The Di Medici Bride by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham [Graham, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488026775
Publisher: MIRA
Published: 1986-08-14T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

He had a hired gondola waiting for them by the steps. She raised her eyes in inquiry, aware that he usually preferred to use the family’s own means of transportation.

He smiled and took her hand to help her into the boat. “It’s our grand night out, remember?” he whispered softly, and she shot him a seductive look in return. His breath caught momentarily in his throat; she was stunning, all the more so in beautiful motion. In the arresting black gown she moved like the waves of the sea, like a soft cloud floating across the sky, lulling, beguiling. When she smiled at him, he felt as if strings inside him tautened, as if, should she beckon, he would follow her anywhere, through all the fires of hell and back again….

Ah, but I am the puppeteer, and she the dancer on the strings tonight, he reminded himself.

He kept smiling as he seated himself beside her. The scent of her perfume was subtle; it wafted around him like a woven chain of golden angel’s hair.

The gondolier pushed away from the Palazzo di Medici.

Marcus reached beneath the seat and produced a chilled bottle and two frosted glasses. She laughed lazily, easily; her eyes were a brilliant burst of gold and green beneath the sensual heavy-lidded crescents of her deep-honey lashes.

“Wine, on a gondola?” she inquired.

“Asti spumante,” he returned, handing her a glass and adding lightly, “It’s the only way to see Venice, you know.”

“Is it?”

“Of course.” He entwined his elbow with hers, careful not to spill the sparkling liquid. He took a sip, watching her do the same. The gondola was cushioned, and he leaned back on one elbow, inviting her to follow suit. Her lashes lowered briefly; a small secretive smile curled her lips. When her lashes rose again her eyes were bright, like topaz in the night, and he knew that they were playing a game of cat and mouse, circling warily, and that there was a very dubious distinction between the role of cat and the role of mouse. She was out for something; she intended to play things her way and win. That was why she was with him. But tonight the round was going to go to him.

Still, there was no reason for her to realize that yet.

He leaned over and brushed her lips with a light kiss. She seemed perfectly relaxed, ready to purr at his touch. He kissed her again, dumping his champagne overboard as he did so.

“You’re not drinking up,” he told her softly. “We’re out to forget everything, to watch the moon, to see Venezia as lovers might.”

She allowed him to refill her glass, as he did his own. She cast her left elbow over a cushion, stretching her body luxuriously near his, idly playing with the lapel of his jacket. “Marcus, it would be much easier to enjoy the night if you would admit a few things.”

“Such as?” He caught the fingers that teased his chest, uncurled them slowly and kissed her palm.

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