Venice Vampyr: Final Affair (9 page)

Raphael let himself fall into his armchair as Dante settled back into his own. He had to forget about his new wife for a moment. “I discovered one of the Guardians.”

His brother sat forward with a start. “Of the Holy Waters?”

“Yes, the very same.” He motioned his head toward the place where Isabella slept. “Her late husband’s cousin is one of them. I saw the ring. He wore their symbol.”

Dante’s face flashed with surprise. “In public?”

“Not exactly. He burst into Isabella’s bedchamber just as we were ...” Raphael cleared his throat. “His name is Massimo Tenderini. I want you to follow him, find out everything you can, what he does, who he meets, where he goes. Everything. He will lead us to the Guardians. We just have to be patient. Can you do that?”

Dante nodded. “Yes, nothing simpler than that. I’ll put a man on him. However—” He paused and gave him a long look. “—has it crossed your mind that your meeting Isabella and then her cousin was not by accident?”

“In what way?”

“What if she was put in your path so you would then in turn lead the Guardians to our kind? Don’t you think it was a little too convenient that you were pushed into the canal, and she just happens to come along and rescue you? What if it was a setup? Her connection to the Guardians can’t be ignored. What if she is their spy? Their very delectable spy, if I may add.”

A stab like a giant pin prick attacked his heart. “You can’t possibly believe that. She’s an innocent.”

“Famous last words of a fool in love,” Dante chastised. “You can’t trust her.”

***

Isabella felt warmth penetrate her as her consciousness returned. The voice that had jolted her out of her sleep was unfamiliar.

“She’s my wife,” she heard Raphael proclaim.

“Which is still something you’ll have to explain to me,” the other male voice continued. “What are you going to do when she finds out?”

“She won’t find out.”

Isabella’s heart stopped. What did Raphael not want her to find out? What did he have to hide?

“You can’t keep it a secret from her forever.”

“I’ll be careful,” Raphael assured him. “She’ll never need to know. And besides, she’ll help me get close to Massimo.”

Massimo? Why did her new husband want to get close to her cousin? What did he want from him? She’d married a man she knew nothing about. Had she made a huge mistake? Would it have been better to be ruined rather than find herself married to a man who was using her for some wicked scheme?

 “Unless of course she was planning all this. Didn’t you say that her cousin burst into her bedchamber when you were fucking her? Who would do such a thing? It’s further evidence of her involvement.”

Raphael had told the man such a private thing? How could he?

“Are you suggesting that she engineered this situation so I would have to marry her?” Raphael asked, his voice full of disbelief.

“And why wouldn’t she? If Massimo is a Guardian, he might have power over her and direct her to do what he needs done. She had to have known. No offense, little brother, but despite your considerable charms, a respectable woman doesn’t just fall into bed with you without considering the consequences.”

What were they trying to accuse her of? Massimo wasn’t her guardian. She was an independent woman, or at least she had been until earlier today when she’d married Raphael. Perspiration built on her face. What had she done?

“I concede that the situation was unusual, but you can’t ignore the fact that with her falling into my lap, our battle might soon be over.”

Isabella pushed back the tears that threatened to burst to the surface, tears of disappointment. She’d thought Raphael desired her, maybe would even fall in love with her, but all he wanted was to use her for something she didn’t even understand. She couldn’t open her eyes, didn’t want to face reality. She was married to a man who cared nothing about her.

“Fine, I will contact our friends and see what we can find out. In the meantime, you’d better take good care of your wife. And I suggest you don’t let her out of your sight. If she’s scheming against us, you know what you’ll have to do.”

Isabella held her breath, but there was no answer from Raphael. Instead, she heard him get up, heard his heels on the wooden floor come closer. When the sofa depressed beside her hip, she knew he’d sat down. When his hand stroked over her arm, she flinched.

“Wake up, my angel.” He pulled her up to a sitting position and held her in his embrace, stroking his hands over her back.

