Regency Surrender: Ruthless Rakes: Rake Most Likely to Seduce / Rake Most Likely to Sin

Nolan braced his packages under one arm, pushed open the door and stared in amazement. This was his room? For a moment he thought perhaps he’d gone to the wrong place. In all the weeks he’d lived here, it had never looked like this: candles flickering, the curtains pulled back to reveal the lanterns on the canal, the long, highly polished but little-used dining table set with white cloth, silver and crystal. This was a setting fit for a prince. It carried an elegance far beyond that of an itinerant gambler who had money but not much else in life. If he’d known what was waiting for him, he might have come back sooner. Or, he might be highly suspicious.

Nolan chose to be the latter. This was the same woman, after all, who had tried to suck him and then slapped him for a kiss moments later. This was a woman who was with him because he was her only alternative for the moment, a rather lowering thought for a man who prided himself on the ability to seduce anyone.

Gianna moved from the shadows. Her entrance was masterfully staged. She only drew his attention after he’d had a chance to absorb the scene. And rightly so. Nolan thought he might have missed the table and all its finery if he’d seen her first. She was a queen in the candlelight, dressed in a silver-grey silk gown banded at the waist and trimmed at the hem in bands of black velvet. Her dark hair was piled high, exposing the slender column of her neck, a few curls left loose to tempt a man’s hand. ‘Welcome home.’ She moved forward, a glass in her hand, its cut facets catching the light of the candles. ‘There is chilled champagne and dinner will be here shortly.’ She handed him the glass and took his packages to set aside. Now, he was officially suspicious. She played the hostess far too well. A less-cautious man would be drawn in before he even knew the net had been cast.

‘What is all of this?’ Nolan kept his tone casual.

‘This is thank you and I’m sorry.’ Her hands were at the shoulders of his coat, helping him out of it. ‘I should not have slapped you last night. You have been kind to me none the less.’ She folded his coat and draped it over the sofa. She gave him a sly smile. ‘Don’t worry, it’s all on your bill if that makes you feel better. I can hardly seduce you on your own money.’

‘Is that how it works? Perhaps that explains why my other mistresses failed,’ Nolan said coolly. He was finding her premise fairly debatable. The candlelit suite, the cold champagne and the woman herself were doing a fine job seducing his senses and his body, although his mind was holding out for something more rational before he was entirely persuaded there was no other agenda.

A knock sounded at the door, and Gianna moved to answer it, favouring him with a chance to watch the grey silk move over her curves. Apparently, the session with Signora Montefiori had gone well.

The facchini stepped in with trays and laid the rest of the table with quick efficiency. Covers were removed, a second round of champagne was poured, bread was sliced in advance. Gianna dismissed the porters and stepped towards the table, holding a hand out to him in invitation, her voice husky. ‘Will you come and dine with me?’ She might as well have said, Come to bed with me.

Her eyes were on him. He felt his body start to fire with arousal. Direct eye contact with a woman who knew her own mind had always turned him on. Tonight was proving to be no exception. She was all Eve with the apple, tempting him to believe in the mirage she’d created—this elegant domesticity mixed with sophisticated intimacy. He found her intoxicating, this beautiful woman in grey, who had so effortlessly taken charge of the setting. It conjured up thoughts of other settings in which she might take charge; what would it be like to take such a woman to bed? Would she take charge of her own pleasure? Would she take charge of his? It was certainly probable. His cock recalled the feel of her hand on him and his body raced at the prospect of such possibility.

He joined her at the table, holding out a chair for her, thankful for the shadows that disguised his response to the fantasy she’d created. ‘Everything looks delicious.’ The compliment was designed to encompass more than the food, although everything on the table was in fact his favourites—the trota al burro, the thin strands of angel-hair pasta, the careful geometric piles of white polenta and at the centre of it all was the bowl of steaming go risotto.

Of course, the kitchen had all of his favourites on file. All one had to do was ask the kitchen what Signor Gray liked to eat. He was known throughout the markets of Venice for his love of Venetian seafood. It wasn’t the resourcefulness that touched him, it was her thoughtfulness. She’d gone to the trouble of asking. If she even guessed how compelling he found that little courtesy, he’d be entirely vulnerable despite his rather healthy layer of cynicism. Oh, it would be very prudent indeed to expedite their association as quickly as possible if this was her effect on him. Randy, well-fed men didn’t always think with their brains. He was on the verge of becoming both, a very dangerous fate considering he lived by his wits.

‘More champagne?’ She poured him the rest of the bottle and then opened another. ‘You have fallen in love with our seafood, it would seem. The lagoon is a fisherman’s paradise. But the risotto dish is hardly rich man’s fare.’

‘Perhaps that’s why I like it.’ Nolan sat back in his chair, letting his food settle. ‘Or perhaps it’s the risk in it that appeals to me. I’m a gambler by trade, I thrive on it. Once, on Burano, I saw someone make the go risotto. I saw the chefs carefully prepare the go fish so that they didn’t ruin the broth, I saw the risotto flipped in the air for aeration. There were so many variables needed to make perfection.’

