One With the Shadows (6 page)

“I want that stone!” Elyta shouted.

“By all means stay and look for it.” Urbano too was gasping. The room was almost fully engulfed. “Are you ready to face the flames?”

“I’ll heal.”

“Ahhh, but the pain…”

Elyta hesitated. Then she decided. “This isn’t the last,” she hissed. “And when I return, I will bring friends.”

The words came from a distance. The pain of being burned alive. That would be Kate’s fate as well. She should crawl toward the door. But the sparkling blackness ate at her field of vision. And she couldn’t crawl. She couldn’t see. She …

*   *   *

Kate coughed and sputtered back into consciousness. Her cheek was pressed against woolen fabric. Cinnamon and something else, something sweet but quintessentially masculine, assailed her nostrils.

“Quiet. You’re well.” The voice was baritone.

She looked around. Gian Urbano was holding her against his chest and hurrying across the piazza in front of her lodgings toward the fountain. People were scurrying about the piazza, shouting. Behind Urbano, a building was engulfed in flames. That seemed familiar. She stretched up against his shoulder. It was her building! The stone was in there.

Urbano looked over his shoulder and cursed under his breath. A man came tottering out of the building in his nightshirt. Urbano put her down, and grabbed a man with luxuriant mustachios just coming up to gawk. “Watch over her,” he commanded. He looked back at the fire. That seemed familiar somehow. “There are still people in there.”

“Are you going for the stone?”

He swiveled his head and stared at her. “I thought you took it to a bank.”

She looked up at him, still dazed, and shook her head. “In a drawer of the dresser, wrapped in my chemise.”

He stared at her for one long moment. Realization struck him. She could feel his dismay, and then his resolution. He swallowed. Then he faced the burning building again, straightened, and struck off at a lope across the square.

Kate sat up, ignoring the protest of her guardian. He’d be burned alive. And what she had just witnessed was exactly what she had seen in her premonition.

Everything she’d ever had was in that building. She looked down. Her reticule still hung from her wrist. That meant she had her cards at least. But that was all. Oh, she had the money from her readings tonight, enough for a few nights’ lodging, no more. She’d spent her dream money and never even gotten the stone cut. The stone was her only hope …

Urbano was up there getting the emerald for himself. Why, for God’s sake, had she told him where it was? Either he retrieved it for himself or it was cracked or spoiled by the heat. Then no one would have it. At least if he got it out, she’d have a chance to purloin it from him.

Long minutes passed. People ran from the building, coughing. She thought she saw Urbano escorting them through the blaze to the front door, but she could not be sure because he always disappeared back into the smoke and flame. Kate pushed herself to her knees. The wait was unbearable. Where was he? No one could survive the inferno the building had become.

Behind her, she heard a great splash. She turned. People with buckets were taking water from the fountain to throw on the building. Useless.

Gian Urbano staggered up out of the fountain. People jumped back, shouting in surprise.

His coat was shredded on his back, his breeches burned away from his thighs, revealing skin red and bubbling everywhere it was not black with smoke or, worse, charred. She felt her stomach turn and scrambled to her feet, a little shaky. Dripping, he climbed with effort over the stone lip of the fountain. How had he gotten by her without her noticing?

There! He put something in the pocket of his tattered coat. It had to be the jewel.

She hurried over, resisting the urge to ask if he was all right. “Well, that was foolish.” Her voice sounded tremulous. She cleared her throat. “Did you get it?” That was better.

He bent over, choking. He smelled like a doused fire, which she suspected he was. But finally he nodded. Well, then …

She put her arm around him, as though she was assisting him. It was the work of a moment to slip the stone out of its box in his pocket and into her reticule as he caught his breath. He’d never know it was no longer his until he opened the box and found it gone.

He coughed again, then stood upright. “If it makes you feel better, by all means keep it.”

She was taken aback. No one had ever caught her out. Ever. She was the best at what she did. She wanted to protest, but she, for once, was at a loss for words.

“And now,” he gasped, sounding stronger. “Let us away before we run into our friend Elyta once again.”

“She’ll be back?”

“I expect so.”

