Venice Vampyr - The Beginning (3 page)

“Signore, this is hardly the time for an introduction.” She tried to pull from his grip, but his hands cupped her shoulders firmly.

“When then, if not now? Or would you rather I ravished you before I found out your name?”

His arrogant suggestion made her snap her head back to him. “There will be no ravishing, Signore di Santori. I’m a respectable widow. Once you’re dressed, you may come down to the parlor so we can talk.”

Isabella pulled free of his grip and turned to the door. He didn’t follow.

“Your name, Signora.” When she hesitated, he added, “Please.”

The softness in his voice made her relent. “Isabella Tenderini.” Then she swept out of the room, holding her head high, trying to hold onto her dignity. When she closed the door behind her, his laughter followed her.
Insolent, arrogant rake!

***

Raphael couldn’t stop laughing. Oh, this woman had fire in her belly. She made him feel alive. Hell, he was alive! And he had hundreds of questions. Had one of her servants pulled him out of the water? But, more importantly, who was this alluring woman who had clearly undressed him?

And not only that, now that her intoxicating scent wasn’t flooding his nostrils any longer, he noticed that his own skin didn’t smell of the murky waters of the canal like he would have expected. Somebody had bathed him. His eyes scanned the lavishly decorated room, his gaze instantly honing in on the four poster bed and the endless possibilities it suggested. Down, boy, he cautioned himself and continued his perusal of the chamber. Clearly, her chamber.

When his eyes fell onto a bowl with water and a sponge, he smiled to himself. Isabella had been the one who’d washed him, taken the sponge into her elegant hands and laved his body with it. Had she cradled his balls? Had she taken his cock into her hand as she’d performed this intimate task?

No wonder she’d blushed like a debutante. Now he understood. She’d touched his body intimately, more intimately than anyone had in a long time, and now she felt embarrassed about it. Had she liked what she’d seen? Had she maybe even stroked him, caressed him? Had her lips followed where her hands had explored first?

By God, he was hard just thinking of all the things she might have done to him while he was unconscious. He didn’t feel violated in the slightest by the knowledge that she’d exploited his vulnerability. No—all it served was getting him aroused. All he could think of was whether she would do it again.

Clearly, as a widow she was familiar with the pleasures of the flesh. She was no shy virgin, but a grown woman who must recognize her own carnal needs. He’d felt them boil under her skin, those passions she kept locked away. Finding the key to unlocking those desires and ensuring she unleashed them on him would be his greatest challenge. Yes, that’s what he would do: seduce her into his bed (or hers, as the case might be) and make her surrender to him.

He hadn’t had a challenge like this one in a while. Most women fell into his arms and his bed without much ado, without much more than a smile and a wink from his part. Despite the kiss she had allowed him to steal, she wouldn’t fall easily. Her stern reprimand had hinted at that. She’d brought herself under control again. And he’d do anything to snap that control from right under her nose like a mere twig a hunter crushed with his feet. All because he could. And because she was the choicest morsel he’d tasted in a long while.

Chapter Four

Raphael found the elegant parlor in which Isabella was waiting for him after he’d gotten dressed. The clothes of her late husband fit him perfectly, and the fellow had had taste too. And just as perfectly as he’d slipped into the man’s breeches, shirt and coat, Raphael wanted to slide into his widow. He was sure she’d fit him just as perfectly.

Isabella stood near the fireplace with her back to him as he entered. Her hair was now tied in a tight bun low at the back of her neck. And she was dressed in a gown that was fit for any noble in Venice. If she wanted to pretend that she was all prim and proper, he’d let her, and then he’d expose what lay beneath her respectable exterior: a passionate woman.

“Signora Tenderini,” he greeted her.

A visible shudder went through her body. Had she not heard him come in? Perhaps he was so used to being silent when approaching humans that it had become such a habit he barely noticed. He made a mental note to try not to startle her again.

Isabella turned and looked at him. Her features were tense as if she’d been thinking long and hard about something. A frown disturbed her pretty face. Her pursed lips were evidence that she contemplated her next words.

“I’m glad to see that your near drowning seems to have produced no lasting injuries.” While she spoke, her spine remained stiff, as if she was forcing herself to remain formal.

Raphael nodded and gave a slight bow. “I’m grateful to your servants and would like to bestow the man who pulled me out of the canal with a little monetary gift if you allow me.” Whoever had been so brave as to jump into the icy waters and had the strength to pull his heavy body out of it should be rewarded.

“My gondolier has already been rewarded by me. No further reward is necessary.”

He would still give the fellow a handsome sum of money. His life was worth it. But to Isabella, he only nodded, not wanting to alienate her. “I thank you for your generosity. And if I may, I profusely apologize again for my inappropriate behavior toward you. Let me assure you that—”

“No assurances are necessary,” she interrupted him. “The traumatic circumstances explain your behavior. I’m a respectable widow and have a standing in Venetian society I care not to jeopardize. I trust in your discretion.”

Raphael bowed and grinned to himself, wiping the grin off his face as soon as he straightened. She’d asked for his discretion? It could only mean one thing.

She wanted him for a lover.

He hadn’t expected her to make an offer like this. Maybe he had underestimated her. Maybe she was a widow who took lovers frequently. The thought disturbed him—why, he didn’t know. “My discretion precedes me, Signora.”

“Good. Then I bid you farewell. My gondolier will take you home.”

She’d dismissed him? But hadn’t he just assured her that he would be discrete? That nothing of their affair would reach Venetian society’s ears?

“Signora? I don’t understand. As I’ve just assured you, my discretion is unparalleled. Nothing of our affair will seep—”

“Affair?” she shrieked and took a step back. “You thought I was proposing an affair?” Her bosom heaved, and her cheeks colored that beautiful shade of red again. And not only that. He could see the vein at her neck throb. It was a sight that made him want to sling her over his shoulder, throw her onto the nearest flat surface and toss up her skirts before he fucked her and sank his fangs—

“I advise you to leave my house immediately. I’m a respectable woman, not a trollop.”

The indignation in her voice gave him pause. It appeared his challenge wouldn’t be as easy to win as he had assumed.

He bowed again as he retreated. For now. He would figure out a way to win her—sooner rather than later.

The gondolier was awaiting him at the dock. “Signore, where to?”

Raphael stepped into the boat and took a seat before he gave the man an address close to his house. He was careful never to disclose his actual location to anybody. His life depended on it.

“Very well, Signore.”

Raphael leaned back and let his thoughts drift back to Isabella. Why he’d suddenly thought she was making him an offer to start an intimate affair, he could only blame on what had happened in her bedchamber. Why take him there, undress him, most likely fondle him while he was unconscious, when she had no intention of going through with it?

And why had she dressed that provocatively when she’d taken care of him? Why not remain in her prim and proper dress? Because all her scandalous attire had done was provoke him into kissing her. Damn that kiss. He couldn’t forget it, no matter how brief it had been. He could still taste her on his tongue.

“We’re here, Signore.” The gondolier pulled up alongside a dock.

Raphael looked up at the man. “If you’d wait here for a few minutes for me to retrieve some coin, I would like to reward you for saving my life.”

The gondolier gave him a startled look. “But, Signore, I wasn’t the one who jumped into the water to pull you out.”

“Then who was?” He stared at the man, but the gondolier hesitated.

“I’m sorry, I’ve misspoken,” the man claimed.

Raphael could see a lie when it hit him in the face. Suspicion crept up his spine. He raised his voice. “Who jumped into the canal to rescue me?”

The gondolier lowered his gaze. “The Signora.”

Shock coursed through Raphael’s body. Isabella had braved the cold waters of the canal to save him? “Signora Tenderini?”

“Yes, Signore. She was the one who saved your life.”

***

Isabella sighed deeply. She hadn’t been able to go through with it. More than anything, she’d wanted to ask him to conduct an affair with her, a very discrete, very short affair, just so she was reminded of what it was like to sleep with a man’s arms around her body. But the thought that they would be discovered at some point had made her hold back.

Her late husband’s cousin Massimo was keeping close watch on her, always trying to find a way to take from her what her husband had left her: his merchant business. As a male relative, he’d expected to inherit after his death. Yet, her beloved Giovanni had had other designs. He’d always seen her for what she was: a strong and intelligent woman more than capable of running a business by herself. His will had said as much.

After being left out in the cold, Massimo had taken it upon himself to pry into her personal life and dig up any dirt there was to find. There was none. She’d been virtuous before her marriage and remained virtuous after Giovanni’s death. If she slipped only once, Massimo would be there to take advantage. He’d spread the gossip amongst Venetian society and make certain not only she but also her business was shunned. She knew it was his plan. Once she was down and cast out of polite society, he would take the business off her hands for a pittance.

No, she could never let herself slip and give into the desires that had started boiling up in her. Only another marriage would do. However, she’d not met any man since Giovanni’s death who she even remotely wanted as a husband.

And the scoundrel who’d just left her house? He was not the kind of man who’d make an offer for a decent woman like her. She had seen it in his eyes: the lust, the passion, the heat. All he wanted was to satisfy his carnal urges, to tumble her. And even if she hadn’t seen it in his eyes, his words had made it clear. He’d expected an affair.

Her own body had almost betrayed her when he’d stood there in front of her. She’d wanted to run into his arms, ask him, beg him to make love to her, to pin her under his beautiful naked body and drive her wild. To feel his hard shaft in her, filling her, satisfying her. It had taken all her strength not to give in. Her life as she knew it would be over if she did.

Already, by bringing Raphael—oh, what a wonderful name—into her home and tending to him personally, she’d risked too much. She could only hope that Elisabetta would heed her threat. Adolfo she trusted one hundred percent. He was her ally, the only one of her servants who was completely loyal to her. Elisabetta was new in her employ and, Isabella hoped, too intimidated by her to go against her strict orders. She’d researched her background thoroughly before employing her, making sure she had no connections to Massimo. Massimo kept enough spies in her household.

Now she could only hope that no word of what had transpired in her home tonight would reach the outside world.

Chapter Five

Isabella waited until Elisabetta had undone her corset and stepped out of it. She was left with her chemise and drawers. Her hair was already relieved of the pins that had held it up and now hung loosely around her shoulders.

“That’ll be all for tonight.” She met Elisabetta’s gaze in the mirror. “And don’t forget, one word of what happened here tonight and you will never find another position in Venice.”