He watched her take in his words, unravel their meaning. Her hand stilled on the stem of her flute. Did she know she did that? Whenever she felt caught, her body stilled while she gathered her mental resources. It was her tell. Everyone had them. Some just hid them better than others. He pitched his voice low, caressing each word deliberately. ‘One false move, one missed step, and the dish becomes disaster.’

Her hand came up and played with the pearl drop that lay just below her throat. Nolan’s hand itched to take its place. Perhaps she’d made the gesture on purpose to distract him, to redirect his thoughts. He could almost feel the pearl in his hand. It would be warm from the heat of her body. It would be a natural progression of movement to draw a finger down the column of her throat to the shadow between her breasts. As lovely as this interlude was, he needed to end it before he was entirely at her mercy.

‘Is that what we’re doing tonight, Gianna? Making perfection? If so, a man has to wonder why?’

Everything had been going perfectly until now. She’d known from the outset Nolan would have to be massaged into compliance, but she’d not guessed it would be over this. These—the dinner, the dress, the direct looks—were all designed to ensure his compliance, not to rouse his suspicions. They were supposed to help her avoid suspicion and now, her efforts had accomplished the very opposite of her intentions.

She’d left nothing to chance: not the foods for dinner, not the temperature of the champagne, nor any aspect of her appearance seen or unseen from the elegant fall of the grey evening gown Signora Monte­fiori had left to the silky undergarments beneath, compliments of an unclaimed wedding trousseau. And it still wasn’t enough.

Nolan leaned across the table, his eyes on her, dark and serious, his sharp mind already a step ahead of her. ‘Is this about the count, Gianna? If so, it’s wasted effort. I’ve already pledged my assistance.’ He paused. ‘Unless there is something you haven’t told me? Does this have to do with the item we need to retrieve?’

The truth was her only option. This was not a question she could answer with a pretty dress or champagne or silky undergarments. ‘Retrieving it will be a delicate task, one that will require some stealth...’ Gianna began, watching Nolan raise an eyebrow. At least he hadn’t thrown her out for what she implied.

‘Is there any chance in this discussion that you have substituted the words “retrieving” and “stealth” for “stealing”?’ Nolan swallowed the last of his champagne, giving every appearance of a man who was making usual conversation over dinner.

‘No.’ She was on definite ground here. ‘It is mine, legally.’ More legally in four weeks, but it had been willed to her and that made it hers no matter what her age. ‘But the count will be reluctant to give it up.’ The count’s reluctance stemmed from a different reason than hers. He wanted the item for its overtly displayed contents and what money they could bring. She wanted it for what it hid, for what it protected. Those secrets were still safe. The count would not have proposed otherwise—there would have been no reason to.

‘May I infer that we will not be able to simply ask him for it?’ Nolan pushed back from the table to give himself room to cross one long leg over another. ‘We will have to take it? Will the sight of my knife be suitable enough force for him to concede the object?’

Gianna set her jaw. He knew very well it wouldn’t be. There were just two of them. They could not lay siege in broad daylight to the count’s palazzo simply by walking in. His footmen, all burly, highly trained brutes, would evict them in short order, or at least evict Nolan. They might not let her go. The thought of being trapped in that house again made her shudder. ‘It is important that he not know we have it.’ The longer her ‘retrieval’ of the item went unnoticed the better. She would not hesitate to use it as leverage later. But without it, she would have nothing to bargain with.

‘You’re asking me to burgle the count’s house?’ Nolan’s tone registered a certain amount of incredulity.

‘I’m not asking you to do it alone,’ Gianna answered swiftly. ‘I’ll be there with you.’ She’d meant it as encouragement, but, yes, she was asking him to break into the count’s house. ‘I have a plan.’ As if that made it better. She rose from the table. ‘We need to go tonight, while the count is out. His staff will have the evening off.’

Nolan’s hand closed about her wrist, the steel of his voice matching the steel of his grip, his answer firm. ‘No.’

For the first time, Gianna began to panic. He couldn’t refuse. He simply couldn’t. She’d not allowed herself to contemplate what to do if he said no. She’d been so sure. Everything hinged on going back. She would lose Giovanni if she didn’t.

Chapter Nine (#u74f51329-3077-5fc2-9a52-b93f355dc298)

‘We have to. You said you would help and I need your help tonight.’ She tried to stay calm. Too much panic and he’d suspect there was more she hadn’t revealed.

Nolan did not yield. ‘I also said the perfection of go risotto was ruined by the smallest of missteps. You cannot simply go breaking into someone’s house without careful planning, no matter how prettily you sulk.’

Perhaps if she argued prettily enough, then. ‘What is there to plan? I know the house, I know the schedule of the servants. I know the location of the item. I am your plan and I assure you, I have no desire to be caught.’ No one would be more careful than she when it came to that.

Nolan dragged her over to his packages and let go of her wrist. ‘I have a better plan. We go tomorrow night. Open these.’

