One Knight In Venice. Tori Phillips

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      Again a whisper of a smile hovered about his lips, though his eyes remained cold. “A lady of my acquaintance, Donna Cosma di Luna, knew of my…discomfort. She recommended you.”

      Jessica snorted inwardly. Cosma di Luna was no lady; she was an extremely expensive courtesan. This Englishman must be rich indeed to afford a night of pleasure with her—if he was not a priest. “My thanks to Donna di Luna,” she replied. “She comes here occasionally for a massage.”

      His mouth finally completed a smile—a small one. “Cosma tells me you have an angel’s touch.”

      She moistened her lips. “Donna di Luna is most kind,” she murmured. She touched the mask that hid her shame from the world’s prying eyes. “And she told you about this?”

      He nodded. “She did, though she did not explain why.”

      Fear rippled through Jessica. I must take care. If he sees this devil’s mark, I will be taken away and burned at the stake. She fought to control the level of her voice. “My face is disfigured, messere, and has been so since my birth. The sight of it would sicken you. Therefore, I wear a mask in deference to the sensitivities of others.”

      He gave her a long, searching look before he said, “I am sorry to hear of this misfortune for your lips remind me of the red roses of my homeland and your voice is sweet as a lark.”

      What does he really want from me? I have done nothing to betray my parents. Jessica cleared her throat. “Did Donna di Luna describe what I do?”

      He nodded. Absently he rubbed his shoulder again. “She said that you can massage away the pain. If this is true, Signorina Leonardo, I will be forever in your debt. I have lived with this torment for many years.”

      Jessica stared directly into his sad azure eyes. Taking a deep breath for courage, she replied, “I can mend the pain that plagues your shoulder, my lord, but I fear my craft cannot heal the wound in your heart.”

      A muscle twitched on one side of his jaw. “Cosma did not warn me how perceptive you are, signorina,” he remarked in a wary tone.

      She looked away from him, her heart hammering in her breast. “It is easier to understand another’s pain when one has been wounded as well.”

      For the first time his face softened a fraction. “I am sorry,” he murmured in a gentle voice.

      A warmth flooded Jessica’s being at the sound of his words. She glanced at him out of the corner of her mask’s eyehole. The Englishman was exceedingly handsome. She could well imagine him in a courtly setting instead of sitting in her plain little house. Her fingertips tingled. Behind her back she balled her hands into fists. She turned toward a second door in the room that led into her treatment chamber.

      “If you wish me to help you, please follow me.” She opened the door.

      He stood up. Once again his bulk filled the space. Jessica backed away. He held up his hand to her, palm out. “Pray forgive me, little one, I did not mean to startle you.”

      She gave him a shaky smile. “In truth, my lord, I have never met anyone quite so…tall.”

      He arched one brow. “Height runs in the family.”

      Jessica moistened her dry lips. “Then you must live in a large house to hold all of you at one time.” She bit her tongue. I am chattering like one of those silly little monkeys they sell on the Rialto.

      The Englishman followed her into the treatment room. “Have no fear. The family resides in England,” he remarked. His caped silhouette danced along the wall like a winged creature. He smelled of cloves and wood smoke.

      Seeing that Sophia had already prepared the chamber, Jessica smiled. In the far corner, a brazier of pierced brass stood on a tripod of slim iron legs. Hot coals glowed within it, banishing the chill of the midwinter day. Sophia had added a stick of sandalwood to the fire—an expensive whim but one that Jessica approved. Perhaps the sweet aroma would cheer the English prelate—or whatever he really was. A clean linen sheet covered the high-legged padded divan and a soft wool blanket lay folded across the end. A number of pots containing Jessica’s oils and creams were laid out on a side table. A thick scented candle flickered in its wrought-iron candlestick. She closed the door behind him.

      The Englishman glanced around the room. “No windows?”

      Jessica cleared her throat. “To keep out the drafts—and the unpleasant odors from the canal.” She smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from the sheet. She must stop trembling or she would never be able to work on him. “And to insure privacy.”

      He touched one of the green walls. “Felt?”

      Jessica ran her tongue across her upper lip. “To muffle the sounds of the city and to keep in the warmth. It is all for your comfort, messere, I assure you. I will leave now so that you may disrobe. Please remove your outer clothes and shirt. You may hang them on those pegs.” She pointed to a row of varnished knobs opposite the door. “Then lie down on the divan and cover yourself with the blanket so you will stay warm.”

      She lifted a thick black blindfold from the table and held it out to him. “I fear I must beg your further indulgence. Please blindfold your eyes before my return.”

      As he took the ebony silk from her hand, his fingertips brushed against her skin. The spot burned and tingled as if it had been caressed by both fire and ice. Jessica drew in her breath. What power does this man have that I quake, yet I yearn for him to touch me again?

      He examined the blindfold then glanced at her. “Cosma also told me of this, but why is it necessary?”

      Jessica was prepared for this question. All her new patients asked it. “In order to work on your body without hindrance, I remove my mask. Yet I wish to protect you from the sight of my face. Therefore, I humbly beg that you wear it while I treat you.”

      He dangled the cloth between his thumb and forefinger as if it might turn into a live eel at any moment. “And if I do not?”

      Jessica lifted her chin a notch. “Then I will not treat you. The choice is yours.” She held her breath.

      He studied her for a long moment, then he flashed her a sudden smile that disappeared before she could savor it. “You have me at your mercy, Signorina Leonardo. I will bow to your edict. In faith, you are the most intriguing woman I have yet met in Venice.”

      Jessica didn’t know if he had just paid her a compliment or insulted her but she opted for the compliment. With a quick smile in return she let herself out of the room. “Please call me when you are ready, messere.”

      He held up his hand to stop her. “By which name shall I call you?” he asked. A faint twinkle lit the depths of his eyes.

      Her mouth went dry. Her heartbeat increased. “I am known as Jessica,” she answered softly. Then she shut the door, stumbled to the nearest chair and collapsed between its welcome arms.

      Is this man a wizard? He has cast my wits under his spell.

      Francis Bardolph gave the room another swift inspection before he unfastened his cape. Small confines made him uneasy, especially when there were no windows. No quick exit in case of trouble. He shook his head to banish his misgivings. His suspicious nature stemmed from too СКАЧАТЬ