Borgia Fever

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 the thin material of his breeches. She wanted him. For all she knew she could die here. Well, she could do naught to prevent that, but she would not do so without knowing this man in the most intimate of ways. As she reached for his laces, however, a loud crash and then raucous laughter came from close behind them in the hall. She paused, her eyes wide at the 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.