Raine. Elizabeth Amber

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      At times, a felze proved a useful setting for those intent on crimes of kidnapping or even homicide. With its doors safely secured, appointments and meetings between members of the nobility also took place there.

      But more often, as tonight, the privacy such a cabin offered was used for another sort of assignation. A carnal one. The sort this man was offering.

      “Back to my lodgings,” he instructed the boatmen.

      They took his orders and paid her no attention, no doubt assuming he’d take his pleasure with her inside the felze during the ride. They were accustomed to the peccadilloes of the wealthy customers who rode in their conveyances, especially those wandering Venice at night.

      The fact that there were two oarsmen meant they were in for the long journey across the lagoon. That meant he didn’t reside in Venice proper. All the better.

      He turned and offered a hand to her, to assist her onto the boat. It was a commonplace gesture any gentleman would unthinkingly offer to a lady. But no man had ever offered her his hand before. How delightful.

      She smiled brilliantly at him and placed her fingers in his, softness slipping into strength.

      Somewhere behind them in the piazza, she heard the tap of footsteps. Salerno? She took no time to further savor the signore’s gesture.

      The gondola rocked awkwardly under her weight as she hopped aboard, scurried past him, and ducked into the felze.

      He followed her and the door shut behind him, cloistering them both in near darkness.