Borgia Fever (4 page)

He could give her only tonight, but for tonight at least she
was his and his alone. He raised her leg to fit over his hip, and nudged her
damp heat with the tip of his swollen member. She nodded and guided him with her
hand, holding her breath, eyelids fluttering as he eased himself inside her.

Their mouths came together and they moved in rhythm with one
another, slowly at first and then picking up the pace. She made no protest when
he rolled her onto her stomach and entered her from behind, almost losing
control at the sight of her lush buttocks under his hips. He buried his head in
her neck, breathing in the sweet musky smell of her and gripping one of her
hands in his own. They seemed melded together as they moved in the candlelight,
one being, and as he felt his own climax approaching he could feel her
tightening around him. As she bucked underneath him and cried out her delight a
second time, it tipped him over the edge, and he thrust one last time inside her
and groaned loudly as his own release took him over.

He lay on top of her as they both fought to recapture their
breath, then moved to the side and gathered her into his arms, only to see that
her eyes and cheeks were wet, as if she had been crying. He wiped her eyes with
his hand, feeling an unfamiliar tug at his heart, and an accompanying fear. He,
who was scared of nothing and no one, found the sensation more than unnerving.
How could she touch a heart he had lost long ago? He shook his head to clear
away the thought, and turned his attention back to Bella.

‘Why are you crying?' he asked, but she only shook her head and
turned her mouth to his hand, kissing his palm. She had no words for the tangle
of emotion inside her.

The only word that came close she dared not utter.

Chapter Four

They lay in each other's arms, silent for what felt
like an age, before Bella raised herself on her elbow and looked down at him.
His face appeared softer after their lovemaking, as if his mask had slipped a
little and her touch had uncovered something of the man underneath. It was a
bittersweet triumph for her; once morning came he would be the Rogue again, and
lost to her.

The thought brought with it a harsh reminder of the night's
events, and she sighed as it all came flooding back.... The poison had been
found, yes, but she was in even more danger now than before.

And where did that leave her with Marco? What was supposed to
have been one night of passion had moved her in ways she couldn't explain. Even
if she never set eyes on him after this night, the memory would be burned in her
heart until she was old and grey and could barely remember her own name.
Assuming, of course, that she got out of any of this alive.

‘You're worried,' he said, breaking through her reverie.

‘What will happen now?' she asked,. ‘To Susanna...and to
me?'

Marco sighed. ‘Your maid should, by rights, be hanged, but I
will do what I can to save her from such a fate. A few days in the castle and a
banishment from Rome should be enough to put the fear of God into her. ‘As for
you, that is down to Lucrezia. Have you finished the task she set you?'

‘Perhaps.'

Marco frowned at her. ‘You were lying earlier, about this
refining business,' he stated. Bella nodded. Of course he had known that; the
gossips said that the Rogue could sniff out a lie while it was still just a
thought.

‘My lady didn't want even her brothers to know,' she said, her
eyes questioning.

Marco bowed his head to her in assent. ‘Your secret is
safe.'

‘As are yours,' she said softly, forgetting her own plight as
she looked at him, lean and scarred and as handsome as sin. Who was he really,
this man? She lifted her hand to his chest, tracing the scars that marred his
otherwise perfect torso. ‘What happened?'

Marco was silent for a long moment, his gaze clouded, and when
he spoke his voice came as if from far away.

‘I was born to this life in a way, though I did not think it
would be in Rome. My father was spymaster to King Ferrante of Naples. I served
in the Neapolitan army for a while, was educated with Ferrante's brood of
illegitimate children, and poised to take over from my father. I was betrothed
to a girl whose father owned the finest orange groves in all of Naples.'

Bella felt a twinge of jealousy at that, and at the look in his
eyes when he spoke of her, but his next words made her press her hand to her
mouth in horror.

‘When the French came they destroyed the groves...and my
family, and my betrothed. I got these scars trying to defend them. They left me
for dead, and it was Cesare, hot on the heels of the French to rescue his
brother, who found me and had me restored to health. A man with my talents was
useful to him. And he gave me the means to track down those who had murdered my
family.'

Bella's eyes were wide. ‘You killed them?'