She couldn’t pretend any longer to be asleep, but was unable to form a word. “Hmm.”

“Open your eyes, Isabella. I’d like to introduce you to somebody.”

Her eyes flew open, and she met Raphael’s gaze. He smiled at her and kissed her softly on her cheek. She tried to push away from him, but he held her too tightly. Suddenly, she was afraid of him. He was a strong man. If he wanted to hurt her, or if the man who’d called him brother ordered him to hurt her, he could do it, and there was no way she could avert it.

Raphael released her partially, allowing her to turn to the side. “Isabella, this is my brother Dante.”

Isabella looked up at the tall man who stood near the sofa. His hair was black like a raven, his figure broad. She could instantly see the resemblance between him and Raphael, only that this man was a little taller and his facial features more rugged, less elegant than Raphael’s.

“It’s a pleasure to welcome you into the family,” Dante drawled.

She knew it was a lie. Only minutes earlier, he’d told his brother not to trust her. But she knew she couldn’t let either one of them know what she’d overheard. If she did, she was doomed. Even though she’d barely understood half of what they’d discussed, she’d understood enough to know that Dante was dangerous and would probably kill her if she got in the way of whatever they were planning.

“Thank you, Signore,” she responded and lowered her eyelids.

“Now, now, Isabella, you’ll have to call me Dante. We’re not very formal here. And you’re my sister now.”

“Of course,” she added hastily, not wanting to upset him.

“Enough of the pleasantries for tonight,” Raphael interjected. “Why don’t I show you upstairs and have a bath sent up for you? I’ll join you shortly.”

Her pulse raced. “We’re staying here?” She’d assumed this was Dante’s house. And she didn’t want to stay under his roof. She’d rather be at her own home where at least she could summon help if she needed it.

“Yes, we’re spending the night at my house,” Raphael answered.

“Your house?”

He nodded. “Yes. Or did you think you married a pauper? This is and Dante’s and my house. We’ve lived here all our lives. Come, I’ll show you to my chamber.” He cleared his throat. “Our chamber.”

Isabella swallowed hard and placed her shaking hand in his outstretched palm.

Chapter Thirteen

Not even the warm bath a servant had prepared for her could calm Isabella’s nerves. She tried to piece together the things she’d overheard, but nothing made sense. What did Raphael want from her, and what did he want from Massimo? Did he really believe she was under Massimo’s command? She’d always hated the man, even when Giovanni had still been alive. She hated the way he snuck around and considered her house his own, how he ordered her servants around and pretended to be the master of the house whenever he visited.

For anybody to think that she would do his bidding was ludicrous.

She won’t find out
. Raphael’s words still echoed in her mind. What was he hiding? Was he a gambler? Did he already have a wife somewhere else? What was it that he didn’t want her to know?

Clearly, he hadn’t married her for her money. As she perused his bedchamber, she couldn’t help but admire the rich furnishings, the expensive rugs, the beautiful paintings. Everything in his possession fairly screamed of wealth. Her own home looked like a pauper’s in comparison. No, it wasn’t her money he wanted.

Which brought her back to Massimo. What did Massimo have that Raphael and his brother wanted? She had never really figured out what Massimo did. But she’d always hated the fact that when he came to call on them, he would take Giovanni with him, and they’d be out all night. Giovanni would come home disheveled and exhausted. But not once had he answered her questions about where he’d been.

Isabella slipped under the covers of the large bed and forced her eyes shut. Somehow she would get through this. Tomorrow, she’d go back to her own house and try to figure out how to extricate herself from this situation. Maybe she could appeal to the Doge and ask for protection. Protection from her own husband? What would Venetian society say? No, she couldn’t make this public. What if Raphael made it known how he’d taken her in that public archway in full view of a stranger? Her reputation would be in shreds, despite the fact that she was married.

No, she couldn’t enlist anybody’s help. She was alone in this. Alone and frightened of her own husband. A stranger, a man she knew nothing about.

