One Knight in Venice by Tori Phillips

Author:Tori Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Everything about Francis deflated—his good spirits, his ardor, his manhood. Even before she removed her mask, he recognized Cosma. His heart sank to the soles of his feet.

The tapboy looked from Francis to Cosma then back to Francis. “Shall I bring up some refreshment, my lord?”

Before Cosma could open her rouged mouth, Francis shook his head. “No need, lad. Thank you. Now be gone and shut the door.”

The young messenger nodded then scurried out, banging the door behind him.

Once they were alone, Cosma bestowed one of her sultry, catlike smiles upon him. Then she dropped her cloak and pirouetted for his inspection. Her high-waisted dress of gold tissue fell in soft folds around her ripe body. Her low neckline with its tiny white ruffle barely concealed her jutting nipples. Gold fringe edged her hemline that rose to knee level, revealing a scandalous expanse of her legs encased in sheer white stockings. Gold satin roses decorated her garters and shoe tops. Her auburn hair was piled high in fashionable ringlets with strings of pearls twined through her locks. Her heavy perfume of damask roses filled the room. Cosma had used every art at her command to enhance her endowments. Every revealing inch of her proclaimed that she had invaded his sanctuary with seduction in mind.

Cosma’s wanton display turned Francis even colder. How completely artificial she looked compared to Jessica’s natural beauty! “Forgive me,” he said through tight lips. “I was asleep when you arrived.”

Cosma’s feline smile widened. “Then let us return to your sheets,” she purred, “and I will give you dreams of paradise.” She moved toward his rumpled bed.

Francis stepped in front of her. He would not allow her to carry out her obvious plan. Instead he pointed to the stool, the only seat in his sparse room. She ignored it.

“I am not in a sporting mood.” He tied his neck band-strings, then buttoned up his doublet to emphasize his lack of desire. “What do you want?”

Cosma licked her lips as if she savored honey. “You,” she murmured in a husky tone. She reached for him. “I burn for you.”

Francis stepped away from her. “Then I fear you must seek solace from another source. I have grown weary of you.”

She pouted her lips in the most provocative manner she knew. “Then let me spark your interest again.” She withdrew a lacy handkerchief from the reticule that hung from her girdle and dabbed her dry eyes. “You were not always so cruel to me. How can you treat me so shamefully when we are such good friends?” She tried to wrap herself around him.

Her touch made his flesh crawl. Grasping her hands by the wrists, he pulled them off his neck. “We were never friends, Cosma. It was merely a business arrangement that pleased us both for a time. Now that time has run its course.”

True enough. Cosma had been delighted to introduce her new lover to her wide circle of acquaintances: merchants, councillors, sons of the nobility—in short everyone Francis needed to know for his work.

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