Borgia Fever. Michelle Kelly

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      Chapter One

      When Bella stepped into the ornate ballroom her breath was momentarily stolen by the splendour that greeted her. The walls and ceiling under the marble arches were adorned with frescoes featuring an intriguing mix of blessed saints and erotic pagan images, and a water feature specifically made for this event took pride of place in the centre of the room, the water cascading from the jug of a bare-breasted nymph over the chest of a stone Adonis. But as captivating as the scene was, her eyes were soon scanning the room for the one man she simultaneously longed to see, yet knew she dare not approach.

      Marco Corelli. Le assassini birbante. The Rogue Assassin. When she had first set eyes on him two weeks ago, upon arriving in Rome, the sight of him had been a like a lightning bolt to her heart—and other, more secret places. With his dark, almost blue-black hair, deep grey eyes and the strong muscular build of a soldier poured into tight black leggings and tunic, he was quite simply the most desirable man she had ever seen. Not that that was particularly difficult, as she had spent the best part of her twenty-four years in Montagne, a little village outside Rome where her uncle once did a good trade as an apothecary, chemist and herbalist, before passing the business on to her. Such was his reputation, and subsequently hers, that she had ended up here. Marvelling at the splendour of the Borgia papal court and longing for a glimpse of the Rogue. So called because no one knew quite who he was or even what he was—assassin, spy or simply trusted manservant to the notorious Cesare Borgia, son of the Pope—and perhaps also because of his sensual yet thoroughly masculine looks.

      Not that she had heard any rumours about his conduct with women, far from it. By all accounts the Rogue kept to himself, a secretive and dangerous man. Someone she should certainly keep away from. She was in enough danger simply by having come to the attention of the notorious Borgia family. Bella was no fool, and well aware that when she had accomplished the task she had been set, her life might very well be forfeit. Her time would be better spent planning her escape than swooning over a gorgeous yet inscrutable man like the Rogue.

      Yet every time she had come across him she had hoped for a smile, a glance, some acknowledgment at least, but there had been nothing. Bella didn’t count vanity among her sins, but she knew that men found her desirable; she had spent the last fortnight fighting off the advances of nearly every man in the palace, who no doubt found her status as a single and independent woman both provocative and infuriating. But from him, nothing, not even a sideways glance. Then two days later, as she had been tending the herb garden, she had felt eyes upon her, and looked up to see him watching her from the shadows, blending in so perfectly that for a moment she wondered if she was seeing things. He had dropped his gaze and turned away, but not before she had seen the flash of heat in his eyes and the way they roamed her body, lingering for a second on the curve of her breasts where they swelled above her simple gown. Then he had been gone, his movements swift and lithe, like a hunter pursuing his prey, leaving her staring at the spot where he had stood.

      Now her eyes found him again, leaning against a pillar, watching the festivities around him with a cool eye. Though the other revellers made much of the masquerade, the Pope himself currently dancing with a blushing—and very married—lady-in-waiting, the Rogue merely observed, his expression unreadable. Did he never relax? Bella wondered. Must he always be at his post, alert for any sign of danger or intrigue? She thought it must be a lonely way to live, always in the shadows, always apart from the crowd. For her own part she had had quite enough of the decadent and dangerous Borgia court as it was, and could only hope she would soon find the secrets she had been bidden to discover, as well as a way to ensure her safe return home. A chill went through her at the now familiar fear that she may never see her home again.

      ‘Are you well, my lady?’

      With a shock she realised the Rogue was in front of her, an amused look on his face, his mouth curving in a cruel yet sensual half smile. Realising she had been standing staring into space, she flushed and dropped a curtsey. Now he will think I’m some simpleton, she cursed silently as she sank down, awkward in the fine new red dress she had bought for the occasion. But he reached out and took her hand, lifting her to her feet.

      She met his eyes boldly, although her heart was racing. Standing so close to him, breathing in the scent of him, made her feel slightly dizzy. Still, she would not swoon like some of the idiot serving girls at the sight of him; or at least, she was determined not to let him see her do so.

      ‘I am indeed well, grazie. Just a little overwhelmed. The Pope has certainly put on a show for his daughter. It is truly a feast fit for royalty.’

      His lips twisted in a contemptuous smile that Bella wasn’t sure was directed at her, the Pope, or his daughter, Lucrezia. It was the innocent-faced Lucrezia, rumoured to be a murderess and poisoner, who had sought Bella’s skills, and Bella had learned enough during her stay here to know that the rumours were no lie. This new path she had found herself on was a dangerous one to tread, so what difference could a flirtation with this man make? If her future was indeed in jeopardy, it occurred to Bella she should seize life with both hands while she still had the opportunity to do so. Her heart pounded, СКАЧАТЬ