The Shades of Time (12 page)

Tonio's gut
quivered, his groin aching as he crouched before her in a desperate
attempt to remove her gaze from his growing arousal. He felt the
heat steal up his neck, setting his ear tips on fire. If his choice
was to wring her neck or fuck her senseless … well, that was no
contest.

With relief, he
realized she had steered them to safer ground.

He explained,
"That was no abduction, woman, but a rescue. You were out cold and
someone advanced from the inner reaches of the passageway. I
watched the tableau play out and knew that my brother would not be
able to defend both of you against that kind of mischief."

"So you stepped
in to save the day?"

Tonio growled,
"Something like that, yes."

"And that
frantic flight across the Grand Plaza and dragging me down alleys
and into that, that … den of iniquity."

"That 'den of
iniquity' is owned by a business associate of my family, one who
would take great offense at having his establishment so
maligned."

Tonio failed to
wipe the puzzlement off his own face as he remembered clearly
tasking his dim-witted sibling with alerting the pallazzo's staff
to their imminent arrival, only to be detoured into the raucous
party. The ultimate escape of their captive had been a vexing
consequence of his brother's poor improvisational skills.

He despised being vexed. And the last thing he wanted to be
reminded of was his subsequent action, taking Stefano to task in
front of his men, inflicting such cruel and humiliating injuries
that he wouldn't blame his brother if he never spoke to him again.
Cosimo would care little about the incident, leaving the brothers
to deal with each other in their own way, but Nico's simple
'
If you hurt him again, I will not tolerate
it, do you understand?'
cut him to the
bone.

Can you feel my
pain, M'lady? Do you even care?

Veluria boldly stared into the dangerous man's deep-set eyes.
In the dim light of pre-dawn they were the darkest brown, almost
black, and glinted with gold flecks. Like daggers they sliced and
diced across her flesh, setting her nerve endings on fire and her
nipples hardening to stiff peaks against the stays.
Fortunately,
her
state of arousal was not so obvious.

The frown lines
between his eyes bespoke a lifetime of care, displeasure and
violence. She could sense him a man who would give no quarter, who
could kill without a second thought, whose sole purpose in life was
protecting his family and his people.

"They call you
Demon de' Medici, don't they? The Dark One. I think perhaps it is
'you' whom I must fear, not this mystery stranger. I have no
enemies. I am but a simple ward of my cousin's sent on a diplomatic
mission of goodwill between my sovereign and the Papàl Legate." She
dismissed him with a toss of her head. "You, indeed, have no such
standing here in Venice."

Antonio smiled
wolfishly. "I think, my dear, that you are quite wrong on many
counts." With a small groan he rose to standing position and
extended his hand.

"It grows light
enough to tread the streets. Is there a back way that we might exit
this building without disturbing my cousin's guests and business
associates?"

Veluria wondered, '
now what does he
have in mind?'
but replied, keeping the
concern out of her voice, "We can go through that door to the
servants' stairs and then out through the kitchen."

"Fine. Then
let's away, Madame. Time grows short for all of us, I fear."

Confused by his
cryptic statement, Veluria gathered the folds of her skirt and
attempted to lunge to her feet but the hem caught under the divan
and drew her back with a lurch. Antonio placed his hands around her
waist, almost entirely encircling her slender form, and lifted her
effortlessly. He held her suspended, weightless, drawing her close
to his chest until fabric brushed fabric, teasing slick satin
against smooth leather.

Veluria barely
contained a gasp as every square inch of her body responded to the
brief contact, sending a wave of heat through her belly and the
unwelcome gush of wetness to coat her clenched thighs. Without
thinking, she braced her hands against the leather jerkin, not so
much to push away but simply to steady her quaking frame. Even
through the leather she felt the thrumming of his heart, rapid
staccato beats synched in time to her own unsteady rhythm.

She whispered, "
Gracie,
signore
."

Antonio stared,
entranced, at the frail pheasant trapped in his embrace, feeling
only throbbing sensation beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Was
this the power Nico had alluded to? He didn't think so. He and Nico
beat as one heart, one mind. This was a thing he knew and
understood—that confluence of powers and sharing of energies.

But with this woman—her name,
Veluria
, whispered through the
corridors of his mind where even he feared to tread—it was as if he
had a hole in his most private self, buried in the deepest well of
his soul and she had the means to fill it, to fill him.

If only I had a
soul … would you fill it, could you?

With palpable
relief he set her down and watched hungrily as she arranged her
skirts, dissembling. Could she have felt it also?

Huskily,
Veluria asked, "Where, M'Lord?"

"What?"

"Where are we
bound?"

Relieved to
think about something concrete, Antonio muttered, "To my father's.
Stefano has made a mess of this and Cosimo will have answers from
all of us."

At the mention
of his father, Veluria trembled with barely contained excitement.
Cosimo de' Medici, the prime mover in all games of intrigue.
Whatever she was up to, whatever information she desired, his
father would be her next target. He wished her luck.

He had gained
nothing but a stiff cock and a hunger he was hard-pressed to
explain. He would be a fool to think she harbored the same interest
in him, but still…

With elegant strides Veluria exited through a narrow doorway
and felt her way down the curving staircase, her skirts billowing
behind her. Antonio followed but paused at the door and thought,
'
who are you, what are
you
?'

He mindlessly
adjusted the codpiece to take the pressure off his straining cock
and allowed his thoughts a moment to explore the possibilities.

Chapter
Nine

Shadows danced
on the still waters, the mist heavy against the pilings jutting
away from the narrow walkway bordering the elegant abodes. This was
a newer section, built to house court favorites, and strung along a
narrow waterway ajumble with gondolas and other small craft.
Despite the attempt to impart a feeling of richness and importance,
the confines of the space gave it a claustrophobic feel.

Veluria emerged
from the narrow door and angled carefully along the slippery edge,
thankful for the weak morning light that reflected off the upper
windows along the tunnel of homes. She lifted her skirts, praying
for balance, as one misstep could send her plummeting into the
murky waters, an entertainment she did not wish to provide for her
so-called rescuer.

Idly, Veluria
wondered about Stefano. Where was he? Why had he not been the one
to pursue her? Why could she not detect his essence, his spirit?
Too many questions, too few answers, and the Dark One loomed with
overwhelming intensity over all. She felt, then heard, him treading
lightly behind her, mere steps away. For all his size, the man
moved like the softest summer breeze, with a grace few could match,
even men half his imposing stature. It was no surprise that he used
that unusual height to intimidate and instill fear in his
opponents. Even she, at times, trembled slightly when he approached
too close, too intimately, despite years of training, learning
discipline, discovering how to use her petite frame to its best
advantage.

Veluria
smoothed the soft fabric about the talisman, masking its energy
from the real or imagined probing by the Medici Demon. Unlike the
larger version, with the cleverly embedded poison in the blade, the
miniature stiletto was fashioned for a female hand and sized to fit
into a silk purse. In her case, it lay craftily hidden just under
the hem of her tight corset. She knew she needn't concern herself
overmuch at its discovery. Women of means all carried such a
device, even in the company of trusted servants and companions. One
should never underestimate the dangers lurking on the city
pathways.

This
instrument, however, had a dual purpose which would be of
inordinate interest to her quarry. It contained within its ornately
carved bone handle the means to fashion a portal from thin air. The
Reverend Mother's researchers had cleverly disguised the electronic
device using the most advanced science of miniaturization of the
day.

"This way,
Madame."

Startled,
Veluria jumped at the briefest touch on her left elbow as Antonio
indicated their way down the narrow alley separating blocks of
attached domiciles. How uncharacteristic of her to be lost in her
own musings. She must take care, diligent care. Too much rested on
successfully finding the key and preventing its use. The future
loomed, both in the here and now, and in her linked world.

Antonio pricked
at her elbow and muttered, "Wait here." She dutifully backed
against the stone wall to allow him passage toward the brightly lit
opening. Coming from such dim light into the glare would put them
at a disadvantage, a fact she should have recognized at once.
Perhaps this was more of a rescue than she had first envisioned,
grateful that Antonio de' Medici had his wits about him.

A figure loomed
in the opening but Antonio strode toward the unknown presence with
authority. He had words, spoken quickly but in tones too low for
her to catch. When finished he nodded once and indicated she should
advance. The figure disappeared briefly, then three more arrived to
form a human tunnel leading onto the narrow cobble-stoned
street.

"The Papàl
Guards shall accompany us to the Grand Plaza, at which point my men
shall join us for our journey to my father's residence."

Veluria had the
good grace to look astounded at that. The Papàl Guards answered
only to His Holiness and a few of his most trusted advisors. That
this man obviously commanded their respect, but more importantly
answered to his direct orders, made her worry that the Order had
not fully examined the political clout of this particular branch of
the Medici family. From their vantage point of history, having a
pope and a cardinal in the immediate family had seemed an
interesting bit of religious trivia. Apparently, they had been
wrong. What else they might have missed could have serious
consequences.

Antonio watched
the play of emotions, and some consternation, on the woman's face.
Though she managed a careful mask most times, he could use his
ability to read his enemies and connect the inner turmoil with
small indications, muscle twitches, tilt of chin, or creased brow
to discern intent and other things.

It made him a
daunting adversary, yet by choice he refused to apply his gifts to
court intrigues and shifting alliances, having little to no
patience for the pretty posturing and deft words required to
navigate that battlefield. He much preferred his way, behind the
scenes, a clean strike, leaving nothing to chance. He did not
believe in luck, even less in friendship or alliances.

He did believe
in family and pledged his skills and his life to the few who
mattered most in his world. His beloved, though dim-witted youngest
brother, Stefano, and Nico, the one man in the all the world he
would choose to have at his back, formed the core of his heart.
Without them, without the need to protect and support them, he
would be nothing and no one. Not even his father commanded that
level of devotion, a fact Cosimo understood and utilized at every
opportunity.

Without looking
back Antonio moved quickly onto the street and turned right,
heading back the way he had come in the wee hours of the morning.
Still too early for the privileged to be up and about, the party
made their way without incident through the newer sections of the
city. Antonio set a blistering pace, taking shortcuts through
litter-strewn alleys until emerging finally onto the Grand Square.
Six of his men waited impatiently, each positioned for maximum
advantage as they anticipated from which quadrant their leader
might emerge.

"Marco," Antonio barked at the man standing closest, "if you
would." The man glanced once at Tonio and proceeded quickly to meet
with the Papàl Guards. He discretely handed each of them a small
leather pouch, then spun on his heel and resumed his position to
the right of his
capo della
squadra
.

"Madame, we
must make haste."

"I grow weary from your haste,
signore
. If you have not noticed
before now, I am in no way prepared for an extensive journey on
foot through the heart of the city. And where exactly are we bound,
if I may inquire?"

"My father's
temporary residence is near his business interests."

"And that would
be…?"

Annoyed at the
delay, Tonio barked, "Sestieri de San Polo."

"The docks?"
Veluria asked, now confused about their ultimate destination.

"Not the
shipyards. No. Cosimo rents a fondaco from the Ferrera's. Trust me,
it will meet with your approval, I am sure," Antonio sneered. "Now,
if you don't mind, M'lady."