Borgia Fever. Michelle Kelly

thought of being seen. Marco stepped back, his hands falling away from her, and the moment was lost.

      ‘I will not take you up against the wall like this,’ he murmured, his eyes drinking her in, ‘as much as I want to.’

      She nodded, breathless, her body protesting and still eager for his touch.

      He motioned his head towards the open doors, where the sounds of merriment continued to grow.

      ‘I must stay until my lord retires,’ he whispered, his voice thick with need, ‘but I doubt it will be long before some lady takes his fancy and he has no need for me. If you wish it, I could come to your room.’

      Bella bit her lip. Did she wish it? There was no denying she wanted him, but it was one thing to be whisked away at a feast in the heat of the moment, and quite another to plan a tryst in her own room.

      As she looked up at him, his face half—hidden in the shadows, his expression unreadable, she had a sudden longing to know the man underneath his demeanor. ‘Yes, come to me later,’ she whispered, throwing caution to the winds. ‘I have a small room in the ladies’ quarters, near...’

      ‘I know where you are, Signora Bella,’ he murmured.

      She flushed. ‘I thought you hadn’t noticed me, at least not until the other morning in the garden.’

      ‘I notice everyone. Especially newcomers to the palace.’

      ‘Oh!’ she gasped, stung, ‘you have been spying on me then?’

      ‘Of course. And it was a pleasure,’ he said, his eyes hinting at pleasures still to come. She wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that he had indeed noticed her or disappointed that he had been watching her with suspicion as well as want. But it was to be expected. She was indeed a newcomer, and one rumoured to have knowledge of all sorts of poisons. Again she wondered how much he knew about her real purpose here.

      He was stepping away from her now, bowing and kissing her hand with all the grace of a courtier, a mischievous look in her eye that made her giggle like any coquette, almost giddy from the strangeness of their encounter.

      ‘Until later,’ he whispered, and was gone. Bella stood for a minute, gulping in the night air and straightening her clothes before she reentered the hall, looking around her warily. But none of the revellers noticed her; they were engrossed with their own business. She crossed the floor quickly, looking to escape through the side doors and go to her room to process the night’s events—and those to come.

      Sweaty hands grabbed at her from behind, a drunken voice slurring close to her ear as she turned to see one of the cardinals grinning lecherously at her, clearly more concerned with the pleasures of the flesh than the care of his soul. Bella twisted away from him, but he only gripped her harder, laughing as if the idea of her trying to get away from him was hilarious. She looked around wildly for help, then saw it in the shape of a dark figure suddenly coming up behind the cardinal, one hand resting lightly but noticeably on the hilt of his dagger.

      ‘I believe this woman is spoken for, Your Holiness,’ the Rogue said, his voice quiet and polite, yet somehow managing to drip with menace. The cardinal raised his hands in protest, and Bella quickly stepped out of his reach.