The Defiant Mistress

There was a gondolier standing at the back of the gondola and another one in front of the cabin, but Athena knew she could expect no help from the two men. She’d heard Gabriel give them curt orders in Italian. They were in his pay, they would do whatever he said.

He leant back in the seat, stretching out his legs in a semblance of relaxation. Athena sat upright, staring straight ahead, her hands gripped together on her knees. Gabriel’s casual posture didn’t fool her. She could feel the fierce emotion vibrating through his body, sense his angry gaze burning the back of her neck. She didn’t turn her head to look at him. Instead she glanced down and a little sideways. She saw his hand lying on his thigh. It was a large hand, with long, strong fingers. The last time she’d seen Gabriel’s hand he had stroked a finger tenderly across her cheek. As she watched, it clenched into a fist.

In the years since she’d discovered he hadn’t turned up at the church for their wedding she’d taught herself to accept he hadn’t loved her as she’d loved him. She’d forced herself to face the fact that, if they ever met again, he would treat her with indifference. Perhaps wouldn’t even remember her.

She’d never anticipated this hostility.

She waited for him to speak. He didn’t say anything. She took a breath. Her ribs felt as if an iron band had been placed around them and she had to force her chest to expand when she inhaled.

When she heard him take a harsh breath, she wondered dizzily if he had the same problem with his ribs.

She stared at his hand on his leg. Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel’s leg. The fine cloth of his breeches touched her petticoats. He was only inches away from her. And more distant than she’d ever imagined.

She knew he was watching her. She could feel the intensity of his gaze. Like a deer caged with a hunting lion she felt compelled to look at him. His eyes burned into hers. His visual assault was so devastating her body went slack with shock.

Athena swayed. The world swirled about her.

He caught her arm and pulled her back on to the seat beside him. A second later he loomed over her, his large body half-covering hers, pinning her in place.

‘Gabriel,’ she whispered. She lifted a trembling hand to touch his cheek.

He was real. The weight of his body on hers was real. The slight rasp of stubble on his smooth-shaven jaw was real.

‘Gabriel.’ Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. She touched his face with quick, fluttering gestures, hungry for more assurance of his reality. Stroked his hair, traced his dark eyebrow. ‘I wanted you so much.’ Her voice caught on a sob and she flung her arms around his neck, clinging desperately to him.

She buried her face in his shoulder, momentarily forgetting his hostility in the miracle of being once more able to touch him. But his hard body was unyielding as oak in her embrace.

She became aware of his silent rejection and began to pull away, shaken anew by his inexplicable anger.

He growled low in his chest, moving suddenly, forcing her back against the velvet upholstery. His action triggered memories of another man who’d used force against her.

‘No!’ Panic shot through her. She struggled wildly, pounding at Gabriel’s shoulders with her fists. Water slapped against the sides of the rocking gondola.

‘My God!’ He lifted his head a few inches.

‘No!’ she panted, twisting her face away from him, thrusting at his chest in an unavailing effort to shove him away from her.

His curse emerged as little more than a snarl.

‘How much will it cost to make you say yes?’ he demanded.

‘What?’

‘You thought you could play your tricks on some poor bastard who’d be fooled by your innocent face,’ he said savagely. ‘It must have been a shock to discover this particular pigeon has already been plucked.’

Athena stared up at him, bewildered by his accusation. ‘What? What pigeon?’

He laughed harshly and lifted himself away from her. ‘Save your breath, madam. I’ve seen you unmasked. I’ll not be duped again.’ He flung a curt order at the gondoliers. ‘I might have guessed you’d one day find your way to Venice,’ he said bitterly. ‘A whore belongs in the city of whores. You’ll fit in very well.’

The gondola stopped at a landing stage. In one lithe movement Gabriel sprang out. He issued another incomprehensible order to the gondoliers and turned to stride away across a large square.

‘Wait…’ Athena’s voice faded. Gabriel had already disappeared into the crowds. The gondola was once more gliding through the waters of the grand canal. Life continued all around her as if nothing of moment had happened.

She swallowed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear with shaking fingers. Emotion suddenly threatened to overcome her. She propped her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her trembling hands.

Chapter Two

‘M y lord, the banquet is about to start!’ The young page bounced on his toes as he waited for Gabriel to pay off the hired gondola.

‘Banquet?’ Gabriel frowned. This was the first he’d heard of any banquet.

‘In honour of Mrs Beresford and Mrs Quenell,’ the page explained eagerly. ‘Come, my lord. Sir Walter sent me down to wait for your return. You are the most important guest!’

