The Shadowed Heart. Nina Beaumont

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СКАЧАТЬ her. “Have you ever lain with a man before?”

      His words reminded her of who he was. Reminded her of what she needed to do.

      “What difference does it make to you?” As she spoke, her hand crept upward, then across her middle. Her fingers closed around the hilt of the dagger, and she slid it out of the sheath.

      Strike! Strike! The command thundered through her head, but her hand remained still, as if she could not force it to do her bidding.

      “None.” He laughed softly. “None at all.” His fingers continued to stroke her skin. “I want you. That is all that matters.”

      The soft, lightly mocking laughter struck a chord in her memory and she lifted her hand and plunged it down toward his heart.

      Ensnared in his arousal, Luca did not give heed to her movement. By the time the realization hit him that what she held was a weapon and he had flung his hand upward to ward off the blow, the momentum of her downward stroke was too strong, too fast to stop completely.

      He felt—and ignored—the hot flash of pain as the tip of the dagger pierced his skin and sliced through his flesh a moment before he struck her hand.

      The dagger clattered to the floor. His hands captured hers. For a moment, they remained still, as if frozen in a dance of violent beauty.

      Luca’s fury exploded like a volcano spewing forth hot lava. His fingers tightened around her wrists and he bore her back so brutally that her head hit the wall with a sharp crack.

      “Damn you. I have killed men for less.”

      “I’m not afraid to die.”

      “Perhaps not.” He ground his hips against hers. “But you are afraid of this.”

      Chiara could feel the cry growing in her throat, but she battled the weakness, clamping her mouth shut until her teeth ground against each other.

      Luca saw her fear, saw how she fought it, saw how she still defied him. And her desperate courage seemed to feed his fury.

      “Why did you try to kill me?” he demanded. “Is it such a terrible fate to lie with me?” He gave a short laugh. “Some women might even envy you.”

      Chiara thought of her sister’s blank eyes. She thought of the pitiful whimpering sounds Donata sometimes made in her sleep, and felt the fear recede before the hatred of this man.

      “I hate you. And I despise you.”

      “Why?”

      “I told you. If you do not know it, you should.”

      “My patience with your riddles is at an end,” he snarled. “Tell me.”

      For a moment Chiara was tempted to tell him who she was. But only for a moment. He would find a way to use that knowledge against her. The less he knew about her the better it was. She would bide her time and someday she would tell him, right before she killed him.

      She shook her head.

      “Tell me.” He tightened his grip on her wrist.

      “No,” she whispered.

      “Do you know how easy it is to make someone talk?” The wildness was roiling within him like a storm-swept sea. He grappled for control, but it slipped away like water. “With just a small movement I could snap your wrist.”

      She could feel his hot breath on her face. “What good would a slave with a broken wrist be?”

      His mouth curved in a hard smile. “You don’t need your hands for what I want from you.”

      “And you will take what you want no matter what I do or say.”

      “Perhaps.” He shifted his fingers a fraction of an inch to increase the pressure on her wrist. “Try me.”

      Chiara understood then that she had exhausted all her possibilities.

      “You are a Venetian patrician,” she said, trying desperately to keep her voice steady. “That is why I hate you.”

      It was surprise more than anything else that had him easing his hold on her wrist. The wildness within him eased as well, as if it had been a seizure that was now passing.

      “Why?”

      She hesitated, but feeling his hand tighten again, she decided to give him part of the truth. “Because my father is one.”

      “Your father?” His eyes narrowed, but he did not dismiss her words. “What is his name?”

      “I don’t know,” she lied. “I came to Venice to find out.”

      Luca caught the tiny flicker in her eyes that told him she was lying, but he kept the knowledge to himself.

      “So...” His voice held a touch of humor. “Did you come here planning to kill all Venetian aristocrats?”

      Chiara gave a shake of her head. Understanding that the greatest danger had passed for the moment, she allowed disdain to color her words. “Only those who try to rape me.”

      “I don’t intend to rape you.”

      She said nothing, but the contempt that darkened her eyes made it quite clear to Luca that she thought he was lying.

      “You don’t believe me, I see.” He did not release her hands, but he moved a step back.

      Chiara flinched at his movement and despised herself for it. When she saw that he was stepping back, relief and a new wave of bravado flowed through her.

      “I have no reason to lie,” he said.

      “And I have no reason to believe you.”

      He stared at her for a moment. Then he laughed richly. “It’s a pity that you’re not a man. With audacity like yours we could whip the Barbary pirates in a few weeks.” He paused. “And then again—” his gaze drifted down to her breasts “—I’m very glad that you are not a man.”

      A whisper of hope drifted through her. “If it is true that you do not intend to rape me, will you let me go then?”

      His smile died and his gaze returned to her face. “No.”

      Hope grew cold. “Why not?”

      “I want you. But then I told you that, didn’t I?”

      The accusation returned to her eyes, stronger than before. “So, rape after all.”

      “No, not rape.” His grip loosened and his thumbs began to rub the inside of her wrists. “I trust that I shall be able to persuade you that it is not such an ugly fate to lie with me.”

      “Persuade a slave?” She made a sound that might have been a harsh laugh. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

      “Believe what you wish. But you can believe СКАЧАТЬ