Virginia Henley (28 page)

“Carnival doesn’t start for a couple of days, so we’ll visit the glassworks and buy the mirrors you want. You’d do well to invest in some Venetian crystal, too, while you have the opportunity.”

“I—I’ve been thinking. When we get there I don’t want to sleep aboard. I’d like to stay in one of those fabulous Byzantine palazzos with marble floors and priceless art treasures.”

“Of course,” Savage agreed. “We’ll take rooms at a palace right in Piazza San Marcos with a view of the Grand Canal and the misty lagoon. If we stay on the south side, we’ll be able to see the domes of the Basilica and the Doges’ Palace. Its white marble arches look as if they are sculpted from spun sugar.”

Tony hesitated a moment. “We don’t have to stay at the same pallazzo, do we?”

Savage gave a bark of laughter. “So you think of me as a watchdog who’ll curtail your freedom! Stay wherever you wish. I’ll leave you to your own vices, providing you promise to indulge those vices when Carnival arrives.”

Savage’s eyes in the sunlight looked like blue flames. She held them for long moments. “I do so promise,” she vowed. Tony felt so warm, she knew she had to put space between herself and the object of her desire before she did something overtly feminine.

She silently promised herself she would abandon all restraint when she became Antonia for a night at the decadent
Carnival of Venice. She leaned against the rail and turned her face up to the sun. A delicate shiver ran over her skin in spite of the sun’s kiss. Would she really have enough courage to plan and carry out his seduction?

Venice turned out to be all Adam Savage had said it would be, and more. The very air was charged with the romance of centuries. In whatever direction one looked lay artistic and architectural wonders. The first thing one saw was the great Venetian winged lion staring out to sea from his high column. Somewhere a man’s deep basso sang an aria that floated across the water. The setting sun touched the gilded Byzantine palaces and church domes.

The
Flying Dragon
docked at the Island of Giudecca. Savage pointed across to the mystical city. “Venice lies there across the Grand Canal. The view from the Island of Giudecca surpasses all others. The Venetian Empire was built on the power of its sea trade. Its admirals, then its bankers, dominated the world hundreds of years ago.”

Savage was obviously going into the city tonight. “Don’t the soles of your feet itch to explore the hallowed ground?”

Tony smiled. “I think I’ll wait until morning.”

“Then take this gold. It speaks a universal language. If you need me I shall be at Casa Frolo. Good night, sweet prince, till it be morrow.”

Shortly after he departed Tony became aware that the crew was bristling with arms. Every sailor carried a pistol and a belt full of wicked-looking knives. She realized that the cargo they carried was worth a fortune. She knew without a doubt Savage had left orders to kill anyone foolish enough to board the
Flying Dragon.

As the lights of Venice started to come on, one by one, an air of mystery fell over the city. Tony leaned against the rail, dreaming of all the sights she had seen in the last fortnight. Cleopatra’s galleons had sailed the Mediterranean’s azure waters, and here Greek heroes had met their destiny. Perhaps she, too, would meet her destiny. These
ancient waters carried a legacy of the ages from the dawn of civilization. The names of the romantic ports rolled off the tongue like music. The scent of oranges, lemons, or almonds perfumed the very air. The Mediterranean had surely mesmerized her. Now Italy’s floating city lay at her feet and she was ready to explore its wonders and allow it to work its magic for her.

Tony searched about the hold until her eyes found the right size of box. It was made of cardboard, a little bigger than a hatbox, and held wigs. Back in her cabin she carefully removed the wigs and folded the gold tissue gown inside. Then she packed her bag with her freshly laundered male attire and set them at the cabin door ready for a quick getaway at dawn.

Tony undressed, knowing she would be asleep in minutes. It was amazing how a hammock lulled one to sleep, rather like a baby in a cradle. The gentle rocking of the ship at anchor produced a soothing motion that relaxed every muscle in her body.

As the sun climbed from the sea, Tony climbed from her hammock. She only took time to wash her face, pull on her clothes and a tiewig. She would wait until she was safely ashore before she broke her fast. As she left the ship carrying her bag and her precious box, she knew half the crew observed her departure. She felt their curious eyes upon her back, but did not turn around to acknowledge their stares.

Tony didn’t have to go far. A long line of gondolas waited at the Giudecca to ferry passengers across the grande dame of lagoons into the heart of Venice. The gondoliers all looked identical, garbed in black with wide-brimmed hats, leaning idly upon their long poles. Tony chose one at random, allowing the gondolier to take her bag but keeping a secure hold upon the box. Then she leaned back against the cheerful red cushions and drank in the early-morning scene as it glided past.