He took Kate’s elbow firmly. A sense of his electric aliveness ran through her, making her shudder. Sensation pooled between her legs. What a fool she was, to react so to a man! He seemed to have that effect on her, regardless of the circumstance. That was dangerous. He pulled her along. She squirmed, but couldn’t wrench herself from his grip.

“Where are you taking me?” she protested as he guided her out of the square.

“To my mother.”

Whatever answer she expected, it certainly wasn’t that one. To his mother? It left her speechless for the second time tonight.

For one thing, it seemed so … unthreatening. And all he had done was threaten her since the moment she met him. She had no illusion she could keep the stone if he wanted to wrest it from her. His grip on her elbow told its tale of strength, despite his being burned.

At first he walked slowly and painfully, but soon she had to skip to keep up with him. In truth, she felt dazed by all that had happened. Red eyes, her vision of what had happened here tonight, a woman who nearly killed her, then waking up in the square with fire eating up all her hopes and Urbano rushing inside a burning building after the stone … She was numb.

She recognized the Piazza Navona as they hurried past Bernini’s three fountains. Then, across from a park filled with ancient plane trees that lined the river Tiber, they came to a façade of old stone and arched windows. The door was opened by a very discreet servant, dressed in black, who gasped at the sight of Urbano.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks, Paolo,” Urbano murmured.

“May I attend you, signore?” the servant asked, concerned. Then his gaze found Kate.

“No. But your wife will attend to Miss … Mulroney.” She had never told him her name, so he must have asked after her. “She has lost everything in a fire, but I’m sure there are … things enough somewhere … to provide…” He trailed off, looking around. Perhaps he was dazed too.

Kate examined him more closely in the light of the well-lit foyer. His burns weren’t as bad as she’d first thought. She had imagined charred flesh beneath the holes in his clothes, but now it was really only reddened, blistered skin and soot. But he was still burned. How was he even standing? How had he hurried her across the entire Centro Storico of Rome?

A huge standing clock against the wall struck one
A.M.
Urbano blinked. “Have my carriage ready at five, and Piccolo. Pack a trunk.”

“Do you … travel during daylight?” Paolo asked. He was hovering anxiously now.

“I’ll ride inside the carriage during the day.” Urbano staggered toward an elegant curved staircase with a carved wooden balustrade. They both stared as he trudged up the stairs. At the top he turned. “Oh, and did I say you should prepare a trunk for Miss Mulroney as well?”

Paolo nodded, though Urbano had done no such thing. Even trusted servants didn’t dare contradict him. What must it be like to work for a man so arrogant and unfeeling? She looked around. The house was furnished with taste and elegance. That painting there … was it … was it a da Vinci? It had all the humanity of the master shining from the face of the middle-aged portrait subject. And there, the one that hung at the landing of the staircase … surely the pastels of a Botticelli. How did even a first-rate gigolo afford such luxury?

She didn’t care. She would be gone soon. These servants didn’t seem too formidable. She need only wait until Urbano was asleep.

Paolo rang the bellpull at one end of the foyer. He was a compact man with snapping brown eyes and a fringe of longish hair around a bald pate. If he was nonplussed by his master bringing home an unescorted female at one in the morning, he gave no sign. It probably happened frequently, Kate thought grimly.

“Are you injured, signorina?” he asked, though he kept glancing up to where his master had disappeared.

Kate put her hands to her throat. Bruises must be forming even now. What must he think? “A bit knocked about. I … I hope your master is well.” He had, after all saved her life tonight.

The thought struck her forcibly. She should be grateful to him. How dreadful.

But he had done it only because he thought she had the stone in some bank and he would need her to retrieve it. That thought made her relax. She didn’t owe him anything.

“He is very … resilient,” Paolo observed. “Still, I should go to him.”

A woman appeared whose hair was just going gray under her cap and whose figure indicated a sincere and lasting love of pasta. She was fully dressed, even at this hour. Urbano no doubt kept them up to attend his every need no matter how late he returned.

“Sophia, just see to Miss Mulroney while I go up to the master,” Paolo said. “She’s lost everything in a fire, and we’re to provide. A trunk must be packed and ready by five.”

“He goes just before dawn?” Sophia asked, incredulous.

“Apparently there is no time to be lost.” He bowed to Kate and trotted up the stairs.

Sophia surveyed Kate and threw up her hands. “My poor child!” she clucked. “Whatever has happened to you?”

Kate looked down at her dress, its ethereal gray now streaked with real smoke, and its hem tattered in one place by … by flames? Had the fire been that close? Thank goodness for Urbano’s lust after the stone, or she would have burned to death. She looked a sight …

Her scar! She raised her hand to her cheek to hide it. She hadn’t noticed Sophia looking at it, and so had forgotten for a moment.

“Now, now, let’s just take that nasty dress off and get you a bath.” Sophia put her arm around Kate.

Perhaps a bath would be good. And Kate couldn’t escape looking like this with no money, and no clothes and no … anything. The enormity of her situation struck her. The stone couldn’t be cut. It was no good to her even if she did escape. Urbano could take it back any time as long as she was almost a captive in his house. She felt her eyes fill. She sniffed. She couldn’t be weak. Weakness attracted predators.

“Things will look better after a bath. And perhaps a few hours’ rest.”

Kate let the chattering woman lead her up the stairs. What else could she do?

*   *   *

“It must be difficult working for such a master,” Kate observed to Sophia, as she stepped into the steaming bath the servant girls had brought.

“In what way?” Sophia asked, handing her the soap.

“Well, he is so … arrogant … his callous disregard of your comfort…” She sank down into the water and let its warmth seep into her bones.

“Arrogant, yes, sometimes.” Sophia chuckled. “I think he has not heard the word ‘no’ enough in his life. But he never disregards our comfort.”

“But … keeping you up so late, just to attend to him at this odd hour…”

“Oh, we sleep in the day as he does.” Sophia bustled about. She had procured a night rail from somewhere, made of very delicate linen covered with fine white embroidery. It did
not
belong to a servant girl. Sophia laid it out on the bed. Perhaps it was part of the services provided by a first-rate gigolo. “He pays us most generously to keep his backward hours,” Sophia continued. “He has bought Paolo and me a house in my village, so we may have a place when we are old. My mother lives there now, and he pays her as caretaker.”

This was surprising. But no, he would have to buy their silence. His clients must be able to count on his discretion and that of his servants. Kate soaped her body, grateful to be clean again. “Does he stay up all night every night?” Such decadence!

“The poor man. He has an affliction. The sun burns his skin and hurts his eyes.” Sophia sighed. “The Lord has made him pay a terrible price for his beauty. He has only the night.”

That explained why he met his banker at midnight.

Kate stood and Sophia wrapped a towel around her. “Now just you stand in front of the fire to keep warm. You’ve had a shock tonight.”

Yes, she had. Now she was in the power of a man who had threatened her at every turn. She was trapped in his power by her circumstances. She cast a glance over to where her reticule, lumpy with its precious burdens of the stone that would save her and her tarot cards, sat upon the dresser. The stone was useless to her without him. Who else would pay her for it, when it drove men mad? She looked around, feeling trapped.

Sophia must have seen her look. “Now, now, child, the master will take care of you. You needn’t worry. He is the kindest, most generous man. I know he seems arrogant. But put your trust in him. He will not fail you.”

Kate was about to protest that he was the last man she would ever trust, when Sophia put a finger to Kate’s lips. “I know what you are thinking, that he is taking you in a carriage all alone, but you need not fear for your virtue. He is a gentleman of honor.”

Kate could not help be feel bewildered. His servants’ high opinion of the man seemed senseless in view of what they must know about his source of income. Paolo had been positively anxious for his welfare, and this woman doted on him. Perhaps they didn’t know him well. “How long have you been with him?”

“Twenty years and more.” Sophia smiled, slipping the night rail over her head. “Now, you just tuck into bed here for a few hours.” Sophia held back the richly embroidered linens and Kate crawled up into a bed layered with feather comforters. “I’ll come to wake and dress you. Don’t worry your head about packing.” Sophia scooped up her burned dress, and turned down the lamps before she let herself out the door.