Rogan found himself swept up in the man’s enthusiasm. Seeing it through Matteo’s fresh eyes brought back some of the old delight, and with it, the memory of his first time at sea.
Their father, Patrick, a sea merchant, had taken Kieran and Rogan out for a week, and his first morning had been just like Matteo’s, full of wonder and thrilling joy. He’d had Kieran beside him at the rail, and he recalled how she’d been so taken with the feel of the ocean, the movements of the ship, and the invigorating rush of wind that she’d felt compelled to dance and spin on the deck. His adorable sister. Their father had taken to calling her sidhe gaoithe, the wind fairy.
There wasn’t anything that Rogan wouldn’t give to see his sister like that again.
“Enjoy,” Rogan bade Matteo, before turning to leave him.
“One moment, Your Grace,” Matteo said. He joined Rogan and they began to walk down the gangway together. “I am off to find some breakfast.”
Rogan noticed that Matteo de Gama did not seem to mind the rolling pitch of the ship. He moved on the ship as if he were born to it. “You do well for a man who has never been out to sea.”
“I live on the canals. Gondolas, burchiellos, and the like. An entire city built on water.” He grinned. “Even the buildings move, no?”
“And you left it to follow my sister to England.” He raised a brow. “I saw the way you looked at her in the Palace of the Doge.”
To his credit, Matteo never faltered in his step. “I left Venice in exile, and I come to England at your invitation. However, I will admit that your sister made England look far more interesting than France.”
“Are you interested in courting her, then?”
“Ah, do you play matchmaker? Surely the sister of an English duke would not curry the favor of a shamed Venetian pauper. And certainly you would want much more for her than me, no?”
“I know you are not a pauper, and far from it, but such things are meaningless to me. I only wish to tell you this: If you’re looking to increase your wealth, know that you don’t have to court my sister to get at my coffers. I’ll pay you well enough to stay away from her, aye?” Rogan paused long enough to make his point. He met the man’s dark eyes and was surprised to see a flash of shame there, when he’d expected greed.
His estimation of the Italian stranger rose a bit more, but still, Rogan continued, “I had a man look into you before we set sail. I know what kind of man you are, signore. And forgive me for saying so, but ’tis my sister we speak of.
“I ask that you keep away from her. And while I’m not generally the sort of man to make threats, you need to know that if you do anything to hurt her, I’ll see to it that you spend the rest of your days wishing that you’d asked me to take you to France.”
Rogan paused before enunciating his warning a second time, hoping the emphasis would hit the point home. “Seduce her, upset her, or do anything that I might interpret as the slightest bit disrespectful of the lady she is, and I’ll deal with you personally, aye?”
Matteo met his gaze evenly before sweeping into a slight bow. Rogan knew the man was a consummate swindler, but still, he thought he saw sincerity in Matteo de Gama’s guileless face and cunning brown eyes.
“Your Grace, your sister is exquisite, and I, being a man, am not immune to her beauty. I am not a good man, it is true, and assuredly not good enough for Miss Kieran. I cheat, I lie, I manipulate. I do not steal so much, anymore, but I have in the past, and if the need arose, I would again.”
Matteo shrugged carelessly, and his lips quirked up at the corners. With his narrow, black leather garments, darkly handsome looks, and devilish demeanor, he looked worldly. Yet somehow he seemed unguarded, even vulnerable, as if he were a boy posing as a knave. Just as quickly as Rogan thought that, Matteo’s expression changed and he was once again brashly confident. “Yet, you see, Your Grace, you must know this about me, too: I only steal from those who deserve it. The sort of men who come to my table with their money and their greed are courting my kind of trouble. They only get what they came for, eh?
“I seduce women, that is also true. Your man will have told you this, if he is worth his salt. Again, I ask you to consider that while I am a thief and a romancer, I am not entirely without honor.” Matteo paused, as if considering his words. When he spoke he said, “Your sister, however, is a sad, lonely girl. I agree with you. She does not need my kind of trouble.”
Nilo walked behind Kieran, and she heard him take a few deep, steadying breaths before they ducked down into the narrow galley leading to the staterooms. Nilo was alternately queasy and stricken with panic in the small, cramped interior spaces, reliving, no doubt, his experience on the slave ships. Kieran knew what it cost Nilo to accompany her on this journey.
Kieran reached out and patted his arm while they made their way to the staterooms. “Only a little longer.”
Nilo looked back at her and managed a smile for her benefit. His face inspired such affection in Kieran, regal and handsome, like an African king. The bones beneath his black skin stood out prominently, chiseled and elegant, with high cheekbones and a flared, proud nose. And his eyes, sharply observant, shimmered like liquid obsidian. They walked in silence, then, as thought occurred to Kieran. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked him, “Are you lonely, Nilo?”
“I have you.”
She loved how he did not hesitate. His loyalty touched her heart.
“But are you lonesome for companionship?” Her face burning, and grateful that he was not looking at her, she pressed, “For a woman?”
Nilo chuckled, a deep baritone melody. “Why do you worry?”
“You do not do anything but watch over me.” Kieran did not say what she really felt: She wanted Nilo to tell her that he was satisfied, that he would never leave her, and that being her guardian was enough for him as a man. She knew better. Nilo had once had a wife, children, and a tribe of his own. Surely keeping guard over her was less than satisfactory to a man who’d had so much stolen from him. Unselfishly she said what was in her heart. “I want you to be happy.”
Nilo paused in the narrow galley, his head nearly reaching the ceiling, his shoulders barely clearing the walls. Turning toward her so he could look down into her eyes, Nilo reached out and touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“You first.” He smiled gently. “Then it will be my turn.”
“You’ll have your turn, I swear it.”
There was a look in his black eyes that she’d never seen before. Pity? Doubt? Before she could say anything, he turned and they fell back into step.
The night before flashed in Kieran’s mind, her wrist caught in Matteo’s hand, his fingers playing over her skin, the feel of his lips on her neck. The bargain: a kiss in exchange for his manuscript.
She’d tumbled right into his trap.
Matteo de Gama had manipulated her, played her, and ultimately, tricked her. And he had known all along what she would do, what she would want, and exactly how to get her to agree to his terms.
All night Kieran simmered with anger. She’d felt like his fool. Rogue. Libertine. Swindler. She’d called him every name she could think until, out of the blackness of her rage, she realized what Matteo had done. And her new resolve dawned with the morning sun.
Who better to instruct her?
When in Venice, Rogan had counseled her to find something that warmed her heart.
In the darkness of her cabin’s bunk, Kieran decided that revenge would serve that purpose, and quite nicely.
“Will you wait a moment? I have a favor to ask of you,” she said to Nilo as they reached the door to her stateroom. At his nod, she rushed inside.