A Chance Encounter

By Lora Thomas

Copyright © 2019 Lora Perkins

Kindle Edition

License Notes

This ebook is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

* * * *

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

* * * *

This is a word of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

* * * *

Cover Design: Selfpubbookcovers/DelightfulDesigns

Chapter One

A pain-filled groan and a grimace flashed across Oliver St. John’s face as he flinched and sat up. The light flooding his room was the cause of his discomfort. That and the overindulgence in spirits the previous evening. The sound of footsteps upon the wooden floor of his room caused him to scowl. Whoever was in his chambers was going to pay! His head was throbbing, and whoever was stirring sounded like they were purposefully stomping. The cheery, “Get your ass up!” only caused his disposition to sour further.

“Why are you here, Owen?” Oliver asked his twin.

“I live here.”

Oliver scowled. “In my chambers?”

“I’m here to see you off on your adventure!” Owen replied as he jerked open the curtains belonging to another window. “Your ship sets sail in a few hours, and here you lie, still abed and fully clothed I see.”

“And whose fault is that?’ Oliver grumbled, tossing his feet from his bed. Once sitting, he cradled his head in his hands.

“I see you cannot handle your spirits, old man.”

“I can handle my spirits. What I cannot tolerate presently is your cheerful demeanor. And why is your head not pounding worse than mine? You did out-drink me, after all.”

Owen’s infuriating grin widened. “I can handle my liquor better than you.”

“I believe you were pouring your cups out instead of drinking them. And that is a bloody shame. That was expensive brandy Branson served us last evening,” Oliver said, referring to one of their acquaintances.

“Branson does have expensive taste,” Owen acknowledged. “Most likely the reason he is nearly destitute. Nearly that is.”

“He is no more near destitution than you or I.”

“True. But he does have expensive tastes. In liquor and women. Did you notice his latest mistress? I do say, he’s spending a bloody fortune to keep her up. She had more baubles upon her than all the women in Governor’s Harbour combined!”

“I wasn’t noticing her jewelry,” Oliver mumbled as he stood. His hands came to his back as he stretched.

“I do say, they were resting right in the middle of her ample bosom. Branson always was a breast man.”

“And you are not?”

Owen feigned a look of hurt. “You wound me, brother. I do not love only their breasts but their other attributes as well.”

Oliver scowled, and his hand went to his throbbing temples. “Don’t we all.”

“Indeed, we do.” Owen picked up Oliver’s coat and tossed it at his brother. The article landed upon the bed beside Oliver. “Better dress and ready yourself, old boy. You sail at two.”

“Why are you here?” Oliver asked. “We said our good-byes last evening.”

“I live here as well. Or did you forget?”

“I know that,” Oliver snapped. “I thought you were going to visit Mother today.”

“Oh!” Owen removed a letter from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to his brother. “This came for you this morning.”

“What is it?”

“A letter.”

“I know that! From whom?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t my letter.”

“Like that has stopped you in the past.”

Owen laughed. “True. It’s from Max if you must know,” he said, referring to their eldest brother. “I dare not open his correspondences. Terrible temper that beast has, you know.”

“What does he want now?”

“I do not know.”

Oliver’s fingers tore through the seal, and his eyes scanned the words. “He needs you.”

“Me? Why didn’t he send it to me instead of you?”

“How the hell should I know?” Oliver snapped, the fingers of his left hand returning to his throbbing temples. “Maybe he can’t remember which of us is which.”

“We are twins, after all. Although our appearances are no longer identical since your bout of typhoid that caused your hair loss and all.”

“Don’t remind me,” Oliver complained.

Two years prior, he had contracted typhoid while visiting St. Kitts. The fever raged on for weeks. Once it broke, his vibrant red hair fell out, leaving him entirely bald for several months. Hell, even his eyebrows fell off—which left him to be mercilessly teased by his brothers, Owen especially. When his hair returned, it was a darker shade of red and wavy. The curls were the worst. So much so that Oliver never let his hair grow long for he resembled a woman.

Owen read the letter, and a noise resembling a “hmmm” left him. “Interesting.”

“What?”

“Some man arrived at the end of last week and wants us to repair his ship.”

Oliver’s hand left his brow as he picked up his coat. “Hate to break it to the old chap, but I am scheduled to leave for Italy today. You will have to do the repair work.”

“Me?” Owen questioned in mortification.

“You are a carpenter, just the same as I am.”

“I know that.” Owen pulled the lapel of his coat down. “I just prefer to design them. The hammer and saw are your specialties.”

“They’ll have to be yours for this project. I am going to Rome.”

“Carnival!” Owen said and laughed in delight. “What a splendid event! Wish I were coming with you.”

Oliver tilted his head as his right brow shot upwards. “Why? You dislike my friend.”

Martin Henshaw was the friend in question. Martin and Oliver had been friends since they were boys. Martin was as much a wastrel as the rest of the men in Oliver’s circles, yet Oliver’s father, Robert, liked Martin. When Martin was just a lad, Robert allowed him to work for Emerald Shipping at the shipyards; however, Martin was skilled in bookwork. When Martin moved to England, Robert offered him employment. Martin declined; however, he and Oliver kept in touch. Then five years ago, Martin moved to Italy and fell in love with Rome. He wrote to Robert about the possibilities to be had in Rome, and Robert agreed to open an office there with Martin to oversee the branch. Three years later, Martin wrote that he was in love. The money he made granted him the means to care for a wife, and he had married the previous year.

“True. Martin does grate on one’s nerves. She a pessimist, he is. But Carnival would be worth his company.”

“Yet, you cannot go. No, wait. You were not invited.”

Owen shrugged. “Who’s stopping me? I can easily board a ship with you.”

Oliver ground his teeth. He loved his brother, yet there were times when Oliver wished he were an only child. The older he and Owen grew, the more they became different. Owen still had that knack of grating on one’s nerves, yet it was now worse. He’d added an arrogance to his presence—an arrogant calm that grated on Oliver. He was almost overly serious like their older brother Eli. Oliver, on the other hand, still had a carefree nature at times. Oh, both brothers always had a good time when together; however, there could be too much togetherness. Ever since birth, the pair had been inseparable save for the time Owen traveled to increase his architecture skills in shipbuilding. That three-year stint allowed Oliver to grow in a different direction. Where Owen loved to design, Oliver loved to build. He found peace when his hands were occupied. When Owen returned, he became a brute with his first ship design…their brother Noah’s ship, The Diamond Runner. It was a massive build. By the time the vessel was completed, Oliver had a great desire to nail Owen to the belly of the boat and watch it sail away.

And now? Oliver had the same emotions. He had just spent the last year of his life with another massive undertaking of Owen’s design, and he needed a break from his brother’s presence. When Martin wrote about wanting to visit Governor’s Harbour, Oliver had a better idea. He would go to Italy to visit his friend instead. After all, that is where Martin’s wife was from, and Martin now called Rome his home. It would be inconsiderate not to visit his friend. Actually, it was best for Owen if he visited his friend for if he did not, he feared he would place a hammer in his brother’s skull.

“You have been summoned by Max,” Oliver reminded.

“He can wait.”

“No, he cannot. You are the architectural genius.” Oliver knew that if he played on Owen’s arrogance regarding his talent for ship design, his brother would take the bait.

“True. No one in the world can design a ship as well as I can.”

“And at such a young age.”

“Young? I believe we are the same age.”

“I am older by fifteen minutes.”

“Then I should be calling you grandpa? I mean the ripe old age of twenty-eight means that you are near the grave,” Owen replied with sarcasm, a twinkle to his green eyes.

“If you keep up your mockery, you’ll be there before I will.”

The brothers looked at each other and laughed. Oliver flinched and his hand returned to his temples.

“Safe travels, Oliver. Be sure to give Martin my best wishes upon his marriage.”

“I will. And good luck. May Max not kill you while I am away.”

“That’s not likely.”

Oliver lowered his hand. “You know he does not understand our humor.”

Owen nodded his head. “True. But he has three daughters to contend with. I do say, Sophia is becoming quite the handful. She trails after him like a shadow. And Amelia and Victoria are so close in age it is as though they are twins.”

Oliver laughed. “As overly protective as he is of his daughters now, can you imagine what he will be like when they want to court?”

“Egad! That man will not let any man within a hundred yards of the girls now.”

“True. So be mindful of him. He can be quite testy at times.”

Owen patted Oliver upon his bicep. “Relax, old man. There will never be a project that Max can assign me that will cause me too much grief.”

“Never say never.”

Chapter Two

Madelena Russo sighed as her eyes fluttered open. She had been having such a wonderful dream! She was at a warm tropical beach, a handsome man beside her, and her family was nowhere to be found. The man was holding her in his arms as they gazed out at the waves. It was a beautiful dream. If only…

“Get up, Madelena!” she heard her sister, Angela, say, as she pushed Madelena’s feet from the ottoman. “Mama is waiting.”

Madelena sat up straight and glowered at her twin sister. “Angela! There was no cause to wake me.”

Angela sneered at her older sister. “Mama said to tell you we are leaving.”

“Why? I am not the one she is buying the dress for. You are.”

Angela smiled, smoothed down the front of her blue dress and cocked her head pretentiously. “Exactly. Mama likes me better than you. She likes everybody better than you but especially me. I am her favorite. That is why I get all the nice things.”

Madelena’s brown eyes lowered dangerously. Angela was correct. The dress Madelena wore was the perfect example. A plain, tan gown with no embellishments whereas Angela’s was made of fine satin. A vindictive sneer pulled her full pink lips for she knew how to rile her sister. “But I am Papa’s favorite. He loves me better than he will ever love you.”

Angela’s brown eyes widened with fury. “Take that back!”

“No.” Madelena stood and approached her vicious, younger— albeit by only a few minutes—sister. “Papa says I am special and will always be so.”

Angela glowered at her older sister. It was true. Their father did love Madelena better than any of his other daughters. Better than Flora. Better than Maria. Better than Bella. Better than Angela! Even better than their mother, Sandra. And it was no wonder. Where Angela and her younger sisters possessed muted brown hair and large bulbous eyes, Madelena’s hair was a silky black, and her eyes were a soft chocolate brown. Where Angela and her sisters were short and a little on the portly side, Madelena was tall and slender. Where Angela and her sisters’ voices would cause the dogs to howl, Madelena’s would cause the birds to sing in unison. Despite her beauty and talent, Madelena was detested by not only Angela and her sisters but their mother as well.

“You might be special in Papa’s eyes, but you will never be to Mama. And Mama controls Papa, so you had better get used to wearing nothing but rags to Carnival.” Angela sneered at her sister. “Mayhap Mama may not even allow you go. You do not have a dress or mask to wear, and you cannot go to Carnival in those rags you wear.” Angela’s eyes held scorn as they traveled over Madelena’s tattered tan dress.

It was true. Madelena needed a gown and mask to wear to the festival, and she could not depend upon her mother to purchase her one. Nor her father for Angela was correct. Their mother did control their father…somewhat. Only in matters of fashion. All Madelena had to do was ask, and her father would purchase her any dress she wanted. However, her mother would either ruin the gown before it could be worn or give it to one of the others for them to wear behind her father’s back.

Antonio Russo was an intimidating man who allowed his wife full control of the household. An odd situation. His official title was magistrate; however, he also oversaw the watchmen in the city. Where he easily ordered others to do as he commanded, he allowed Sandra to run the house how she saw fit. Not once had he ever intervened upon Sandra’s running of his home. Not even when she placed Madelena on the top floor in the coldest room of the house. He simply stated that he had a city to run and did not have time to handle such trivial matters as where his daughters slept.

And run the city he did. With that position came power and with that power came opportunities for him to increase the visibility of his daughters. Having five daughters, his wife was constantly in search of proper suitors, though each suitor was only interested in Madelena. Yet when those suitors came to call, their mother would say, “You don’t want Madelena. Why Angela is far more beautiful than any daughter I have. She is the one you want.” The men would politely smile, visit with Angela and leave, never to call again.

Sandra only had one interest, and that was increasing her station in life by arranging adventitious marriages for all of her daughters, save Madelena. She kept pushing Madelena to join the church, saying that anyone such as Madelena would only benefit from constant prayer and dedication to the Lord by becoming a nun.

Madelena never understood the meaning behind her mother’s words. Anyone such as Madelena? What did that mean? Sometimes Madelena wondered if Sandra was even her mother. Yet how could she not be? Angela was her twin, after all, and that would mean that only Sandra could be her mother. Unfortunately.

“Are you coming?” Angela snapped.

“Yes,” Madelena answered. She eased her feet into her tattered black slippers and headed towards the doorway only to stop when her mother appeared. Sandra’s gaze ran over Madelena in a way that Madelena had become accustomed to. It was a combination of hatred and distaste.

“Where do you think you are going?” Sandra asked.

“Angela said I was to accompany you to the dress shop.”

Sandra snorted in disgust. “No. You are to go to the market. We need vegetables for this evening’s meal. See to it that you only pick the freshest ones. Nothing wilted. Then return here. Since the cook is off today, you will begin preparations for our evening meal. I suspect the seamstress will take some time finishing Angela’s dress for the festival. Tell your father not to worry if he arrives home before we do.”

“Yes, Mama.” Sadness flashed across Madelena’s eyes. She knew her mother never would allow her to go to Carnival with her sisters. She knew her mother never would even ask her if she wanted to go. Madelena kept telling herself that she did not want to go. Nothing but trouble ever came from Carnival. No fun. No laughter. Nothing. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. But it would be nice if Sandra asked her if she wanted to go. Just once. Just so Madelena could refuse.

“Come, Angela,” Sandra said, turning. “We have an appointment and cannot be late. The carriage is awaiting us out front. Madelena, you don’t care to walk to the market, do you?” Before she could answer, her mother continued, “Of course not. You seem to like walking, don’t you?”

Angela breezed past her sister. “Enjoy the market.”

Madelena kept her frustrations bottled up inside her. She longed to slap her sister, but she kept those desires to herself. If she gave into them, it would not end well for her. She would be locked in her room and forced to eat peas for every meal for a month. And she hated peas. Or worse yet…beets. A shudder ran down her at the thought.

Madelena’s lips slowly pulled upwards. She was ordered to go to the market and purchase vegetables. Yet her mother never once told her she could not sell her baskets…not that Sandra was aware that Madelena did such a thing. She had made three this month and had them stashed away in the carriage house with the other four she had created. The money she made from the baskets would give her the extra funds she needed for her mask. She had been saving for over a year to purchase her dress for the festivities. Oh, certainly she kept telling herself that she did not want to go, but deep down, she longed to go. To see the festivities. To enjoy the dancing. And the dress she purchased? Well, it was not as elegant as the one her mother had purchased Angela, but it was just splendid in Madelena’s eyes. It was a simple mint green gown with a square bodice and a flowing skirt. Unlike Angela’s that was being custom made, Madelena’s was a store-bought gown that she presently had stashed at her friend Mae’s home.

Madelena approached the sitting room window and waited until the carriage was no longer in view before she darted through the house and out the back door. As she rushed through the yard, the chickens that were about scattered and clucked in protest.

“Sorry, Esmerelda!” Madelena called to the large white hen who began clucking for her chicks to rejoin her. The little yellow balls of fluff returned to their mother, causing Madelena to stop. She turned and looked at the chicks. “You have beautiful babies, Esmerelda. You should be proud.”

Madelena began walking towards the barn and laughed to herself. If anyone heard her talking to the poultry, they would think she was mad, but Esmerelda was a good listener. More times than she could count, Madelena had confessed her frustrations to the large white hen. The hen would simply turn her head, cluck and preen her feathers.

Opening the door to the barn, she peered inside.

“Hello,” Madelena spoke as she entered. “Hello.” When no one answered, she approached the far left corner and gazed down at the straw. Kneeling down, she felt along the ground until she found the brown cotton tarp and eased back the material. The straw on top shifted slightly as she slid the tarpaulin. Underneath were her baskets…all seven of them. Grabbing a discarded hoe handle, she slipped the handles of the baskets over the wooden bar and left the barn through the back entrance.

As she walked along the streets, people would nod their heads in greeting. The baker offered her a sampling of his newest creation and beamed upon her praise. As she traversed her course to the docks, she smiled. She loved Rome! The people were a diverse sort from wealthy merchants to lowly beggars, yet none she met along her daily walks had ever been unkind to her. The people were friendly, and the architecture was surreal! Obelisks were scattered about the city along with marble statues and fountains. When she was a child, she would find herself wishing to leap into the fountains for a reprieve from the summer heat. The fountains scattered throughout Rome were not just for decoration. They supplied much-needed water to the people, plus they were monuments to the papal patrons.

Water would shoot out many of these fountains thanks to the aqueducts and engineering feats of the architects. But not at her favorite where the water only trickled downward thanks to the decreased height of the water source. Her favorite rested at Piazza Navona. There were three fountains here. The one on the northern side was of Neptune spearing an octopus who was surrounded by seahorses and mermaids. The one on the southern end was of Neptune in a conch shell riding a fish. But the one in the center of Piazza Navona was her favorite. The Fountain of the Four Rivers. It was topped by the Obelisk Domitian. The base held a travertine rock rise which supported the four river gods who represent the four major rivers of the four continents over which Pope Pamphili held authority: the Ganges for Asia, the Rio de la Plata for the Americas, the Nile for Africa, and the Danube for Europe. Carvings of flowers and animals were scattered about the fountain, and a dove symbolizing the Holy Spirit along with a motif of the pope rested on top of the obelisk. These fountains were spectacular.

Her walk today would not take her to The Fountain of the Four Rivers. Today her walk was to the market areas and the docks. The people who visited had no idea who she was. They simply saw her as a peasant trying to peddle her goods. She adjusted the wooden handle holding her baskets upon her shoulder and weaved through the crowded docks.

“Baskets!” she shouted. “Baskets for your goods!”

In the distance, she could hear others shout about their wares. Fish. Crabs. Bread. Mussels. It was time to get to work. Hopefully, she could sell enough of her baskets to purchase the mask she wanted for the festival.

“Baskets!” she shouted again. “Baskets for your fish or bread!”

The docks were busy this time of year. Travelers came from all around to celebrate Carnival. Most were the aristocratic elite here out of boredom. They come to see the sites and to partake in the festivities in order to give them a little excitement in their lives. Madelena longed to be like those people. To be bored with the trivial issues of life. They needed to come live a day in her life; then they would not complain about their insignificant problems.

Her eyes took in the merchant ships, and she contained her smile. She loved to gaze upon the vessels. Magnificent wooden structures that carried the hopes and dreams of so many. With each day, she wondered if perhaps they would bring her a chance of happiness. A chance encounter with a handsome man who would give her an opportunity to leave Rome and travel to a faraway land. Or just maybe an opportunity to make a few memories. A chance to steal a kiss or dance. Someone to bring her flowers and whisk her away for a few minutes alone.

Suddenly, a scream left her as she felt her body falling to the ground, and in an instant, a pair of strong hands were wrapped around her upper arms. The hands gently repositioned her upright.

“Watch where you’re going,” Madelena snapped, her hands hurrying to adjust her dress.

“I beg your pardon,” a deep voice said in refined English with a touch of humor.

Her eyes came to the stranger, and her voice lodged in her throat. The happenings around her suddenly became distant, as the man before her caused her to lose track of everything around her. He was tall, and his tweed coat was pulled taut over his broad shoulders. His hair was dark red with streaks of copper. The brows over his green eyes only made the color seem more vivid. His eyes were apologetic as he gazed down upon her. This man before her was one of her fantasies.

Oliver stood upon the bow of the ship and watched the bustling pier. Several dock workers loaded their carts with the merchandise that was being unloaded. Noblemen and gentlewomen boarded a ship while others were leaving another. Sailors hoisted lines and made ready to sail while others were eagerly tethering the rigging awaiting their time at port.

“You planning on joining the crew?” Oliver heard the captain of the ship ask.

Oliver glanced over his shoulder, and a deep breath left him. “No. I am far from being a sailor. I will leave that duty to my brothers.”

The captain nodded in agreement. “That you are not. I’ve never seen someone turn so green so fast. Thought you St. Johns were born with the sea in your blood.”

A smirk pulled the corner of Oliver’s mouth upward. “Unfortunately, not all of us acquired that trait, Captain Dewlard. I do not suffer the effects of the sea nearly as bad as two of my older brothers, but it still is bothersome. However, I am delighted to say it does not happen each time.”

“Good to know. Mayhap you’ll have sea legs for your voyage home.”

“I truly hope so.”

“Your trunk has been unloaded. It will be awaiting you at the office.”

“Thank you, Captain. Safe travels should I not see you before your departure.”

“Thank you, Mr. St. John. And you be careful here. It’s nearly Carnival, and this town can get somewhat rowdy during that time.”

Oliver laughed. “You must have forgotten who I am. St. Johns love to carouse and cause a ruckus. Besides, Carnival is the sole reason I am here.”

“Take care, Mr. St. John. It can be a might rowdier than you are accustomed to. Many are not gentlemen here. The cutthroats hide behind those masks.”

Oliver’s right brow shot upward. “I thought one could not wear a mask after dusk.”

Dewlard nodded. “Aye, that is correct. But during the day, they can keep their faces covered. There’s sneaky bastards out there. They take advantage of the masks and will rob you blind if you’re not careful.”

“Thank you for the warning. I will take heed to leave my valuables at home.” Oliver extended his hand to the captain and gave a firm handshake. Departing the ship, his green eyes took in every aspect of the town around him. In the distance, white buildings with red clay roofs welcomed travelers. Visitors were dressed in every form of fashion, from those wearing the finest silks to others wearing poorly crafted linen and cotton. Women walked about with their parasols raised, shielding their pale flesh from the sun’s gleaming rays.

Oliver inwardly smiled. His mother, Elizabeth, and sister, Madison, never used covering in the sun, and the scattering of freckles across their noses was the telltale sign. Even Madison’s daughter had a love of the outdoors with the same freckles upon her cheeks.

“Fresh fish!” Oliver heard a child yell in the distance, followed by another shouting, “Oysters and clams!” He left the pier and walked down the wharf. When his feet hit the soil, more shouts of vendors peddling their goods echoed around him. Fish, oyster, clams, bread, and flowers. He looked to the right and smiled as a boy darted past him laughing as he kicked a ball down the street. Several others followed the boy with sticks. He turned and watched the boys, his steps carrying him backward. He felt his body bump into someone and turned just as the person started to fall. His hands quickly captured the lady.

“Watch where you’re going,” the woman snapped as she adjusted her gown.

Her rudeness surprised him, especially since he had kept her from falling. His gaze took in her attire. She appeared to be another vendor peddling her ware. The tan dress she wore was not the finest quality but not the worst either. When he saw her face, his heart skipped. She was stunning. Soft brown eyes were held by an oval face with an upturned nose with high cheekbones. Wind captured her raven locks, causing them to dance around her.

“I beg your pardon,” Oliver replied with humor.

Madelena blinked several times to ward off the spell of the handsome man before her. When the sound of one of her baskets being kicked echoed around her, she shook his hands from her arms.

“My baskets!” she exclaimed, kneeling down to pick up her scattered merchandise.

“Allow me,” Oliver said as he knelt beside her. His hands reached outward and snagged two of the baskets. As he was reaching for a third, one of the running boys returned. The lad’s foot hit the basket, and it stuck to his foot. The boy did not stop running, although his fast pace momentarily slowed as he shook the basket from his foot.

Oliver stood and picked up the damaged item. He handed it to the woman.

Madelena looked at her damaged merchandise. Out of her seven baskets, only three were salvageable. She would never get to purchase her mask now. Her brown eyes pulled downward with sadness. “They’re ruined.”

“I am truly sorry.”

Madelena looked at the man. “The docks are a busy location, signore.”

“You speak English.”

“I speak many languages. Now, if you will please excuse me. I have three undamaged baskets that I need to sell.” Perhaps, she could make more before the festival.

“No,” Oliver said.

“No? I need the money from these baskets.”

“I am the cause of the ruination of several. Allow me to purchase them, along with the remaining undamaged ones.”

Madelena opened her mouth to protest.

“I insist.” Oliver reached inside his tweed jacket and pulled out a flat leather purse. “How much?”

Madelena’s eyes went between the wallet and the man’s face. She could lie and get a fortune from the man, but she was no liar. “You are very foolish, signore. I could state that they are worth far more than you have.”

“I am not a gullible man. But I am honorable. I have damaged your means of survival. In good conscience, I cannot allow you to go hungry because of my lack of vigilance.” He pulled out several notes. “This should cover your baskets along with your time in making them.”

She took the money, and her eyes widened as she flipped through the notes. “This is entirely too much, signore. For this, you could purchase twenty.”

“Call it a blessing, miss. I have ruined your day and your baskets.”

Madelena placed the money in the pocket on the front of her dress and held out the broken hoe handle. “Then enjoy your merchandise, signore.”

“Keep them.”

“But you bought them.”

Oliver nodded. “I did. I have no need for baskets.”

“Then why did you buy them?”

“Because I damaged them.”

Madelena drew her brows together. “These,” she held out her hoe with three baskets hanging down, “are not damaged.” She picked a small basket up from the ground. It was not much larger than a saucer but had been deep with a small handle that had straw twisted to resemble roses along the top. However, the once rounded basket was flattened, and the handle was holding on by only a few strands of dried grass. “This is damaged.” She motioned to another sitting upside down, the bottom now missing. “That is damaged.”

Oliver took the small basket from her hand. “Then I overpaid for this one. Take the money in good conscience, my lady. And enjoy the rest of this beautiful day.”

“I am not a lady,” Madelena replied.

A boyish smile pulled the corner of Oliver’s mouth causing a dimple to appear on his left cheek. It gave him a youthful appearance, yet there was a twinkle of something else in his eyes. “Tis a shame, for someone as beautiful as you should be graced by that title.”

Heat flooded Madelena. She had been called beautiful many times in the past, but the way this man said it? Well, there was something quite naughty about it, causing excitement to fill her veins.

“Oliver! There you are!” A male voice shouted from behind Madelena causing the man before her to look over her head.

She battered her lashes coyly as she kept her gaze upon Oliver. He certainly did not look like an Oliver for that was a boy’s name, and this was a man before her.

Madelena curtsied and slightly lowered her head. “Signore Oliver.”

When she righted, that boyish smile was still upon his handsome face. “My lady,” he replied, giving a polite bow and a teasing wink. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned his attention to the man who had called his name. “Hello, Martin!”

Madelena glanced over her shoulder, and her breath caught. He knew Martin Henshaw! If Martin saw her, she would be in trouble for he was an acquaintance of her father. Why, she had even been to his home a time or two and exchanged pleasantries with his wife.

“Good day,” she replied, rushing past Oliver.

Oliver turned and watched the basket lady leave.

Martin’s hand roughly patted Oliver upon the back. “I was wondering where you were. I saw the sails of your ship from my office hours ago.”

Oliver kept his attention on the lady’s departing back.

Martin noticed the distraction. “Is something wrong?”

Oliver shook his head. “Do you know that woman?”

“Which one?”

“The one carrying the baskets.”

Martin glanced towards the lady’s departing back and shook his head. “I do not recognize the back of her head. But I should for the back of heads are so memorable.”

Oliver’s right brow rose slightly. “Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”

Martin grinned and roughly patted Oliver’s back again. “Relax, my friend. There are plenty of available women in Rome this month. After all, it is Carnival!”

“Indeed.” Oliver gave one last parting glance at the back of the beautiful basket lady. His gaze went back to the broken basket in his hands. Perhaps, he would see her again.

Chapter Three

Martin weaved through the crowded streets of Rome with Oliver right beside him. As they journeyed, Martin pointed out local restaurants that were “well worth one’s time.” They made their way to the Rome office of Emerald Shipping. It sat upon the River Tiber on the outskirts of the city. Oliver’s older brother, Jacob, often complained that the office should be closer to the ocean. Martin always had a comeback, reminding Jacob that the merchants were in the city and that the office needed to be seen in order to draw business to the company. When larger shipments were needed, schooners would run the merchandise to the coast to be picked up by the larger ships of Emerald Shipping. Jacob complained that it was a waste of time and resources to load and unload cargo twice. Martin would remind Jacob it employed more individuals, hence increasing the popularity of Emerald Shipping, leading to more shipping contracts. And the devil take it, Martin was correct. Nearly every business in Rome used Emerald Shipping in some sort of fashion from shipping their own products to having items delivered to them.

Oliver spotted the office in the distance. Emerald Shipping was emblazoned in green and outlined in black upon a white sign hanging on the outside of an impeccably clean, white building. The nearer they came, the more the cleanliness of the building stood out. No film upon the windows. No dirt upon the walls. Even the few steps were swept clean of dirt and debris.

“Impressed?” Martin asked with arrogance as he observed Oliver’s inspection of the office.

“I am. Most shipping offices are not this clean.”

Martin beamed. “I hire some of the local orphan children to clean. It gives them purpose and a few coins. Not to mention, they inform me of any necessary information should I need it.”

Oliver laughed. “So they are your spies?”

Martin gave an indifferent shrug. “In a sense.” Approaching the door, he turned the knob. Stepping inside, Oliver’s inspection continued. The inside was just as clean as the out. Two desks sat near the back of the room, and behind the desks were large shelves covered in ledgers. Behind one desk was an older gentleman. The man’s hair was white, and he possessed a large hook nose, on the tip of which were perched wire rimmed spectacles. The man looked up. His brown eyes shined with youthfulness as he smiled. The man gave a politely greeting in Italian, and Martin returned the welcome.

“Signore Valerio, I would like to introduce you to Oliver St. John. His father owns our company.”

Mr. Valerio stood and rounded his desk. He stood straight and proud as he approached Oliver with an outstretched hand. “So very nice to meet you, Signore St. John. We are delighted to have you visit our office.”

Oliver took the man’s hand and was surprised to notice the strength behind it. “Mr. Valerio.”

“Signore Valerio assists me during the busier times, and Carnival is certainly one of those times.”

“Indeed, it is!” Valerio said. “We’ve been receiving shipments nearly nonstop for the past four weeks!” The older man rubbed the fingers of his right hand and laughed. “My old bones are achy from logging in the supplies.”

“I highly doubt that,” Martin replied, grinning. “Watch him, Oliver. He can tell a tale or two.”

“Are the shipments one of his tales?” Oliver asked.