Piazza San Marco was filled with vendors. Tony bought
crusty bread, soft cheese, and fruit, then sat upon some stone steps to breakfast, all the while gazing up at the gilded domes and Renaissance mosaics that surrounded the square. She only glanced down to share her roll with the strutting pigeons. Her gaze traveled reverently over St. Mark’s Basilica and the elegant Doges’ Palace. As she sat upon the steps, the ornate beauty of Venice unfolded overhead.

From her vantage point she saw what looked like a hotel and decided to look no farther. Outside the sign said
CASA DANIELI
, inside all wore ornate Italian livery and powdered wigs. The floors were pale pink marble and gilded mirrors stretched up to Tintoretto ceilings. Tony took the golden key, murmuring one of the few Italian words in her vocabulary:
“Grazia.”

From this moment on she would be Antonia! She felt excitement start to bubble up inside her as she gazed about the beautifully appointed chamber. It was high up on the fourth story and the first thing she did was fling back the curtains to let in the sunshine and the magnificent view of Venice.

She discovered a small, wrought-iron balcony and stepped out. All the buildings rose up four and five stories from the narrow canals and she saw many balconies just like her own. Most were decorated with streamers, ribbons, and flowers, both real and paper. People had already begun their preparations for the festivities of Carnival.

Tony reentered the room and gazed about. The furniture was ornate, lacquered white and gold. Above the tall bed, cherubs held sheer blue curtains that fell about the bed in draped splendor. The rich carpet was patterned blue and gold with a thick pile. Graceful torcheres with fluted glass candleholders stood on either side of the window. To the left stood an enormous Renaissance wardrobe with a long mirror on each of its three doors, and to the right sat a marble bath upon a pedestal. Water was piped
from a cistern and the golden taps were swan’s heads. A stand held an array of soaps, oils, and thick blue towels embossed with golden swans.

Tony was torn between staying to bathe or exploring the shops in the piazzas. She finally decided the bath would have to wait, but before she left, she opened the box and shook out the delicate gold tissue gown and hung it carefully in the great wardrobe. Then she took her comb and brush from her bag and reached down to the bottom to retrieve the precious cosmetics she had “borrowed” from Lotus Blossom and set them upon the gilt-wood dressing table. She sighed with the bliss of it all. The chamber was a perfect setting for seduction.

The women on the streets of Venice were extremely elegant creatures. They had a great sense of style, catered to by hundreds of shops, each specializing in its own unique goods. There was a shop that sold only velvets, one selling only glass beads, and another masks. Lingerie, stockings, gloves, fans, feathered and beaded hair ornaments, each had their own boutique. Perfumeries lured the coins from a lady’s purse as easily as the wig shops that carried every shade including lavender, flame, and even green. They also stocked every conceivable hue of hair powder.

Tony knew the moment she saw it in its crystal bowl that she must have the hair powder that resembled gold dust. At a lingerie shop she could not resist a pair of drawers made from the same gold tissue as her gown. They were completely sheer and wicked as sin. She probably would
never be bold enough to wear them, but she handed over her coins without a protest.

The shops and squares of Venice were crowded with people buying items to complete their costumes for Carnival. Window displays caught the eye on every side, tempting customers with masks, disguises, dominoes, and fantastic headdresses made to transform you into a devil, a satire, an animal, or a prince.

As the hour advanced to midday, Antonia found her clothing was far too warm and restrictive. She purchased a simple white muslin dress and a leghorn hat, its brim scattered with white roses. When she arrived back at her Casa her arms were filled with feminine treasures, including slippers and finespun shifts and stockings.

Tony filled the marble bathtub almost to overflowing and indulged her body with a rich lather that smelled like fragrant freesia. She hummed all the while she lathered her hair, then, wrapped in a blue-and-gold towel, she sat in the sunshine on the balcony as it dried into a silken mass of dark curls.

She felt deliciously decadent as she donned a finespun shift and slipped on the white muslin dress. They were the first feminine garments she had worn in months and she whirled about, enjoying the feel of the delicate material against her skin. Heavens, she felt as light and free and happy as if she had been released from a cage.

In front of the gilded mirror she experimented with a little lip rouge for the first time in her life, then put her head on one side to gauge the effect. She couldn’t believe the transformation. No sign of the slim youth remained. She was a woman! The last time a mirror had reflected Antonia, she had been a girl. The red mouth and black curls made her green eyes appear enormous, and for the sheer pleasure of watching herself she fluttered her lashes to her cheeks, then slowly lifted them above green orbs that glittered like emeralds. Laughter escaped her and floated off through the window and across the lagoon.

