He brushed her lips with his own. “Say my name, madonna!” he begged her huskily. “Say it!”

“Se-Se-Sebastian!” she whispered.

“
Dio
, you intoxicate me!” he cried softly, and his mouth covered hers in a torrid kiss.

I am going to faint, she thought, but she did not. His mouth worked insistently against hers until she parted her lips and his tongue shot within the cave of her mouth. Again she thought, I am going to faint, but she did not. The invading tongue insinuated itself about hers, teasing, stroking, playing with it, and Valentina’s arms wound around the duke’s neck, but it was for support, not in passion, for her legs were shaking.