Valerio’s grin widened. “No. That I never jest about.”

Oliver nodded. “Good. Father will be delighted to know the accounts when I return.”

“Of course,” Martin replied. “We’ll have a report written up to send to him by the time you are finished with your little holiday here.”

“Don’t be in too big of a rush,” Valerio said. “Carnival begins in three days, lasts for eight, and takes a month to recover!”

“I truly hope so,” Oliver replied.

Valerio chuckled. “Oh, the enthusiasm of youth and merrymaking. I remember those days. Just be warned. Roman girls are the prettiest in the world and the most vicious when angered. Just don’t break their hearts and you will be delighted for the visit.”

“I do not plan on leaving a carnage of broken hearts upon my departure. Only lasting memories.”

Valerio threw his head back and laughed harder. “Then you will not be disappointed.”

“I truly hope not.”

Martin shook his head. “Now that that is cleared up, Signore Valerio, I will be out of the office the remainder of the day. If you need me, please send a runner to my home.”

Valerio nodded. “Very well. Enjoy the day, and I will see you…?”

“Monday.”

“Taking a whole two days off? That is so unlike you.”

“I have company.” Martin gave a flourishing gesture towards Oliver.

“That never stopped you before.”

Martin smiled. “This is different company. This is my friend. Family is not company.”

Valerio motioned towards the door with his hand. “Go. Show your young friend the city and enjoy your time with your wife.” A wicked grin pulled the older man’s mouth. “You’ll need to butter her up before Carnival just in case you find yourself in hot water.”

“Relax, Signore Valerio. I have never made my wife angry at me.”

“And you claim I tell tales. There is always a first time. And Carnival is just the opportunity.”

“Then I shall enjoy her company until then. Come, Oliver. I will show you the treasures of Rome that are in the direction of my home.”

Oliver gave a polite nod in the direction of the older man. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Valerio.”

The younger men left the office. As they walked, Oliver could not help but marvel at the beauty of the city. Pristine buildings with intricately carved adorations. Statues and fountains. Vendors peddling their goods along the walk. The aroma of freshly baked bread filled his senses.

A beautiful young woman stepped before them holding her freshly baked goods.

“How much?” Martin asked.

The woman smiled coyly at Oliver. “For him, free.” She handed Oliver a sampling of bread.

“How kind of you,” Oliver replied.

“Carmen!” an older man from the storefront yelled. “Do not be giving away our profits!”

“Coming, Papa.” Carmen sent another lustful glance in Oliver’s direction. “We have the best-baked goods in all of Rome. Come by later, and I will show you how fresh our dough is.” With that, the young woman left.

“I’ll be.” Martin glanced at Oliver, a perplexed look on his face. “I think you have just been propositioned by my baker’s daughter.”

A boyish grin pulled Oliver’s lips. He said nothing. Instead, he placed a piece of bread into his mouth.

“Stop grinning. And why the bloody hell are you carrying a basket?”

“You’re just now noticing that?” Oliver asked, his grin widening.

“Yes. No. Would you please stop that excessive grinning. No wonder your brothers beat the hell out of you in your youth.” Martin furrowed his brow. “Is that why you were late coming to my office? A dalliance with a woman who gifted you with a basket instead of the other way around.”

Oliver laughed. “I do not kiss and tell.”

“Signore Henshaw,” a voice called in the distance.

Oliver watched the man approach. He was an intimidating older man. His posture was straight, and his dark hair was scattered with white. Dark forbidding eyes traveled over Oliver. The man approaching was not nearly as tall as Oliver, but he was a formidable man with strong shoulders and a stern expression.

“That is Signore Antonio Russo,” Martin spoke, keeping his gaze upon the advancing man. “He is the magistrate in this area.”

“Is he a problem?”

Martin shook his head. “Not as long as you don’t involve yourself with his daughters.”

“Are they an issue?”

Martin nodded. “That they are. His oldest twin is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. He is highly protective of her. The others—well, their mother is trying her damnedest to pair them with any suitor.”

“How many?”

“Five? I think. At any rate, he will want us to come to dine with him sometime during the next few weeks. Find a reason to decline. If his daughter Angela slaps eyes upon you, she will beg her mother to pair the two of you together.”

“I have no desire for a wife. I am here for the enjoyment of the festivities.”

“That is why I am warning you. His wife tries to arrange marriages to her daughters to any man she sees. With five single women in a house and suitors only interested in one, it makes a mother desperate to pawn off the others to anyone for any reason.”

“I’ll simply tell him no if he gives us a dinner invitation.”

“Politely, Oliver. Lie if you must. Signore Russo can cause problems with shipments. I try to stay upon his good side at all times. Keeps things from getting messy.”

Oliver looked at Martin. “You pay him bribes?”

Martin shrugged. “Call it what you will. It is imperative to stay on his good side. Signore Russo! So good to see you.”

Russo stopped before them, his eyes still upon Oliver.

“I am surprised to see you out this early in the afternoon, Signore Henshaw,” Antonio said.

“I have an important guest. Signore Antonio Russo, I would like to introduce you to Oliver St. John. His father owns Emerald Shipping.”

Russo gave a polite nod of his head. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Signore St. John. What brings you to Rome?”

Oliver extended his hand. Russo looked at the offering and loosely took the friendly gesture. Oliver grasped the man’s hand and gave a firm handshake.

In perfect Italian, Oliver spoke. “A holiday. I have been told that one has not lived life until they partake in Carnival at least once.”

Russo pulled his hand away. “You speak Italian?”

“My mother was adamant that my siblings and I speak many languages.”

“I see. Well, Carnival is most enjoyable. Keep your vigilance. Vagrants like to prowl upon unsuspecting visitors.” A deep breath left him. “And most likely more so this year.”

“Why?” Oliver asked.

“The French Army under the orders of Napoleon,” Martin said. “I heard they can cause problems.”

Oliver glanced around the area and noticed several French soldiers in the distance.

“Should we be concerned?” Oliver inquired. Oliver knew that there was turmoil in Italy and that Bonaparte’s army had invaded the northern portion of the country, but he had not gotten word of the disturbance in Rome until now.

“As long as you do not cause too much of a commotion,” Russo said. “I have been assured that no harm will befall our law-abiding citizens as long as they act in accordance of the laws set forth.”

“And that you will help uphold?” Martin spoke. The instant the question was out of his mouth he could have kicked himself. The last thing he wanted to do was to anger Russo.

“Indeed,” Russo replied, displeasure in his tone. “Just take care and keep your vigilance.”

“I will heed your warning, Signore Russo.” Oliver motioned around. “You have a lovely city here. I hope to get to see all the sights Rome has to offer before my departure.”

“There is much to take in in Rome. How long do you plan on staying?”

Oliver shook his head. “I haven’t decided. Three? Possibly four weeks. Who can tell? It depends on how trying I am on Signora Henshaw.”

A forced laugh left Russo. “Indeed. Wives have a tendency to rule the roost, don’t they?”

“That they do,” Martin replied. “Now, I hate to detain you any longer than necessary. A busy man, such as yourself, has much to do during this time.”

“That I do. Good day, gentlemen.”

When Russo was out of earshot, Oliver spoke. “I don’t trust him.”

Martin began walking, and Oliver joined him. “Neither do I. I do what I do to keep him at bay, and I stay out of his way as much as possible. Now no more talk of Russo.”

The pair made their way to Martin’s home at the outskirts of the city, and the opulence surprised Oliver. It was a two-story home with arched entryways. Black shutters adorned the multitude of windows upon the front. The roof was covered in red, clay shingles. Bright green shrubbery surrounded the front porch. Dark gray steps led up to the porch. To each side of the manicured lawn were tall white stone fences.

“Apparently my father is paying you too much,” Oliver said.

Martin laughed. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

The pair climbed the steps. Before they reached the top, the front door opened. The woman at the door smiled and held her hands out to Martin. The wind captured her free-flowing raven locks, and they danced around her rounded face. Her dark eyes twinkled with a bit of mischief. The cream-colored gown she wore was pushed against her body by the breeze, exposing her hourglass figure.

“Martin! You are home early,” the woman spoke.

“I had to come to see my lovely wife,” Martin said, taking her hands.

The woman laughed. “You must be speaking of someone who is not swayed by your slick words.”

“You are the only woman in my life. From now until always.”

“Then who is this, if he is not the man you have brought to give me to?”

Martin motioned to Oliver. “Geneva, my love, this is my oldest friend, Oliver St. John. Oliver, this is my wife, Geneva.”

Geneva’s hands floated to her sides, grasping the sides of her dress. Giving a polite curtsey, she spoke, “So you are the man my Martin has spoken nothing of for the past two months.”

Oliver bowed. “All lies I can assure you.”

Geneva tilted her head to the right. “Not all lies. I do say, you have the reddest hair I have ever seen.”

Oliver tossed his head back and laughed. “Then I truly hope you will enjoy the trouble that it causes as well. For redheads are known for mischief.”

“And so are Italians, Signore St. John.”

“I truly hope so. And call me Oliver. Anyone married to Martin is part of my family.”

Geneva turned and entered the house. “I can see you are the charmer that Martin has proclaimed you are. But your charms will not work on me. My heart belongs to Martin.”

“You think I’m charming?” Oliver asked, following Geneva into the house. “Better watch out, Martin. I think your wife likes me.”

Martin laughed. “I have no fear. You do not have the correct temperament to handle a hot-blooded Italian woman. They would devour you alive.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Oliver replied. “Women love me.”

Martin snorted. “Don’t remind me. How many did you steal away from me when we were boys?”

“So you admit that I am better with women?”

“No. You just willed yourself into their good graces.”

Geneva shot a heated look at Martin.

Martin cleared his throat. “But none of that matters now. I have found an angel in human form.”

Geneva gave an unladylike snort as she rolled her eyes. “Keep talking, Martin, and you will find yourself sleeping in that log you are carving.”

“Log?” Oliver asked.

“Yes. He fancies himself a boat maker now. There is a large log lying in my backyard. Has been for the past six months. He claims he is trying to carve it into a boat to take me sailing. I have yet to see any resemblance of a boat. Only a log with a very small dent in the top. A log that is taking up space in my yard. Space where I could host parties. Instead, I have a rotting log.”

“It is not a log with a dent in the top,” Martin defended. “It takes time to carve a boat from a beech tree. Those bloody things are hard.”

Oliver tossed his head back and laughed.

“What?” Martin snapped.

“Why would you use beech for a boat? The wood is hard, but it is not known for being good for ships. It rots entirely too quickly.”

“The blasted thing washed up in my backyard,” Martin mumbled. “What was I supposed to do with it? Besides, I thought if you can build a ship, I can.”

A type of arrogance crossed Oliver’s features that grated on Martin’s nerves. Martin knew that look. It was the same look all St. Johns possessed. Arrogance fueled by their superiority at their chosen profession. They knew they were skilled with their chosen craft, and Oliver’s expression let Martin know that Oliver was about to show him up.

“Beech is fine for knife handles. If you wanted to carve a boat, you should have chosen a better type of wood.”

“Let me guess. You are going to tell me what I should use?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. I’ll let you figure it out. I am on holiday, not here to work on your bloody rotting boat. But if I find my hands idle, I might give you a bit of advice. That is what I do for a living, after all. Build ships. I cannot have your lovely wife sitting at the bottom of the river because of your lack of knowledge in shipbuilding, can I?”

“You St. Johns. The lot of you are arrogant as hell, you know that right?”

“Of course.”

Geneva laughed. “Boys. No need to fight over a piece of rotting wood. Now, Oliver, you must be weary from your travels. Allow me to show you to your room. Your trunks arrived just before you did.”

“How kind of you,” Oliver replied. Walking past Martin, he patted his friend upon the shoulder. “No hard feelings. You are just so easy to rile.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because it’s fun. Relax. Beech is not the worst for boats. It will be suitable as long as you store it properly.”

“Then why all the fuss?”

“Because you are so fun to rile.”

“Thanks for reminding me why I don’t ask you to visit that often,” Martin mumbled.

“Now, just imagine how delightful it would have been if I had brought Owen with me.”

Martin tossed his hands in the air. “Thank God you didn’t, for if you did, I would find a reason to have Russo invite us to his home every night.”

“What?!”

“It would have served you right if you had brought Owen. Nothing would be better for the both of you than an ugly wife.”

“Perhaps for Owen. I enjoy my bachelor life and plan on enjoying it for many more years to come. Now, please excuse me. I must find the perfect location to place my basket.” Oliver held the item up and waved it around. “You know since a lovely lady paid me for my services with it.”

“Go!” Martin yelled, pointing to the steps.

“Martin!” Geneva protested. “What has gotten into you?”

Oliver laughed. “A joke between old friends. Now, where is my room?”

“In the bloody attic with all the other unwanted items,” Martin mumbled.

“Martin!” Geneva scolded again.

Oliver laughed. “That is quite all right. Martin and I always quibble in some fashion. I take no offense from his spouts. In fact, I enjoy them for I know how to annoy the old chap. Now I will find my room myself.” Oliver noticed the frustrated expression upon his friend. “And allow you, Geneva, to reprimand your husband in private.”

Chapter Four

Madelena weaved her way through the streets as she made her way to the dressmaker. Her eyes twinkled with happiness. Signore Oliver had gifted her with more than enough to purchase her mask. If she added her funds to the amount, she would have not only enough for her mask but a different dress, too!

Placing her pole and baskets against the wall to a building, she looked up. This dress shop had the mask she wanted. Mayhap, they would have a dress as well. Pushing open the door into the dress shop, the bell above the door jingled.

“Hello!” the dress shop owner said, coming from behind the counter. “How may I assist you today?”

“Hello,” Madelena returned. “I need a dress for Carnival.”

The owner looked Madelena up and down with scorn. “I see.”

“Nothing too fancy. Something simple. I know I do not have time to have one made. If you have something already made, that would be fine. With a matching mask.”

“I am sorry.” The owner’s eyes traveled over Madelena again. “We do not carry anything that would suit you.”

Madelena’s spine stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means costermongers need to look elsewhere for clothing. The trash perhaps.”

“I will have you know I am no costermonger!”

“Really? You dress as one. Why else would you be wearing such rags?”

Madelena thrust her hand inside the pocket of her brown dress, removing the large sum of money. Shaking the money in front of the owner’s face, she growled, “I have more than enough money. But apparently, you are too good for my money.”

The dress shop owner’s eyes landed on the large number of notes in Madelena’s hand. “I am certain I can arrange for something.”

“No,” Madelena snapped, putting the money back inside her pocket. “You think you are better than I am? You think you are too good for my money? There are other shop owners who will accept my money without me having to beg them to do so.”

“Please wait!”

“No! You have insulted me. I will not give you the satisfaction of taking my money.” Madelena exited the shop and slammed the door as the hurt welled up inside her. This shop had the mask she wanted. Now, what was she to do?

Madelena tried two more shops without success. All the seamstresses were busy with prior orders, and none had premade dresses to buy. With a heavy heart, she headed home. After hiding her baskets in the barn, she entered the house from the back. When she closed the door, she cringed. She had forgotten to buy vegetables for tonight's meal. Closing her eyes, she pressed her back against the door.

“Damn,” Madelena mumbled.

“Language, daughter,” Antonio said.

Madelena’s eyes flew open. Her father was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. The sleeves of his white tunic were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. The buttons on his gray vest were undone, and his right hand rested upon his abdomen.

“Sorry, Papa.”

Antonio studied his daughter. “Why the long face, Madelena?”

Madelena shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Madelena?”

She sighed. “I forgot to buy vegetables for Mama.”

Antonio waved away the worry. “Don’t worry about your mother. I will send Fernando.”

“You can’t. It is the day off for the kitchen staff. Remember? Mama says I must cook when they are off.”

A deep sigh left him. “I will send a runner to gather the vegetables.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

Antonio approached his daughter and placed a finger under her chin, raising her eyes to his. “What else is troubling you?”

Madelena forced a smile. “Nothing.”

“Madelena?”

She could not lie to her father. No matter how hard she tried or how much she desired to, she never could.

“I want to go to Carnival, but I cannot find a dress.”

“Carnival? But those dresses—”

“I know. They are quite expensive. But I have money.” At Antonio’s suspicious look, she knew she had to come up with some reason as to how she earned enough money to purchase a dress. He did give her and her sisters a small monthly allowance…not enough to purchase a dress for Carnival. She hated to lie, but it was an innocent lie and would keep his suspicions away from her secret hobby. She could not tell her father that she was peddling baskets at the docks. He would be furious if he knew. “And before you ask, I’ve been saving my allowance for some time to purchase a dress and a mask. For over a year. But no dress shop could help me.”

“None?”

Madelena shook her head. “No. Well, there was one, but the shop owner was rather nasty towards me. She accused me of being a costermonger. Of being a beggar.”

Antonio’s brows came together. In a threatening voice, he asked. “Who?”

Madelena shook her head. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

“Who?”

“Madame Blanche.”

Antonio’s look became dark. “I see.”

“Do not do anything rash, Papa. Look at how I am dressed.” Madelena looked down at her tan dress. “I can see her reasoning.” Madelena wanted to see Blanche punished but not too harshly.

Antonio took in his daughter’s attire. “Why are you dressed as such? You have nicer gowns.”

“Mama told me to go to the market.”

“I will have a word with your mother. I will not have you dressed worse than the paupers. You are the daughter of Antonio Russo, and you will dress as such.”

Madelena hid her delight. She liked pitting her parents against each other. Even though it did not happen often, they would argue and rarely did Antonio win. But every so often, he would, and Madelena had no doubt that this would be one of the times he did.

“Hello!” Sandra could be heard yelling from the front of the house.

Madelena looked at her father, her eyes wide with horror. “The vegetables.”

Antonio kissed Madelena upon her forehead. “I do not want vegetables tonight. In fact, go change. I think we will dine out tonight.”

Madelena threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Thank you, Papa!”

Antonio chuckled, returning his daughter’s embrace. “I will tell your mother that I spotted you at the market and directed you not to buy vegetables. Now go change.”

“Yes, Papa.” Madelena released her father and approached the back steps.

“And tomorrow morning come by my office. We will find you a dress for Carnival.”

Surprise caused Madelena’s brows to rise as she pivoted around to face her father. Antonio never allowed his family to come to his office. “Your office?”

Antonio nodded. “Just this time.”

Madelena smiled and a squeal left her. Sandra appeared in the doorway. Madelena did not speak. She hiked up the front of her dress and raced up the steps.

“Where is she going?” Sandra snapped.

“To change.”

“Change? Why? And why has she not started our evening meal?”

Antonio pushed his way past his wife. “I do not want stew. I have decided to take us out to dinner tonight. Have my other daughters freshen up. We will leave within the hour.”

“But I have something I need to discuss with you,” Sandra said, chasing after her husband.

“Girls!” Antonio shouted, approaching his study.

“Yes, Papa?” Angela said, sticking her head out from the sitting room.

“Tell your sisters to ready themselves. I am taking us out to dinner.”

“Really?” Angela could not hide her delight.

“Yes.”

Angela squealed with joy as she raced up the stairs.

“Antonio!” Sandra said, following her husband into his study.

“What?”

“I have something I need to discuss with you.”

Antonio rounded his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a leather pouch. Counting the notes inside he spoke. “Can’t this wait, Sandra? I am about to have dinner with five of my favorite people.”

“Five?” A glint of evil hit her brown eyes. “Who are you leaving at home? Madelena, I hope.” She knew he would never leave her home.

“You,” Antonio said, closing the drawer. Buttoning his vest, he then rolled down his sleeve and removed his coat from the back of his chair.

“Me?” The shock caused Sandra’s voice to come out shrill.

“If you insist on insulting my favorite daughter, then, yes, you can remain here and eat cold oats.”

Sandra glowered at her husband. “And we both know why she is your favorite, don’t we.”

“We do.” Antonio buttoned the front of his black jacket.

“I can rectify that.”

The darkness that came over Antonio frightened Sandra. “To the world, she is our daughter, Sandra. Never forget that.”

“I can ruin you both.”

“And I can ruin you. Do not threaten my daughters. They are the only good thing that has come out of our marriage.”

“The only good thing?!”

“Come now. You know the only reason we married was because you were with child.”

“Your child!”

“So you claimed,” he replied with indifference.

Sandra’s face contorted with anger. “Yet you were a coward and ran away. Your father dragged you back from Spain, kicking and screaming, and forced you to take responsibility for what you did to me.”

A bitter laugh came from Antonio. “What I did to you? What I did to you?”

“Yes. You planted your seed inside me.”

“Are you certain? You were no virgin, Sandra. There were many men before me that sampled your goods.”

“How dare you?” she hissed. “You insult me when you know I only speak the truth.”

“The truth? The truth is you had no idea who sired the babe you lost…only days after we wed. I just happened to be the man with the most appealing name at that time. My father forced me to marry you. ‘Honor above all’ was what he lived by. Honor.” Antonio spat. “It was that reason alone I married you. I would not taint his reputation over your claims that I was your child’s father.”

“Yet you kept that woman.” Sandra could not help herself. She hated that woman. Francesca Demachi was her name. Francesca was stunning…for a quadroon. She was tall and sleek with ebony hair, dark eyes, and a beautiful bronze complexion. Antonio frequently stayed at the townhome he purchased for his mistress. That is until his whore died in childbirth.

“I never want to hear her name cross your lips,” Antonio growled, his voice deep with a warning.

“I’m ready!” Angela sang as she descended the stairs.

“We will continue this discussion later,” Antonio fiercely whispered to his wife. “I want to spend time with my daughters before you marry them off to some miserable old bastard who will not treat them as they should.”

“I will gather my wrap,” Sandra bit out.

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s right. You will not be accompanying us.”

“Antonio!”

“You have insulted Madelena and the only woman that I have ever loved.”

“But, Antonio,” Sandra whined.

Antonio ground his back teeth together. Sandra had a way of grating on his last nerve. If it weren’t for his girls, he would have left Sandra years ago.

“What’s wrong?” Angela asked as she noticed her mother’s wounded expression.

“Your father said I am not allowed to come with you,” Sandra spoke.

“What?” Angela complained. “Why, Papa? Why can’t Mama come with us?”

Antonio looked at his oldest daughter. He wanted to tell her that he hated the ground her mother walked on. Yet he knew how much his daughters loved their mother.

“She is only jesting, Angela.” Antonio approached his daughter and placed a kiss upon the top of her head. “You know how she loves for you to make a fuss over her.”

Angela smiled. “Oh, Papa. You are such a tease.”

Antonio smirked. “Are my other girls ready?”

Angela nodded. “Yes. Flora and Maria were getting their wraps. And Bella was just putting on her shoes.”

“What of Madelena?”

“I’m right here,” Madelena spoke from the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Antonio took in Madelena, and the breath caught in his throat. She was stunning and looked so much like her mother. Her long, wavy locks were pulled up on the sides, but the back remained down. The pink gown she wore had a square bodice with a slightly flowing skirt. Her waist was cinched with a cream ribbon. Her dark eyes shimmered as she smiled, causing her cheeks to plump.

As she approached, she took her wrap from the peg on the wall.

“You look lovely, Madelena,” Antonio whispered.

Her smile widened. “Thank you, Papa. You look rather dashing yourself.”

Antonio chuckled. “Dashing, am I? Well, I don’t know about that. All I know is that I will be the envy of every man in Rome for I will have the most beautiful women in the entire world by my side. Flora! Bella! Come along, girls! It’s time to go, and if you are not in the carriage by the time I am, I will leave you here!”

The thumping of feet coming down the stairs caused Antonio’s laughter to increase. “Come along, my lovely girls. The night is young, and I am famished.”

The evening meal went without any family drama…for a change. The Russo girls were civil to each other. Even Sandra was civil to Madelena. After the dinner, they stopped by the park for a viewing of a small play and then returned home. As the Russo girls made their way to their respective rooms to retire for the night, Antonio headed into his study with his wife upon his heels.

“What now, Sandra?”

“I still have something I need to discuss with you,” Sandra said, her voice cold and caustic.

“What? It is growing late, and I have an early day tomorrow.”

“Our girls need husbands.”

A frustrated sigh left Antonio. “Are we doing this again?”

“Yes.”

“Sandra?”

“Don’t, Antonio. Every suitor I arrange for Angela loses interest in her the second they see Madelena.”

Antonio approached his desk and took the lid off the decanter of brandy. He splashed an ample amount of the liquor into a crystal goblet and replaced the top. After sitting in his chair, he took a sip of the brandy and replied, “They are young and have only interests in carnal satisfaction. Maybe if you selected from the proper circles, you could find one who is wanting to settle down. One without a wandering eye. Besides, Madelena has no interest in any of the suitors that have come to call on her sisters.”

“That is not the point, Antonio. These suitors are from good families and are more than eager to meet Angela or Flora. But the instant Madelena appears, their interests change. It’s like she casts a spell over them. She is purposely capturing their attention. She is purposely sabotaging any hope of marriage for my daughters out of spite. Just because she does not want to marry does not mean that her sisters do not.”

Antonio snorted. “I seriously doubt Madelena is purposely sabotaging any marriage. She is a kindred spirit. These young men can sense that. They are drawn to her free spirit. Yet they all know the outcome should they cross the line with her.”

“Why are you worried about her virtue?” Sandra’s words were snide.

“She is my daughter. I worry about all of their virtues. Madelena simply has not found a young man who captures her attention. She is a kindred soul. Love will eventually find her, and you will not have to worry about her interfering in your scheming ways of trying to locate a husband for our other daughters.”

“I am glad you think so,” Sandra replied with a haughtiness that caused the hairs on Antonio’s neck to prickle.

“What have you done?” Antonio asked, placing his glass upon the desk with such force that the brandy in his cup sloshed over the sides.

“You said it yourself. Madelena is a kindred spirit. A spirit that will never be tamed. So I have made arrangements for her to marry.”

“You did what?”

“I made arrangements for her to marry.”

“Without my permission,” Antonio growled.

Sandra stiffened her spine and readied for the battle. “Yes. It is high time she marries. She is twenty-one. Many men see her as long in the tooth. I have arranged a union for her to Miles Drakos.”

“Miles Drakos! That old fat bastard from Greece who claims he’s royalty!”

“Yes. And it is not a claim. His family are descendants of Alexander the Great.”

“She will not marry that man. He is far too old for her.”

“He needs a bride. It is a good match. He will provide well for her.”

“For her? Or for you? Is this a way to get rid of Madelena?”

Sandra hid her delight. Of course, it was a way to get rid of her. A way to send Madelena away from here and a way for her daughters to finally have a chance at catching a suitable husband.

“Of course not, Antonio. But we both know that Madelena will never marry. She loves you too dearly to ever want to leave you. And why would she? You give her the run of the city. If you showed your other daughters the same kind of favoritism as you did Madelena, then this city would be ruined.”

Antonio’s fingers gripped the desk. “She will not marry that man.”

“It has been arranged.”

“I will unarrange it.”

“No, you will not! I have lived with that woman’s ghost in my house for the past twenty-one years, and I will not do it any longer. I have lived looking at Francesca’s image every day for twenty-one years. I have lived with that thing in my house for twenty-one years. Madelena will marry Drakos. And if you deny me this wish, then I will tell everyone in this city that she is the bastard daughter of your black whore.”

Antonio’s eyes lowered dangerously. “I will advise you not to threaten me, Sandra.”

“I can and I will. My sister has the proof at her home. And if something should happen to me, then this entire city will know that Madelena is your bastard and not my child. This city will know that you forced me to raise her as my own. This city will know that you forced me to suckle her at my breast along with my own child who was born the very same day—only hours apart. This city will know that instead of being at my bedside while your legitimate child was being born that you were at the bedside of your whore. This city will know the truth. That the great and honorable Antonio Russo is a fraud and a fornicator. That he is as faithless to his wife as those that he had sentenced on the Pope’s behalf.”

Knots formed in the deepest pit of Antonio’s stomach as heat climbed from his neck to his face. How had it come to this? The woman who he hated more than anything had his balls in her hand.

“What proof?” he growled.

“A written statement by your former solicitor stating such. A box full of receipts of purchase you made for your whore. Written documentation from the midwife that delivered Madelena stating that you were there and claimed to be her father.”

“Fabrications and forgeries.”

A malicious sneer pulled Sandra’s lips. “And your whore’s maid.”

Antonio’s face reddened with anger.

“You know. The one you bribed and shipped off to Spain. Turns out, my counteroffer was better than what you had given her.”

“Don’t do this,” Antonio said, torment in his voice.

“I have. I want Madelena out of this house. Out of my sight. Out of my life. Once Drakos has proof of purity, they will wed.”

“What?”

“Proof of purity. He wants a virgin bride. Drakos is sending his own selected midwife. She will arrive late next week.”

Antonio slammed his hands down upon his desk and stood. “Absolutely not! I will not subject Madelena to such humiliation.”

“Then you would rather she face the ridicule and humiliation of being labeled a quadroon’s bastard? For that is what she is. Even your power and influence cannot save her from such a label. She would be ruined.”

“You are an evil bitch.”

Sandra shrugged with indifference. “I have long stopped caring about your opinion of me. I only care about my daughters and their happiness.”

“And I take it you have never considered Madelena as one of your daughters. Even though you have raised her since she took her first breaths.”

“Have you not heard one word that I have said? She is a constant reminder of the woman who you loved. Who you still love.”

“Get out of my sight.”

“With pleasure.” Sandra turned and walked calmly towards the door, a pleased smile pulling her lips. It was about time Madelena had what was coming to her, and Sandra could not wait to be the one to tell her. Oh, wait! She had a better idea. A way to punish Antonio for the love he had towards a quadroon whore and their bastard daughter. Looking over her shoulder, she spoke, “I will allow you to be the one to inform Madelena of her future.”

“I cannot.”

“You can. It will be the punishment you deserve. Telling your favorite child that she is to wed Miles Drakos. Listening to her beg for you to not do this to her and knowing that there is nothing you can do to stop her marriage. Your heart will be ripped from your soul, and your daughter will hate you for what you have done.”

“Is that what this is about? You want Madelena to hate me?”

“I want her to despise you the way I do. I want her to know what your betrayal feels like. And when she screams her hatred at you, I want to witness that. I want you to truly know what it feels like to have your heart ripped from your chest. I want you to know what it feels like to be truly helpless. It is what you deserve, Antonio. For all the pain you have caused me, it is only fitting. I will leave you now so you can find the words to so eloquently inform Madelena of her marriage.”