Tony picked up her hat and fitted it on so that it partially concealed her features. Antonia knew exactly where she was bound. She was going to Casa Frolo to make certain Adam Savage was indeed staying there. Tomorrow night Carnival began and she must devise a plan for a meeting. The plan must be infallible. If the two did not connect it would be disastrous. She could wait no longer for a glimpse of him; she was starving!

Tony was surprised to find that the piazza was no longer crowded, then she recalled that it was siesta time. Most of the businesses closed for an interval in the warm languor of the afternoon. All she could do was window-shop, but she realized it was a most pleasant way to pass the time. She stopped to admire the exquisitely wrought flowers, birds, and butterflies of a paper shop. Tony crossed a picturesque bridge, then went down the water steps to speak to a gondolier.

“Casa Frolo?” Antonia inquired.

He nodded.
“Si, donna.”
He pointed across the wide lagoon. “Giudecca.”

She was pleased that the Grand Canal separated her and Savage. Her secret would be secure. Even in daylight the gondola ride was romantic. The gondolier sang snatches from an opera as he poled rhythmically, while overhead the sound of the churchbells floated in the warm air.

The gondola stopped at Fondamente delle Zitelle, only a few steps away from Casa Frolo. Antonia knew immediately that Savage had chosen this palazzo because of its magnificent view of Venice, which seemed to float and shimmer upon the misty lagoon.

Tony strolled past an antique shop, all the while keeping her eyes open for any sign of Savage. When she did not see him out on the
fondamente
that bordered the canal, she entered the palazzo and let her gaze run over every person in the magnificently appointed lobby.

There were only one or two men on their own. Most
people were coupled. Most looked like lovers, absorbed in each other. Most seemed to be slowly drifting upstairs. Antonia idly browsed, seemingly admiring the velvet-covered antique furniture and the ornately framed paintings. Time passed, yet still there was no sign of him.

Tony grew self-conscious, thinking perhaps her presence might cause curiosity with the staff of the palazzo if she lingered hour after hour. On the second-floor galleria she saw a restaurant with small tables where the patrons could look down upon the vast foyer to observe the comings and goings of everyone at Casa Frolo. Slowly she trailed up the marble staircase to the galleria and sat down at a table. When the white-gloved waiter approached she murmured the only word she knew that would be appropriate.
“Vino?”

“Si, signora. Chianti?”

She nodded uncertainly, but when he brought her a goblet of red wine, it was not what she had expected. She tasted it and it was as sour as vinegar. Lord, it was about time she learned the names of the wines she liked. Tony made a pretense of sipping from her goblet while she watched the lovers rendezvous below her.

Suddenly she was struck by a ghastly thought. Savage was no doubt making full use of his bed during these hours of siesta. While she sat here like a naive little fool, waiting for one glimpse of him, he was likely whiling away the lazy afternoon in bed play with a dark-eyed signora.

She began to panic. If she saw him come downstairs with an elegant Venetian lady she would be devastated. He was nothing but a rake, an experienced roué, expert at giving a woman a slip on the shoulder. Antonia sat in misery, her graphic imagination running riot, expecting the worst. She knew she must leave before she saw him with one more woman. She had few illusions left about him. She knew he was unscrupulous, probably even a criminal, but her heart had stubbornly refused to abandon its infatuation. Whatever had given her the ridiculous idea
that she could attract a man of his vast experience? She must be mad! Far better for her to revert to her trousers and be thankful for his companionship. A quiet, friendly smoke with him was the best she could ever hope for and was better than nothing at all.

No! It was not better than nothing. It was worse than nothing. Far worse! She had come to Venice looking for romance. Lord, she was such a baby. So unsophisticated, so unworldly, in spite of the knowledge of men she had so recently acquired.

Savage hadn’t come to Venice to seek romance. From his own lips she had heard his reasons. Carnival was where the nobility roamed the streets of Venice looking for sexual liaisons. If she saw him with a female she would be shattered. She must get away. She pushed back her chair, then she became aware of male eyes assessing her.

She glanced about to see that no fewer than three men were giving her their undivided attention. The first man nodded. She averted her eyes to another tattle, where the second man smiled. Antonia broke eye contact immediately by glancing in the direction of the third man. He raised an eyebrow.

How dare they be so blatant? She could clearly see each had been ready to arise when she did, perhaps to openly approach her, or at least to follow her. She was horrified. She did not wish to attract men; she wished to attract one man. Savage. Adam Savage. There was no other man in the world!

She decided it would be a mistake to rise and leave. She would simply outwait them. The waiter approached her with a note. She shook her head vigorously and refused to accept it. In a few minutes one of the gentlemen sighed and left. In a short while another arose and did likewise Antonia closed her eyes in relief; knowing the enervating heat had gone out of the afternoon and siesta time had drawn to a close. Couples started to descend. When they
reached the ground floor of the palazzo they separated, the men going one way, the women another.

When Antonia opened her eyes she saw him. One glimpse was all she needed to stop her breath, to stop her very pulse. He strode into Casa Frolo from the
fondemente
and he was alone. Antonia’s heart soared. He was alone! No afternoon siesta for Savage when Venice lay at his feet to be explored.

She observed him from a distance beneath the concealing brim of her leghorn. He climbed to the galleria level, then disappeared down a corridor where she assumed his room must be. All she could do tomorrow evening was arrive early and keep watch on the galleria. Naturally he would wear a disguise, but Antonia felt she would know that powerful, incomparable physique anywhere.

Her heart was singing all the way back across the lagoon. She looked so young and pretty and happy that people turned to watch her as her light, carefree steps took her past the exotic mask shop. She paused at the window display, wondering what sort of a mask she should wear tomorrow night. Some masks were unbelievably elaborate, encrusted with beads, feathers and ornamental mirrored glass. Others covered the whole head and face to completely disguise the identity of the reveler.

Antonia frowned with indecision. She did not want something clumsy or unwieldy and difficult to handle. Her glance fell on a mannequin whose mask had been painted on. With the clever use of painted stripes and a handful of sequins a mask had been created that did not have to come off. She went into the busy shop that was doing a brisk business. She bought a package of sequins and some patch glue. With the aid of her exotic cosmetics she would create her own eye mask!

Antonia bought breadsticks, seafood salad, and ravioli in a pomodori sauce of basil and parsley. She would dine upon her balcony and observe the city below her as would an empress from her throne.

As dusk descended, the lights and torches of the city began to flicker. Gondolas glided about across the lagoons, beneath bridges, and along narrow canals. Some people couldn’t wait for Carnival and had already donned their costumes.

Musicians in medieval and Renaissance garb strolled about, plucking their stringed instruments, and even the gondoliers wore small black eye-dominoes beneath their straw boaters. All of Venice was being transformed into a city of mystery and magic.

It was late when Antonia went inside to bed, because she knew she was too excited to sleep. When she finally did drowse, she began to dream, but her dreams were dark and disturbing. She found herself heavily masked in some sort of brothel. All the clientele were rich and titled. Barons, earls, dukes, and princes from far and wide were gathered in this opulent, decadent, glittering salon.

The other women were voluptuous in varied stages of deshabille, their laughter as brittle as Venetian crystal. The heavily perfumed air was so cloying, she could hardly breathe. The men, all masked, assessed her with contemptuous, glittering eyes, which gleamed through the slits in their masks.

Three different men selected her as their partner and she knew she must go through the dark, sensual labyrinth of chambers, pandering to whatever coupling techniques pleasured them. She had no idea what they expected of her, not the slightest inclination, except that it would be wicked and sordid and humiliating.

Antonia froze with horror outside the first door, the brass knob burning a hole in her palm. But she knew she had no choice. Her fate had been set long ago when she took the first tentative steps down the road to ruin. She squared her shoulders and turned the knob. She looked into ice-blue eyes that froze her soul.

Antonia screamed. The scream awakened her.

She sat in bed hugging her knees. It was dark outside
her window, morning was hours away. She pushed back her heavy mass of silken hair and shivered uncontrollably. She did not need to have her dark dreams explained to her. It was her conscience crying out that what she planned was wrong!

It was totally indecent for a young, unmarried lady to give herself to a man for a night of illicit love. Ha! It was not love, it was fornication. It was pure and simple sex and sensuality. She had planned to make Adam Savage seduce her. Antonia wanted him and him alone to introduce her to the dark mysteries of sexuality. She was a truly wicked girl. She should be thoroughly ashamed of her prurient interest in carnal matters. Did she really want to beg him to let her play whore to him?

Oh, yes, please!

Antonia snuggled down in bed and spun herself a delicious fantasy. When she awoke, she was sprawled across the covers and the sun was high in the sky. It was the most beautiful morning she ever remembered. She rolled over and hugged herself. This was the day she had been waiting for all her life!