‘I have little time for dancing. But you, my lady, surely there are many men waiting for the pleasure?’
She felt ridiculously pleased at his words. He gave the compliment seriously, as if he truly meant it and wasn’t just trying to flatter. Indeed, she doubted the Rogue ever went out of his way to flatter.
Bella wondered how much he knew about her role here. More than she did, most likely; it was often said that nothing happened in the inner circles of Rome without it reaching the Rogue’s ears. The official story was that she was here to find a cure for Lucrezia’s frequent headaches, which no doctor had succeeded in doing, and the rumour went that Bella was a mistress of the art of poison, here to concoct a deadly new potion for an equally deadly benefactor. The truth lay, as with most things, somewhere between the two, but Bella had no idea how much the inscrutable Rogue knew. Still, his question was easily enough answered.
‘Maybe, but I don’t care to dance. I have no idea of the steps. Even the kitchen maids dance better than I.’
‘There are better things to do with such a fine body than dance,’ he said, and though his cool demeanour did not change, the eyes that met hers were full of heat. The desire of a man used to taking what he wanted. Bella felt her cheeks go hot and her mouth dry as his gaze roamed her slender form. Her gown pushed her breasts up to their best advantage, then fell away to settle becomingly over hips that flared out from her tiny waist, unmarked by childbirth.
Bella was not a virgin. She had been betrothed once, and the rumours and gossip that accompanied an overeducated woman with more knowledge of herbs and potions than was good for her had frightened him away, after he had taken her innocence, of course. She hadn’t made love since. Indeed, had felt little desire to. That first time, borne out of what she had taken for love, and a girlish curiosity about the act, had left her with little urge to take another lover. Until now. She swallowed, not sure how to respond to his words.
‘Dancing is out of the question then,’ she said at last, searching wildly for something to say. The Rogue raised an eyebrow at her.
‘Perhaps we should explore our other options?’ he said, stepping towards her slightly. Like a wolf who knew his prey was cornered.
Bella felt herself flush as scarlet as her dress, and the man laughed, a real laugh rather than that mocking smile. Even in her embarrassment she couldn’t fail to notice how handsome he was.
‘Forgive me,’ he said, bowing slightly, amusement still tugging at the corners of his deliciously full mouth, ‘I should not tease you. But I think that perhaps, like me, you find all this —’ he jerked his head at their surroundings ‘— tedious.’
Bella looked around. Tedious was hardly the word she would use to describe the party the Pope had thrown in celebration of his daughter’s new betrothal. The Palazzo Santa Maria was the most beautiful building she had ever seen, in Bella’s view eclipsing even the nearby Vatican, and she had never seen such a wealth of colour and luxury as were within its walls tonight. Still, she understood the Rogue’s complaint. Even after two weeks she was beginning to find the endless bowing and scraping and intricacies of court etiquette a burden, and was already longing to return to her simpler life, to her business and her herbs. She had to admit to herself that it was only the possibility of catching a glimpse of the Rogue that had stopped her from slipping away from the main hall to continue her work in the distillery. She turned back to him, and her next words came out of her mouth as if at someone else’s bidding.
‘Perhaps some fresh air then?’
He looked at her and nodded, as if he approved of her forthrightness. He held an arm out to her with an expression almost of challenge in his eyes, and she took it, feeling the tautness of his biceps. As he began to lead her across the floor she let out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding.
He moved smoothly through the crowds, and she could hardly fail to be aware of the proximity of his body as he kept her close to his side, as though to prevent her running away. An impossibility, as her body seemed to have a mind of its own, more than happy to follow where he led. Bella half expected someone to stop them, or one of the women to come after her, but most of the revellers were far too busy having a good time to take any notice, although a few pairs of curious eyes followed them. No doubt surprised to see the solitary birbante leading a woman out onto one of the palace balconies.
Once outside, the humid air did little to cool her, and when he turned and looked at her, his eyes hot with desire, she felt as if her very skin caught flame. She stepped back, a moment’s clarity making her cautious. Was the decadence of the Borgia court seeping into her bones already? Had the Spanish wine and the sense of imminent danger gone to her head? They were a stone’s throw away from the others, but even so, she was a young woman, alone on a balcony with one of the most whispered about men in Rome.
Yet she didn’t feel afraid. Not of him. Whatever other tales were told about him, it was also whispered that he was a man of some honour, and had never been known to hurt or forcibly take a woman.
But she had no protection from her own desire. When he stepped towards her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt her mouth to his, it wasn’t fear that made her shiver, but lust. When his lips descended on hers she hesitated for only a second before responding hungrily, crushing her mouth to his. The Rogue made a noise deep in his throat, and as one hand slid to the small of her back, the other buried itself in the looped coils of her hair, which had taken her maid, Susanna, hours to arrange.
He pushed Bella up against a stone wall, out of sight of the hall, and she felt the cold against her back in stark contrast to the heat of him in front of her. His hips pressed into the folds of her skirt and she could feel his hardness as his tongue explored her mouth. There was no coolness to him now; she could feel the need in his body, the way his hands gripped her, and she responded with a passion to match, a part of her hardly able to believe this was happening. His mouth moved away from hers only to leave a burning trail of kisses down her neck, over her collarbone and across the tops of her breasts where they swelled above the low neckline of her gown. She gasped as she felt her nipples stiffen under the thin material, wanting his mouth and hands around them. Need grew in the depths of her body, chasing away any thoughts of caution. She was not Bella any longer, spending her days poring over her books or making up tinctures or bartering with merchants; she was a woman at the court of the Borgia, where pleasure was as important as duty. Where, indeed, pleasure was a duty.
‘You’re wearing far too many clothes,’ he all but growled into her ear as he raised his lips to her neck again, the hand that had been at her back coming round to inch up her skirts. When his strong hands squeezed her thigh, she gasped, torn between the inclination to clamp her legs shut and the lust that made her want to open to his touch.
He must have sensed her hesitation, for he pulled away, his palm stilling on her leg. He gazed down at her, his eyes dark with desire and his breathing ragged. Even so, he was still undeniably in control, whereas Bella felt like a melting mess. He then pulled her against him again, slower this time, leaning down and taking her mouth with his in a way that made her body tremble and the liquid heat pool between her thighs. This time when his hand made its slow path up her thighs she made no attempt to stop him. He paused again as his palm neared her sex, a question in his eyes.
‘I’m not a maiden,’ she whispered, her voice hoarse, but still he hesitated, staring down at her with those dark eyes as if he would have her beg before he touched her. Finally she felt his fingers brush her most intimate, womanly place, and a soft moan escaped her lips. His eyes glittered with triumph as he captured her mouth again, his lips moving against hers as his hand moved in rhythm against, and then inside, her sex. Bella felt her body clench and then release, opening for him, and feeling his hardness straining against her, she reached a hand down to stroke him through