Chapter Five

Madelena could not contain her excitement. Nothing could ruin this day. Nothing! Not even Angela could spoil her day today. She was actually going to visit her father at his office and then she was going to get a new dress for Carnival! But first, she needed to stop by her friend Mae’s house to deliver a basket that Mae’s mother Maude had purchased.

Mae’s home looked like so many in this area. White stucco with red shutters and a matching clay tile roof. The steps leading up to the front of the house were accentuated with a black iron railing. Several large planters sat along the broad steps, each with a different herb growing.

Stopping in front of the red front door, she raised her fist and knocked. A few moments later, the front door opened.

“Good morning, Signorina Madelena,” the butler said as he opened the door.

“Good morning, Jude. Is Mae in?”

“Signorina Mae is in the sitting room with her mother this morning. They have been expecting you.”

Madelena entered the home.

“May I take your basket?” Jude asked, extending his hand outward.

Madelena clutched the basket close to her chest. “Not this time. Maude asked me to make this for her, and I want to see her expression as I hand it to her.”

“Very good, signorina.”

“No need to show me the way. I know where I am going.” With that, Madelena proceeded down the hallway to the sitting room.

Upon entering, she spotted Mae and Maude sitting on the couch reading a paper. Mae and her mother looked nearly identical with dark brown hair and an olive complexion. Petite upturned noses only made their light brown eyes more stunning. Both possessed a thin frame with an ample bosom. The only difference in the women sitting huddled together was their clothing. Maude was wearing a rust-colored gown that sat off the shoulder and Mae’s dress was more modest, a shade of peach with a square bustline.

Mae gasped as her mother pointed to something written in the paper.

“That must be some interesting gossip for you not even to notice I have arrived,” Madelena spoke approaching the pair.

“Madelena!” Mae exclaimed, jumping to her feet and rushing to greet her friend. “Jude did not announce you have arrived.”

Madelena returned the welcoming embrace. “I told him to not worry about announcing me.”

“And there is no need,” Maude said, laying the paper down. “You are practically family, Madelena.”

“So?” Madelena asked.

“So, what?” Mae repeated.

“The gossip?”

Mae’s eyes widened. “Oh! You will never believe who is in town. You simply will never believe it.”

“Who?”

“Stefano Mortilini! That’s who.”

“Who?” Madelena replied again.

“Stefano Mortilini!” Mae emphasized again. “You know that handsome young man whose father owns the largest vineyard in all of Italy!”

“Oh.” Madelena’s voice lacked interest.

“Is that all you can say. Oh? I do say. He is looking for a bride, and you would be the perfect bride!”

“Me?” Madelena croaked out, her eyes widening with shock.

“Yes. Why not you? He would get you out of your parents’ house and away from your sisters.”

“What about you?”

A perplexed look crossed Mae’s face. “I never considered that option.”

Madelena snorted as she approached the settee. “Oh, please. That was your entire notion when you spoke of it. You simply wanted to hear me say that I did not want the man before you pursued him.”

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did. If I had said I was interested in Stephano Mortilini, then you would have simply cowed down and allowed me to pursue the man when you are clearly interested. That is your issue, Mae.”

“What is my issue?”

“You are so worried about hurting other’s feelings that you will hide in the shadows to allow others to seek their glories. You are a beautiful woman and need to be seen and seek your own glories. I see no reason why this Stephano Mortilini would not be thrilled to have you interested in him. Why, if you lived in my home with me, then my mother would be in fits because—”

Maude interrupted. “Between you and Madelena, Angela, Flora, Maria and Bella would have no chance at landing a husband.”

Mae gasped. “Mother!”

Maude picked up her saucer of tea. “What? It is the truth. You and Madelena are the most beautiful women in all of Rome. Every ball and soiree we attend, the young men flock to the two of you, leaving the other single young women to wish you never existed. Men love you, and women hate you. It is the curse of beauty, I am afraid.”

“See,” Madelena said. “Even your own mother agrees with me. You need to stop fretting about other people’s feelings.”

“She did not say that,” Mae protested.

Madelena shrugged. “Depends on your point of view. Now,” Madelena held out her hand to Maude. “I brought your basket.”

“It's perfect!” Mae said, taking the large basket before her mother could grab it. The handle was braided and twisted at the same time. “It will hold my knitting splendidly.”

Maude smiled, shaking her head as she watched her daughter steal the basket she had purchased. “You always make such wonderful baskets. Pity your parents are unaware of your talent.”

Madelena looked at Maude. “You aren’t going to tell them, are you?”

Maude shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to them of your hidden talent. Your father would be furious knowing you were peddling your goods at the docks, and your mother would lock you in your room until she found some poor old sod to marry you off to.”

“Thank you. Now, I’d love to stay and chat, but I must be off.”

Mae stopped admiring her basket and looked sadly at Madelena. “Where are you going?”

Madelena grinned from ear-to-ear. “Papa invited me to come to his office, and then he is going to take me to purchase a dress for Carnival.”

“Really?!” Mae squealed with delight. “Carnival? Wait. What about the dress you have here?”

Madelena nodded. “Yes. Can you believe it? I’ll need that one as well. I thought he might be angry with me when I told him that I wanted a dress to attend. But he wasn’t. It was actually his idea.”

“That’s wonderful. Meet me here Tuesday. We can go together.”

“I will see if I am allowed to go with you. Now, I must be off. I do not want to keep Papa waiting.”

Madelena left her friend’s home and made her way through the streets of Rome to her father’s office. The building was impressive. Large white marble pillars supported the tall four-story building. Intricately carved figures were carved at the top of the posts. Large white steps led to a dark oak door. Two men dressed in solid black stood on the outside of the door. As she approached, one of the men opened the door, and she stepped inside her father’s sanctuary. Men were bustling about talking in hushed tones. Several French soldiers were laughing to her right. Her eyes took in the interior, and it was just as stunning as the outside. Tall white walls and thick, colorful rugs. Brass and crystal light fixtures. Oriental vases and beautiful paintings. No expense was spared. In the back of the building was a large, expensive wooden desk. Behind the desk sat an older gentleman with a receding hairline. She approached the man.

The man peered over his spectacles at Madelena. “May I assist you?”

“Yes. I am here to see my father.”

The man laid down the quill in his hand. “And whom might that be?”

“Antonio Russo.”

The instant her father’s name crossed her lips, the man stood, his eyes roaming over her as if he had just seen a ghost. His eyes came back to her, and she could not shake the notion that he wanted to say something but did not.

“Signorina Russo,” the man finally spoke. “Forgive me. I am just not accustomed to seeing Signore Russo’s family here.”

“That’s quite all right. I am a little shocked myself that Papa asked me to come here.”

The man’s eyes roamed over her one last time before he looked to the left and snapped his fingers. Another man appeared at that time. The second man was intimidating. He was tall and muscular. His eyes were dark, nearly as black as his hair. He had a hawk-like nose and a square jaw.

The older man motioned to the menacing individual. “This is Signore Marco Donati. He is an associate of your father’s. Signore Marco, this is Signore Russo’s daughter…I am sorry, I did not get your name, young lady.”

“Madelena.”

The older man gave a kind smile, his eyes glistening with an unknown emotion causing Madelena to wonder why.

“Madelena,” the older man said in a soft timber. “A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady. I can see why Signore Russo speaks so highly of you. Your presence here has already brightened the halls of this dark, dismal place.”

“You are too kind, signore.”

The man placed a hand to his chest. “I only speak the truth. Now, Signore Marco will take you to your father.”

“Please follow me,” Marco said, motioning to his left.

Madelena’s eyes darted around the building, resembling a cat watching a fluttering bird. Never had she seen such a place. Statues and paintings were everywhere. At the top of the stairs, Marco turned right, and they passed several doors before stopping at the door at the end of the hallway. Marco knocked twice. When no one answered, he knocked again. When no one answered, he opened the door and peered inside. Turning, he addressed Madelena.

“Your father must have stepped out for a moment. Please wait in here, and I will locate him for you.”

“Is this his office?” Madelena asked, entering the room.

“It is. Please make yourself comfortable. I shall not be long.”

The door closed behind her, and a shocked gasp left her. The room was exquisite! Light walls with dark tile floors. Paintings along the walls along with several marble statues. In the back of the room was a tall row of windows with a large, clawfoot desk sitting in front. To each side of the window were palm plants in clay pots. Behind the desk sat a small fig tree. Several leather chairs were scattered about the room along with a settee.

Madelena approached a statue. She had seen many like it throughout Rome. It was of a woman. Her back was facing Madelena, yet the woman was looking coyly over her shoulder. Her left hand was resting upon her right shoulder, holding a sheet to cover her form. The sheet appeared to wrap around the marble statue, exposing the back yet covering the derriere; however, the woman’s legs were exposed.

Madelena reached forward and allowed her hand to run along the woman’s arm. The marble was cool to the touch yet so smooth it did not seem as if it were stone. She stopped her inspection of the statue and decided to have a seat; however, a painting to the right of the desk captured her attention. As she approached, her brows came together. It was an oil painting of a beautiful black-haired woman. The woman was wearing a rose-colored gown that caused her bronze complexion to be more prominent. The woman had soft brown eyes and a petite upturned nose with high cheekbones.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Antonio said from the doorway.

Madelena gasped and pivoted to face her father. Her heart hammered in her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just enjoying the artwork in your office.”

Antonio smiled, yet his eyes lacked the sincerity. “I know.” He stopped before Madelena and gazed up at the painting.

“Who is she?” Madelena asked, turning to view the painting again.

“Her name was Francesca Demachi.”

“I don’t recognize the name. Is she someone of importance from our history?”

Antonio’s lip twitched as he turned his attention to his daughter. “More than you know.”

“Then who is she?”

Antonio turned and ignored the question. How was one to tell their daughter that the woman was his lover and her mother? “I am sorry to have kept you waiting. I had a brief, unexpected meeting this morning.”

“That is quite all right, Papa.”

“Good. Now, are you ready to locate you a dress for Carnival?”

Madelena nodded her head, enthusiastically. “Yes, Papa!”

Antonio laughed. “Then we better hurry. The celebration begins in three days, and the seamstresses are already working nonstop.”

“Do you think we can find a dress by then? I mean I realize that I cannot have one made, but do you think they can have alterations completed by then?”

Antonio extended his arm to his daughter. Madelena placed her hand upon the crook of his elbow and allowed her father to escort her from the room. “They will, for me.”

The pair made their way to the shops.

“Which dressmaker was so rude to you yesterday?” Antonio asked.

Madelena thrust her lower lip out in a pout. “Madame Blanche. And I have no desire to return to that shop.”

A vindictive smile pulled Antonio’s lips. “Let's pay her a brief visit, shall we? Make her rue the day she snubbed my daughter.”

“I like that idea.”

Madelena entered Madame Blanche’s first. The instant the bell ran, Blanche came from the back room. Upon seeing Madelena, the smile melted from the woman’s face.

“I told you yesterday, I don’t serve your kind,” Blanche snapped.

“And what exactly is her kind?” Antonio asked from the doorway.

Blanche’s eyes widened. “Signore Russo! I hope this woman does not offend you. She was just leaving.” Blanche looked at Madelena. “Go on. Get out.”

Madelena looked at her father.

“Madame Blanche,” Antonio spoke. “There seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding. This woman is my daughter, and you were quite rude to her yesterday.”

“Your daughter?” Blanche squeaked.

“Yes.”

“I…I…I apologize. I did not realize that she was your daughter, Signore Russo. Allow me to make amends.”

“That is quite all right,” Madelena spoke. “You said my money was no good here. I hope now you realize that you cannot judge a person by their appearance. I had money to purchase items from your store. Now, I would not take anything even if it were free.”

“Signorina Russo. Please allow me to make amends!”

“No.”

Antonio spoke. “Madelena, please wait for me just outside the shop. I need to speak with Madame Blanche.”

Madelena looked at her father. “Very well. But don’t be too long. I still need to get my dress.”

“I won’t be long. Just city business.”

Blanche nervously swallowed as she watched Madelena walk out the door. Knots formed in her stomach. Russo was not a man to anger, and now she had shunned his daughter. The outcome would not be positive.

Antonio simply stared at Blanche, his dark eyes unyielding, allowing the dressmaker to squirm under his intense gaze. After a few moments, he spoke. “You are behind on your taxes, Madame Blanche.”

Blanche’s green eyes widened. “I paid them last week!”

Antonio shrugged. “That was last week’s taxes. This week's taxes are due now.”

“This is extortion. You are forcing me to pay you because I mistook your daughter for a common street vendor?”

“Perhaps. Marco will be here by the end of the day to collect your taxes.”

“I don’t have that type of money. Please,” she implored.

“The end of the day and double the fees.” Antonio turned and approached the door. “Perhaps next time you will be more informed of who you are dealing with and who their family is. My daughters are my world, and you have just insulted my favorite. Marco will be here by three. Have a good day.”

Antonio exited the shop and found Madelena sitting on a bench watching the street performers.

“Are you ready, my dear?” he asked.

She stood. “Business?”

“My business is complete. Now come, I know of the perfect place for you to purchase your gown.”

Antonio and Madelena made their way to a quaint little shop in the corner of the square. Upon entering the building, the bell over the door rang. A plump older woman was working on a dress. At the sound, she looked up from her work. The smile she had upon her face widened upon seeing them, causing her cheeks to become even rounder.

“Signore Russo!” the woman exclaimed with delight. “It has been years since you have graced my doors. It is so good to see you again.”

“Signorina Iris. My duties keep me busy.”

The woman flipped her wrist. “Tell me about it. I swear, it seems that more and more people arrive in Rome every day and keep me busy. I can only imagine what it does to your schedule. Now, what can I do for you today?”

“Signorina Iris, this is my daughter Madelena. She requires a dress or two for Carnival. I thought perhaps you could assist her.”

Iris looked at Madelena, and her expression resembled the old man’s at her father’s office—a mixture of surprise and sorrow.

“She is lovely,” Iris whispered, blinking rapidly to ward off the moisture in her eyes.

“Take special care of her for me, will you?”

“Absolutely, Signore Russo.” Iris looked at Madelena. “Did you have something in mind, signorina?”

“Yes,” Madelena spoke. “Blue, I think.”

“Just blue?” Iris asked.

“Something simple. I know you do not have time to make a dress. I just need something quick to alter.”

Iris placed her finger under her chin and tilted her head to the right, a smile pulling her lips. “I have the perfect dress. The lady who ordered it did not like it, but I think it is simply beautiful.” She looked at Antonio. “Would you like to see the dress first or trust my judgment?”

“I trust your judgment. But allow Madelena to try it on first to see if it suits her.”

A delighted twinkle came to the older woman’s honey-colored eyes. “Splendid. This way, my dear.”

Before Madelena knew what was happening to her, Iris had her dressed and standing before her father.

Antonio’s eyes roamed over his daughter. His voice was strained as he spoke, “You look beautiful.”

Madelena turned to face the mirror and could not contain her gasp. The dress she wore sat slightly off the shoulders and was cobalt blue at the top. As it flowed down, the colors changed to a deep green. The tulle skirt was feathery in appearance with gold eyelet shapes.

“It’s beautiful,” Madelena whispered.

“I call it my peahen creation.” Iris’s eyes widened. “Oh! The mask!” She approached the desk picking up the item. Approaching Madelena, she asked, “May I?”

Madelena nodded. Iris stepped behind her and tied the mask in place. The inside was made of satin. Despite the stiffness of the outer shell, it was soft. The outside was covered in blue and green beads except around the eyes where the beads were gold.

“You are truly a master at your craft, Signorina Iris,” Antonio spoke, finally finding his voice.

“I am so glad you think so, Signore Russo.” Iris turned her attention back to Madelena and pulled the sides of the dress tight around the waist. “The waist needs adjusting.” Her hands traveled to the bodice and pulled upward. “And a more modest bodice too? You are a maiden, and we do not need to tempt the young men with your spoils, now do we?”

“I trust your judgment,” Antonio said.

“I will have the alterations finished by Thursday.”

“Thursday?” Madelena questioned with disappointment.

“I am afraid that is the quickest I can do. The material is delicate. If I go too fast, it will rip. But do not fret, signorina. I have another dress that is just as beautiful. I can have it ready for you this afternoon.”

“Can I see it first?”

“Of course.” Iris stepped into the back room and returned carrying a green dress. The skirt was made of numerous ruffles and the shade lightened on the way down. “This is my water lily dress.”

“It’s beautiful,” Madelena said.

“It is,” Antonio agreed.

Iris smiled. “Shall I deliver it to your home?”

Antonio nodded. “That will be fine.”

“No!” Madelena intervened.

“No?” Iris repeated.

“No?” Antonio said.

Madelena shook her head. “No. If you deliver it home, then Mama will give it to Angela just to spite me. These are my dresses. Angela already has a dress that she says she does not like. If she sees this one, she’ll take it from me.”

Antonio nodded. “Signorina Iris, please have it delivered to my office.”

A knowing smile pulled the dressmaker’s lips. “Of course, Signore Russo. Now, young lady, why don’t you go in the back and stand upon that stool while I get my pins for the alterations.”

Madelena looked at her reflection one last time and ran her hands down the front of the dress. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Anything for you, Madelena, my love.”

Madelena entered the backroom.

Iris looked at Antonio. “I can see why you dote on her so.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Iris gave a knowing smile. “I may be old, but I can still see. I made many dresses for Signorina Demachi. I spent many hours with Signorina Demachi and mourned her passing. She was a kind woman with a big heart and a fierce temper.”

“What are you implying, Signorina Iris?” Antonio’s voice held warning.

“I am just saying that if you do not tell that young woman the truth about her mother, then Signorina Demachi will haunt you. And she had enough fire in her to make it happen. Why, I am surprised that she has not already come to haunt you for trying to pass that beautiful young woman off as your wife’s daughter.”

“You do not know what you are talking about, Signorina Iris. And I will remind you to never speak in such a fashion again. Madelena is my daughter with…Sandra.”

A knowing smile passed over the dressmaker’s lips. “Of course, Signore Russo. I must be seeing things. Old eyes, you know.”

“Indeed. Now, have the dresses delivered to my office.”

“Just like I always did in the past.”

Antonio glared at the older woman.

“I know. I will send the bill with them.”

Antonio did not speak. He turned and left the dress shop, his emotions roiling. Even after all these years, he still loved Francesca. It pained him to gaze upon Madelena sometimes. She looked so much like her mother that he forgot how to breathe. He could see Francesca’s spirit in their daughter. He just hoped Madelena’s spirit would hold when he told her about her marriage.

The instant the thought hit him, he cringed. He still had to break the news to her. He looked around his surroundings. There was a restaurant a few shops down. He would break the news to her there. In public. Less of a chance of a scene. He knew he could control his emotions in a public setting. In private, he would allow his feelings to get the best of him, and he would break down. He was a man, and no one would ever see his pain.

Sitting down on a bench, he decided to wait for Madelena outside the dress shop. If he returned, Iris would keep giving him that knowing smile. Reminding him of Francesca. He did not want that. Her death nearly destroyed him, and if it hadn’t been for Madelena, he would have left Rome. But a young man had no business trying to raise a newborn babe on his own. And he had hoped that Sandra would come to love Madelena, but she did not. She came to despise Madelena and all that she represented—Francesca and Antonio’s love. Sandra knew that Antonio loved Francesca and always would. Sandra knew that Antonio would never hold the same affections towards her as he did his mistress. How could he? Hell, he didn’t even want to marry Sandra, but his father forced him to, and his life had been hell because of it.

“Your mind is far from here, Papa,” Madelena said, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

He touched her hand. “Just thinking about getting a bite for lunch. Care to join me?”

“Really? You are taking me out twice in one week?”

Antonio chuckled. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“What is wrong? What bad news are you trying to break?” Madelena asked.

Antonio gave a tight smile and took her hand. “Dimitri’s is open.”

Madelena allowed her father to escort her to the restaurant. They ate a light fare of soap and bread. After the meal, Antonio took her hand.

“What’s wrong, Papa?”

Sorrow flashed over Antonio’s eyes. “You are so beautiful. You look like your mother when she was young.”

“Mama? I thought I looked like you.”

Antonio shook his head. “No. You look like your mother.”

“I think you have had too much wine. I look nothing like Mama.”

Antonio released her hand and looked into his cup as if it would give him the strength to tell her the bad news.

“What is wrong, Papa? If you are worried about Mama finding out about the dresses you purchased me, don’t. I can take them to Mae’s and ready myself there. She does not need to know.”

“It’s not the dresses.”

“Then what is it?”

Antonio licked his lips and let out a deep breath. “You are twenty-one, Madelena. Many young ladies your age are married with children by now.”

Madelena rolled her eyes. “You aren’t going to give me the marriage lecture, are you? I told you, Papa. I do not want to marry.”

“I know. And many times in life, we must do things that we do not want to do in order to keep those we love from harm.” He paused for a moment watching her reaction. He could see the suspicion cross her face. “Your mother loves you and your sisters very much and wants to see to your happiness.”

“She doesn’t love me. She never has. She hates me, and I do not know why.” Madelena’s brows came together with sadness.

Antonio took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Your mother loved you. I love you, and that is why this is so hard.”

“What has she done?” Madelena’s voice was rude and gritty.

“Sandra has arranged a marriage for you to Miles Drakos from Greece.”

“She did what?!”

Patrons in the room looked at them.

“Madelena, lower your voice,” Antonio scolded.

Madelena’s eyes lowered as she glared at her father. Jerking her hand away from her father, she protested, “I will not marry him.”

He had to make her see that the marriage was for the best. “Madelena, the contract has already been signed. It cannot be broken.”

“Why did you sign it? I thought you said I could make my own choices?”

“I did—”

“And now because Sandra wants me gone, you agree?”

“That’s not the reason—”

“Then what is the reason? Has she made you hate me the way she does?”

“No.”

“Then why? Don’t make me marry, Papa. I do not want to marry. If it is because my sisters cannot find suitors, then allow me to travel with Mae and her family this fall to their country estate. Mama can have every bachelor in all of Rome come to call on my sisters, and I will not be there to turn their heads. Please.”

The way she was begging tore at his heart. It felt as if he was witnessing Francesca’s death all over again.

“Madelena, please listen to me—”

“I will not marry that man. I do not even know him! All I know is from rumors. I will not.”

“Lower your voice, Madelena.”

“I will not!”

“Madelena! You will marry Drakos. I signed the contract. It is high time that you settle down and have a family of your own.”

“How could you?” Her words came out in a tortured whisper. The pain in her voice tore at his soul.

“I am your father, Madelena. My word is law in my house and this city. You will marry Drakos. End of discussion.”

Madelena shot to her feet. Her mouth worked up and down as moisture glistened in her eyes. “I thought you loved me more than that.”

“It’s not like that.”

“I am your daughter. You claim that I am your favorite daughter. If I am, then why are you auctioning me off to some fat old Greek?”

“Madelena—”

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head and slamming her napkin down upon the table. “There is nothing you can say.” She turned and began walking away.

“Madelena!”

“Don’t,” she said over her shoulder as she continued to walk away. “I can see now that I am nothing more than a pawn to you, and you are nothing more than Mother’s pawn to get me away from her precious daughters. I hate you for forcing me to do this.”

Antonio sank into his seat. He rubbed his temples as he closed his eyes. How had his world changed so?

Chapter Six

Madelena left the restaurant and wandered aimlessly around the city. Her wandering brought her to her favorite place. Taking a seat upon the edge of the fountain, she gazed up at one of the statues—The Ganges. It represented an ancient civilization. The statue was of a bearded man who was holding an oar with an elephant below him. The sound of the water trickling was peaceful. Occasionally the wind would send a few droplets upon her, cooling her from the unusually warm February day.

“I bet you would listen to your daughters,” she spoke to the statue.

“I don’t think Neptune had any children.”

Madelena gasped and pivoted upon her perch. Her misery left her upon seeing Oliver gazing down upon her.

“Signore Oliver,” Madelena spoke.

He gave her that boyish smile that caused the dimple upon his left cheek to appear. “You have me at a loss, signoria, for I do not know your name, but you appear to know mine.”

“I only know your first name and not your surname, Signore Oliver.”

“Then give me your first, and our true origins will remain anonymous. After all, it is Carnival, and our sins must remain between ourselves.”

She tilted her head to the right and studied the handsome ginger-haired man before her. He was like so many other visitors to this city. Looking for a good time and memories to make only to leave upon the end of the celebration without looking back. To leave a carnage of broken hearts. Yet, there was a part of her that wanted to join him in his revelry.

“Madel…” She stopped her words. Not many were named Madelena in this city, and if she told him her name, then word would get back to her father. Not that she cared if her father found out that she was flirting with strange men. She just did not want this man to face her father’s wrath. “Maddie.”

“Signorina Maddie? A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

She snorted with derision. “Oh, please, Signore Oliver. Save your sweet words for others who are not as gullible as I.”

Oliver sat down beside her. “I do not believe you are gullible.”

“You do not know me.”

“I know you sell baskets and talk to statues of Roman gods.” He looked up at Neptune.

“True. And you know nothing of the gods.”

“True. What do I not know?”

“Firstly, this is not Neptune but is a representation the gods of the four rivers. This one is The Ganges. And secondly, Neptune had many children.”

“Now, I am educated upon Neptune. He was a water god with many children.” A positively wicked smile came to his face. “And what of you? Are you a water goddess? A nymph perhaps? Or a mermaid?”

She laughed. “No.”

“Truly? You are sitting on the water’s edge, speaking to the water god. I think you are a mythical creature.”

“But I am not in the water, Signore Oliver.”

“Just call me Oliver. And that can be rectified.”

“What?” Alarm was in her voice.

She watched him as he pivoted upon his seat. “It is a warm day in Rome, and the water is cool.” He dipped his hand into the fountain. “Cold,” he corrected. And in the next instant, he had placed his feet—shoes and all—into the pool. He stood and extended his hand to her. “Come on, my sea nymph. Join me.”

She shook her head. “I cannot.”

“You can.”

“I can’t!”

Oliver looked up at the sun. “It is an unusually warm day. What better way to refresh oneself?”

She continued to shake her head.

“Afraid?”

Determination came to her. She was afraid of getting into trouble. Her father was the magistrate, and it would look poorly upon him if his daughter were seen frolicking in the fountain like a simpleton. Word would get back to him, and he would get angry. Let him!

Spinning, she placed a shoed foot into the water. “It’s cold!”

Oliver laughed. “So it is.” He smiled down at her and motioned with his fingers for her to take his hand.

She placed her hand into Oliver’s and was surprised at the sensations that flowed through her from that one simple touch. Heat flooded her from head to toe and pooled at the apex of her thighs. Oh, my! It was getting hot.

Before another thought could enter her mind, she felt Oliver pull her to a standing position. He pulled her forward, causing the water to lap on her dress, soaking it to her knees. They stopped at center of the fountain where the water spilled over the ledge at Neptune’s feet. The water splashed upon them both causing Madelena to squeal with delight. Cupping her hands, she captured the water and tossed it in the air. Then a mischievous notion came to her. She cupped the water and threw it at Oliver, striking his face. He laughed and shook his head.

The pair slashed and frolicked in the fountain like a couple of children. Oliver didn’t mind. Martin and Geneva had traveled to visit a friend, leaving Oliver to his own devices. He had wandered the city and was about to return to Martin’s home when he spotted the beautiful basket lady sitting upon the ledge to the fountain. She looked so lonely and in such despair. He hated to see her so brokenhearted and decided to see if he could cheer her up, but he never intended to become soaked to the bone. Yet that is precisely what had happened.

“You two! Get out of there!” a man yelled from the far side of the fountain.

“Uh, oh,” Madelena said, turning to face Oliver. “We’re about to get arrested.”

Oliver looked around and spotted the watchman on the far side of the fountain. “Then we better get out of here.” He took her hand and dragged her the opposite direction of the yelling man.

“Get back here!” the man yelled again.

Oliver kept hold of Madelena’s hand as they raced across the Piazza. Both were laughing like children.

“Do you know where you are going?” Madelena asked.

Oliver shook his head. “No.”

“Follow me.” Madelena took the lead. The pair weaved through the city until the man was no longer chasing them. They found themselves in a small alley between the bakery and a silversmith. Madelena pressed her back against the wall and panted.

“I think we lost him,” Oliver said, looking around. He looked back at Madelena, and they both laughed.

“I have never done anything so daring. Have you?”

A crooked smile came to him. “All the time.”

“I should have figured. You are the mythical creature.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You are Atë—in the male version.”

“Who is that?”

“Atë is the Roman goddess of mischief and folly.”

“Egad! I hope I’m not a goddess.”

She laughed. “I do, too.”

Oliver stared deeply into her eyes. Their darkness mesmerized him. “I can assure you I am no goddess for I enjoy the company of females too much.”

“So, you are a philander.”

“Not nearly the way my brothers are.”

“Older?”

“I have several older brothers.”

“Let me guess. You are the youngest. That is why you have a mischievous nature to you. Your parents were preoccupied making certain your older brothers behaved and did not give you the attention you deserved.”

“Close. I am not the youngest. I have a younger twin brother and sister.”

“You are a twin?” Madelena was surprised. What would be the probability that she would find another twin. And not just any twin, but the oldest, like her. Sadness flashed across her face.

“I am. And do not be sad, Maddie.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sad.”

“You appear so.”

He watched a bead of water travel from her damp locks, down her cheek, and over her neck. Closing his eyes, he tried to think of anything. Anything other than where the bead of water was going. When he opened his eyes, it was to find her gaze locked on to him. He could not help himself. His hand found her cheek as he stepped closer. She looked up at him, her hand coming to his.

“No one as beautiful as you should ever be sad. You should only have happiness in your life.” He leaned close and whispered against her lips. “And pleasure.”

His mouth found hers in a tender kiss. She leaned into him and accepted the affections without remorse.

His hands found her waist and pulled her in closer. Her taste was intoxicating. Addicting. He discovered that he did not want to break the kiss. As his lips explored hers, it was as if they were the only two people in the world. Nothing else mattered but continuing this intimate encounter.

Madelena was surprised by the kiss but did not back away. Something deep inside her wanted to feel his lips upon hers. The heat of his body pressed to hers caused strange sensations to flow through her body, and she was not entirely certain what they were. She wanted them to continue but knew that she had to end them. Placing her hand upon his chest, she pushed him away.