The packages were soft and pliable. Gianna undid the string and tackled the brown wrapping. Inside one package was a heavy, red-damask gown trimmed in velvet and done in the medieval style. Beneath it lay a matching, fur-trimmed cloak and a final paper-wrapped package, this one hard and contoured. A mask, beautifully painted in red and white and sequined. She turned the mask over in her hand with a dubious scowl. ‘This is for a masquerade, not a break in.’ No doubt the second package, similar in shape, contained a male costume to match.

Nolan gave her a smug smile and fished out a heavy white square of paper from his coat pocket. ‘I believe Count Minotti’s annual masquerade ball is tomorrow night.’ He passed her the invitation.

‘Are you crazy? There will be people crawling all over the palazzo,’ Gianna argued. Was he suggesting they try and remove the item during the masquerade? It was madness.

‘The more the merrier.’ Nolan grinned. ‘No one will even know we’re there. We’ll go, we’ll drink a little wine, we’ll dance, we’ll make free of the count’s hospitality, we’ll help ourselves to this item of yours, and be off. We won’t even have to skulk around.’

His plan was starting to sound plausible, safe even, when Nolan said it. There was only one thing. Did they dare wait one more day? How long would the count wait before he demanded she come back to him? If confronted, would Nolan make good on his word not to send her back? Above all, how long would it be before the count could get to Giovanni and hold him for ransom against her return? Against her secrets? She knew already she’d give those secrets up to protect Giovanni, but then how would she support them?

Gianna did quick calculations in her head: How long would it take a message from the count to travel? When would he send it? Surely, not until tomorrow at the earliest and only then if he felt sure she was not coming back. Perhaps she could afford to wait twenty-four more hours, especially if waiting ensured her success and reduced her risk. With Nolan’s plan, they wouldn’t have to break in, only retrieve the item in question.

‘Now that’s settled...’ Nolan smiled, sensing her acquiescence before she gave it ‘...I must thank you for the delicious meal and make my excuses. I need to change and be off.’

‘You’re leaving?’ Gianna trailed behind him into the bedroom. This was not going as planned, but why did that surprise her? Nothing had gone as planned.

Nolan pulled off his coat and undid his cravat, quick hands undoing the buttons on his waistcoat and pulling out the tails of his shirt. ‘Yes. I am committed to a card game this evening and I cannot be late. Can you pass me my evening jacket?’

‘No, I cannot pass you your jacket.’ Gianna fumed. This was not where she’d imagined the evening headed. They were supposed to be in a gondola by now, headed towards the count’s house. Since they weren’t burgling him tonight, she didn’t have a back-up plan for the evening—perhaps do a bit of planning with the masquerade? Go over the layout of the count’s palazzo? Whatever it was, it wasn’t this.

Her temper started to rise. ‘I’ve been stuck in this room all day, I’ve been pricked with needles and pins, draped with bolts of fabric and discussed as if I was nothing but a doll. On top of that, I planned you an excellent meal and all you have to say is “I’m going out”?’

Nolan tossed his old shirt on to the bed, obviously less concerned than she that he was undressing in front of her. He faced her, hands on hips, chest gloriously bare, his arms and torso an exhibition in lean, muscled strength. ‘Yes, I am going out. I am committed to a card game this evening and I cannot be late, not if your penchant for spending my money is any indication of what it will cost me to keep you for the interim. You, my dear, have proven to be a very expensive acquisition. You have me buying wardrobes, eating silver-plated candlelight meals, drinking French champagne and burgling the homes of nobility.’ He reached for a clean shirt and slid his arms into the sleeves. ‘Now, I am going to change my trousers. You are welcome to stay and watch.’

Gianna fought the childish urge to stomp her foot. His arrogance was insufferable! He knew he was an attractive man in and out of his clothing. Two could play this game. ‘I am not that desperate for entertainment. Perhaps, I shall go out as well. There was a concert at San Giorgio I wanted to take in.’ It was true, a quartet of some talent was performing Vi­valdi tonight. She moved with brisk efficiency towards the wardrobe where she’d stored some of the items Signora Montefiori was able to leave behind this afternoon. There was a gorgeous, fur-collared cloak she was eager to try.

Nolan’s hand came over her shoulder and slammed shut the wardrobe door, his voice a growl in her ear, ‘Don’t be a fool, Gianna. You can’t possibly go out, not if the count is as dangerous as you say.’

‘Let go of the door, Nolan. You’re being ridiculous. I’ll be perfectly anonymous. It’s dark out, there are revellers everywhere. No one will notice me.’ She flashed him a coy smile over her shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that his half-dressed body was mere inches from hers. ‘The more the merrier, isn’t that right? Why is it that we can hide in plain sight at the masquerade tomorrow, but I can’t hide in plain sight tonight?’ There. Hoisted by his own petard, she thought smugly.

‘Because there’s no “we” tonight. You cannot go out in the dark alone.’

He had a point. Secretly, she was starting to rethink her hasty decision. Hardly anyone would notice her, that much was true, but that also meant no one would notice if anything untoward happened to her. Carnevale was a fun time, a free time, but it could also be a frightening time if one wasn’t careful. She wouldn’t be the first to go missing during Carnevale and never be heard from again. ‘Come with me, then,’ she challenged.