When Isabella heard the door open and footsteps on the floor, she knew Raphael had come to join her. Since he’d led her into his own bedchamber and not given her a separate one, she’d known he’d be joining her eventually. She would feign sleep so he would refrain from ravishing her again. Surely, he must have had enough for tonight after what he’d done in that archway.

A rustle of clothes confirmed that Raphael was getting undressed. Moments later, he slipped under the covers and instantly pulled her into his arms. He was naked.

“Mmm, you smell amazing.” He nuzzled at her neck, planting small kisses along her pulse. She let out a breath. “So you’re still awake. I was hoping you would be.”

“I’m very tired,” Isabella answered, hoping he would leave her alone. She didn’t want him to touch her when she knew something was wrong.

“I know, my angel. Are you sore?” His hand slipped to the place between her legs that instantly started throbbing.

“Yes, yes, I’m sore,” she lied and wished he’d remove his hand so her body wouldn’t turn wet and needy.

But instead of leaving her alone, Raphael pulled up her chemise. She didn’t have a night rail, so she’d decided to wear her chemise instead to have some sort of protection. It appeared that her new husband didn’t care for it.

“Let me make it better then. Now, let’s get you out of this.” He tugged on the chemise and lifted her toward him, then pulled the garment over her head.

“But,” she protested. Hadn’t he heard that she told him she was sore? Would he not give her reprieve?

He put his finger on her lips. “Shh, Isabella. I won’t penetrate you. I’ll merely soothe your flesh. I would be a poor husband if I didn’t take care of my wife’s needs.” Then he stroked his hand over her hair. “You’ve pleased me tonight, more than you can know. To see you in such ecstasy, to watch your passion, to feel it surge through my body. You amaze me with your generosity.”

She heard his words, and they were colored in admiration. How could he be the same man she’d overheard talking to Dante, the same man who’d admitted to his brother that he was using her? Her chest tightened, and a feeling of despair swept through her. She tried to hide the tiny sob that stole from her lips, but he heard it nevertheless. And misinterpreted it.

“My love, you don’t have to be ashamed of what we did. Nobody will ever find out. You’re my wife, and I’ll protect you from all others.” He let his hand trail to her full breasts, palming them gently. “You were so beautiful tonight. Your bosom pushed out of your bodice, your skirts lifted, your pink pussy glistening. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. And to know that all this is mine and mine alone, it makes me proud.”

He was making love to her with his words. She didn’t understand it, but her body responded against her will. It heated under his caress as his hand moved lower and stroked over her belly. She gasped when his fingers tangled in her triangle of curls.

“Yes, you were so responsive,” he continued in his soft voice. “Your honey was so plentiful, it engulfed my cock, and I’ve never known a more welcoming home for it. Even now, just thinking about it, I’m so hard, I’m ready to burst.”

God, how she wanted this man even though she feared his motives, feared what he was planning. But she had to fight him, fight her own body. She tensed.

“Don’t be scared, Isabella. I promised you, I won’t penetrate you tonight. I don’t want to damage your sensitive flesh any further. But when your flesh is soothed again, I’ll take you and plunge my cock into you so deep I’ll be touching your womb.”

She let out a moan, unable to keep it inside her any longer.

“Yes, you like that. You like my cock. I could tell by the way you sucked me today.”

How was she supposed to resist him when he brought her body to boil, when he sent those delicious sensations through her with just a few words, while his hand rested almost innocently on her sex? He was barely touching her, yet her pleasure spiked and drove her body higher.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please what?”

She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Take the ache away.”

“Yes, my angel.” Raphael made his way down her body and spread her thighs to settle in between them. Then he dipped his head and licked his hot tongue against her moist petals. And with every lick and every kiss, the pleasure in her body built. Forgotten was the conversation she’d overheard and the implied threat within it. All she felt was Raphael’s eagerness to give her pleasure and make love to her.