Oliver did not fight her shove. He knew he needed to stop. If they kept this up, then it would lead somewhere else, and an alleyway between two shops was not the ideal location.

“I should go now,” Madelena said.

Oliver nodded. “Will I see you again, Maddie?”

She looked into his eyes. “Perhaps. It is Carnival. You might see me. Then again, you might not. You never know who is behind the masks.” With that, she slipped away.

Oliver placed his back against the wall and looked upward, trying to control the heat in his loins. If the women of Rome had this control over his body before the festivities, then Carnival was going to be the death of him.

Pushing off from the wall, he watched Maddie as she left, a smile pulling his lips as he watched her hips sway tantalizingly. Was she doing that on purpose? Doubtful—it was her natural way. He had noticed it yesterday at the docks. This woman was unlike any others he had met.

Oliver turned his gaze from the tantalizing sway of Maddie’s hips and left the security of the alley. As he walked, he could feel the water in his shoes and smiled. His mother, Elizabeth, would have swooned if she had witnessed his behavior earlier. Gentlemen were not to frolic through fountains like children. They were to behave accordingly. Yet, Elizabeth was known to have her spirited side as well. In her youth, she traveled to the Caribbean, without a proper chaperone, to search for her intended, Robert, for the sole purpose of ending their engagement. Yet, fate was fickle. Elizabeth returned to England, unwed and pregnant. That was one of the many scandals attached to the St. John name. The St. Johns thrived on scandal. Loved it, in fact. Oliver’s swim in the fountain was on the calm side, yet scandalous still the same.

He weaved his way through the streets of Rome until he found Martin’s home. Approaching the front of the home, he looked down at his attire. He was still wet. It would be rude of him to enter through the front door and ruin Geneva’s floor. Rounding the house, he spotted the beech log in the back. It was sitting on the bank of a small pond. The brown grass surrounding the wood was tall but not so tall as to block the sight. Oliver could see several hand tools lying upon the ground around the trunk. Looking down at his still wet clothing, he looked back to the wood. His clothing needed to dry. Since it was a warm day and since his body was still reeling from the effects of Maddie…well, what better outlet—other than finding Maddie again.

He approached the log and studied Martin’s progress. Obvious indentions were noted where Martin had tried to chip away at the hardwood with a hatchet. Running his fingers over the wood, Oliver drew his brow together. Kneeling down, he observed the angle of the log. Reaching to the right, he picked up the hatchet and stood. He brought the instrument down and smiled when the metal lodged into the wood. Removing his coat, he tossed it to the ground and rolled up the sleeves of his damp, white tunic. Grabbing the handle of the hatchet again, he pulled it loose and brought it down in the center of the log. Chips of wood flew from the beech log. Over and over, Oliver brought down the hatchet in the center of the log, carving away the wood. Moisture dotted his forehead as he worked. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he removed the navy tapestry print vest he wore, loosened the laces on his tunic and removed the suspenders from his shoulders. As he worked, he became aware of the eyes upon him.

“Sandra, would you like another cup of tea?” Nichole Cancio asked.

“Yes, Nichole, I believe I would,” Sandra said, holding her cup out to her friend. Sandra looked around. “I do say, I believe this home is even more beautiful than your last. And I believe your gardens are twice the size of any in this area.”

A pleased smile pulled Nichole’s thin lips. “Thank you. Lucio strives for perfection. Each home he has purchased had some flaw, but he has yet to find an issue with this home. And I truly hope he never does. I adore this home and love the view of the pond from this location. Don’t you?”

“It is lovely,” Sandra agreed, glancing towards the water. Mallards were bobbing for insects while their mates floated peacefully a few feet away. “Your husband always has had impeccable taste. Tell me, how is his business doing of late?”

“Excellent. The vineyard he recently acquired has had a plentiful harvest, and the wine from our recent vintage is the best we have ever made.”

“That is good news.” Sandra placed her tea to her lips and sipped. She looked around. The patio where they sat faced the small pond. To the left tall shrubbery adorned the landscape surrounded by benches. A gazebo sat near the water’s edge. In the distance, the top of a boathouse could be seen above the tree line. To her right was a row of rose hedges, only recently planted yet still tall enough to provide a bit of privacy, void of foliage due to the season. A movement by the roses captured Sandra’s attention. She spotted a tall red-haired man approaching the water. “Who is that in Signore Henshaw’s backyard?”

“Hmm?” Nichole asked, her mouth full of cake. Her eyes traveled to Martin’s yard. “Oh, him. That is Signore Henshaw’s houseguest. His father owns Emerald Shipping, and he has come for Carnival.”

“Houseguest?”

“Yes. His name is Ollie? Olive?” Her eyes widened. “Oliver! That’s his name.”

Sandra sipped her tea as she watched Oliver. “And how did you come by this information?”

“Servants love to gossip, Sandra. Or have you forgotten?” Nichole brought her cup to her lips but suddenly stopped. “He is single, by the way.”

Sandra’s head whipped around to face Nichole, her interest suddenly piqued regarding Henshaw’s houseguest. “Single?”

Nichole nodded her head enthusiastically, causing the dark ringlets surrounding her face to bob. “Yes.”

“Interesting.” Sandra turned her attention back to Oliver and gasped as she watched him remove his shirt and toss it to the ground. Muscles rippled across Oliver’s back, and his biceps flexed as he swung the hatchet.

“I do say.” Nichole began fanning herself. “I am certainly glad that Signore Henshaw does not have guests like that more often, for if he did I believe I would burst into flames.”

“Such indecency,” Sandra said, her voice pant-like as her eyes traveled over Oliver. “Yet, he would make a fine husband for my Angela. I must have Antonio make it a point to invite Signore Henshaw and this Oliver over for dinner, don’t you think?”

“Not Madelena?”

Sandra snorted in disgust. “Why would I pair a rich ship owner’s son with her?”

“He lives far away. If they married, then she would no longer be a thorn in your side, for he would take her to his home…wherever that might be.”

A vindictive smile came to Sandra causing her long-time friend to wonder what she had planned.

“Oh, Madelena is to wed and will no longer be an issue for me.”

“What did you do?”

Sandra took a long, slow sip of her tea and then placed the saucer upon the table. Her eyes returned to Oliver as he worked. Sweat glistened upon his muscular form, causing Sandra to have a longing in her loins. Returning her attention to Nichole, she spoke.

“I have arranged a marriage for that wretched girl to Miles Drakos.”

“That fat old man from Greece?” Nichole asked, shock in her voice.

“Yes. Once they marry, he will cart her away to Greece where she will get the treatment she truly deserves.”

A knowing, malicious smile pulled Nichole’s mouth. “That is a splendid idea.” Her mouth suddenly dropped as her eyes widened. “But Antonio? He will not allow it!”

An expression crossed Sandra’s face that caused Nichole to cringe at its viciousness. “Oh, he knows and has agreed.”

Shock laced Nichole’s words, “How?”

Sandra gave an indifferent shrug as she leaned back into her seat. “I simply told him that it would not be wise to object for all would know of Madelena’s true heritage.” Sandra had told only two people about her “daughter’s” true heritage. Her sister, Carmen, and Nichole. She had to have insurance in case Antonio decided to arrange an advantageous marriage for Madelena that Angela should have.

“And he did not try to harm you?” Nichole pondered out loud.

“He would have if I hadn’t told him I had already taken proper precautions to ensure that, if something did happen to me, all in Rome would know that Madelena is nothing but a bastard to a black whore.”

“Her mother was a quadroon,” Nichole reminded.

“A quadroon is black!”

“Technically they are only a quarter black,” Nichole added in her normal addled self.

Sandra closed her eyes and flared her fingers out in frustration. “That is not the point, Nichole! The point is that she is not my child. That she is a bastard to a whore. That her mother was a slave who duped Antonio.”

“I never knew that Francesca was a slave.” A befuddled expression crossed Nichole’s delicate features.

Sandra closed her eyes again. Nichole’s absentmindedness was one reason that Sandra did not like her friend. Nichole was a faithful companion and often obtained valuable information—like of Antonio’s lovers—but sometimes Sandra wondered if her friend was not slightly mad at times.

“Yes,” Sandra spoke slowly as if she were talking to a child. “That woman was a slave whom Antonio purchased from some Moroccan sultan with the money he received from my dowry.” Each word the scorned woman spoke grew louder and louder until she was shouting. “He freed that bitch and made her his mistress. He lavished her with gold and jewels. Bought her a grand townhome and paid for her servants. He planted his seed in her belly and spent the majority of his time in her presence. He gave her everything he never gave me!”

“His heart included.”

Sandra stood and swiped the porcelain teacups and pot from the table, sending the delicate items shattering upon the stone patio. “You do not have to remind me!”

“Is everything all right over there?” a male voice asked from the other side of the roses.

Sandra whipped around, causing her rust-colored dress to twirl around and spotted the now dressed Oliver. Blood covered the right sleeve of his tunic. His right hand was now wrapped in a cloth.

“Oh, he speaks Italian, too. How interesting,” Nichole mumbled to her friend. In a cheery voice, she answered Oliver, “Everything is fine! Just swatting at bees is all.”

The brow over Oliver’s right eye shot upwards as he studied the women. Something was not as it seemed. They had been watching him the entire time he was working upon Martin’s boat. He noticed them not long after he began hacking away at the wood and cringed. He wanted privacy. And when they started arguing, his curiosity took hold. His lack of attention caused him to lose focus. As he was running the carving tool along the grain of the wood, it snagged on a knot causing his hand to slip forward, slicing his right palm.

Nichole motioned to his hand. “Do you need medical care? I can send for someone.”

Oliver shook his head. “No, signora. I have had worse injuries.”

Nichole’s eyes grew wide. “How rude of me! I have not introduced myself properly. I am Nichole Cancio. My husband is Lucio. We have been neighbors with Signore Henshaw for the past year.” She motioned to her friend. “And this is my companion, Signora Sandra Russo. Her husband is the magistrate in this area.”

Oliver gave a polite bow. “Nice to meet you both. I am Oliver St. John. I had the pleasure of meeting Signore Russo yesterday afternoon, but I have yet to meet Signore Cancio.”

“What brings you to Rome?” Sandra asked, a glint of voracity to her brown eyes.

“Martin and I grew up together in the Caribbean. He invited me for a holiday.”

“The Caribbean!” Nichole exclaimed. “How exciting. Do you know any pirates?”

Oliver laughed. If he confessed that not only did he know pirates but that his oldest brother, his brother-in-law, as well as his sister-in-law, were pirates, these women would swoon. “I have met a few.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

“Yet I survived.”

“What do you do for a living, Signore St. John?” Sandra asked with interest.

“I am a master carpenter for my father’s company.”

“Emerald Shipping?” Nichole asked.

“Yes,” Oliver replied with suspicion.

“So you build what exactly?” Nichole inquired.

“Ships.”

“Ships?”

“Yes. My twin designs them, and I bring his creations to life. I find that working with my hands helps ease my worries.”

“So do you only work on ships? The reason I was asking is that, should you find that you are bored, I have some shutters that need to be repaired.”

“Nichole!” Sandra protested.

Nichole continued, “I would pay you for your time. Signore Henshaw works all the time, and you might find that his wife visits her mother frequently so you will be alone. If during your time alone you find that you would like to do something with your idle hands, please stop by. I have been asking Lucio to have the shutters repaired for some time, yet he keeps putting it off.”

“He is on holiday, Nichole. He has come to rest, not work,” Sandra scolded.

Oliver laughed, causing both women to feel heat spread over their body from the rich sound.

“If I have a moment, I would be delighted to repair your shutters.”

“But you are hurt,” Sandra said, an idea coming to her mind. If Antonio did not invite him to dinner, perhaps she could come up with some repair tasks of her own.

“Just a scratch, Signora Russo.”

The sly smile that came to Signora Russo’s face caused the hairs on the back of Oliver’s neck to prickle with warning. He decided it was time to leave the company of the two married women before they got the notion of another type of relationship in their minds. He enjoyed women; however, he did not want to enjoy the company of married women or the daughters they wanted to pawn off on some poor unsuspecting sap.

Oliver gave a polite bow. “Well, I will leave you to your tea. So nice to meet you both.”

“Good day, Signore St. John,” Sandra replied as she watched Oliver bow and then leave.

Nichole kept the smile on her face, watching Oliver leave as she sipped her tea. “You will have to replace that tea set. Lucio will be upset if I tell him you broke another. He is already demanding that I end my friendship with you because of your volatile temper.”

Sandra continued to glower at her friend as she plopped back down in her seat. “Tell him it is because of your stupidity.”

“Me?”

“Yes. If you had not mentioned Antonio’s love for his whore, then my temper would have remained in check.”

Nichole did not answer; instead, she nodded in Oliver’s direction. “He seems to be having issues with Signore Henshaw’s boat.”

Sandra glanced Oliver’s direction in time to see him grab his vest from the grass and go inside the house.

Nichole answered, “He was running something along the top, and his hand slipped when you broke my tea set.”

“So he was listening to our conversation.”

“You were yelling.”

“It was your fault.”

“So you keep saying. Now, tell me about what you have planned.”

“Planned?”

Nichole sighed. “Yes, Sandra. I saw it in your eyes. You want him for Angela. It would be a fine pairing. The question is, how do you plan to get the two to meet?”

A twinkle of something akin to evilness flashed in Sandra’s eyes. “Leave that to me.”

Chapter Seven

Entering the back of the house, Oliver found himself in the kitchen. A scowl pulled down Oliver’s features as he looked at his hand. The wound was still bleeding and ached like a son-of-a-bitch. The cause of the injury was his own stupidity. Well, curiosity. If the neighbors had not been arguing, then he would not have been inclined to listen. Sometimes useful information came about from unexpected situations. He knew that Martin’s neighbors owned a vineyard, and shipping wine could be a very lucrative business. But instead of hearing about wine, he overheard an argument about Antonio Russo having a mistress. That could be beneficial if the need arose.

“That needs medical attention,” Geneva said from the doorway.

“I know.”

Geneva approached Oliver, took his hand, and tsked her tongue. “What happened?”

“Lack of observation on my part and dull tools on your husband’s.”

Geneva nodded her head with knowing. “You have been working on Martin’s boat.”

“I have.”

“Did you at least have some success?” she asked, releasing Oliver’s hand.

“Some.”

“Good. I want that log gone before the termites decide to take residence in it and my home. Follow me.”

Oliver followed his friend’s beautiful wife from the kitchen to the sitting room beside Martin’s study. It was warm and welcoming with tall windows and cream-colored furnishings. She motioned towards a leather chair as she approached a hutch, opening a drawer.

“Have a seat and place your hand upon the end table.” She turned with a kit in her hand along with several bandages. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

Cocking her head to the right, she asked, “Are you going to tell me if it was worth it?”

“If what was worth what?”

Geneva rolled her eyes and approached the opposite seat. She placed the kit down along with a pitcher of water and held her hand out to Oliver to take his injured hand. “Was your injury worth listening to those two old bats argue?”

“I wasn’t—”

“Oh, come now. I heard them in my bedroom.” She took a piece of cloth and dipped it into the pitcher. Wringing out the excess water, she took Oliver’s hand and gently began cleaning the injury.

“When did you arrive home? I thought you and Martin were visiting some friends.”

“We were.” An impish smile pulled her lips. “My stomach became upset while I there. I excused myself and came home. Martin stayed to visit a while longer.”

“He didn’t leave with you?” Oliver was surprised. Martin appeared to be devoted to Geneva.

“He wanted to, but I insisted he stay. Once home, I decided to rest but heard arguing.”

“They were rather loud.”

Geneva snorted. “They always are. I wish they would discuss something of importance. Instead, it is always the same thing. How Signora Russo is desperate to find her daughters husbands.”

“Well, this time they were discussing Signore Russo’s mistress.”

Geneva stopped tending to Oliver’s wound, her eyes now wide with curiosity. “I always heard rumors he had a mistress that caused a hardship between the two.”

“He apparently had a child by his mistress.”

“Really?” She drew her brows together and chewed her lower lip. “Wonder where that child is now?”

Oliver shook his head. “I did not hear that part.”

“Interesting,” Geneva mumbled. Releasing Oliver’s hand, she turned her attention to the medical kit, and she rummaged around. Removing a vial of salve, she opened the jar. Placing her fingers in the bottle, she removed an ample amount of the white balm and applied it to Oliver’s injury, causing a hiss of pain to leave him.

“This stings a bit,” Geneva said, her mind still distracted by the information.

“Thanks for the warning—after the fact,” Oliver growled.

Geneva ignored the barb and began wrapping his hand with a clean white cloth. “So he has a child. Wonder how old?”

“I don’t know.”

She tied a knot in the cloth but did not release Oliver’s hand. “I have to find out.”

“Why?”

“Why? It would benefit Martin, of course. That kind of information. Why, Russo would never bother us.”

“Depends on the man. He simply may not care.”

“I knew you would eventually try to work your wiles upon my wife,” Martin said from the doorway, his shoulder casually resting against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What?” Geneva said, turning to face her husband yet still holding onto Oliver’s injured hand.

“Have you gone mad?” Oliver asked.

Martin nodded his head in their direction as he pushed his shoulder away from the doorway. “I should have known there was a reason for your sudden departure from our friends’ house. I come home to find the two of you holding hands.”

“Oh!” Geneva said, releasing Oliver’s hand. “Distraction. You see, he cut his hand upon that blasted log you insist on keeping.”

Martin looked at Oliver and noticed the blood upon Oliver’s shirt sleeve. “Egad. Is it bad?” His voice was now laced with concern.

“No. I cut it worse slicing a chicken.”

Geneva ignored the current conversation and started her own. “Did you know that Russo has a child by a lover?”

Martin glanced at his wife as he lifted a brow. “What?”

“Russo? He has an illegitimate child. Did you know that? Do you know who?”

Martin shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Oliver overheard Nichole and Sandra discussing Antonio having a lover who had a child.”

At Martin’s continued blank expression, Geneva continued. “You truly didn’t know?”

“No.”

“Interesting,” Geneva mumbled as she stood. “We must find out. Information like that could keep Russo off your back.”

“Geneva?” Martin said, a warning note in his voice. “If you play with fire, you will get burned. Digging around in Russo’s affairs will only cause more hardship from him. Leave it.”

“But Martin!”

“I said leave it alone, Geneva.”

“Fine,” Geneva snapped, plopping down upon the settee.

Martin turned his attention to Oliver. “Now, your hand.”

“Your tools are dull,” Oliver said. “No worries. Just a scratch. I had worse when we broke your bedroom window trying to sneak back into the house after visiting that brothel. Remember?”

“Brothel?” Geneva repeated, pivoting to view Martin, ire in her voice.

“Thank you, Oliver,” Martin spoke with disdain.

Oliver grinned unrepentantly. “My pleasure.”

“Brothel?” Geneva said again, her voice rising.

“My love,” Martin spoke. “That was long before I met you.”

“It was three years ago,” Oliver added. “When you last visited.”

“Three years?” Geneva shrieked. “You said that was business!”

“Shut up, Oliver,” Martin growled.

Oliver’s unapologetic grin only increased.

“It was longer than three years,” Martin defended. “It was many years ago, just before I left the Caribbean to travel to England.”

“And how many other brothels have you visited?” Geneva crossed her arms over her chest as she lowered her eyes.

“None since I first laid eyes upon you.”

Geneva snorted in disbelief.

“Geneva, my love, you are the only woman in my life. You know this. Besides, have you forgotten what I told you about Oliver?”

“Remind me.”

“What did you say about me?” Oliver asked.

Martin ignored his friend as he addressed his wife. “Oliver is like a leprechaun. He loves to play tricks and keep mischief afoot.”

“I do, don’t I.” Oliver boasted. “More so when Owen is about.”

Geneva’s pout was still present.

“No other woman holds interest for me since I met you,” Martin sweet-talked.

“And how many did you visit after meeting me?”

Oliver’s unrepentant grin widened even more—if possible. “Yes, Martin? How many?”

“Shut it, Oliver. You have helped enough today with my marriage. We have been invited to dinner by Augustus Marino. His family owns and operates a furniture store. To be precise, they build the furniture that is sold in their stores. It is the finest in all of Italy. It would be worth our while to see if we can conduct a business transaction with them.” Martin gave Oliver a scornful glance. “Too bad your brother, Michael, is not here. That slick-tongued devil could get Marino to use Emerald Shipping with just a nod of his head.”

“Are you saying my older brother is a better salesman than you?”

“I have been trying for years to get their business. Instead, they use East India. Perhaps with Robert St. John’s son present, they may be more apt to listen to my proposal. That is, if you can keep that uncanny knack for mischief out of his home. He has three charming, promiscuous daughters. So I suggest you behave or we will never get a contract with the man.”

Oliver placed his right hand to his chest. “You wound me, Martin. Truly. I would never dream of bedding the daughter of a man with whom we are trying to conduct business until after the contract has been signed.”

Martin snorted with derision.

Oliver held up his bandaged hand. “Besides, I am presently injured.”

“Like that has stopped you before. You are randier than any of your brothers ever dreamed of being.”

“Not true. Michael was. But his philandering ways have subsided since he married that spirited American. But I will take the compliment.”

Martin sighed and shook his head. “Stephano Mortilini will be there as well. His family owns the largest vineyard in all of Italy.”

“Stephano Mortilini?” Geneva repeated. A delighted glint came to her eyes. “I bet Lucio and Nichole are livid! They believe their wine is far superior to Mortilini’s.”

“I am certain they are. They will be even more livid when they learn that they are not invited to this little soiree. Now, I have arranged for a bath to be drawn for us all. We leave in a few hours.”

“I am not going,” Geneva huffed, thrusting her lower lip out in a pout.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Martin turned his attention to his wife. Approaching her, he knelt down in front and placed a hand upon hers. “Geneva, my love. I have never thought of another woman since meeting you. You are my moon and stars. I would never do anything to jeopardize this marriage. I have never done anything to jeopardize this marriage since meeting you. And, no, I have never been with another since meeting you.”

“You swear?”

“I swear it.”

She smiled and placed her palm upon Martin’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. But if you make us late for this dinner, I might think twice about it.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed his chest, causing him to fall backward and stood. “You are incorrigible!”

She left the room in a swirl of tan silk.

“I think you pissed her off,” Oliver said as he watched Geneva leave.

“It is her Italian blood, my friend. She’ll cool off.” A positively wicked grin came to Martin. “And if not, then I suggest you find another place to sleep tonight for she can get loud.”

“Great. I do not need to hear the two of you copulate tonight. Just give me a nod if I need to find other lodgings for the night.”

Martin laughed. “My friend, that is why I placed you on the opposite side of the house.”

Madelena held in the desire to run as she left the alley where she and Oliver were hiding. Rounding a corner, she slipped down another and waited for Oliver to leave. When he exited, she placed her hand to her lips as she watched him depart. Her insides were still trembling, and she feared that her knees would buckle. Never had she dreamt that a kiss could affect one as such. Her racing heart began to slow, and the tingling in her loins eased. Placing her head against the building, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. If only she could find a man like that to take her away, then she need not worry about marrying Drakos. But, alas, that was not life. Life was cruel. Oliver was a fleeting idea, and Miles was her reality.

Pushing away from the wall, she exited the alley and made her way through the city. Mindlessly ambling, her thoughts returned to the devastating news her father had given her. She knew her mother was behind the marriage. It was Sandra’s way of ridding herself of Madelena once and for all. For the life of her, Madelena could not fathom why her mother detested her so. She was always loving to her other sisters, yet to Madelena, she was cold and frigid. Not one kind word had Sandra ever spoken to her. Not one kind act. Even when Madelena was ill, she could hear Sandra mumble how she wished Madelena would die. When she questioned Sandra about the words, Sandra would not answer, only give her a scathing glance. Even Madelena’s tears did not sway Sandra’s hatred.

In time, Madelena’s heart grew cold towards her mother. What love she had was stripped away by Sandra’s animosity. But she did have her father. Antonio always loved Madelena more than her other sisters, and it did not go unnoticed by anyone. Madelena was known throughout their circles as Antonio Russo’s favorite daughter. Those who knew of her parentage gave her the same treatment as they did royalty. She knew it was because they feared her father. He was a powerful man and used his power for his benefit. Yet, those who did not know of her parentage treated her with kindness and respect. The people along the docks were ignorant of her lineage, and she did not mind. The bakers and peddlers would greet her with a friendly hello. They would converse about their day and the goods sold, comparing the sales of the day. They would then part ways until it was time to work again.

How Madelena longed to live her days selling her baskets. Of walking along the docks asking others to purchase her goods. She worked hard on her baskets, spending hours upon hours perfecting them. The visitors who purchased them would look for her upon their return in order to buy more, praising the quality and craftsmanship of her work. Even French soldiers admired her work and had purchased several. The grasses she used were hard to come by. They grew in the swampy areas, and she could only pick them during certain times of the year. Too soon and they would rot. Too late and they would be brittle. The old black lady who lived at the edge of the town taught her that. Madelena was not even certain of the woman’s true name. Everyone just called her Rosie. Rosie taught Madelena when to pick the grasses, how to dry them properly, and how to weave the baskets. Rosie’s old boney fingers worked magic as she wove, and she taught Madelena the craft. There was much to learn; however, Rosie never taught Madelena everything she knew. She died before she could pass along all her knowledge. So Madelena did what she could and taught herself how to create the small flowers upon the handles. Perhaps one day, she would meet another Rosie who could teach her more, but until then, what she knew would suffice.

She wasn’t certain how long she wandered but knew it was a while for the path she traversed was a long one. But somehow, she had made her way home. Madelena stopped before her house and glanced at the stucco structure. It was a beautiful three-story home with red shutters and a red clay roof. A multitude of colorful flowers were planted around the house along with several large trees. In the summer the lush, green grass adorning the lawn was kept in check by two goats—Ramsey and Eula.

Rounding the house, Madelena glanced down at her dress. A damp ring still encircled the lower half of her dress. How would she explain this?

Entering the back of the home, she was stopped by her mother. Sandra’s eyes ran the length of Madelena.

“Where have you been, and why are you wet?” Sandra spoke with scorn.

Madelena sighed. She was in no mood to deal with her mother. “I went for a walk.”

“You were supposed to be with your father. He was home hours ago. When you did not return, he grew worried and went in search of you.”

“I told you, I went for a walk,” Madelena snapped.

“I hope it was only a walk.”

Madelena’s spine went rigid. “What are you implying?”

“I am saying that Signore Drakos wants a pure virgin bride. Don’t ruin this for your sisters.”

“How does my marriage affect them?”

“The sooner you are out of this house, the sooner the men in this city will begin noticing your sisters. They all seem infatuated with you. They come calling on Angela and spy you. Their interest in my darling Angela is turned to you.”

“I hardly think it is my appearance that makes the difference.”

“What are you saying?” Sandra snapped.

“I am saying that Angela’s personality would cause the devil to run in fear.”

“You vile, nasty creature! How dare you speak of your sister in such a fashion!”

“It is the truth. Both you and Angela have been nothing but cruel to me for as long as I can remember. If you are unkind to your own blood, then imagine how you are with others.”

An evil sneer pulled Sandra’s thin lips. “You are a thorn in my side. But you will not be for long. Signore Drakos’s representative will be here in a week.” The sneer turned into a vindictive smile. “Along with the woman who is to check for your purity.”

“What?!”

“Drakos wants a pure bride. He is sending a midwife of his choosing to make certain that you are a virgin.”

“I won’t do it!”

“You will! I am your mother, and you will do as you are told.”

“Father will not allow it!”

In a slow, icy voice, Sandra informed, “He already knows.”

Madelena’s mouth dropped, and her complexion paled. “He can’t.”

“He does and has agreed.”

Madelena shook her head. “He would never allow such a thing to happen.”

“He would. He knows the importance of this marriage and will do anything to make certain it will happen. Your purity test will happen in a week. You will remain in this home until then.”

“No. Papa purchased me dresses to wear to Carnival.”

“You will not be going. Angela will take your dresses.”

“She will not,” Antonio said from the doorway.

A startled gasp left Sandra as she turned to view her husband. “Husband. We must ensure her purity. Carnival is full of wickedness.”

“That may be. But I promised Madelena she could go and have purchased her two dresses along with matching masks for the occasion. It is the least we can do before her marriage.”

Antonio locked eyes with Madelena. Pain hit the center of his chest at the amount of rage he saw in her brown eyes. It hurt him to allow this marriage to take place. But what other choice did he have? Sandra had his balls in her hand. He would never allow her to ruin Madelena’s reputation. She meant too much to him.

Antonio cleared his throat. “Now, Signore Marino has invited us to dinner. Wear something appropriate for Signore St. John and Signore Mortilini will be there as well. St. John’s father owns Emerald Shipping and is here on a holiday. Mortilini is in search of a bride. Perhaps one of my lovely daughters will catch one of their eyes.”

Sandra clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “Splendid! Both men would be a fine match for Angela or Flora. Perhaps one for each!” Her gaze landed on Madelena. “Don’t ruin this for them.”

“Don’t worry,” Madelena replied with scorn. “I do not plan on going. Enjoy your food and fine wine. I find that a dinner party where any of my family are present leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.” She stormed to the doorway to the kitchen and stood before her father, glaring up at him. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

Antonio stepped to the side, allowing his daughter to breeze past him with cool contempt. When he returned his attention to Sandra, he could not help but notice her smile. It was like a cat moving in for the kill.

“I am so glad she has finally taken you off that pedestal that she had placed you on,” Sandra sneered. “You can now feel her contempt. How does it feel knowing that the person that you love more than life itself now despises you?”

Antonio took a step towards Sandra, causing her to take a retreating step back. “I will have my vengeance against you, either in this life or the next.”

“It will not be this life for if you lay a finger on me, all in Rome will know of her true heritage, and she will be cast out. She will be left with nothing, and you will be ruined. Tell me, what do you think the cardinal will say when he learns that his trusted magistrate had a child with his mistress while swearing to the world that he would love and cherish only his wife? You will be ruined.”

“Remember, Sandra. If I go down, so do you. This life of luxury you live will no longer be within your grasp.”