‘Yes,' he said, matter-of-factly. Bella felt tears spring to
her eyes unbidden, though she was not totally sure why. Horror, certainly, but
also compassion for the suffering he had endured.

‘So the rumours about you are true?'

Marco shrugged. ‘That rather depends on the rumours.'

‘That you know all the secrets of the Borgia family?'

‘I doubt anyone knows them all. But I am Cesare's ears,
yes.'

‘That you control the largest and most secretive spy ring in
all of Italy?'

‘I believe so.' There was no mistaking the pride in his
voice.

‘That you are a killer?'

He frowned. ‘I have killed, yes. But never in cold blood.' His
frown deepened at the distaste in her face, ‘This shocks you? You who concoct
poisons for Lucrezia Borgia herself. The most deadly of all the family.'

Bella shook her head. He had answered her questions, revealed
more of himself, she sensed, than he had for a long time. She owed it to him to
reveal her own secrets. ‘My hands do not kill, Marco, they heal,' she explained.
‘I am here not to make poisons but to find an antidote. Just as my lady is the
only one who knows its recipe, she would be the only one who knows its cure. As
we have seen tonight, there is no use in a weapon that can be wielded against
you.'

Marco sat up, eyebrows raised, whistling softly through his
teeth. ‘It's clever,' he said, ‘and now I know why she would have it kept
secret. If there is a cure, she would have as few people know of it outside the
family as possible, or it would be no use as a weapon at all.'

Marco did not voice the certain knowledge that crept into his
heart. Whatever Bella had been promised by Lucrezia in reward for her work, he
doubted she would live long enough to enjoy it before she was silenced. Of
course, if a Borgia requested something from you, you did not refuse. Bella's
fate had been sealed the moment Lucrezia sought her out. ‘Bella, you must tell
me, have you found a cure?' His voice was urgent.

‘No,' she said, and the relief in his face was palpable, until
she went on, a note of pride creeping into her voice. ‘But I believe there is a
substance that, ingested straight away, could block much of the poison's
effects. If it works, there are tonics that can be taken afterwards that will
help the body recover. Of course, much depends on the constitution of the
person.'

Marco was quiet, his face grim, and she knew instantly what he
was trying to say, the cold fear that had gripped her ever since she had first
come to the attention of the Borgias taking shape in her gut.

‘I know I'm in danger, Marco. I'm no fool. But what choice did
I have? No one refuses the Lady Lucrezia. I can only hope that if my work
pleases her, she will have no reason to harm me.'

Marco shook his head. Of course Bella would be aware of the
dangers—he would never have desired her if she were some simpleton—but it was
one thing to be aware and quite another to be all too well acquainted with the
monsters that kept people awake in the night. Hell, he was one of those
monsters.

‘She will not let you leave with this knowledge. You will be
tied to her for as long as you are useful,' he said. There was no need for him
to say what he feared would happen when she was no longer useful. ‘You may be
safer pretending you have found nothing.'

Bella glared at him. ‘This is my work, Marco, just as you have
yours. Surely finding an antidote to a lethal poison can ultimately only be for
the good?'

‘And how do you think she would have you test this cure of
yours? Do you think she would wait until she or one of her loved ones was
poisoned? She would have you testing it on anyone she deemed expendable, or if
you protested, on yourself.'

Bella was no coward, but his words had her feeling sick with
fear. It had never occurred to her that others might be endangered by her task,
not just herself.

Marco gathered her into his chest, wanting now to protect her.
She fitted into his arms as though she had always been there. He pushed the
thought away in a flash of annoyance; she was making him soft, an attribute he
could not afford to possess.

‘You go to Naples,' he suggested. “I have a cousin there who
could use your skills, and I can give you a horse and some funds. But we must
get you out of here by dawn.'

He watched the emotions tumble in her eyes as she thought over
his plan, then was amazed when she sat up and shook her head firmly.

‘No. If I run so far, I will appear guilty, and will be looking
over my shoulder forever. I will do as you said, and lie, and hope that that is
enough. I had already thought that if I got away from here, I have a cousin in
Bologna with whom I could stay. It will look less like fleeing.'

Seeing her resolute expression, Marco felt proud of her
bravery. She was so courageous, so compassionate. Again he found himself
thinking he had never met anyone quite like her.

‘I will do what I can to help,' he said, thinking fast. If he
let it be known she was his woman, that would offer her some level of
protection; but in the long run, it might well put her in even more danger. He
could not bring her into his world, as much as he would enjoy the thought of her
at his side—and in his bed. Marco had sworn after the loss of his family to
never feel attachment again, his loyalty to Cesare the only feeling since that
had come close. Yet after just one night with Bella he wanted to make her
his.

‘You must go as soon as possible,' he said, ‘and forget
everything you have seen and heard here.'

She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Even you?'

He swallowed, trying and failing to regain his usual
unfathomable expression. The regret in his face was obvious, but still he said,
‘Yes. Especially me.'

She sat very, very still, and Marco wondered if she would cry,
or shout, or simply ignore him. She did none of them. Instead she turned to him
and laid a hand high on his thigh. His manhood stirred, oblivious to anything
except the thrill of her touch.

‘Then perhaps,' she murmured, ‘you should give me another
memory worth forgetting.'

Marco looked at her for a long moment, then pulled her towards
him. He hesitated before he kissed her, running a hand down the long, swanlike
curve of her neck and across the fullness of her breasts. She was glorious,
strong yet sweet.

‘How is it you are not married? Do you have a lover at home?'
he asked, remembering her forthright admission about her virginity—or lack of
it. He could hardly believe men weren't clamouring at her door. Bella smiled,
but there was a sadness in it.

‘I was betrothed once, when I was younger. I thought we were in
love, but when it became apparent he expected me to give up my work, that he
considered it wasn't a respectable trade for a wife and mother...' Bella
shrugged, but Marco saw the hurt in her eyes ‘...well, he married a girl from
the next village, a pretty girl with no learning, who produces a baby every
year.'

‘Fool,' Marco all but growled, trying to suppress the desire to
find the idiot who had rejected her, even as he knew that, essentially, he must
also send her away. Nevertheless, the thought of her being hurt so, being taken
and discarded by someone who should have protected her, made his blood boil.
Marco realised that whatever the realities of their situation, something about
this woman had got under his skin. He would defend her with his life, if need
be.

Bella shrugged, oblivious to his warring feelings. ‘I was
upset, of course, at the time. I fancied myself in love, if only because it was
expected of me. But in time I realised I could never have been happy to be the
quiet wife he wanted. And now I am glad.' She met Marco's gaze boldly.

‘Why so?' he asked, his eyes narrowing as she parted her lips
and leant towards him, her own eyes heavy with lust.

‘Because had I not been here tonight, such pleasure would have
escaped me,' she said, and ran her hands down his body, revelling in the feel of
his smooth muscles against her palms. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and
he squeezed her buttocks in turn, lifting her on top of him, then slipping a
hand in between her thighs where she was still wet. As his fingers fondled her
intimately, flicking over her nub and dipping inside her, circling her slick,
wet inner walls, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, her eyelids
fluttering in pleasure.

‘Your touch is so good,' she whispered, rocking her hips, her
body taking over.

‘
You
feel good,' he replied, his
voice thick with desire. He was so hard he was throbbing, and he removed his
hand, preparing to slip himself into her ready warmth.

This time their coupling was fevered and urgent. They kissed as
though they would devour one another, and when he thrust up into her she met his
body with her own, crying aloud without a care for who might hear them. She
leant over him, delivering her breasts to his mouth, as his hand fisted in her
long hair, tugging at the nape of her neck. They were more urgent as lovers this
time, but it was no less intense or tender than before, their eyes locked and
their need and raw emotion plain on their faces. Bella savoured every sensation:
the feel of him hard inside her, his mouth nipping at her breasts and his hands
rough in her hair. He could talk about forgetting all he liked, but she wanted
to burn the memory of this night into her head forever. There would never be
another like him. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.

Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, both of them turning
over the events of the night, both aware that there would be no returning to
their normal lives unchanged. They fell asleep with her head on his chest and
his hand tangled in her hair, the words still unspoken on their lips.