Gabriel bit off a curse. He had no desire to raise a glass in honour of Frances—but the meal would be over soon enough.

‘I’m likely the only guest,’ he said drily, striding beside the page through the andron, the ground-floor hallway that corresponded to the portego on the floor above.

Venetian citizens such as Filippo Correr were permitted to deal directly with foreigners, but the nobility refused to mingle with visitors to their city. The Ambassador was only able to meet with the Doge and other important patricians in the most restricted and formal of circumstances. Usually the embassy household had to rely on each other for companionship—though not necessarily for entertainment. Venice had many attractions for men in search of diversion. But it wasn’t surprising Sir Walter had seized on this excuse for a grand dinner.

‘Yes, my lord. But you are a very important guest,’ said the page.

True to his usual habit, Gabriel took the steps two at a time, arriving in the portego before the breathless servant. He paused just inside the door. The long chamber was crowded with members of the Ambassador’s staff. Roger Minshull, the Ambassador’s chief secretary, the two undersecretaries, one of whom was Edward Beresford, the chaplain, various young gentlemen who were supposedly being trained in the art of diplomacy…

Frances.

Gabriel’s eyes locked on to her immediately. But that meant nothing. She was one of only two women present. Naturally she drew his attention.

‘Halross! Splendid!’ Sir Walter spotted him. ‘In good time! We are having a banquet in honour of our gallant new arrivals.’

‘So I see.’ In Gabriel’s absence the portego had been transformed into a dining chamber with the addition of a large, magnificently laid table and finely carved chairs. ‘Most impressive.’

‘Yes. Yes. Come, my lord. You must sit on my right. Mrs Beresford on my left…’ The Ambassador immediately began to arrange his most important guests.

Gabriel saw that he was to sit almost opposite to Frances. He would be able to see her every move throughout the meal. She glanced at him, then looked quickly away. Her fingers fidgeted briefly with her closed fan, then her grip on the ivory sticks relaxed. She turned to smile at Roger Minshull who was sitting on her left. Minshull spoke to her and she replied in a light, untroubled tone. Gabriel saw that the ferret-faced secretary was already halfway to being besotted by his beautiful companion.

Frances’s composure grated on Gabriel’s temper. If she had any shame or conscience she would be begging him not to disclose her treacherous behaviour eight years ago. She must know it would take only one word from him to destroy her credibility with the Ambassador. For a few seconds Gabriel almost felt a grudging admiration for her obvious determination to brazen out the situation. There must be a backbone of steel concealed within her graceful feminine curves. Then his painfully acquired cynicism reasserted itself. In truth, it required no great courage for Frances to continue her masquerade. She was undoubtedly relying on his reluctance to reveal his youthful folly to the world. And she was right. He had no intention of providing any further entertainment for the embassy household. From now on he would treat her with the indifference she deserved.

‘It is a testament to the power of love,’ said the chaplain.

‘What?’ Gabriel’s head snapped around.

‘Mrs Beresford’s epic journey to rejoin her husband, my lord,’ the chaplain replied. ‘I have never seen two young people more truly matched. True love can overcome the greatest obstacles.’ He looked at Rachel Beresford with sentimental admiration. Gabriel followed the direction of the chaplain’s gaze.

Rachel noticed their attention was fixed upon her and blushed. ‘I could never have managed without Mrs Quenell’s help,’ she said. ‘I was so overset by the time I reached Bruges that I don’t know what I would have done if the innkeeper hadn’t taken me to the convent. After that Mrs Quenell took care of everything. I will never be able to repay her for what she has done for me.’

‘Nor I,’ Edward Beresford interjected. ‘I will always be in your debt, madam. It gives me nightmares, imagining what could have happened to my poor Rachel without your protection. And that of Mr Breydel as well, of course,’ he added. ‘I am sorry he was not able to attend this banquet.’

Gabriel hid his opinion beneath an impassive expression. The others might believe Frances’s story that she’d been a guest at the convent for a considerable time, but Gabriel knew better. She’d lied to him eight years ago, and it seemed she hadn’t lost her talent for telling plausible untruths. Frances had certainly been serving her own ends when she adopted the role of guardian angel to Rachel Beresford. No doubt she was between patrons and, just like Rachel, had taken temporary refuge in the convent. Now she was on the lookout for a new protector. The Ambassador must have told her he had a noble guest without mentioning Gabriel’s name. What a shock Frances must have had when she discovered the wealthy man she’d selected as her next victim was someone she’d duped already. Gabriel had no intention of playing her fool again.