The sneer she gave caused Antonio to wonder what she had planned. “I have taken precautions. Just know that I have taken the necessary steps to secure the survival of my children, not yours.”

Antonio clenched his fists at his side, fighting the desire to strike his wife with his fist. Just one strike and he could be rid of this woman once and for all. But he would not take the risk. He loved Madelena too dearly to take the chance that Sandra’s words were not idle threats.

“Prepare yourself,” Antonio growled, turning from his wife. “We leave within the hour.”

“An hour! That is not nearly enough time for Angela, Flora, Maria, or Bella to prepare themselves.”

“I really do not care.” Antonio left his wife and went to his own chambers to prepare for the evening meal and hopefully come up with a plan that would keep Madelena safe from his vengeful wife.

Chapter Eight

Scanning the room, Oliver’s eyes watched Signora Marino buzz about the place. For a woman nearing sixty, she was beautiful and active. She flitted around the room like a hummingbird seeking prized nectar. Each flower arrangement she passed caused her to pause and then rearrange a stem. She stopped before the mantel and motioned for a servant. The young girl came forward carrying two pineapples. Signora Marino placed the pineapples upon the mantel and tilted her head. She shook her head and rearranged the fruit again until they suited her.

An odd tradition—pineapples upon the mantel. The displayed fruit had a twofold meaning. First, it was a symbol of hospitality to those who lived in the southern portions of America. Those who entered a home displaying the pineapple were welcomed guests who could partake in the merriment. Because of the rarity of having the fresh tropical fruit, many southern homes had brass sculptures of them on display. But here? Well, it just seemed odd; however, Signora Marina was from Georgia and apparently still held onto her heritage. And secondly, it was a status symbol. A symbol of wealth for it was quite expensive to ship in fresh pineapple. Sparse supply and high demand made the pineapple a status symbol. The distance the fruit had to travel was a hardship for they were known to rot before delivery unless one had access to the swiftest ship and perfect weather conditions. Even candied pineapples were for the wealthy.

“So good of you to be joining us this evening Signore St. John,” Augustus Marino said, grabbing Oliver’s hand and shaking it with vigor, bringing Oliver away from his observation of Signora Marino.

“You have Signore Henshaw to thank for the invitation. I am merely an uninvited guest tagging along,” Oliver replied as he studied Marino.

Marino was an older man with a youthful gait to his step. He was tall and of average build. The salt and pepper hair upon his head was an odd contrast to his youthful complexion. Not one wrinkle could be found. His brown eyes had a twinkle of mischief. Rough calluses adorned his hands, indicating that he enjoyed working with wood just as much as Oliver did.

Marino’s boisterous laugh captured the attention of Mortilini.

“What did I miss?” Mortilini asked as he approached.

“Stephano!” Marino answered. “Come, you must meet the uninvited guest.”

Mortilini offered a hand in friendship which Oliver eagerly accepted. Mortilini was just as he expected. The man before him was a few years younger than Oliver. He was of average height and stout of stature. His eyes were as black as his hair, yet there was warmth to them.

“Hello,” Mortilini spoke.

“Hello,” Oliver returned.

“Stephano Mortilini, this is Oliver St. John,” Marino spoke. “Oliver’s father owns Emerald Shipping. Signore St. John, this is Stephano Mortilini.”

“Is that so?” Mortilini said.

Oliver was taken aback that the older man knew of his identity. “I am shocked that you are aware of who I am.”

Marino patted Oliver upon the shoulder. “Young man, it is my job to know who is afoot. A carpenter is always aware of another in their profession in the city.”

“Martin told you.”

“That he did. I was speaking to him only moments ago, and he was praising your work. Now, he tells me you build ships.”

Oliver nodded and grabbed a glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant. “I do.”

“How many?”

Oliver sipped his wine. “I have assisted in building many and have been the master carpenter on four.”

“Impressive,” Marino said.

“Indeed, it is,” Mortilini said.

“Not nearly as impressive as your vineyard. I hear it is the best in all the world,” Oliver baited Mortilini.

Pride lit up Mortilini’s eyes. “I hope to be. But for now, it is only in Italy and France.”

“You know, I do have connections in the shipping industry. Why not venture east? Many wealthy families reside in the Caribbean.”

“I do say, are you trying to negotiate a shipping contract with me, Signore St. John?” Stephano asked.

Oliver gave a twitch of his head. “I would do my family a great dishonor if I didn’t at least try.”

Stephano laughed.

Oliver continued, “Albeit, I am not the salesman of the family. So if you should ever run into my brothers, please do not mention this transaction—unless I am successful, that is.”

Stephano’s laughter continued. “I shall consider your offer.”

“Splendid!” Oliver replied.

Marino joined in on the conversation. “I tell you what. If Mortilini ships with you, then so will I.”

“Truly?”

“Absolutely. In fact, how about this transaction…I am willing to use Emerald Shipping to ship a few of my best pieces to England. If they do so in a timely manner, then I am willing to do so again…if the price is right.”

“Martin will be thrilled to know this. He would be the one you need to discuss rates with. I am merely the man who makes the ships.”

Mortilini was not to be outdone. “I will use you to transport my wine. The Caribbean is an excellent location to try to sell my products as well as the Americas. If your company delivers them and I make a hefty profit, then I will ship exclusively with Emerald Shipping.”

Oliver raised his glass to the two men. “Then let us toast to the occasion.”

Three glasses clinked together.

“What did I miss?” Martin asked.

“Signore Marino and Mortilini have agreed to use Emerald Shipping. I will leave them to you to discuss the details of fees and all that.”

Martin looked between the men. “You’re joking?”

“He most certainly is not. On a temporary basis, that is. Depends upon the profits to be made.” Marino downed his drink and set his glass down upon a passing tray, taking another glass of wine in the process. “Now, gentlemen, let us drink to our transaction. But do not consume too much.” Looking at Mortilini, he smiled. “I spent a fortune to purchase this young scamp’s wine for tonight.”

A servant appeared in the doorway and announced that dinner was ready to be served. The guests present made their way into the dining room where a large table sat that could hold at least thirty. Signore Marino took the head while his wife sat at the opposite end. The guests sat where they pleased, and to Oliver’s mortification, Russo and his wife sat to his left and one of their daughters to his right. He glanced at Martin, who only cringed but did nothing in the way of helping the situation.

“Signore St. John,” Russo spoke.

“Signore Russo.”

“I would like to introduce you to my wife, Sandra, and my daughter Flora.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Oliver politely replied.

“They say you are from the Caribbean,” Flora spoke.

Oliver turned his attention to the young lady. She looked like her mother with brown hair and eyes. A scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose looked odd considering their size. Yet, she seemed kind and not the least bit flirtatious like the sister who boldly took the seat next to Stephano.

“I am. Eleuthera to be exact in the town of Governor’s Harbour.”

“And your family is in the shipping industry?”

“Yes. We own Emerald Shipping. All of my brothers and sister have some part in the family business.”

“And what of you?” Flora asked. “What part do you hold in your family business?”

“I am a master carpenter. My twin brother, Owen, is a draftsman, and I build them.”

“What’s a draftsman?”

“He designs the ships.”

“You seem awfully young to be a master carpenter,” Antonio said.

“I am twenty-eight and it may be young to some, but I have been a carpenter for as long as I can remember. When I was just a boy, I would go to the shipyard with my father and watch the men work. I remember sneaking down to the shipyards and begging the workers to allow me to assist. When my father learned, he was furious for he had dreams of me being something other than a laborer. I begged him to allow me to help, and he agreed. Yet I was not handed my position. I had to earn it. I started out as a caulker and made my way up.”

Russo nodded. “Wise man. A man needs to earn his way in this world and not be handed a silver spoon.”

“My father’s thoughts, as well. All of my brothers had to prove their worth for their positions. Even those who are captains had to work their way up the ranks.”

“How many are captains?” Flora asked, her brown eyes wide with curiosity.

“I have nine siblings. Three are captains.”

“And the others?”

“One is the financial officer. The London and South Carolina offices are run by my two older brothers. Another brother operates the Nassau office along with security. And I have never fully understood my sister or her husband’s roll in the family business other than he writes correspondences.”

Sandra sat patiently listening to the conversation, trying to decide if he was a better match for Angela or Flora. After hearing him describe his work, she decided that her first instinct was correct. Flora would be a good match for him. She liked to wait on people and having a wealthy laborer for a husband would mean he would return home tired.

“How did your family’s business begin?” Sandra asked. “I mean, I had never heard of Emerald Shipping until Antonio recently spoke of them.” The lie rolled off her tongue. Owning and operating a shipping company required lots of money, and that money had to come from somewhere.

“My father left England to prove he was more than his title.” The instant the statement was out of his mouth, Oliver could have kicked himself.

“Title?” Sandra said, nearly salivating on the words.

“He is the Earl of Hyntington.”

“An Earl.” Sandra’s eyes widened with delight.

“Yes. His title will go to my oldest brother.”

“Hmm.” Sandra’s mouth twisted in disappointment.

The servants brought forth the dinner, and Oliver turned his attention to his plate. Flora kept a polite conversation going with him; however, she seemed more interested in the butler, and the feeling seemed to be mutual—which was fine by Oliver. Hell, the butler could bed her on the table for all he cared. Perhaps it would get the notion of their marriage out of Signora Russo’s head.

“When did you arrive in Rome?” Flora asked.

“Two days ago.”

“And when do you plan on leaving?”

“I am not certain. Martin insists I enjoy all of Carnival first. Have you ever been?”

Flora’s eyes widened even more—if possible. “Heavens yes! It is delightful. Although Mama only lets me go during the daytime. The nighttime crowds can be somewhat naughty. But I am certain Madelena has been at night.”

“Who is Madelena?”

“My sister,” Flora said, slight agitation in her tone. She finished off her glass of wine and motioned for a servant to fill it again. If Oliver counted correctly, this was her fourth glass, and from the way she was speaking, she could not handle her liquor very well. “She is Papa’s favorite. Mama doesn’t care much for her. Madelena is the most beautiful of us all! But Mama treats her like she’s a servant. She has her cook and clean. Why she even placed her chambers in the upper room of the house.”

She definitely could not handle her liquor. Her tongue was running loose, and Signora Russo seemed to notice.

“Flora,” Sandra hissed in such a shrill way that the hairs on Oliver’s arms stood on end. “Silence.”

Flora looked shamefully at her plate.

Sandra took Antonio’s arm and pulled him in, whispering fiercely into his ear.

“Not now, Sandra” Oliver heard Antonio scold.

“Esteemed guests,” Marino said, pushing his chair away from the table. “Let us adjourn to the drawing-room where we can hear the musical talents of my daughters.”

As the chairs were pushed away from the table, Signore Russo approached Signora Marino. A few moments later, Sandra and Flora disappeared. The guests proceeded to the drawing-room where Marino’s daughters took up their instruments: the pianoforte, flute, and violin. After several songs were played, the women stopped and began socializing with the guests. Oliver was mindful of Martin’s warning about the sexual prowess of the women. They were beautiful. However, he had just managed to procure a contract with Marino, and he would not jeopardize that. Shortly after her departure, Signora Russo returned without Flora.

For several more hours, the guests mingled. Oliver frequently spoke with Stephano and several other prominent men of Rome. He liked Stephano; however, he found the others tedious and longed to escape their company. He sighed and looked at the mantel clock again for the hundredth time. This blasted soiree was lasting entirely too long to suit him. Not since his earlier conversation with Marino had he had a chance to converse with the man and at the rate it was going, Oliver believed that the man would die from alcohol consumption before that would ever happen. And luck certainly was not on his side for the entire evening he had to avoid Signora Russo’s attempt at arranging a courtship between him and one of her three present daughters. Never had he seen such a homely ensemble of women. All had an odd appearance to them—almost horsey—and a shrill voice that could break glass. Of the three present, Angela was the most pleasing to the eye—if one could call her that. At least two of her daughters were missing. Five single women with an overzealous mother were something that Oliver currently did not want to contend with. Oliver glanced between Antonio Russo and Sandra. Their daughters certainly took after their mother and not their father. There was nothing in them that resembled Antonio for he was a handsome man and his daughters were some of the most unattractive women Oliver had ever laid eyes upon.

A movement by the mantel captured his attention. He watched as Signora Marino removed the pineapples from the mantel. Another southern tradition. The removal of the fruit signaled it was time for the guests to go home. Odd, yet it was more polite than telling people to finish their drinks and get the hell out.

Oliver bid goodbye to the Marinos and slipped out the door. He waited at the corner of the street. A few moments later, Stephano appeared. His new friend had been preoccupied the majority of the evening with a pretty young woman by the name of Mae Valenti. Stephano managed to slip away from Mae’s company, and the pair made their way to a gentleman’s club. Both men had resisted the gifts offered by Marino’s daughters and were in need of release and what better location than the most exclusive club in Rome. Entrance was by invitation only and having Mortilini with him guaranteed Oliver entrance. Perhaps the entertainment here would help him forget a raven-haired woman who sold baskets. She had plagued his thoughts for the past two nights, and he was not sure if he could tolerate another night’s sleep troubled by her beauty.

He played several hands of cards and lost a hefty sum. The card games being played held little interest to him. His thoughts kept returning to Maddie. He wanted Maddie and his only hope of having her was Carnival. He left the club accepting that he would be haunted by another sleepless night. Another night to be tormented by a woman whom he knew nothing about and was desperate to find again.

A low, frustrated growl left Madelena as she paced her room. Her eyes landed on the large box adorned with a large pink ribbon sitting on her bed—one of the dresses her father had purchased for her just before he announced her sentence. She thought the mint green dress beautiful but now hated the garment. It now represented a bribe for her “good behavior.”

Laughter from the floor below caused her scowl to deepen. She could hear Angela giggle and speak, her words muffled by the wooden floor. But Madelena knew what the conversation most likely entailed. How Angela was going to find a suitable man to marry because Madelena was no longer available.

The sounds of doors slamming and footsteps rushing down the steps traveled up to her room on the third floor. She was placed in the attic like a family heirloom that no one desired and no one wanted seen. It was Sandra’s idea to place Madelena on the top floor. Sandra thought it would be a punishment, but Madelena found it a blessing. From her window, she could see a great distance. During the day, she could see children playing in a park or men strolling with their sweethearts. The upper floor also granted her a cooling breeze from the sweltering heat of summer.

The sound of the front door shutting caused her to approach the window and glare downward. She watched as her sisters, mother, and traitorous father climbed into the awaiting carriage. Antonio glanced upward to her window. Madelena turned her back to him and did not see his grief-stricken expression.

Her gaze landed back on the box. The anger she was controlling came rolling out. A scream left her as she picked up the box and tossed it across the room, causing the lid to come off and the exquisite gown to spill out onto the floor. Storming to the dress, she raised her foot and stomped downward.

The bribe did not seem to notice the punishment.

“You stupid dress! You are nothing more than a reminder of my father’s betrayal! He purchased you to buy my compliance in Mother’s plot to be rid of me! Now, I must face the humiliation of a ‘purity check’. A stranger must now see if I am a virgin for some fat, old Greek! You were to be my joy! You were to bring me happiness just for one night. Now, I will wear you knowing that I must be poked and prodded like…like…well, I don’t know what like, but you know what I mean. You are a pretty wrapper for a present that no one in Rome can have. You were to bring me happiness,” she repeated. “Now I will never enjoy Carnival because I know what awaits. My purity check!”

The instant the statement was out, her eyes grew wide in a eureka type moment. “My purity check. What if there is nothing to check?”

Madelena sank to the floor and picked up the dress. Running her hands over the soft material, she continued speaking. “What if I am no longer a virgin? What if I do not come home? Will I still be forced to have a purity check?” Her brows drew together. “Mother will want proof, but what if there is nothing there?”

She closed her eyes. Could she be so bold as to take a stranger as a lover? Could she be so bold as to risk going to a stranger’s home for one night of sin? Her eyes flew open as a determined gleam entered them. Yes. And it would not be a stranger she sought but a handsome ginger-haired man who bought all her baskets. The question was, how would she find him during Carnival? There would be thousands of people in the city and trying to find one man would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

“But I know who he is staying with,” she said to herself. “I can follow him when he leaves the house but not approach him until after dark.”

Her eyes drifted back to the dress. Standing, she pulled the garment up with her and laid it down upon the bed. A resolved set came to her chin as she smoothed out the wrinkles. Yes, she would find Oliver and take him to her bed. Now the question was, how does an inexperienced woman seduce a man?

Chapter Nine

Oliver smoothed down the lapel of his black coat one last time. Picking a piece of lint from his shoulder, he turned and left his room. Tonight was the first night of Carnival, and he was looking forward to the distraction. Perhaps he could find a woman who would taste as sweet as his raven-haired basket seller. A woman who would erase Maddie from his mind.

A low whistle resounded from behind him, causing Oliver to turn.

“You clean up good,” Martin said, coming to join his friend at the bottom of the stairs.

“I have always been ‘cleaned up good’.”

Martin laughed. “No. You have not. You have merely been dressed to be socially acceptable. Tonight, you are dressed as if you are trying to impress someone. Anyone in particular?” Martin scanned his friend. Oliver was dressed all in black. Even the mask in his hand was black silk.

“No. Just trying to blend in.”

“Then you need to dye that red hair of yours, my friend. Most here do not possess those ginger locks of yours.”

“Shut it, Martin.”

“Well, have fun and be mindful, Oliver. Many pickpockets and thieves are out this evening.”

Oliver furrowed his brow. “You are not going?”

Martin shook his head. “No. Geneva detests the first nights of Carnival. I am taking her to her mother’s house for a few days. She lives in the country. But do not fret, I will return before dawn.”

“Why are you leaving so late?”

A sheepish expression crossed Martin’s face. “She does not trust the women in this city to keep their hands from me. If we leave now, we will arrive at her mother’s by dark, and by the time I return, most will have gone to bed.”

“Well, safe travels, Martin. I will try not to ruin your reputation before your return.”

“My reputation will stay intact. Yours, not so much. You are a St. John, and they are notorious for scandal and mischief. Just watch yourself.”

“Martin! Are you ready?” Geneva called from the foyer.

“Coming!” Martin replied to his wife. Turning, he began walking towards the foyer and threw over his shoulder, “See you in the morning.”

“Wait!” Oliver called, halting Martin’s exit. “Where does Carnival begin?”

Martin grinned and continued leaving. “Wherever you see people! Carnival is everywhere and begins now.” With that Martin disappeared out the door.

Sighing, Oliver looked at the mask in his hand. He felt silly donning a mask. Walking to the window, he glanced towards the street. He could see several people wandering about. Some with masks, some without. Giving one last glance to the silk mask, he shoved it in the pocket of his linen coat. He would wear it if needed; otherwise, the bloody thing could stay hidden.

Exiting the home, he proceeded down the walkway, out the gate, and to the street. He was surprised to see that the number of people was more than he had noticed out the window. Hundreds of people lined the streets, laughing and drinking. Many were wearing masks. He saw others in the distance dancing and singing. A man wearing stilts was juggling flaming batons. Another man was holding a lit torch in his right hand and a vial in his left. He placed the flask to his lips and then blew the liquid outward over the light, causing the flames to dance. The crowd around gasped and cheered.

As he wandered, he took in the spectacles. Dancers in varying stages of dress displayed their talents. Vendors shouted prices for their goods. Groups of people huddled together, laughing and enjoying each other. He found himself near an area where an acrobat displayed his talent by walking on his hands around the fountain.

“If someone gave him a push into the water, do you think he would be angry?”

Oliver turned to the voice and smiled. “Hello, Stephano.”

“Oliver,” the younger man greeted. “Are you enjoying Carnival?”

“I have never seen anything quite like it.”

Stephano gave a boisterous laugh. “The night is still young, my Caribbean friend. You have yet to see the wonders of Carnival.” Stephano patted Oliver on the back. “Come, my friend, let us drink, and I will show you the true gifts of Carnival!”

Oliver followed Stephano. The duo weaved through the crowd to a large arena where a fight was in progress. Wagers were placed, and several men began sparing. The men were talented in their fisticuffs, and Oliver could not help but wonder if his older brother Matthew had ever participated in fighting for money. Matthew was the most skilled fighter Oliver had ever seen, and he had no doubt that the men would fall like dominos under his brother’s brutal blows. After several bouts, the pair left. Darkness had settled over the city. Even though no masks were to be worn after dark, many still wore them. Lanterns lit the path, and the women become looser with their morals—opening flaunting their attributes for those around.

“These are not the beauties to be had,” Stephano said, motioning Oliver to continue to follow. They made their way to a group of men who were watching a group of scantily women dance. They moved their bodies seductively, swaying their hips and thrusting their breasts outward, luring in the men.

The men in the crowd whistled and shouted lewd comments about what the women could do to them. Oliver found the display performed by the men crude. He made his way to the back of the group and slipped away. He passed several vendors and stopped before a fountain. Sitting down, he gazed upward and smiled. This was where he and Maddie had splashed. Was she here now? If so, how was he to find her?

Madelena was excited. She had spent the day with Mae and Maude. The trio laughed and ate near dusk. Maude and Mae left. Maude insisted Madelena come with them. Yet, she had other plans, and they involved finding Oliver. She politely refused Maude’s invitation giving her a lie that she was meeting her father. Maude accepted the refusal and departed with Mae. Madelena turned her attention to the festivities. Now what? She fully intended to find Oliver and eliminating her cherished “purity.” She made her way to the Fountain of the Four Rivers. Sitting on the edge, she dipped her fingers into the water and watched the ripples form and travel towards the center of the fountain. Glancing across the water, her eyes grew wide at the sight of the red-haired man sitting on the opposite side. She scurried to her feet and dashed around the fountain, hoping he would not leave.

Elation filled her when he did not move, but instead he kept looking at the statue and smiling. Squaring her shoulders, she prepared herself for the quest at hand. Her fingers tightened around the stick to her mask. Raising her hand, she allowed the colorful green feathered mask to cover the upper portion of her face.

“You know, people will think you are mad if you smile without purpose at Poseidon.”

Oliver turned to face the voice, and his smile increased. Standing, he spoke, “I was wondering if I would find you this evening.”

Madelena returned his smile. “It is Carnival. You never know who you will find. What makes you think you know me?”

Oliver stepped closer. “I would recognize you with your face fully covered.”

She thrust her lower lip out in a pout. “So the mask is a waste?”

“Au contraire. It adds to the mystery of one’s costume. But if you like, I can pretend that you are a mystery.”

“But how did you know?” Madelena asked, lowering her mask.

“Your voice.”

“My voice?”

“Yes. Your voice is smooth and exotic.”

She rolled her eyes. “Try again.”

“It is true. But the question is, how did you find me?”

She coyly looked around the area, her arm motioning to all the patrons around them. “You were not hard to find. There are not many tall, handsome red-haired men in Italy with an English accent.”

Oliver tossed his head back and laughed. “No, there are not. Now that you found me, what would you like to do?”

For you to take my virginity, would not be the correct answer so instead, she held out her hand to him and said, “Let us enjoy the merriment.”

Giving an overly flourished bow, he spoke, “As you command, my lady.”

He stood and offered his arm to her. She placed her hand on the crook of his arm and gazed up at the handsome man before her. The crooked grin he gave caused her heart to skip a beat.

“Where shall we begin?” he asked.

Madelena looked around and pointed to the end of the square. “There. Where they are dancing.”

The couple headed towards the dancers. “Do you like to dance?”

Madelena shook her head. “I have not danced much, but when I do, I do like it.”

Oliver glanced her way. “Do you not dance because you do not know how or because no one asks? And if you say the latter, I will call you a liar for every man I know would fight to have just one dance with you.”

Heat flooded her cheeks from the compliment. “Then you shall call me a liar.”

“Egad! Are the men in Rome blind? How could they not ask the most beautiful woman in the city for just one dance?”

“They fear my father.” A flinch crossed her face when she realized that the words had left her before she thought about them.

“Who is he? A tyrant? A nobleman?”

She simply smiled at him, raised her mask, and batted her eyes.

“He must be someone of great importance. But do not fret, my lady. I fear no man and would risk Satan himself for just one dance with you.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted. “Words, Oliver. Merely words.”

“The truth. Every woman, no matter her status or appearance, should be asked to dance and dance so frequently that their feet begin to ache.”

“And what of overly protective ‘tyrant’ fathers?”

“Especially so.”

Before she could reply, a man suddenly grabbed Madelena around the waist, causing her to squeal, as he twirled her around the area in a jovial dance. Her head kept glancing over one shoulder and the next in an attempt to see Oliver. And just as quickly as she had been taken from Oliver, she was back in his arms. The pair danced the flamboyant dance. Madelena was not certain what to call this dance other than twirling and running. Her dress flared first one direction and then another as Oliver spun her around. His hands found her waist, and he quickly lifted her in the air before setting her back down and twirling her again. The merriment was contagious, and she soon found herself laughing.

The pair danced several more songs before leaving the lively group. Madelena’s hand came to her chest as she tried to catch her breath. Her chest heaved, yet she could not stop smiling or laughing. And Oliver seemed to be in the same state. Sweat dotted his brow, yet he laughed. And it was a pleasant sound. Deep and vibrating.

“Egad!” Oliver exclaimed. “I never knew such a dance existed.”

Madelena hiccupped and giggled. “You acted like you have done so many times.”

Oliver shook his head. “No. I was just mimicking the others. But you acted like you have danced this way before.”

“Never!”

“Then we were inducted to this lively dance together. And I must say, there was no better partner.”

For the next three nights Madelena and Oliver laughed and danced. Each time Madelena tried to find her courage to proposition Oliver, her nerve left. There was just something in her that could not take a strange man to her bed. She knew she was acting the part of a wanton, leading Oliver on. She would end the night dancing with him. Before the dance ended, she would kiss him and then disappear into the crowd, leaving him to search for her. She had watched him from the shadows, looking through the crowd, hunting for her. Her heart ached and something inside of her wanted to reappear, but she cowed away.

But tonight, would be different. A deep breath left Madelena as she viewed her reflection in the mirror. She had worked for over an hour, perfecting her hair and make-up. She had to look more attractive than any woman at Carnival. She had to capture the attention of Oliver and somehow manage to get him to take her to his bed. The problem was, she had no idea how. She had never had to try to work her wiles on a man before. Men had never been in her plan for life. She simply wanted to live independently and make her baskets. She never wanted a man to dictate her life. And now she found that her independent nature was going to be her downfall. Why had she not paid attention when Angela was flirting with men? Angela knew how to flirt. She had to, for she certainly would not capture a man with her personality.

Adjusting a ringlet at the base of her head, she leaned closer to the mirror to make certain that the kohl she had lined her eyes with was in place and not too thick. She wanted to look attractive, not like a tart. Tonight, would be the night she would allow Oliver to take her to his bed. It had to be. Giving one last pinch to her cheeks to make them rosier, she nodded.

“This is as good as I can get,” she mumbled to herself. Turning, she picked up her mask and left her room.

Angela was just below her on the steps. Sandra had spared no expense on Angela’s dress. It was the finest pink silk money could buy. The ruffles upon the skirt held numerous beads, and the mask Angela was holding in her gloved hand was made of fluffy white feathers.

At the bottom of the stairs, Angela turned and watched Madelena as she descended the steps. The expression on Angela’s face was one Madelena wished could be frozen in time. It was a look of shock and awe. A look stating that Madelena’s dress was more beautiful than Angela’s, and for once in her lifetime, Madelena had something better than her sister.

Angela must have realized she was looking at Madelena with jealousy for her expression suddenly changed to contempt.

“You look hideous,” Angela sneered. “I have never seen a more ridiculous attire in all my life! This is Carnival, not the circus.”

Madelena allowed the insult to slide from her spine. “Yet, Papa personally selected my dress, whereas he could care less about yours.” She knew it was childish to insult her sister in such a fashion, but presently, she did not care. She was angry at her entire family, but if using her father’s love for her would anger her sister further, then she would use it to her advantage—despite her anger at him.

“Well, it's still hideous. What pattern is that? A buffoon?”

“It’s a peahen, you ninny! But I wouldn’t expect someone as uneducated as you to know. All you worry about is finding a beau and not broadening your mind.”

“How dare you!” Angela hissed. “You are a vile, evil creature. How could we possibly be twins? The midwife must have switched my true sister at birth. That is the only logical explanation. No one as uneducated and ill-tempered as you could ever be my sister.”

“Mayhap, we are not sisters at all. Maybe I am an imposter come to ruin your life. That is what both you and Mama think. You all think that I ruin every chance you have at marriage when in truth it is you and your viperous tongue. Now get out of my way. I do not want your sour disposition to ruin what is left of my evening.”

Madelena breezed past her twin, a smug and confident tilt to her chin. She would not allow Angela to ruin her plan. She had to find Oliver, and bickering with her idiotic sister would only delay her rendezvous.

Madelena hastily made her way out the front door and past the gate before she heard her mother shout at her to return—a command she would not follow. She had no plan in doing as her mother bade this time. This time she had a mission of her own. A mission to lose her virginity and that plan entailed her being able to find Oliver again.

She made her way through the crowded streets of Rome to Signore Henshaw’s home. She arrived just in time to see Oliver exit the house. He was so handsome in his black attire, the same he had worn each day. She knew it was foolish to follow him. Yet, it was part of the intrigue of Carnival. She never promised him that they would meet. She would only smile coyly and bat her lashes when he asked.

He weaved his way through the streets. Madelena struggled to keep up with him. To her dismay, he soon disappeared in the crush of people. She jumped to peer over the heads to no avail. It was as though he had vanished. Damn! How could he have disappeared so quickly? It's not like he didn’t stand out.

“Where did he go?” she mumbled to herself. “How did I lose him? I mean it's not like there are other tall red-haired men here.”

Her eyes took in each man present. All she could see was brown and black hair, no red.

“Dammit,” she grumbled. “Now what?”

“You can tell me where you found that dress, that’s what.”

Madelena whirled around to spy Mae and Maude. A smile pulled her lips.

“How did you find me?”

“How could I not?” Mae said, looking around. “You are the most stunning woman here. I truly hope that Stephano Mortilini does not see you or my chances of claiming him for my own are gone”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that.”

“Oh, Mae. Don’t be silly,” Madelena protested.

“She is, isn’t she,” Maude interjected. “She spent the majority of last evening in Signore Mortilini’s company.” A vindictive smile came to the older woman. “And that did not sit well with your mother or sister.”

An unladylike snort left Madelena. “Good.”

“You simply must meet him though,” Mae said. “You would see why I am so infatuated with him. He is tall and broad and dark and handsome and tall.”

“You’re repeating yourself, Mae.”

“I can’t help it. I’m in love!” Mae exclaimed, clasping her hands and bring them to her chest.

“Love? You only just met the man!”

Mae smiled sheepishly. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

Maude interrupted. “No more talk of marriage to men you just met. It is Carnival. Let us celebrate before the sun sets.”

Mae leaned in to whisper to Madelena. “Momma doesn’t like being out after dark. She says nothing good comes from the darkness and no one of good moral standing would dare be out after dark during Carnival. She fears for my virtue.”

“And Madelena’s as well,” Maude spoke. “I do not like leaving you to your vices so near dusk. I felt uneasy doing such.”

Madelena’s heart rate increased. She could not allow Maude’s good intentions to interfere with her plan. “Thank you for your concern, but I am to meet Papa later this evening.”

“That’s what you have said for the past four nights. Are you really meeting your father, or is that just a tale fabricated so you can have a bit of fun?” The doubt was obvious in Maude’s voice.

“Yes.” Madelena’s eyes grew wide as she continued her lie, her words coming out fast. “At the fountain. Near his office. We are to have dinner. We have had dinner. Each night. Honestly.”

“Then why do you act as if you have something else planned?”

“Oh, Momma!” Mae turned to face her mother. “Can’t you see! She is distraught. You heard her mother. Signora Russo has arranged a marriage for Madelena to Signore Drakos. Can’t you see why she is so jittery? These are her last days of freedom and her last time to experience Carnival. Allow her to enjoy her time before she is carted away from us to Greece.”

Madelena rolled her eyes. Leave it to Mae to remind her of something she did not want to remember.

“You are correct,” Maude said. “Madelena needs to have a good time before she weds.” Maude extended her hand to Madelena.

Madelena placed her hand in Maude’s. The older woman gave a gentle squeeze.

“I know how dreadful arranged marriages can be. My first marriage was arranged and thankfully ended after a week. My husband suddenly died to my greatest relief. He was not kind. I can sympathize with you on the fear. But do not fret. Many have had arranged marriages that turned into happy ones. Look at your parents.”

Madelena forced a smile to her lips. If only outsiders knew how much her parents despised each other, they would have different opinions on arranged marriages. At night she could hear them bicker. Their words were muffled by the walls, but the tone was unmistakable.

“Yes,” Madelena replied.

“No more talk of marriage. You said so yourself,” Mae said, pulling Madelena forward. “Come. Let us celebrate and dance until we can no longer move, and then we will dance some more.”

Madelena glanced around the square but did not spot Oliver. She looked back at Mae and nodded. Perhaps she could find him tomorrow.

For the remainder of the afternoon Mae, Maude, and Madelena enjoyed the festivities of Carnival from plays to acrobats to jugglers. Madelena laughed and drank and danced to the point that she was dizzy. As the sun began to set, Maude reminded her she was to meet Signore Russo. Madelena had nearly forgotten her lie.

“Thank you for the reminder,” Madelena spoke. “I was having such a grand time that I had forgotten.”

“We will walk you to your father,” Maude said.

“No!” Madelena said.

Maude’s brows rose to her hairline.

“I mean, you take Mae home and protect her. Everyone here knows who my father is and the outcome should they do anything inappropriate towards me. I am perfectly safe here.”

“Madelena, I am not certain.”

“I will be fine. The sun is still up, but if you keep belaboring the issue, it will be well past dark by the time I find my father.” Madelena plastered a smile to her face hoping it would help sway Maude.

Maude gave a curt nod. “Very well. But if you cannot find him, you go straight home. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Madelena watched Mae and Maude leave. She made her way to the Fountain of the Four Rivers. She had met Oliver here for the past three nights. Why would tonight be any different? Sitting down upon the ledge, she gazed up at the statues.

“Would you care for another dip in the waters?”

Madelena turned and smiled. “Only if you join me.”

Oliver tossed his head back and laughed. “I do enjoy your spirit.”

“I am glad I am entertaining.”

“Speaking of entertaining, what revelry do you have planned for us this evening?”

Singing in the distance captured her attention, and a mischievous glint came to her eyes. “Do you sing?”

“Heavens, no.”

“Good.”

She took his hand and dragged him to the area, laughing all the way. The song was hard for Oliver to understand. He spoke Italian well, but the pace of the song was too fast for him. Madelena, on the other hand, knew the words. It was an energetic song that caused her to lose her breath and stop several times. Her lips moved rapidly as she sang, and several times she sputtered when she lost pace. Oliver laughed. She motioned for him to join her. He tried—the keyword being tried.

His words were slower than the rest, and many times the others would laugh at his attempt. Yet he kept trying. Madelena’s laughter surrounded him, and he gave her a boyish grin.

“You sing wonderfully,” Madelena said, as they left the group. “I thought you said you couldn’t sing.”

“I never said that. I simply said I don’t.”

“You should do so more often. You have a beautiful voice. A nice, deep, soothing tone.”

“Thank you. Yet my light does not compare to yours. You should sing more often.”

“How do you know that I don’t?”

“Do you?”

“I do. I sing when I make my baskets. I sing to Esmerelda and to Ramus and Eula.”

“Who?”

“My chicken and goats.”

“You sing to your livestock?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I do. Esmerelda likes happy tunes. Ramus and Eula like them all.”

“And how do you know?”

“They have never told me differently,” Madelena replied.

Oliver laughed and shook his head.

Madelena shrugged coyly and began to walk. They passed a man painting. The man thrust his brush at Oliver.

“Care to try, signore?!”

Oliver held out his hand. “No.”

“Oh, come now!” Madelena protested. “Let us see your artistic side.”

“Fine. But do not say I did not warn you.” Oliver took the brush. Turning his head to his side, he thrust his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and took the brush to canvas. After several minutes, he spoke, “Voilà! My creation”

Crinkling her nose, she could not control her laughter. “That is hideous!”

“You wound me, my lady. Here I thought it was a wonderful likeness of you.”

“Me?” Madelena repeated, looking at the display of colors upon the canvas. It nowhere resembled her. It nowhere resembled a human. “I thought you were painting…well…I don’t know what you’ve painted, but it certainly is not me.”

A confused look came to Oliver. “Oh, I don’t know.” He turned his head and held his hands out in front of him, joining the index and thumbs of his hands, forming a square. “If perhaps you were drunk enough and in the right light—”

The painter interjected, “Signore! This no more resembles the beautiful woman with you than it does my donkey! Perhaps it is abstract?” The artist’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, oh! That is it! The color is the woman. Look at the beautiful contrasts you have used in varying lines to represent her curves. The subtle tones to represent her kindness and the vibrant reds to represent her passion! I do believe you have represented your muse perfectly, signore!”

Oliver and Madelena looked at each other and burst out into laughter.

“Perhaps I simply cannot paint,” Oliver said.

The man pulled his lower lip up and crinkled his chin, “Perhaps. Now, farewell, my friend!” The painter left, taking Oliver’s artwork with him.

“He stole my painting,” Oliver said, trying to hide his humor.

“I highly doubt he will get any money from it.”

Oliver’s hand came to his chest. “You wound me again, Maddie. Here I thought I was a wonderful artist.”

“Flowers!” a man shouted right in Oliver’s ear, causing Oliver to rub it. “Flowers! You need to buy your beautiful lady some beautiful flowers.”

“If you keep yelling in my ears, I’ll put those flowers somewhere no one will buy them.”

“Signore!” the man said. “I apologize.” His words were slurred as he held out a bouquet of daisies. “But your lady needs flowers.”

Oliver looked between the man and Madelena. “You expect me to purchase her a common daisy?” He shook his head as he studied her attire. “Lilies only. And not just any color. But purple.”

The drunken man’s grin widened. “I do not have purple lilies.” Poking Oliver in the chest with his index finger, he continued, “But wait here. You will love what I have.”

“You don’t have to buy me flowers,” Madelena protested.

“A memento to remember the evening. You know, since the painting I made for you was stolen.”

A few moments later the man returned with a bouquet of white lilies accentuated with tiny purple and white flowers. Oliver paid the man and handed Madelena the flowers. She took the gift and placed them to her nose.

“Thank you.”

“Well, not many men get to experience the fun I have had this evening. The man did an excellent job of selecting the flowers. Sweet peas for a beautiful peahen.”

She bashfully fluttered her eyes at him. “You are too kind. You should not have purchased the flowers. You already purchased all my baskets and only took one.”

“And what did you do with the others?”

“I repaired them and sold them again,” she sheepishly admitted, fully expecting him to be angry.

Oliver laughed. “Brilliant!”

“You are not angry?”

“No. Now if I were one of my brothers, then that would be a different story.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Eight. And one sister.”

“My, that is a large family.”

“What of you?” Oliver asked. “Any siblings?”

“Unfortunately,” she mumbled. “And I do not wish to speak of them.”

“Then what do you want to speak of?”

Delight twinkled in her brown eyes, causing them to sparkle. “Dancing?”

“Dancing?”

“I want to go dancing again.”

“Then, by all means.” He motioned towards the group in the center of the square.

She glanced at the tower clock and noticed the time. It was nearing two in the morning. She looked back at Oliver then the clock. It was nearing dawn! She was having a wonderful time, but at this rate, she would never lose her virginity. She had to be brazen. A man walked past carrying a bottle of wine. She had seen the man before. He worked in the same building as her father. Madelena snatched the bottle from the man’s hand.

“Hey!” the man protested.

Madelena knew what she had to do. She raised her mask, revealing her identity to the man. It was a bold move. She knew it would get back to her father by morning, and that was what she was hoping. The more who saw her with a strange man this time of night, the more her reputation would be ruined. Why had she not thought of this earlier?

“My mistake. Take it,” the man said. He was not about to anger Signore Russo’s daughter.

Madelena took a long drink from the bottle. She needed courage. At Oliver’s curious glance, she spoke. “I was thirsty.” She held the bottle out to him. “Want a drink?”

“No. I thought you wanted to dance?”

She held her finger up and took another drink for courage. “I do. Just not here. Let us find another group.” Before she lost her nerve, she added, “Perhaps closer to where you live.”

Oliver’s right brow shot upwards. Was she propositioning him? “Very well.”

They made their way away from the Piazza and found a small group of people dancing. The music here was slower and quieter than that of the square. She took his hand and led him to the edge of the crowd. His hand held onto hers as the other was placed upon the small of her back. Suddenly, they were surrounded by couples dancing together. He moved her with grace and ease through the crush of people. The hand upon her back pulled her closer to his body, and his scent drifted to her. It was clean and masculine. The moonlight cast shadows upon his square jawline, and the lantern light caused his green eyes to appear dark. His lips were firm and perfectly shaped. He gazed deep into her dark eyes, and she felt her knees grow weak. The strangest sensations flooded her loins and caused her legs to tingle with anticipation. There was no need for her to try to seduce him for he was seducing her with only his eyes.

As Oliver gazed upon Madelena, he could not help but marvel at her beauty. Yet there was a vulnerability to her. She seemed like a lost lamb looking for her place in this world. However, there was passion in her dark eyes, a purpose to the tilt of her chin and a determination in her spirit. The moonlight danced over her face making her appear like a forbidden temptation. A sprite come to seduce him. A fairy come to steal him of his senses and leave him begging for more. His gaze landed on her slightly parted, full, pink lips. They called to him, and he answered. She did not fight his kiss but instead leaned into him. Their mouths lightly drifted over the other, teasing, tempting. He pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. She did not protest but willingly opened her mouth to him so his tongue could explore her. Her body melted to his, and a whimper left her. He relinquished her mouth and locked eyes with her, fully expecting her to slap him or dart away like she had for the past three nights. Instead, she placed her hand gently upon his cheek and kissed him again, pressing her body fully against his. Her tongue jutted outward and entered his mouth. He crushed her against his body and continued the kiss. Each second that passed, the more passionate they became. He raised his head and placed his forehead to hers.

“Would it be too bold of me to ask you to accompany me home this evening?”

She shook her head and managed to whisper, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Ten

Madelena could hear her heart hammering in her ears. She tried to swallow only to find the task nearly impossible. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Yet her palms were so sweaty she feared she might drop the beautiful bouquet of flowers. She followed Oliver contemplating her rash decision. He was a fine specimen and very handsome and witty and easy to be around. However, what did this say about his character? He was willing to ask a total stranger to come home with him.

“What does this say about your character?” a little voice inside her head asked.

Madelena closed her eyes. She could not go through with this. As much as she enjoyed the past four evenings, this was something that was not in her character. She was no strumpet. She looked around the area where Oliver was taking her. It was one of the more elite sides of town on the outskirts of the city near a large pond. She had been to the neighborhood several times with her parents to visit Signore and Signora Cancio. How could she have been so thoughtless?! She knew that Martin Henshaw lived next to the Cancios. She could not allow her father to inflict his wrath upon the Henshaws. She liked the Henshaws. The few times she’d spoken with Signora Henshaw, Madelena wished she could have gotten to know the woman better.

Before she realized what was happening, Madelena found herself walking up the path to the Henshaws’ home. Her eyes drifted to the Cancio residence. A faint light was in the upstairs window. Would Nichole be watching?

“Are you coming?” Oliver asked.

Madelena looked his way and realized that she had stopped walking.

“If you have changed your mind, I will gladly escort you back home.”

Madelena looked at the Cancio house again. Nichole was a close confidant of Sandra’s and most likely knew of the upcoming nuptials. Nuptials to a man Madelena knew nothing of but already detested. Her gaze landed back on Oliver. If she was to lose her virginity to a stranger, then let it be to this man.

She shook her head. “No. I was just marveling at the landscape.”

Oliver held out his hand, and she took it. Warmth flooded her from his touch. They made their way inside. Oliver took her flowers and placed them in a pitcher of water meant for drinking that was sitting by the doorway.

Madelena gave him a quizzical glance.

Oliver shrugged. “We can’t have them dying now, can we?”

“Of course not.”

She followed Oliver through the home, not paying attention to the décor or elaborate furnishings. All she could think of was what was about to transpire, an event she knew nothing about. Would he be angry when he learned she knew nothing of lovemaking? Would he cast her out and tell her never to return?

The sound of the door closing behind her brought her thoughts to the moment at hand. They had made it to Oliver’s quarters. The room was dark, save for the lamp burning by the bedside table. She could tell the room was large but not much else. The woodwork and furnishings were shrouded in darkness.

Her eyes came to his, and in that instant, her fear left. There was something about this man before her that she trusted. She knew he would do her no harm, and if she asked him to take her home this instant, he would.

He stepped forward, and his lips found hers in a tender kiss. She returned his affections, all too aware of his presence. She pressed her body to his, and her heart rate increased from anticipation. The kiss intensified. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gasped slightly when she felt his hand upon her breast. But she was not afraid. The feel of him caressing her caused a longing sensation deep within her, a feeling like she had never experienced before.

His lips left hers and traveled down her cheek and to her neck, stopping at the mounds of her breasts. His tongue traced them, and she closed her eyes with pleasure. His mouth made its way back up her neck to her ear and then her lips. She could feel his hands upon her back, loosening the laces upon her dress. If she wanted this to stop, now was the time.

When her dress fell to the floor, her courage began to leave. His fingers brushed over one of the thin straps to her shift sliding it from her shoulder. Her insides quivered. She could not do this. But when she felt the heat of Oliver’s touch upon her breast as he took her nipple into his mouth, all sense of reasoning left her. Her hand captured his head, holding him in place as he teased and nipped at her budding nipple. In an instant, he had scooped her up in his arms, leaving her dress by the door, and carried her to the bed that had been turned down by the servants. He placed her down by the bed and caressed her cheek.

She watched as he stripped out of his coat. His fingers fumbled with the cravat around his neck, and he mumbled a curse when the knot refused to be undone.

“Allow me,” she said, closing her fingers over his.

He nodded, and she began loosening the knot. Her fingers glanced over his flesh, and the heat penetrated her. She locked her gaze with his when the cravat was undone and allowed to hang loosely around his neck. She could not help herself. She had never seen a man without their clothing and was curious as to what he would look like. She began working on the laces to his tunic. Slowly, she removed the string until the deep “V” of his shirt was open. Her fingers found his skin, and he closed his lids. His chest was firm and tanned. But she wanted to see more.

He sensed her need and pulled at the tunic until it was over his head. Tossing the black garment to the floor, her gaze fixated upon his smooth chest that was rippled with muscles. Instinct took over as her hand reached outward, caressing each muscle along his chest and abdomen.

His hand found the nape of her neck and pulled her in close for a kiss. As he did, she could feel her shift slowly begin to rise upward. Over her hips, the material glided. She felt his fingers lightly touch her sides as he pulled her shift off and over her head. She stood before him with nothing on. No clothing to protect her. She felt embarrassed and ashamed until she heard him speak.

“You are so beautiful. I could only imagine what you looked like under that dress. And now to see the treasure beneath, I can rest a happy man.”

He leaned over and took her breast into his mouth again. Searing heat tore through her body. She wanted him to touch her. She needed him to touch her. Her body felt like it would go up in flames. The throbbing in her loins was maddening. Suddenly she found herself sitting on the bed, unaware of how she got there. Her gaze landed on Oliver and watched as his fingers loosened the buttons on his breeches. When the buttons were undone, he sat upon the bed and removed his boots before standing again. When he stood, he gave a quick push down and his clothing fell from his body. Her eyes widened upon seeing all of him. His shaft was right before her standing erect, thick and hard. Her curiosity took over. She had to know what it felt like. Her fingers wrapped around him, causing his eyes to close and a deep moan to leave him. Her fingers gently caressed him from where his shaft joined his body to the tip and back down again.

“Egad, you little vixen,” Oliver mumbled, his voice husky with desire. “You are going to make me explode before I have had my taste of you.”

She had no idea what he meant, and her expression must have shown it.

“Don’t be afraid. I will not bite,” Oliver said as he gently pushed her shoulders. She landed on the bed and was surprised when he lay on top of her. He began the assault of her senses again. His hands were everywhere but nowhere near enough. When she felt him caress the nub of her woman core, her back arched, and she writhed in pleasure. It was amazing! These feelings coursing through her veins were ones she did not want to stop, but she needed something more.

He stopped his touch, and she felt his weight on top of her. His knee eased her legs apart, and he kissed her again. He settled his body between her thighs. She could feel his maleness touch the outer core of her most intimate area. In the next instant, there was pain.

“Bloody hell!” Oliver exclaimed in English, his movement in her body stopping. “You’re a virgin!”

“Yes.”

His gaze locked with hers, and for a moment she thought he might toss her out.

“The damage is done,” she whispered. “I wanted a night of pleasure from you. Please do not deny me.”

He closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself.

Her hands found his backside as her lips nipped his neck. “You make me feel things that I have never felt before. I need to feel more. I want nothing else but for you to show me where these sensations will lead.”

Hell, he thought to himself. He stared at Maddie. She was correct. The damage was done, and there was no bringing back her maidenhead. Her hips rose up slightly, and he could feel the heat flood again to his loins. His hips moved against her, and she joined him. As he moved inside her, he could feel her become wet from the motion. She was so warm and tight around him, and he soon found himself forgetting about her innocence. His hand found her leg and slid upward to her buttocks, pulling her leg high upon his side as he thrust deep inside of her. Her fingers dug down his back as he moved within her. Her movements were jerking and slow at first. He eased his pace, allowing her to learn her own rhythm. Soon they were moving in unison.

Madelena did not know what was happening inside her body. She wanted these sensations to continue but wanted something more. Something she could not describe. The feel of Oliver moving inside of her caused a fire to burn within her. Her lips moved unabashedly against his. Her hands had a mind of their own as they found his backside ushering him to push harder. Her legs parted wider, and she discovered that she wanted more. He complied and thrust deep inside her. Her breathing came out in a pant, and everything within her was solely focused on finding out where these sensations would take her. In an instant, she cried out in pleasure as shuddering spasms coursed through her body, causing her back to arch. The feelings were unlike anything she had ever experienced. Her body quivered and shook from pleasure for what seemed like hours. She did not want it to end. The fire burning deep within her lessened, and she came floating back down from her pleasure. As her bliss was subsiding, she could feel Oliver still moving inside her, and then he stiffened and moaned. He buried his face in the nape of her neck and lay motionless for several minutes. When he raised his head, she looked bashfully away.

“Do I need to ask why you wanted to do this?” Oliver asked.

Madelena looked at him. “No. Just know I wanted to know what this was like by you.”

“If I had known—”

“If you had known I was a virgin, you would have never gone this far. I know. That is why I did not tell you. And, no, I do not want nor expect a marriage proposal from you. I am quite happy being unwed. I just wanted to know what it was like.”

“Why me?” Before she could answer, Oliver spoke. “Never mind. I most likely would not like the answer anyway.” He rolled from her and propped his head upon his elbow. “You are the most unusual woman I have ever met.”

She smiled. “Good.”

“I could be a tyrant.”

Her hand came to his face. “But you are not. You are good. I can see it in you.”

Silence settled between them.

“Are you angry with me?” Madelena asked.

A deep breath left Oliver. He should be. He was no teacher and did not want to be anyone’s first. That is why he avoided virgins. And now? Well, now, he found that he still held onto that notion. Except now, the woman he wanted was no longer innocent—even though it was his fault.

“I should be,” he answered. “But I am not.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yes. I made it a mission of mine to avoid virgins. Much too clingy and marriage hungry. But you said you had no desire for marriage. And neither do I. And now since you are no longer innocent in the ways of the world, should you have a desire for me again, I can eagerly accept you into my bed with the full knowledge that you are not a virgin nor a woman of loose morals for I was the cause of your fall from grace.”

Madelena drew her brows together as she listened to him ramble. “I am not certain if I should be mad at you or take that as a compliment.”

“Compliment, Maddie. I find you to be the most extraordinary woman I have ever met. You are an entrepreneur. You are independent. You openly speak your mind. You seek out what you want and are not afraid of the consequences. Those are qualities that make for a very intriguing woman.”

“Most men find those qualities reasons to avoid me.”

“Then those men are idiots.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Oliver asked.

“For helping me realize that I did not make a mistake by choosing you.”

“You are welcome.” Oliver lay down on his side and heard the clock chime four. “It is getting late. You are most welcome to stay here and rest a bit.”

“I would like that.” She lay down upon her side. She would allow him to think she would rest. The instant he dozed off to sleep, she would slip away. The longer she lay in the bed, listening to the lulling tick of the clock and watching Oliver’s breathing, the heavier her lids grew, and she soon drifted off to sleep.

Light flooded the room. “Oliver St. John!” a voice boomed across the room. “If you are the cause of Antonio Russo demanding entrance into my home, there will be no need for you to take a ship back to Governor’s Harbour because I will kick your ass so hard you will fly across the bloody ocean!”

Both Madelena and Oliver sat upright as if someone was pulling them by their hair. Madelena gasped when she spied Martin Henshaw standing by the window, pulling the curtain back. A strange noise left her as she laid back down and pulled the cover over her head.

“Sweet Judas, Martin,” Oliver complained, lying back down. “The least you could do is knock first.”

“Knock? You want me to knock?” A curse left Martin as he tripped over articles of clothing strewn about the room. “Please tell me you are not the reason for Russo’s latest warpath.”

When Madelena heard Martin mention her father’s name, she cringed and tightened her hold upon the covers over her head. How could she have been so careless? She was not supposed to fall asleep!

“What are you rambling about, Martin?” Oliver asked. “And why are you here? I thought you were visiting with Geneva’s mother last night?”

“I was. That woman is irritating. I decided to come home early. As I was making my way home, I was stopped by Russo asking me if I had any knowledge of the whereabouts of his daughter. Naturally, I told him no. He then proceeded to tell me that she had been missing all night and that he was doing a thorough search of everyone’s home looking for her for someone saw her headed this direction last night. And when I passed by Cancios, I overheard one of Russo’s men speaking with Signora Cancio and she told them she saw a woman of Madelena’s description enter my home. Please tell me that is a lie.” Martin approached the bed and glanced down. Upon seeing a figure in the bed, his eyes widened. In a voice resembling a squeak, he said, “Please tell me that is a lie.”

Oliver moaned. “Martin, I am in no mood for your paranoia. And get the hell out! I do not barge into your room without knocking.”

Martin ignored his friend’s sour disposition. “Show yourself, woman.” When Madelena shook her head no, Martin growled. “Do it, or I will toss these bloody covers from your body myself.”

Madelena cringed. This was not going as planned! If she had only not drifted off to sleep. She blamed the wine. That had to be the reason she had slept so soundly as not to notice the dawn. She lowered the cover, exposing the top half of her face.

“I need to see more than just your eyes,” Martin growled.

She lowered the covers to her neck and watched as both of Martin’s hands went to his head. His fingers fisted around his perfectly manicured hair and pulled outward. When he released his hair, it was standing straight outward like bird wings. He turned and paced the floor, mumbling. Suddenly, he whipped around and pointed angrily at Oliver.

“I told you to avoid Russo’s daughters! And I come home to find one in your bed.”

“What?!” Oliver exclaimed, sitting back up and looking at Maddie, his eyes wide as if he had just seen a ghost.

“That is Antonio Russo’s daughter in your bed. And not just any daughter, but his favorite daughter, Madelena. He is tearing this bloody city apart looking for her. He has been to every house on the opposite side of the street and is now making his way down this side. It will be only a matter of minutes before he will be here, demanding to search my home for”— he angrily pointed at Madelena—“her!”

Oliver scurried out of bed and raced to the window.

“Put some pants on, man,” Martin complained, picking up the black breeches from last night and tossing them at Oliver’s back. “You and your randy behavior has cost us both dearly this time. He is going to have both of our bollocks in a jar when he finds her here.”

Fury in his gaze, Oliver whipped back around to face Martin. His heated gaze landed upon Madelena.

Angrily jerking on his pants, he spoke. “I was warned that your mother wanted to marry off her daughters. I never dreamed that she would go to this excess. Is that her plan? To place you in my bed in order to coerce a marriage proposal out of me?”

“How dare you?” Madelena seethed, tossing her legs from the bed. Holding the sheet to her body, she climbed out of bed and approached Oliver. “I had no idea my father was out looking for me.”

“Really? Nearly a week ago, your mother and sisters were chasing Stephano Mortilini and me around like we were some prized bulls for them to purchase. And when they noticed that Stephano was not interested in them then their pursuit increased, and they set their sights solely upon me. I guess since they could not have a Mortilini then a St. John would do. Now I can see the lengths this family will go to in order to get a marriage proposal out of a wealthy man. I will not allow this family to get a hold in Emerald Shipping.”

“You arrogant ass!” Madelena retaliated. “My mother hates me! And besides, I had no idea what your surname was until this very instant, and it still means nothing to me! I wanted you for sex. I wanted you to take my virginity because I am being forced to marry another, and he wants a purity check before our vows!”

“What?”

“You heard me. I am to be poked and prodded to make certain that I am pure before I am to wed some old fat Greek named Miles Drakos—”

“Drakos?” Martin interrupted.

Madelena ignored Henshaw as she continued her rant. “—but if I am not a virgin, then the wedding will not take place. I told you last night, I have no desire to marry, and now you see the lengths I have gone to, to make certain that I don’t. I had sex with a complete stranger.”

“See the lengths you went to?” Oliver seethed, his green eyes darkening with fury. “All I see is a way for you to marry someone other than Drakos. Now your father will find us and force us to wed.”

“If you keep shouting, he will!” Madelena replied.

Martin walked past the arguing couple and gazed out the window. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Russo is at my gates.”

“Shit,” Oliver mumbled, running a hand through his red hair.

“Great,” Madelena replied with sarcasm, tossing her hands in the air. “See. All this arguing has delayed my departure.” She whirled to face Martin. “Can you stall him enough for me to slip out the back?”

“I can. Except it is not only him but his men who are searching the homes as well. Every exit will be guarded until the search is completed.” Martin turned to address Oliver. “You, my friend, are screwed.” Martin snorted. “And that is what got you in this mess to begin with.”

“Shut it, Martin,” Oliver snapped.

Pounding upon the front door echoed through the house. “Open the door!”

“And here I thought having only you here would make my life easier. I should have invited Owen, as well. Perhaps he would have talked some sense into you,” Martin complained.

“Just shut the hell up. Go answer the bloody door while I try to think of some way to hide his daughter.”

“I wouldn’t have to delay him if you would learn to keep your prick in your pants every once in a while.”

More pounding occurred on the door. “Signore Henshaw!”

Martin headed to the bedroom door and turned his head to address Oliver. As he did, he neglected to see Madelena’s dress and fell, striking his head upon the table.

“Son of a bitch!” Martin exclaimed. Climbing to his feet. His hand came to the knot forming on his forehead. “My life was peaceful until you arrived.”

“You invited me,” Oliver replied.

“Don’t remind me!” Martin smoothed down the front of his coat. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will find some lie to tell the most powerful man in Rome. Hopefully, he will not see through my lies and shoot me where I stand.”

“Signore Henshaw,” Madelena spoke.

Martin turned to face her, his face contorted with anger. “Yes.”

Madelena pointed to her hair. “You might need to fix your hair.”

Martin leaned over and viewed his reflection in the mirror. A frustrated sigh left him. He attempted to tame his wild locks. When they would not comply, he dipped his hands into the pitcher of water and smoothed down his hair.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” Martian said, leaving, slamming the door in the process.

“Wonder if he realizes that water is dripping from his hair,” Madelena spoke.

Oliver turned to face her. “I do not think that is his worry at the moment. You could have at least warned me that you were Russo’s daughter.”

“And if I had, would you have brought me here? Would we have…well…”—she pointed to the bed—“…you know.”

“Had sex?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Then you see why I left that fact out. Now quit belaboring the issue of my father and help me try to figure out what to do. If he finds me here, he’ll kill you.”

“No. He’ll make us marry. Then kill me.”

Madelena flared her fingers outward. “Would you stop it with marriage? I told you, I do not want to marry. Why do you think I was selling baskets?” Before she could reply, she continued, “I had a dream of earning enough money to rent my own home. A dream of escaping my mother and sisters. A dream of being an independent woman. A merchant who did not need a man for support. Now, if my father finds me, he’ll ship me off to a convent.”

Oliver ran his fingers through his hair. “Right now, we need to hide you.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?” Disdain dripped from her words. Her eyes drifted to the bed. She could not hide under it, for that would be the first place they searched. Her eyes went to the linens, and she spotted the red area upon the sheet. “Oh, dear.”

“What now?” Oliver mumbled, his gaze following hers.

“What’s that?”

“That would be the evidence of your purity.”

Madelena’s lids came down, and her shoulders slumped. “How are you going to explain that?”

Oliver looked down at his hand. The injury had an ugly dark scab covering it. In another week it would be healed. He approached the mirror. Removing his razor from the shaving kit, he slid the blade over the healing wound, causing a hiss of pain to leave him.

“What are you doing?” Madelena asked with concern.

Oliver turned to face her, the wound upon his hand now bleeding. “Saving my ass. And yours.” Opening a drawer, he removed a bandage and wrapped it around the bleeding hand.

Voices carried up to them from the front door. Madelena raced to the window and looked out.

“They are entering the house!” she whispered in a panic. “What are we going to do?”

Oliver looked around the room. The small linen closet would not do for they would most certainly look there first. The bed was not an option either. His gaze landed on his sea chest. “How do you do in confined spaces?”

“Not very well.”

“Well, I suggest you quickly become accustomed to the notion.”

“Why?” she whispered in mortification, but already knowing the answer.

“Because if you haven’t noticed, that is the only hiding place in this room. No one would think to look for you in a trunk.”

“I can’t hide in a trunk.”

“And I don’t relish the idea of being shot.” Bending, he scooped up her dress and approached the wooden trunk. After shoving her dress inside, he turned to her. “Now get in.”

Madelena looked around the room, her heart racing. This was not part of her plan.

“Get in, now,” Oliver bit out.

Madelena’s bare feet padded across the floor, and she looked down at the dress in the trunk.

“Get in.”

She swallowed and climbed into the trunk, taking the sheet with her. As Oliver closed the lid, she spoke. “Wait! My shift.”

Oliver looked around the floor and spotted the item. Handing her the article, she pulled it over her head and gave him the sheet. He closed the lid down and turned.

“I can’t do this,” Madelena said, raising the lid of the trunk. “I can’t breathe in here.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to breathe when your father wraps his hands around your throat?”

“It’s too hot in this blasted thing. If you think this is a good idea, you get in, and I’ll face my father alone.”

“No. Martin is sticking his neck out for us, and I will not have him regret that action.” Oliver looked around the room and spotted a knitted throw. He placed the item on the lip of the trunk. “Now, hunker down and close this bloody lid. The blanket will keep it open just enough for air.”

Madelena did as bade. When the lid closed, she could hear Oliver walking around the room. The top to the sea chest moved as he placed a few items on top. She could hear the bed creak and Oliver mumbling something before growing quiet. She closed her eyes. Please, God, don’t let my father find me.

Chapter Eleven

Martin was mumbling under his breath, still smoothing down his hair as he descended the steps. He called to the butler “Open the door, Richard.”

The tall, thin man opened the door, and Russo pushed his way inside.

“It's about time you let me in,” Russo complained.

“Sorry. I was detained. Nature calling and all that.” Martin inwardly cringed at his fabrication.

Russo’s gaze drifted around the foyer. Nothing seemed out of sorts. No unusual activities. The only thing out of place was a bouquet of flowers resting in a water pitcher.

“Nice flowers,” Russo said. “For your wife?”

Martin’s eyes went to the bouquet of lilies. Geneva hated lilies. “Yes. My wife adores them.”

“Where is Signora Russo?”

“She is at her mother’s.”

“And you purchased her flowers?” Russo’s voice held his doubt of the tale.

Think. Think. Think. “Yes. You see, she is returning today. I like to surprise her with little gifts. Keep the spark in the marriage. But I don’t have to tell you these things.”

“Indeed,” Russo drolly replied. “My men have taken the liberty of searching the grounds for my daughter. As you are aware, she was seen in this vicinity last evening. She has not returned, and that is not like her. I am leaving no stone unturned to find her.”

Martin swallowed hard. “Of course. Feel free to search wherever you need. Do you think something happened to her?”

“I’m not certain. I have made many enemies over the years.”

“Yet you keep us all safe. My wife and I are most grateful for your diligence.”

“Of course.” Russo walked past Martin and took in the downstairs.

“That is my study.” Martin pointed to the left. “The sitting room beside it. The kitchen in the back. The dining room across the hall and a drawing room to your right.”

“And your chambers are upstairs?”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice rising with nervousness.

Russo seemed to notice. “Then you don’t mind if I begin my search there.”

Sweat began to bead upon Martin’s head. “Not at all. I do have a house guest.”

“St. John?”

“Yes. But if you don’t mind me asking, why are you searching upstairs first? If someone tried to harm your daughter, wouldn’t the grounds be the logical place to begin?”

“Leave no stone unturned, Signore Henshaw.”

Russo climbed the steps two at a time, Martin right on his heels babbling. Russo did not pay attention to Martin’s ramblings. He had a mission. Henshaw was acting suspiciously. Nichole had reported that she saw Madelena enter this home with St. John and that Madelena never left. Signora Henshaw had departed the beginning of Carnival. Martin, on the other hand had stayed behind. However, he traveled to visit his wife yesterday afternoon and had just returned moments ago, so it was possible that he was assisting St. John in hiding Madelena. And if so, then both these men would face the consequences.

“Where are your chambers?” Russo asked at the top of the steps.

“To the right.”

Russo turned left. Martin cringed and looked upward. Why was this happening to him? Why? Things had been going so well with Russo until this.

Racing to catch up to the influential man, Martin tried to dissuade him from going down this wing. “Oliver was out celebrating Carnival last evening. He most likely is sleeping soundly. You know how much people overindulge in spirits during this time. Why don’t you begin your search on the opposite side of the home? By the time you reach this area, he should be awake.”

Russo ignored the suggestion and stopped at the last door. “Is this your guest’s chambers?”

Martin nodded his head slightly. “It is.”

Russo turned the knob and entered.

“You should knock first!” Martin tried to intervene as Russo entered. But it was to no avail. The older man stepped into the room. Martin closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “If Russo doesn’t kill Oliver, I will.”

Russo stopped in his tracks as his eyes scanned the room. No movement. Not even a stirring from the man lying half on the bed wearing only a pair of black breeches that were undone. The man’s right leg lay on the bed, his left dangled over the side. The man’s shirt lay where it was tossed haphazardly over a chair.

Martin’s head darted left to right as he looked for signs of Madelena. There was nothing. Not even a slipper. What had Oliver done with her? His eyes darted to the open window and grew wide. Surely he had not had her hang from the windowsill! His attention turned back to Russo. The older man’s fists were clenched at his sides, and his chest heaved with frustration. It appeared to Martin that Russo was going to pounce on Oliver where he lay.

“Oliver,” Martin spoke. “We have company.”

Russo’s eyes lowered to slits as he viewed Henshaw over his shoulder.

Oliver pushed his body from the bed and placed his bandaged hand over his eyes. “What the devil is going on?”

“We have company.”

Oliver allowed his body to fall back to the bed and threw his bandaged hand back over his eyes. “Tell them to go away. Can’t you see, man? I am in no shape for company. Carnival took the best from me. Tell whoever is visiting that I am indisposed and to return this afternoon.”

“Where is my daughter?” Russo asked, stepping towards Oliver.

With fascination, Martin watched his friend’s impeccable acting skills. He never knew Oliver possessed such talent.

“I have not seen your daughters, and trust me, I would most certainly recognize them. They are, by far, the most unattractive women I have ever seen.”

“Shit,” Martin mumbled. Oliver was going to get himself killed right now—even without Russo finding Madelena.

“Do not insult my pride and joys. Now, where is my daughter?”

Oliver removed his hand from one eye and glanced at the man.

“Sit up, boy!” Russo demanded.

Oliver pushed his body back to a sitting position, purposefully placing his injured hand upon the bloody spot on the bed.

“What?” Oliver spoke again. He knew he was being disrespectful, but he also had to play the part of a man in pain from a vile overindulgence in spirits. “As you can see, there is no one in here but me.”

“Madelena. Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Madelena. My daughter. Signora Cancio saw Madelena enter this house with you late last evening.”

A dreamlike smile pulled the corner of Oliver’s lip as he raised his head. “Ah, her. Delightful young lady.”

“So you admit she was with you?” Russo advanced upon Oliver, stopping just inches away.

“She was. She told me she was hiding from someone. She walked in the front door and out the back.” His brows came together. “Are you certain she’s your daughter? She looks nothing like the others. Quite beautiful, that one.”

“Signora Cancio said no one left.”

“Really?” A confused look came to Oliver. “Perhaps she is blind for I watched that lovely peahen stroll right out the back door and through the rose hedges into Signora Cancio’s backyard.”

Both men in the room were shocked when Russo’s backhand struck Oliver. Oliver came to his feet, his eyes narrow with anger, his chest heaving with frustration.

“That was uncalled for.” An unsaid threat slid around Oliver’s words.

Martin knew Oliver’s tone and could sense his friend’s simmering rage.

“You have insulted my daughter and have called me a liar. It was most certainly called for.”

“Oliver. Calm yourself,” Martin said, hoping to deescalate the situation. St. Johns were notorious for their violent tempers, and it was about to rear its head against Russo.

“Telling me to calm down does not help the matter, Martin,” Oliver snapped. “I have been attacked without cause.”

A man appeared at the doorway. “Nothing outside, Boss.”

“Marco!” Russo spoke to his hired man. “Search the room.”

“You will do no such thing,” Oliver warned.

“I can and I will. You have no idea who you are dealing with, Signore St. John. If you cause an issue, Emerald Shipping will find great hardship maintaining relations here.”

“Do not threaten my company over your imagined slights. I will not be bullied by you or your ‘influence.’ My father has more power than you realize, and it would be wise for you not to forget that.”

“Search the room,” Russo ordered his man.

“Go ahead and search,” Martin spoke.

“Martin,” Oliver protested. He was not to be intimidated by the man before him. He knew Russo’s type. Men who used influence to get their way. And he would be damned if he would allow Russo that pleasure today. Yet, Madelena was in the sea chest against the wall. She was most likely smothering in the confined space, curled up in a ball on top of her dress.

“This is my home, Oliver. I live here and want to continue doing so. If there is nothing to be found, then what is the harm? Go ahead. Have your man search and then leave before Geneva returns. I do not want her becoming upset over something so trivial.”

Oliver and Russo stood toe to toe. Neither man was backing down. Martin knew that, despite Oliver’s carefree appearance, he had a temper just as violent as any of the St. Johns and a left hook that would break a man’s jaw.

Marco entered the room. Oliver barely took notice of the man as he squared off with Russo. Despite the man being his senior by many years, he was physically fit. Muscles could be seen straining under the tailored coat he wore, and the thickness of his neck led Oliver to the conclusion that the man was physically active in some way.

“Make it quick,” Oliver conceded with ill grace, sitting down. He only yielded for Maddie. “I have a hangover and do not feel like entertaining.”

Marco headed to the linen cabinet. Oliver watched the muscular man throw out every piece of linen in the closet. It was for pure aggravation. There was no way that Madelena could have not been seen in the area. Marco then turned to the wardrobe and proceeded to throw out all of Oliver’s clothing upon the floor. Hell, the bastard even emptied the drawers!

“Do you think she is a mouse for I seriously doubt she would fit in a bloody drawer,” Oliver scoffed.

Marco turned, approaching Oliver and sneered. The hired man got down upon all fours and looked under the bed. He stood.

“Get up,” Marco ordered.

“She is not in my bed,” Oliver noted. “As you can see, it is just me.”

“Get up.”

Oliver mentally chided himself. He had to get these men out of here before Madelena came flying out of that trunk from the heat. So he stood.

Marco grabbed the covers and tossed them to the floor. His eyes came to the bottom sheet.

“Dried blood on the bed, Boss.”

Russo stepped around Oliver.

Oliver closed his eyes and held his breath. Remember, you must keep your temper in check.

Russo looked at the spot. It was dark brown. Not fresh. “Whose?”

“Mine,” Oliver replied, turning and holding up his hand.

Russo studied the bandage. Blood was on the outside, not quite dry.

“That is fresh blood upon your bandage. That on the bed is dried,” Russo noted, suspicion in his voice. “And in the appropriate spot for particular actions.”

Oliver shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Remove your bandage.”

Oliver did as bade, quickly unwinding the blood-tinged bandage from his hand. Once uncovered, he held his palm up to Russo. “You see.”

“When?”

“Ask your little spy next door. She saw me do it.”

“I do not need your lip, boy.”

Temper. Just comply and get him the hell out of here. “A few days ago. I was using dull tools on the log out back. My hand slipped.”

Another man approached the door to the room at that time. “No one’s here, Signore Russo. All the outbuildings and rooms have been searched.”

“The servants?” Russo asked. “Have they been questioned.”

“All the ones present denied seeing her.”

The brow over Russo’s left eye rose. “Yet you claimed she was here.”

“It was late,” Oliver supplied. “Nearly four in the morning. The servants were abed.”

Russo looked around the room again. “Even though my daughter is not here, I do not trust you. Enjoy your stay in Rome, St. John, but keep in mind I will be watching you. One little slip and I will have you arrested. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” Oliver bit out through clenched teeth. He did not like playing the part of a whipped dog.

Russo turned to leave. Martin followed to make sure that all of the influential men went as well. Oliver approached the door, shut it, and turned the lock. He approached the trunk and removed the items from the top.

Madelena burst out of the trunk like a jack-in-the-box and gasped for fresh air.

Oliver placed a finger to his lips, hushing Madelena’s noise. She nodded her head.

Oliver trotted over to the window. A few minutes later he watched Russo and his men file out of the house. At the end of the walk, Russo turned and locked onto Oliver’s form. The older man glared at Oliver for a few seconds and then left to continue his search.

“He’s gone,” Oliver spoke.

Madelena’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Thank God. I was about to think he never would. Then again, you did not help matters. My father is not a man who is used to having his authority questioned.”

“So I take it.” Oliver offered her a hand to assist her out of the trunk.

“Now. Back to the discussion before your father’s appearance.”

“What discussion?”

“Why did you do it? Why did you allow a stranger to take you to bed?”

Madelena’s shoulders slumped. “Tomorrow, a representative of Miles Drakos will come to my home to check on my purity. Drakos only wants a pure bride. If I fail the test, then he will not marry me.”

“Why did you agree to in the first place?”

“I didn’t!” Madelena defended, her eyes growing wide. “My mother hates me for some reason. She torments me every chance she gets and blames me for the fact that my sisters cannot find a suitor. She arranged the marriage for me.”

“I seriously doubt you are the reason your sisters cannot find suitable husbands. I have met them, and the only one with a reasonable personality is Flora. Your father seemed uninterested in your sisters’ choice of suitors and who they engaged with, yet he appears very protective of you. I find it hard to believe he accepted your mother’s choice of a husband for you?”

Sorrow pulled her eyes. “I always thought he cared for my opinion. When I protested, he seemed just as determined as Mother to see me marry Drakos.”

“And what of me?”

“What of you?”

“You honestly have no desire to wed me?”

Madelena’s spine went rigid. “I have no desire to wed any man. I told you that. I hate small, tight spaces. Why else would I have suffered in that trunk? If I wanted to marry you, I would have shouted to my father upon his arrival. I would have jumped out of that trunk the instant he was in this room. Are you so stupid as to think that I still want to marry you? I only wanted you for sex. Nothing more. And do not dare to think to be insulted by the notion for that was your interest in me as well. Men seek carnal satisfaction all the time.”

“That is entirely different.”

“Why?”

“Because it is,” Oliver replied.

“Just because it is what’s done does not mean it is the same for everyone.”

Oliver furrowed his brow with confusion. “What?”

“Men can have sex all the time and not for marriage. No one thinks twice about it. But the instant a woman does, she is labeled as a slut or whore and is condemned by society.”

“This was a complete change of subject. I thought we were talking about marriage.”

“We are. I do not want to marry. I told you all I want to do is make and sell my baskets. I want a life that is not under the dictate of men. Is that too much to ask?”

A solemn expression crossed Oliver’s face as he shook his head. “No. That is a dream. We all have them.”

“I am truly sorry that my father has set his sights on you. I will see what I can do to deter his wrath.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know. I will think of that on the way home.”

“Speaking of which. How are we going to get you out of this house? He has men watching the streets, and apparently, Martin’s neighbor is more vigilant than any guard.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Yet you had everything else planned?”

“I did. It’s not my fault I fell asleep. I was planning on slipping out after you dozed off.”

“Well, now what?”

Madelena approached the bed and sat down. Bringing her knees up, she cradled her chin on them. “You don’t have a suit I can borrow?”

Oliver’s right brow shot upwards. “No.”

“I might have a dress,” a female voice came from the doorway.

Martin followed Russo down the steps.

“I truly hope you find your daughter, Signore Russo. And please excuse my guest’s rudeness. As you heard him say, he is suffering the effects of the overindulgence of alcohol.”

“That does not excuse his discourtesy.”

“He is a St. John. They do have a way of pressing upon one’s nerves. It comes from his upbringing, you see. His father is the Earl of Hyntington.”

Russo stopped and pivoted.

Marvin nodded his head, causing his mussed hair to bounce. “In England.”

“Hmmm.” He had forgotten that tidbit. No wonder Sandra kept pressing him to seek out St. John for a dinner invitation so she could pair Angela or Flora with him. Antonio would not have it! Somehow, St. John was entangled with Madelena, and he would not stand for it.

“Signore Russo,” a female voice said from the foyer.

Martin leaned to the right to peer around Russo. “Geneva?! What are you going here?”

“I live here,” she coolly answered.

“I know that. I mean, you’re home. Early. You were at your mother’s.”

“She became ill.”

Russo bowed politely. “Signora Henshaw. So good to see you this morning.”

She gave a brilliant smile. “Thank you, Signore Russo. What brings you by? I hope everything is as it should be.”

Russo approached the foyer where Geneva was standing. “Everything is fine. I just had a bit of business with your husband. Do have a blessed day.”

Russo passed Geneva with Marco upon his heels. Marco bumped the table where the lilies sat.

“Careful, Marco. You do not want to ruin Signora Henshaw’s beautiful flowers. After all, her husband did purchase them to surprise her.”

“My flowers?” Geneva asked, her eyes going to the white lilies. Curiosity pulled her brows together as she looked at her husband. Martin knew she detested lilies for they reminded her of death.

“Yes,” Martin quickly interjected, an overzealous smile pulling his lips. “I wanted to surprise you. I know how much you adore lilies.”

“Indeed.” Geneva turned to Russo. “Give my regards to your wife.”

“Thank you, and I hope your mother recovers quickly. Does she need a doctor?”

“No. She believes she ate something that did not settle well. However”—Geneva’s hands came to her abdomen—“I am in no condition to be around anyone ill at this time.”

“My congratulations,” Russo said, giving a nod of his head.

“Your condition?” Martin said. His eyes widened. “Are you?”

Geneva smiled but did not answer.

Martin gave a whoop and captured his wife around the waist, twirling her.

“I will leave you to your wife, Signore Henshaw. And remind your guest of his impropriety.”

Martin placed his wife upon the ground and gave her a kiss. “You don’t know how happy you have made me.”

Geneva placed her hand upon his face.

“Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

“I was going to tell you last night, but we were never alone, and the one time we were you seemed distracted. When I saw Russo here, I suspected it was a good time to reveal my condition.”

“Why? And why are you here?”

“Men treat expectant mothers like Faberge eggs. Mother heard the news of Russo’s daughter’s disappearance and that he was searching the city for her house by house. I had a feeling that he would come here and that Oliver is involved in some way.”

“How did your mother find out where she lives? I mean, it's in the middle of nowhere!”

“Not nowhere. It takes twenty minutes to get to her house from ours. And I didn’t ask how she came about the information. The instant I heard, I made my excuses and came straight home. I’m glad I did. I had a feeling that Russo was not going to leave peacefully.”

“He was leaving.”

“But he seemed vexed.”

“He was. Blame it on Oliver and his damned St. John attitude.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Do you like the flowers?” Martin tried to change the conversation for he knew Geneva would be furious when she learned that Madelena was upstairs as they spoke.

“You know I hate lilies. Where did they come from? And quit stalling, Martin. Tell me the truth now, or I will bash you over the head with those dreadful lilies and make you sleep in that blasted log in the back yard.”

A deep breath left him as he nodded in defeat. “The flowers were here when I got home. I assume Oliver purchased them for his…his…lady friend upstairs.”

“Lady friend?” Geneva questioned, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

Martin braced himself for his wife’s reaction. “Madelena.”

“Russo?! Madelena Russo is upstairs? In my house?”

“Yes.”

Geneva tossed her hands in the air in frustration and began speaking so rapidly that Martin was having trouble keeping up with her.

She whirled around to face her husband, fire shooting from her dark eyes. “This is your fault!”

“My fault?”

“Yes. You had to invite your friend here and now look what good nostalgia has gotten you. We now have Russo watching us.”

“In Oliver’s defense, he had no idea that the woman he brought home was Russo’s daughter. He nearly fell over at the revelation.”

“Really, Martin? I cannot see him falling over at a revelation of any type.”

“Honestly, Geneva, my love. He had no idea who she was.”

“And how did she end up here? In Oliver’s bed?”

“She was rambling about marriage to Drakos and a purity check. I really wasn’t paying much attention. I was more focused on the fact that Russo was coming up our walk to search our home for his daughter.”

“Where is she now?”

“Still upstairs, I assume. Russo searched Oliver’s room, but she was nowhere to be found. Damned if I know where Oliver stashed the chit.”

Geneva gently patted Martin’s shoulder as she walked past him.

“Where are you going?” Martin called to his wife’s departing back.

“To try to find a way to get Madelena out of our house without Nichole or Russo’s men seeing her.”

“I love you.”

“Fix your hair, Martin. You look like you have been in a wind storm.”

Geneva made her way up the stairs and stood outside of Oliver's room. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened to the conversation, and the confession from Madelena of a purity check was shocking. She had heard of some men demanding the humiliating examination be performed upon their intended, but it had been years ago. She placed her hand upon the knob and turned it. Easing open the door, she watched Madelena sit down upon the bed.

Madelena brought her knees up and cradled her chin on them. “You don’t have a suit I can borrow?”

Oliver’s right brow shot upwards. “No.”

“I might have a dress,” Geneva said.

Oliver turned. “How did you get in here? I locked the door.”

“The lock is broken,” Geneva said.

“Signora Henshaw,” Madelena said, sliding her feet back to the floor.

“Hello, Signorina Madelena. Your father just left, and Martin has informed me of what has transpired.”

“I am so sorry,” Madelena said. “I had no intention of being here this long. I intended to leave before sunup.”

“And now it's past eleven. I will allow you to borrow a dress, and I am certain one of my maids has a mob cap you can place over your head to help hide your appearance. You can leave with her when she goes to the market. Signora Cancio will be partaking in her noontime meal in her rose garden by then. You both can leave through the front.”

“What about my dress?”

“What dress?”

Madelena approached the trunk and removed it. “It’s one of a kind. You cannot possibly keep it here.”

Geneva pressed her lips together in thought. “Have you ever been to the baker’s shop at the square?”

“I have.”

“I will have your dress boxed up and have one of my maids deliver it to the back of the shop around two. No one should be about. You can pick it up there.”

Relief caused Madelena’s shoulders to slump. “Thank you. I do not know how to repay you.”

“Just keep your father from finding out you were here and that I aided you.”

“I will not mention a word of your assistance or my whereabouts to anyone.”

Geneva turned her attention to Oliver. Her eyes glinted with something that Oliver could only describe as rage. Yet her tone belied her eyes. “When Madelena has departed, I would like a word with you.” She turned and approached the door. “I will bring you the dress posthaste.”

When the door closed, Madelena sank to the bed. “I am so sorry about this, Oliver. I never meant for my father to find us, and now you must face Signora Henshaw’s temper.”

Oliver took a seat on the bed beside her. “Don’t worry about it. I was angry at first, but when you did not show yourself to your father, and after your convincing argument, I realized that you truly did not mean for any of this to happen.”

Madelena leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Oliver’s. “Well, that is not entirely true. I did want us to…well, you know.”

Oliver’s mouth twitched, causing a dimple to appear on his left cheek. “And I will be happy to oblige you again, should the need arise.”

Madelena gasped. “Oliver! That is highly inappropriate.”

Both looked at each other and began to laugh.

“Well, I see that you have made up,” Geneva said from the doorway. She entered and carried over a plain brown dress. “I thought it best to use one of my maids’ dresses. Makes you seem like part of the help.”

“Thank you.”

Geneva turned her attention to Oliver and stared.

“What?”

“She needs to dress.”

“And?”

“And I will not allow you to stay in here while she does so. You might have aided in her fall from grace, but I was not home at the time and will not allow you to dishonor her again.”

“But—”

“Out!”

“Fine,” Oliver said. He stood and left the room, followed by Geneva.

Madelena quickly dressed and descended the steps. She found the maid and left out the door in her disguise.

She felt like running down the walkway from the house. The maid with her, Izabella, was older and appeared kind. She locked arms with Madelena to keep their pace slow.

“Just act naturally, my dear,” Izabella said.

“I can’t. I am not certain if you realize what is happening—”

“I know everything that happens in that household. I was aware when you arrived and was aware of what transpired. I am also aware of who you are. Your secret is safe. I would never do anything to cause hardship to befall the Henshaws.”

“Thank you,” Madelena replied. However, she could not shake the feeling that Izabella was hiding something.

“Now, you walk with me to the market. It will look less suspicious this way…you know, in case your father is having the house watched.”

“Good idea.”

Once at the market, the women parted ways. Madelena made her way to a small park to hide until two. At the designated time, she traveled to the baker’s and found a large box containing her dress. Tucking the box under her arm, she made her way to her home. Standing at the front gates, she took a deep breath for courage. Passing Ramsey and Eula, she spoke.

“Wish me luck.”

The goats continued nibbling on the grass, all unaware of the events about to unfold.

Chapter Twelve

Madelena entered her home, fully expecting to find everyone there but was taken aback when no one was in the music room or her father’s study. She began to climb the stairs when a noise captured her attention. Placing the dress box upon the steps, she turned and entered the kitchen.

“Signorina Madelena!” the housemaid, Joan, said when she saw Madelena in the doorway, tears misting her eyes. “We were all so worried when you did not return. Where have you been? Are you well?”

“I am fine. Where is everyone?”

“They are out searching for you.”

Madelena snorted. “I seriously doubt that. Mama is probably praying for my death. My sisters are hoping that I am lost forever. The only one concerned for me is Papa.”

“That is not true, signorina!” Joan insisted. “Your mother is frantic with worry.”

“My mother is only concerned because I have ruined her plans for my life. When she returns, inform her that I am in my room.”

Madelena turned and approached the stairs. After collecting the box, she climbed the steps to her room. Placing the box upon the bed, she removed the lid and gasped upon seeing the flowers Oliver had purchased for her lying on the top. A note was beside the flowers.

“I thought you might like these to remember your night.” It was signed by only the letter “O.”

A smile tugged her lips. Oliver remembered. A tightness filled her chest as she brought the note to her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered, bringing the note to her lips for a kiss. She tucked the letter into the bedside table and placed the flowers in a pitcher of water. Removing the dress from the box, she hung it up to allow the wrinkles to fall out. Sitting down upon the bed, she kicked off her shoes. A yawn left her, causing a gritty feeling to come to her eyes. Her hands came to her eyes and rubbed. When she lowered them, a startled gasp left her when she noticed her mother staring at her from the doorway. The glint to Sandra’s eyes was terrifying. It reminded Madelena of a rabid beast.

“Where have you been?” Sandra snapped, glaring at Madelena.

It was now or never. She had to stand up to her mother and make her see that she was her own woman and would not marry Drakos. “Out.”

“With whom?”

Madelena gave a defiant shrug.

“With whom?” Sandra said this time with more force.

Madelena raised her chin and squared her shoulders, clamping her mouth shut, the words refusing to leave.

“You told me you were going with that friend of yours, Mae. When it was discovered that you did not return home last night, I paid a visit to your little friend and imagine my surprise when Signora Valenti told me you left them to meet your father—a statement he denies. Do you think to ruin your reputation by carousing all night? No matter. Signore Drakos’s representative will be here tomorrow along with his midwife to check—”

“There’s nothing to check.”

“Pardon?”

“There is nothing to check.”

“You little harlot!” Sandra screamed, her face red with anger. “Your behavior affects the marriages of my daughters. They cannot find a suitor with you in the house, and now you have tainted your reputation. It will reflect upon them! You are a hindrance to my sweet, sweet girls finding proper suitors.” Her scornful gaze ran over Madelena. “No matter. Arrangements can be made for your purity check validity. A properly placed bribe.”

“No.”

“No?” Sandra repeated with force.

“That is right. I will not go through with that blasted purity check. I can assure you I am no longer a virgin. I have the bloodstains upon my thighs to prove it. And when Drakos’s midwife comes to examine me, I will tell her the same. She will find nothing for there is nothing there to find.”

“You ungrateful whore! You have been nothing but a hindrance—"

“I am not a hindrance! The reason you claim I am is because my sisters cannot find a husband. When in fact it is not me but them. They are horrid, sniveling shrews. All of you are. I am nothing but a pawn in your life. A pawn to increase your station in this world. You have never treated me like my sisters. I dare to say that you would never pair Angela or Flora with someone as vile as Drakos. And you always listen to Marie and Bella and their opinions. You have never treated me like my sisters. Never treated me like your daughter.”

“Because you are not my daughter! You never have been!”

Madelena’s mouth parted as tears stung her eyes. She knew her mother hated her but to hear her denounce her? It was too much to bear.

“I knew you hated me but to declare I am not your child because I refuse—”

“You are not a child of my loins! You are the bastard of your father’s whore, and he forced me to take you on as though you were one of my own. I suckled you at my breast with my dear Angela and wanted to strangle you each second. Every time I look at you, I see your father’s whore. Every time you speak, I hear that whore. Every time he purchases you something, I can see him purchasing items for the woman he loved more than me.”

“You lie!”

“I do not lie. You are the bastard daughter of Antonio and his quadroon whore Francesca Demachi.”

Madelena stared at her mother, words not forming over the lump in her throat.

“You wonder why I hate you. I hate you for you are a constant reminder of the woman I despised more than the devil himself. Do you think I want you to have a better life than my angels? I want you to suffer as I have. The sooner I rid myself of you, the sooner I will no longer see the spitting image of the woman who ruined my life.”

Sandra removed a key from her neck and placed it in the outside lock on the door.

“What are you doing?” Madelena yelled as she leapt from the bed. It was too late for Sandra had already closed the door and locked it from the outside. Madelena could hear Sandra order the servant on the other side.

“She is not to leave her chambers, and no one is to open this door but me. Understand?”

“But Signora Russo—”

“No one!”

“As you command,” the servant answered.

“You can’t do this to me!” Madelena pounded on the door and shook the knob. “Mama!” She rattled the door again. “Mama! Sandra!”

When no one answered, Madelena collapsed on the floor in front of the door. The sobs in her chest refusing to leave. What was happening? She was not the daughter of Antonio and Sandra but the daughter of a woman named Francesca. A woman she knew nothing about. Was her mother still alive? Why had Francesca given her up? Where was she now?

Placing her cheek upon the door, the tears stinging her eyes refused to flow. She knew her mother hated her. But to hear the words? It was like a knife to her chest. She had longed to be loved by her mother. She had longed to be accepted. And now to learn that Sandra truly hated her and always would? To learn that your entire life was a lie? It was too much. Her breaths came out in short rapid pants. She would not give Sandra the pleasure of hearing her wails. Placing a fist in her mouth, she attempted to muffle the sounds, but it was not enough. She stood and walked to the bed. Lying down, she placed the pillow over her face as her sobs came, and by that time, she did not care who heard. Perhaps, her father would come home and hear her, take her from this place, and she would never see Sandra or the others for the rest of her life. Then again, mayhap she would sprout wings and fly. Nothing would stop the pain.

She now knew why her father so willingly complied with Sandra’s iron fist over the household. It was to keep her quiet about Madelena’s true parentage. That had to be the reason. Why else would he allow Sandra to purchase all those extravagant dresses for her sisters? Why else would he let Sandra treat her so poorly? It was to buy her silence.

Now that Madelena knew, would her father still allow Sandra to treat her so harshly? It was a question that would have to wait until later for presently Madelena wanted to cry, and so she did.

Antonio’s horse carried him quickly back to his house. He came just as soon as his butler, William, found him and told him that Madelena was home. He handed the horse’s reins to the groom and raced into the back of the house.

“Madelena!” he called.

The kitchen maid jumped out of his way as he passed through the kitchen.

“Madelena!” he called again, looking in the drawing room. He approached the steps. He had one foot on the bottom step when he heard Sandra speak.

“I locked that little whore in her room.”

Antonio whipped around to face his wife. “What did you call her?”

A vindictive sneer pulled her lips. “A whore. Just like her mother. She told me herself. She laid with a strange man last night to spite me.”

Antonio’s backhand took Sandra by surprise. Her hand came to her stinging cheek.

“Madelena is no whore, and you will never speak of her in such a fashion again.”

“You hit me!”

“I will do so again if you disrespect her.”

“You lay another hand upon me, and I will tell all who will listen of her heritage.” A feigned looked of surprise came to her. “I may have let it slip to a few people already, Madelena included.”

Antonio clenched his fists to his side. “What did you do?”

Sandra gave a maniacal laugh.

Antonio fisted a handful of her hair, causing her to whimper in pain. “Sandra!”

“I told that little slut who she really was. She thought to ruin my girls! My angels! She will not do so. She will marry Drakos, and she will never leave her room until her wedding day.”

“You have overstepped your bounds, Sandra.”

“No, I have not. You do not know what I have had to live with these past twenty-one years. I have had to look at Francesca’s image for twenty-one years. Her exact image. It is no wonder why you love Madelena more than any other thing in this world for she looks like the woman you betrayed me for. Betrayed your own wife for!”

“And if I had it to do all over again, I would have never married you. I should have forsaken my honor and let your reputation be ruined.”

“You could have. Then your father would have disowned you and your inheritance would have been given to some charity. And I could have also told the Cardinal that you were fornicating with a woman who was not your wife. Your punishment would have been just as severe as mine.”

Damn her! She had him. If Cardinal Vico discovered that Antonio had been seeking sexual satisfaction out of the sanctity of marriage, he would have been arrested. And if it were discovered that he had continued the affair after his marriage, he would have been hung, and Madelena would have been taken away. Given to an orphanage and would have most likely died.

“Yet, you laid with others prior to our marriage as well, Sandra. I believe you became with child out of wedlock.”

“There is no poof. Only your lies.”

Damn her! She was correct for she lost the child only three days after their vows. Or so she claimed. Antonio wondered if she truly had been with child.

The evil glint in Sandra’s eyes let Antonio know she knew she had him. Vico turned a blind eye to many of Antonio’s activities—all for the church…not that the Pope knew—yet he would never allow fornication to go unpunished for it did not benefit the church.

“Release me,” Sandra spat.

Antonio tightened his grip on Sandra’s hair and then thrust her head against the doorframe. Sandra fell limply to the floor, still conscious but unable to stand. Spying the chain with the key upon Sandra, Antonio ripped it from her neck and turned to the steps.

“If you release her, I will tell everyone who will listen about her actions and who she truly is.”

Antonio’s face was set in hard, angry lines. He hated Sandra with every fiber of his being. Hated that he was forced to marry that woman. Hated that he had sired children with her. His job gave him discretion on disposing of troublesome individuals. Perhaps, he would place Sandra in that category. Then again, if what she spoke was true and there were others around who knew, then eliminating Sandra would only create more hardships for Madelena. He decided not to justify Sandra with an answer. Instead, he climbed the steps two at a time to Madelena’s room.

Standing outside the door, he could hear her sobs and a tightness formed in his chest. He loved Madelena more than life itself. She was his precious child. The child from the woman he loved more than anything.

Placing the key in the lock, he opened the door and found Madelena lying on her bed, her back to the door.

“Madelena,” he softly spoke.

She did not turn. He watched as her shoulders continued to shake. Approaching the bed, he sat down by her and touched her arm.

“Madelena.”

She did not speak as she rolled over to face him, tears staining her cheeks. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“I am so sorry, Madelena,” Antonio spoke, gently stroking her hair. “I never meant for you to find out this way.”

“Is it true?” Madelena managed to ask, her voice straining.

“What did she tell you?”

“That my mother was your mistress?”

Antonio pressed his lips together as he wiped away the tears from her face. “Yes. Her name was something odd. Nayo? Niya? Something to that effect. She hated that name and all that it represented. After I purchased her, she asked me to choose a name. So she became Francesca Demachi. She was a concubine for some sultan in Morocco. He came to Italy on holiday and brought several of his slaves with him.”

“She was one?”

Antonio nodded. “Yes. My father was hosting them, and that was how I met Francesca. I fell in love with her the instant I saw her.” His eyes took on a faraway look. Blinking several times, he focused on Madelena. “You look so much like her that it pains me at times to see you.” A deep, ragged breath left him.

“The sultan was growing tired of some of the women he brought with him and was looking discretely for buyers.”

“You purchased my mother?”

He nodded. “At the time, I was lacking the funds to purchase her. Father would not hear of me buying a slave. I had heard a rumor that Cardinal Vico needed assistance on a sensitive issue. I approached him and began working for him.”

“The cardinal?”

“Yes. Peace comes at a price, and the Pope has many enemies. Vico hired me to eliminate those enemies and to make certain that no issues arose in Rome.”

Madelena’s face dropped. “You are his hired killer?”

Antonio’s face became blank. “I did what I did to acquire the money needed for Francesca. I am not proud of what I did or the people I harmed, but I would do so again. They were bad people, Madelena. You must know this. They were trying to harm the Pope. Vico discovered this and wanted to make certain that the Pope remained safe and ignorant of the plot against him. So he hired me. If I were caught, nothing would lead back to the church. Once I had employment that would give me the funds to buy Francesca, I informed the sultan. He wanted the money then. I made a bargain with him. Yet things happened and I was forced to marry Sandra.”

Madelena’s brows were drawn. “You did not willingly marry her?”

“No.” He swallowed hard and looked at the wall. “I was drunk one night and desperately missing Francesca. I stumbled upon Sandra at a ball. Things happened. She claimed that our one time together produced a child.” He snorted. “I did not want to marry her. Vico wanted a man found, so I took the job and left the city.”

“To run from Sandra’s accusations?”

“Yes. My father found me and forced me to return and marry Sandra. Yet, my marriage to her had a silver lining. You see, she had a substantial dowry. I used that money to travel to Morocco to purchase Francesca.” A deep exhale left him. “I only stayed married to Sandra for honor’s sake. In the eyes of the church, it was a good match. In my father’s eyes, it was a union from honor. In my eyes, it was the only way to get my inheritance and the means to free the woman I loved. Once wed, my inheritance came to me, along with Sandra’s dowry. I used the money to purchase this house and a townhome for Francesca as well as free Francesca.”

Madelena gasped. “Does Mama…I mean, Sandra know?”

Antonio closed his eyes, pressed his lips together, and nodded.

Madelena simply stared at her father as he talked, unable to speak herself. Her head was reeling around what was being told to her.

“Nearly a year later, Sandra informed me she was expecting. She hoped it would stop me from visiting Francesca. It didn’t. I loved Francesca too dearly. Not long after, Francesca told me she was expecting.” A smile pulled his lips. “I was so happy. Francesca was a good, kind woman. She was smart and funny. Kind to all those she met. She loved to work with her hands.” He held his hands up to emphasize the point. “And could make the most beautiful things. Quilts, jewelry, baskets, even paintings.”

“Baskets?” Madelena heard herself ask.

“Yes.” Antonio looked at his daughter, pride in his eyes. “That painting in my office you asked about? That was a self-portrait she painted for me.”

Madelena placed her palms upon the bed and slid to a sitting position. “That was my mother?”

“Yes. She painted it just before she died.” The corner of his mouth twitched with humor. “She told me she left out her swollen abdomen for she wanted to look beautiful for me all the time. I told her that her swollen belly made her the most beautiful woman in the world.” His smile faded. “Shortly after, she began having pains. I called for the midwife. They said it was too early for her to deliver, but they came. There was nothing they could do.” Madelena could hear her father’s voice crack as tears misted his eyes. He blinked and continued, “She died before you were born. The midwife could still feel you move and cut you from Francesca.” He looked down at his hands and held them out. “I can still see the blood upon your perfect, tiny, little body. I can still hear your wails when the midwife cleared your lungs.”

He stood and turned his back to her, composing himself. “The midwife wrapped you in a cloth and had just placed you in my arms when I received word that Sandra had delivered a baby girl. I looked at your perfect little face. Your eyes were closed, and you seemed so peaceful. I knew that I had to do something. I could not give you up. So I brought you home and handed you to Sandra and told her to accept you as her own.”

“And she didn’t protest?”

“She did. Adamantly.”

Madelena noticed the change in her father. His shoulders had squared, and his features seemed hardened.

“We argued. Needless to say, I won the argument.”

“But why? I mean, she hated Francesca. She would hate me. She does hate me.”

Antonio turned to face her. “I bribed her.”

Silence fell across the room like a heavy hand.

“And now, she is bribing me. If you do not marry Drakos, she will tell everyone that you are not hers. That you are a bastard.”

“So. I do not care,” Madelena slid her legs to the side of the bed, sitting up.

Antonio pivoted to face her, pain upon his face. “I do. Can’t you see, Madelena? If it is discovered, Cardinal Vico will dismiss me and have me killed.”

“For what? Loving another? For having a child by someone other than your wife? Men do it all the time.”

“You do not understand! I have blood upon my hands, Madelena. I do Vico’s dirty work, and men like Vico have safeguards in place for men like me. Assurances for when men like me are no longer needed. Plans in place for when men like me make them look bad. I will be murdered, and you will disappear.”

Madelena’s chin quivered, yet her words were steady. “So, Sandra still has control over my life. She will always have the ability to make my life hell.”

The pain was evident upon her father’s handsome features. “If I had only known…” His words trailed off.

Madelena stood. “I will leave.”

“No. It is not that simple, Madelena. Sandra will still reveal your heritage. Vico’s reach is far. He has men all over Europe. He has political allies in nearly every country. Why do you think he does not fear Bonaparte’s hold in Rome? Why do you think he did not cower in fear when the pope forced into exile?”

“I will run away.”

“You are not listening, Madelena.” He took her by her shoulders. “Nowhere is safe for you if she speaks. Not England. Not Spain. Not France. Nowhere! I will take whatever punishment comes my way, but I will not allow her to harm you.”

Madelena’s voice was as cold as ice. “Yet, you are allowing her to do so by forcing me to marry a man I do not know.”

Antonio hated what he was about to do. But if he did not, it would mean harm would befall his child. A child that he loved more than life itself. He stood straight and released her shoulders. “You will marry Drakos. He is old and will soon die. Bear him some children and live the rest of your life out in Greece. It is the only way to be free of Sandra. There you will be safe.”

He left the room and closed the door, locking it.

Madelena noticed pain in her palms and was surprised by what she had done. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails had cut her hands. Her eyes went back to the door. Nowhere was safe. She turned and paced the room. She had to leave. She just had to. Her father’s words echoed in her mind. Vico had reach all over Europe. She stopped her pacing and turned, noticing the vase of flowers. She approached, and her fingers lightly touched the lilies. Europe might not be safe, but what about across the sea?

Chapter Thirteen

Looking up at the impressive building, Oliver wondered what was going on. He had received a summons from Russo requesting him to come to his office. Odd considering only hours ago, Russo was accusing him of hiding Madelena. Perhaps Russo had discovered the truth. Perhaps Madelena had confessed that they had been together. Perhaps Oliver was walking into his own death. Whatever the cause, Oliver knew it would not be wise to refuse the invitation. He was a St. John, and St. Johns did not cower.

Entering the building, his impression of the opulence grew. The building was old, dating back to Roman times and the architecture imprint was still evident by the marble and gold used to decorate. Even the flooring was ancient. Approaching a desk, he cleared his throat to capture the attention of the man diligently writing. The man laid down the quill in his hand, adjusted the spectacles upon his bulbous nose, and spoke.

“May I help you?”

“Yes. My name is Oliver St. John. Signore Russo sent for me.”

The man scrutinized Oliver with interest before nodding. “Wait here.” The man left from behind the desk and approached another individual. Oliver recognized the second man instantly. He was the person with Russo this morning. Oliver’s senses prickled with anticipation. This could not be good. Perhaps he should have asked Martin to join him.

The desk clerk returned. “Please follow Marco. He will show you to Signore Russo’s office.”

Oliver gave a nod in appreciation and followed the hired man up the stairs to the top floor. Entering Russo’s office, Oliver could not help but feel he was being led into the lion’s den. This was Russo’s territory. His sanctuary. Oliver noticed Russo behind the desk. The older man was reading a correspondence. He motioned for Oliver to sit but continued to read. Oliver scanned the room. The furnishings were just as ornate as the decor. Stuffed chairs with brocade fabric. Thick Turkish rugs and marble statues were scattered about. However, it was the painting upon the wall that captured his attention. The woman looked nearly identical to Madelena save for the eyes. Madelena’s eyes were more expressive and fuller of spark, where this woman had kind, almond-shaped eyes.

Antonio glanced over the paper when he heard the door to his office open. St. John was right on time. He went back to the correspondence in his hand, yet his mind was not on the words. As much as he hated to admit it, Sandra had made a valid point the other evening at Marino’s—St. John would make an excellent husband for one of his daughters. The younger man was wealthy and came from a respectable family. His father was an Earl and therefore fully connected in England. Those connections could be beneficial. Antonio still had his suspicions of the younger man. He still could not help but think that St. John and Madelena had more than just a chance encounter and that Madelena did more than simply go through Henshaw’s house.

“Thank you for joining me on such short notice,” Russo spoke.

“Anytime one is summoned by an influential man like yourself, one must come.”

“Indeed.”

“Now, what can I assist you with?” Oliver asked, crossing his right leg over his left.

Russo laid down the paper in his hand. “It has come to my attention that you are rather skilled with your hands.”

“I am a master carpenter. I believe I told you as much.” Oliver’s tone was anything but respectful.

“You are arrogant, are you not?” Russo noted, leaning back into his seat.

Oliver gave an indifferent shrug. “Comes with being a St. John.”

“I hear that you all possess the same arrogance.”

“We do.”

“Arrogance can be a good quality. Pride in one’s self. In one’s skill. Sandra tells me you agreed to do some carpentry work for Signora Cancio.”

“She said if I should become bored, she had some work. I have yet to become that unengaged.”

“I see. Well, allow me to make a proposal. Sandra needs some work done around the house. Some shutters or shingles—not certain as to which. You will avail yourself to repair my home in exchange for dinner.”

“And should I decline?”

A tight-lipped smile came to Antonio. “That would not be wise.”

“Are you threatening me?” Oliver asked, the brow over his right eye rising upward.

“Advising you.” Russo knew that forcing St. John into coming to his home was not the ideal way to make certain that the younger man spent time with his daughters, but it would work. And perhaps, something would blossom from it. If not, then Russo could tell his wife that he tried.

There was a slight change in Oliver’s breathing. Russo was pressing his luck. However, Oliver realized that refusing would not be the wisest of decisions. He still intended to visit longer with Martin, and if he angered Russo…well, then the remainder of his stay would not be pleasant.

“Advice taken. When would you like me to start?”

“Tomorrow morning. Is that too soon?”

Oliver ground his back teeth together. Russo was clever. If he had to go repair Russo’s home, then there would be no nighttime festivities to partake in. He would play the game.

“Ten?”

“Nine.”

Oliver nodded. “Nine it is.”

Russo stood, and Oliver followed suit. Russo rounded the desk and extended his hand. It was a handshake that Oliver had no desire to take for he was making a deal with the devil himself. However, if this deal was broken, Oliver had no doubt that he would literally feel the fires of hell. Oliver took the hand and sealed his fate. All he had to do was bide his time and stay away from Russo’s daughters. How hard could that be?

“Where have you been?” Martin asked as Oliver entered his home.

“Selling my soul to the devil,” Oliver replied, passing Martin and heading straight to the liquor cabinet. He poured an ample amount of bourbon into a snifter and downed the entire drink and poured himself another.

“What have you done?” Martin asked, fear in his voice.

An angry breath left Oliver. “Russo.”

Martin ran his hands through his hair. “Sweet Judas, Oliver! I warned you to stay away from that man. And after that fiasco this morning, I thought you would have learned your lesson. Surely even you are not that stupid?”

“I had no choice, Martin. The man sent a runner telling me to come to his office. What would you have me do? Refuse?”

Martin paled and sank into a red leather wingback chair. “Did he discover that you and Madelena…well, you know?”

Oliver shook his head. “He did not indicate as much. And if he had proof, do you think I would be standing here having this conversation with you?”

A relieved breath left Martin. “Then what did he want?”

“I think he is trying to arrange something between one of his other daughters and me.”

“How?”

“He asked me…well, ordered me to come by his home tomorrow morning to repair some items. And then I am to have dinner with them.”

“This must be his wife’s doing. Russo would not want one of his daughters moving that far away. He loves them too dearly.”

“What of Madelena? She is to marry and move to Greece.”

“Greece isn’t that far away. Governor’s Harbour is. My advice to you is to work as quickly as possible and make yourself as unappealing as you can to Signora Russo. Perhaps when she sees that you are a rude, condescending St. John, she will change her tone. That is, unless she knows your father is an Earl.”

“She does.”

Martin shook his head. “Then you, my friend, appear to be in a difficult situation. No matter how unappealing you make yourself, it will not matter. Tread lightly for Signora Russo will come up with any excuse to force you to wed one of her daughters, and you might find yourself traveling back home with one of Russo’s daughters as your bride.”

“Hell will freeze over first.” Oliver snatched the decanter of bourbon from the hutch and poured another cup, sloshing some of the liquid out in the process.

“Hey. That is expensive stuff. A gift from some Russian.”

Oliver looked at the bottle. “The taste is the same as Branson’s.”

“Who?”

“You remember. Branson Johnson from home.”

At Martin’s continued blank stare, Oliver elaborated. “Tall, skinny, has a taste for large breasted women. You know, the man who arranged for you to have an orgy with three women.”

Martin’s eyes grew wide. “Egad! I had forgotten about him. Is he still alive? I mean, I would have thought he would have caught some horrid disease from one of those women he likes so well.”

“Alive and in a much better spot than I am now.”

“Johnson was a man of many hidden talents. Now, what are you going to do? I mean about Russo?”

Oliver shook his head and took a seat adjacent to Martin. “I am not certain. I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the woman I brought home last night was one of his daughters.”

“Not just one but his favorite.”

“You are not helping matters any, Martin.”

“How did you do it? I mean, did you just say ‘hey let's go home and have sex’?”

Oliver shot Martin a dark look. “No. it just happened. And I was just as surprised to discover she was a virgin as you were to find her in my bed.”

“And the barrier didn’t stop you?”

“I had already done the damage. Besides, I had no idea she was Russo’s daughter until this morning. She never mentioned as much during our other meetings?”

“Other meetings? How did you meet her anyway? Her of all people? I mean, there were hundreds of women last night, and you had to land Madelena Russo.”

“It wasn’t by chance.”

“Oliver?” Martin said, a hint of fear in his voice. “What did you do?”

“My basket. The one I brought here on the first day.”

“What of it?”

“I bought it from her.”

Martin’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “You mean she is the back of the head? The basket lady?”

Oliver nodded.

“Sweet Mary and Joseph. If Russo knew that his daughter was selling baskets like a commoner, he would…he would…he would…hell, I don’t know what he’d do, but it would not be pleasant.”

“She was. And that was just my first of several encounters with her.”

Martin lowered his head and looked at Oliver with suspicion.

“Have you heard of the couple who were splashing in the Fountain of the Four Rivers?”

“That was you?!”

Oliver nodded. “I’ve spent the last four evenings of Carnival with her.”

Martin tossed his hands in the air. “Judas, Oliver! Do you know how much trouble you are creating? First flirting with Madelena and now bedding her? Are you suicidal?”

“I had no idea who she was. She told me her name was Maddie.”

“Maddie? Maddie? And that didn’t ring a bell with you?”

“Why would it?”

“I warned you to stay away from his daughters.”

“You did. But you also never mentioned their names, Martin.”

“Gentlemen,” Geneva said from the doorway. “You are shouting.”

“Sorry, my love.” Martin stood. “Just a slight discussion.”

Geneva entered. “It is more than a discussion. It was getting rather loud. I could hear you from the patio out back.” She turned her attention to Oliver. “I know you are a friend of Martin’s and a guest in our home, but please be advised that I will not tolerate immoral activities within my home. If you wish for carnal satisfaction, please seek it other than in my home.”

“Geneva, I apologize,” Oliver said. “I never meant to bring hardship to this home. Martin has been a dear friend of mine for as long as I can remember.”

“I know, and that is why I am not asking you to leave…unless it happens again. I am not stupid, Oliver. I know what occurred between you and Madelena. I know that she was innocent in the ways of a man and woman. I also know that she is to be wed to Miles Drakos. Once it is discovered that she is no longer a virgin, Drakos will call off the wedding, and it will not be in Madelena’s best interests.”

“And marrying Drakos is?” Oliver asked. “The way she described him was as a fat, old man.”

Geneva nodded. “He is. Yet, Sandra arranged the marriage, and she is not a woman to anger. She will make Madelena’s life hell. I know you cannot change the past, and I realize that you did not know who it was you brought to my home. I just want you to know, should you do so again, I will ask you to leave immediately. I will not have my home labeled as a den of sin. And I will not have any more lilies brought into my home!”

Oliver drew his brow together with confusion. She switched topic midway through. If he did not know any better, he would have sworn he was speaking with his sister-in-law, Kris, who was notorious for doing such things.

“Just keep it in your pants, man,” Martin said.

“Martin!” Geneva protested.

“What? That is what you are trying to tell him.”

“It is. But not that crudely. Look, Oliver, I know men have needs. Just seek them somewhere other than my home. Understand?”

Oliver nodded.

“Good. Now dinner is ready, and I’m starving. Eating for two makes me ravenous.”

“Eating for two?” Oliver repeated.

Martin stood and gave a toothy grin. “I am going to be a father.”

Oliver approached, patting Martin roughly on the back. “Congratulations, old man!”

“You trying to break my spine?” Martin said, coughing.

“You need to toughen up. You’ll have a daughter to defend from rakes like me.”

“Egad! If that’s the case, then I had better begin training with that brute of a brother of yours.”

“Matthew would snap you like a twig, but he could show you a thing or two.”

“He could. He’s the best man I’ve ever seen with his fists. You said he married but not to whom.”

“He is and to a woman who knocked him on his ass—literally, not figuratively.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do. A little thief by the name of Chessi. I’ll tell you about it over dinner.”

Chapter Fourteen

Hammering disturbed Madelena’s thoughts. She closed her eyes and opened them again, attempting to focus upon her book. More hammering and then she heard it. Singing. Not just any singing but familiar male singing.

Tossing her book onto her bed, she raced to the window and opened it farther. Down below in the courtyard, she could see a familiar red head. Oliver was working below. His muscular arms brought the hammer down upon the nail. She could not tear her eyes away from him. He was wearing a pair of brown breeches and a cream tunic with the sleeves rolled up. Her hand came to her mouth to cover her grin when she noticed the tune. It was one of the songs they had sung at Carnival and was far from appropriate to sing in mixed company. Was he doing it on purpose? If she had learned anything about him these past few days, it was that he liked to cause mischief.

“When you’re finished repairing my step, please see to the shutters on the top floor. They are loose and bang against the house when the wind blows,” Sandra ordered.

“Yes, signora,” Oliver replied.

Madelena’s heart pounded in excitement. Oliver would be climbing to her window! She darted to the mirror and smoothed down the frazzled locks of her thick black hair and searched for her brush. Today was the day the midwife was coming, and she wanted to look hideous. Like an old stray cat. But now, Oliver was here and for some reason she wanted to look her best. Finding her brush, she pulled it through her hair and cringed as she combed through the tangles. Glancing at her reflection, her eyes grew wide. The ragged, brown morning gown she’d decided to wear was soiled with this morning’s breakfast. Dark circles rested under her puffy eyes from her lack of sleep. Splashing water upon her face, she tried to make her eyes brighter. Turning, she glanced down at her dress. She did not have time to change. Her legs quickly carried her to the wardrobe, and she removed a white shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. Returning to the mirror, a frown settled over her.

“No, no, no,” she mumbled when she saw her appearance. She looked like an old lady. The sound of the ladder banging against the side of the house caused her to gasp. Her fingers fumbled with the shawl, tying it around her neck. Viewing her reflection again, she moved the knot until she looked less elderly and returned to the window.

“Pardon me, signorina,” Oliver said from the window. “I need to repair your shutters. I hope the sound will not disturb your day.”

“Not at all,” Madelena said, batting her eyes coyly, heat flooding her from the sight of him.

Oliver gave her that grin. That positively wicked, wolfish grin. The one that caused her knees to grow weak. The one that made her hot from the inside out. The wink he gave only caused her insides to tremble even more and heat flooded her. He was the handsomest man Madelena had ever seen.

His hands fumbled with the wooden shutters. She approached the window and leaned out to watched him work. The man before her was so handsome that he would put the Roman Gods to shame. From this angle, his features were more chiseled and manly. The determined set to his square jaw was covered in the shadowy image from where he did not shave this morning. His fingers worked the hinge. Those fingers that were so tender while touching her were strong and rough upon the stubborn shutter that refused to move. His chest heaved, and the muscles rippled. Those same muscles that felt so wonderful under her touch.

“Signore St. John!” Madelena heard her mother call from the kitchen door. Madelena quickly ducked back inside before Sandra spotted her.

“Yes, Signora Russo?” Oliver called looking down from his perch.

“Do be careful.”

“Relax, Signora Russo. I build ships for a living and climb quite frequently.”

“Well, I just want to make certain that no harm befalls you for you see, I would like you to join us for dinner this evening…in order to repay you for your work.”

Madelena could hear Oliver exhale and a muffled curse left him.

“I would be delighted to join you for dinner,” Oliver replied. Looking upward, he rolled his eyes in frustration.

Sandra stepped away from the house and looked up. Madelena gasped and pressed her back to the wall next to the window.

“Madelena! Close that window, girl. There’s nothing for you to see here.”

Madelena kept her back to the wall. If Sandra knew she had been watching Oliver, she would be in worse trouble than she was. Her nose crinkled in exasperation. What more could Sandra do to her? She had already locked her in her room and was forcing her to marry Drakos.

“Madelena!” Sandra called again.

“No one is here, Signora Russo,” Oliver called. “Just me and the birds.”

Sandra allowed her hand to float up to her chest. “Pardon me, Signore St. John. There is just a ragged servant girl up there cleaning, and I do not want you to disturb her.”

“Servant girl? Isn’t Madelena the name of your daughter?”

Madelena did not have to look out the window to see Sandra’s face. She could see the angry set to Sandra’s features now. Her dark eyes lowered and her jaw set, ready to do battle for she did not like to be called out.

“It. Is.” Hatred punctuated Sandra’s words.

“And you have a servant with the same name? The only reason I ask is so I will not get them confused should I ever meet your other daughter.”

“Not to worry, signore. Madelena Russo is to marry in a week and Madelena the ragged servant will be traveling with her.”

“Is that so?” Oliver’s right brow rose.

“Yes,” Sandra replied forcefully. She looked at the window. “Close that window!”

A vindictive sneer pulled Madelena’s lips. If Sandra wanted the window closed, then she could come do so herself.

“No need to close the window,” Oliver spoke. “I am finished with the shutter. Just a loose nail is all. But it is repaired. I just need to check on those loose tiles on the roof you complained about.”

“No need to rush,” Sandra said, trying to sound cheery. Her eyes drifted back to the open window. Madelena was purposely disobeying her. Well, that little tart would regret her defiance. She would make sure that her purity check was far from pleasant. “If you cannot get to it today, then perhaps tomorrow.”

Oliver forced a smile to his face as he glanced downward. He knew what Mrs. