The Shades of Time (6 page)

She held him in
thrall and he yielded to her, inviting her formless essence to
brush his soul.

There. Like a
second heartbeat. Feel the rich red heat coursing, my desire, yours
… as one.

In false
supplication Andreas bent to hide his lust and his throbbing
erection, nodding at uneven intervals as the Monsignor uttered
meaningless directions to the scribe at his left.

"Andreas.
You
will continue with your task. Report only to me. Do you understand
the gravity of what we face?"

"Yes, I
understand." Andreas smiled inwardly for he doubted the dim-witted
prelate had a clue. The Monsignor would play this close to his
vestments, hording his bits of intelligence against the day when he
prayed for opportunity and fortune to align in his favor.

He risked
standing upright, relieved at his ability to control his wanton
body's functions once again, and approached the desk.

"I will report
to you alone, M'Lord. If I divine their intent, shall I…?" Andreas
left the question hanging as he bent to kiss the proffered ring,
then backed away carefully.

The Monsignor
gave a careless wave of his hand and murmured, "No need, Father. We
will decide the best course of action when the time is right."

"
Come vi piace
." Andreas touched the crucifix to his lips and paced slowly
from the chamber. The fool might think he need only hide his plans
from the Papàl Legate. He thinks me his creature. He thinks me of
this time and place, as do they all.

Andreas strode
slowly along the narrow corridor, perpetually damp, perpetually
intense with the fervor and gleeful adherence to the petty concerns
of this time. He allowed himself the brief respite from maintaining
the dual links, allowing his hand to trail along the rough stucco,
fingers bouncing in slow staccato rhythm over ridged designs and
swirls. The architects of this world were truly masters of the art.
He admired the primitiveness, the attention to detail, so
unlike…

"
Mio Dio
," he
gasped, staggering against the wall, thrown as by an invisible
adversary, powerful, lifting him, crushing him. He sobbed in
agony.

Oh dear God.
Why can it not be me?

****

Nearly
prostrate, her voluminous gown cushioning her petite form, Veluria
desperately collected her thoughts, emptying stray images, flooding
her eyes and ears with the sensations and brilliant auras of the
revelers wheeling in splendor, shadow to light to shadow, winking
in and out until they filled her. She allowed the wash of joy and
intrigue and mindless pursuit of pleasure to swamp her, hoping to
flood the link. Better yet, to sever it.

That had been no naïve expression of interest—that had been
full-on lust and the shock of that desire had been mutual, of that
she was certain. That he had shut it down so abruptly indicated it
came as a surprise. That saved her, just barely, from reciprocating
… what? What
did
she feel?

Stefano set her
to rights and wrapped a protective arm about her waist. He seemed
oblivious to what had just happened. Not so his older brother.
Though Tonio still stalked ahead of them, clearing their path, she
could tell from the set of his shoulders and the mindless way he
rubbed the back of his neck that he'd been as thoroughly blindsided
as she.

When Reverend Mother eventually debriefed her,
that
was going to be an
interesting discussion.

In any case,
knowledge of the gateway would remain safe for a time, but for how
long she was uncertain. The phalanx of Antonio's guards closed
ranks as they approached a narrow alley leading off the main
square. She had not been this way and disliked the uncertainty,
searching frantically through her resources to pinpoint the general
direction. She might need that mental roadmap should her link to
the bolt hole be severed, even temporarily.

Thanks to
Stefano's assistance she negotiated the rough stones leading to the
narrow alley without further mishap, the connection with his
brother severed. The young man pressed close, his hand teasing her
breast, the fullness cupped gently in his right hand as he nuzzled
her ear. She barely heard the whispered, suggestive endearments,
her head still buzzing from the near orgasmic experience.

Now did not seem the time for Stefano's
ardeur
to kick in. Could he have
sensed the wash of energies that consumed her, and his damned
brother? Fortunately Antonio kept his back to them, concentrating
on the task at hand which was to get them out of the Square and to
whatever destination he had in mind.

No matter how
much he loved and wished to protect his younger brother, when it
came to that much unbridled passion, she would not want to be in
Stefano's shoes should Tonio glimpse him fondling her breasts so
openly. She had grown to care about her young lover, the dalliance
a calculated risk with sometimes satisfying outcomes. Pitting the
brothers against each other ran counter to her objectives and was
not a legacy she cared to leave when she exited this dimension.

However, engaging Antonio de' Medici in a contest of wills?
That was an intriguing proposition, but a risk with consequences
she could not predict. The uncertainty about how much he knew and
understood about his own powers must guide her now. If she could
control that budding promise of self-awareness—partition and parlay
the devious Medici mindset to her advantage—she might redirect his
interest. If he ever decided to act on it, would she be strong
enough to deny him?
Would she even want
to?

"Veluria, are
you…?"

"I am fine,
Stefano." She brushed her gown, aligning the layers, spinning in a
slow circle to fan the folds over the rigid hoops.

"If you are
quite finished, Madame? We have an appointment to keep." Antonio
spoke with disdain and motioned his men forward through the narrow
opening. "Stefano, go on ahead and make sure there are no unwelcome
surprises. We shall be there shortly."

Stefano nodded
and strode off with two of the guards. Tonio filled the space left
by his brother, pressing Veluria against the wall, forcing her to
brace her left hand against the ever-damp stone. What she wanted
was to press her hands against his massive chest, to get him to
back off her personal space … and using that excuse to explore what
lay beneath the leather jerkin, the hard muscles and a heart
thudding like a bass drum.

Damn him.

A small smile
played about Tonio's full lips, dark eyes glinting even in the dim
light. Bending down, his hot breath brushed past her ear as he
whispered, "You may fool my besotted brother but you do not fool
me, M'Lady. I know who you are. I know what you want. Best keep
that in mind."

Veluria kept her head down and face carefully blank. Let the
Demon enjoy his moment of intimidation. She would have been
disappointed had he not seen through at least one or two veils of
her disguise. What he did not know was …
what
she was. That piece of knowledge
she tucked away in the private space the Sisters had so diligently
fashioned, a honeycomb of safety, each space, each construct, to
serve her higher purpose.

When she
finally lifted her chin to stare directly at the domineering force
trapping her, she settled her features into mask of anguish and
acquiescence. Would he buy the artifice? The false fluttering of
eyelashes, the … oh dear Mother, dare she say it? The heaving
bosom?

Before she
could ask herself how far she could push his buttons, the demon
pressed her hard against the wall, his hot breath tantalizing
against her cool cheek. With shocking gentleness, he brushed her
mouth, his tongue trailing wet warmth as he eased her lips apart
for the briefest taste, leaving her light-headed with her blood
pounding through her veins.

Mercy, what was
that? I thought I was the seductress.

With a sneer,
he said, "Shall we?" and pointed down the alleyway, inviting her to
go first. His withdrawal was like an ice bath on overheated skin, a
sensation open to interpretation.

With as much
dignity as she could muster, Veluria moved in the direction he
indicated, acutely conscious of the gush of wetness flooding her
engorged private place. The man chuckled, deep in his throat, and
she wondered if he knew this thing…this physical reaction to his
unexpected show of affection.

As she gathered
her skirts, she felt the dark giant's presence as he moved in
close.

Then pain,
sharp searing pain stabbing through her chest.

Need. Desperate
need.

Not him, I
would know if it were him.

Then who?

Bewildered,
Veluria staggered ahead of the man who would be her captor and her
master.

Chapter
Five

Stefano stood
at a non-descript door that, under other circumstances, would
likely have passed for an entrance to a simple artisan's shop. No
light escaped the door's bottom. Shutters stood diligent guard over
the windows, yet a faint sound of music could be heard from within.
Stefano knocked on the rough door in an arrhythmic cadence. In mere
moments a similar knock came from the far side. Stefano answered
the call, and the door creaked open. The guardsmen formed a
veritable tunnel as Stefano beckoned Veluria and his brother to the
doorway.

"We don't have
time for this," Antonio growled but his younger brother had already
whisked the woman into a room crowded with masked, bejeweled
figures swirling in a riot of color and movement.

Stefano grinned
and waved at the throng of party-goers, just a young man intent on
an evening's entertainment. He beckoned Tonio and Veluria toward a
far wall so they could speak in private.

"The Papàl
Guards are positioned about the palazzo. Obviously one of our dear
uncle's lackeys decided to exercise some initiative after losing
the scent earlier." He spun Veluria in a circle, her gown flaring
and shimmering in the candle light. She afforded him the briefest
nod of understanding.

Tonio scowled
and cursed, "Damn them, the interfering fools."

Stefano laughed
out loud as Veluria squealed, but his eyes were cold and sharp as
he said through clenched teeth, "My thoughts exactly. Fortunately
Father has business dealings with the Cigogna family so I was able
to invite myself to these festivities." He slapped the taller man's
forearm and said, "Problem solved, dear Brother."

Antonio
muttered, "Fuck this…" but Stefano had gripped Veluria's arm,
pulling her into the joyous throng.

"
Una maschera mia
signora
. Here. You'll need this." Stefano
produced a feathery, red and black mask. With coquettish charm she
brushed stiff stays and soft flesh across his arm as she spun to
allow him to place the confection over her head.

Momentarily
forgetting their precarious position, Stefano flushed with pleasure
and anticipation. Antonio's scowl should have been a warning signal
that he trod on shaky ground, despite his quick thinking.

Antonio leaned
close and whispered in Stefano's ear, "Keep your focus. We, you,
can't afford to have you thinking with your cock and losing control
with this piece of..."

Stefano frowned
at the implied criticism, stung by his older brother's lack of
faith. "I am in control, Tonio. Give me some credit. Your eyes see
what they wish to see."

"Or maybe my
eyes see what really is, eh? In any case, do not lose her in here,
or you will answer to Father on your own!"

While the
guards stood silent sentinel in the alleyway, the host for the
evening gala, the eldest son of Signor Cigogna, led the trio
through two archways into an intimate space reserved for special
guests. A chamber orchestra competed with a din of chatter that
enveloped them as they entered a long, narrow room filled with
garish masked figures, awash in feathers and sequins, giddy with
wine and the promise of debauchery.

Veluria bobbed
and ducked past a small group engaged in a card game, incongruous
amidst the sea of noise and movement. She waved to a stout woman
across the dance floor, tittered coyly then blended smoothly into a
swirl of dancers. With her petite size she vanished, leaving
Stefano to swivel in dismay as he realized she'd slipped away.

"Veluria? Wh—?"
Stefano choked on rising bile as he desperately searched the jammed
room.

Tonio grabbed
his brother's arm with a death grip. "I told you, imbecile!" His
eyes flashed with naked fury. "Go find her. I'll alert my men in
case she tries to escape."

Stefano
silently cursed himself for his mishandling of their simple
mission. He plowed into the middle of the swirling sea of
partiers.

"Red and black
mask," he muttered," I'm looking for a red and black mask." A
server pressed a wine goblet into his hand as he carved a torturous
path through the crush of bodies. He downed that goblet, then
another, while scanning the room through the smoky haze. The heat
and wine—combined with the prospect of facing his brother with yet
another of his failures—gave him a splitting headache. Feeling
woozy, he backed against a wall and clenched his fists in despair,
swaying unsteadily.

The orchestra
paused to polite applause as a petite frame brushed against his
hip. Her silvery-white mask glimmered in the pale light, the upper
edges adorned with extravagant ostrich plumes. It hid her entire
face with sculpted alabaster cheeks and full ruby lips, the eye
slits revealing nothing. She moved temptingly close to him, slowly
backing him up to a wall until she had him pinned, pressing hard
against his groin. He moaned with anticipation but hesitated. The
mask was different though this vixen was the same height, the gown
similar … but not. He tried to focus on a familiar floral fragrance
from the vixen's hair.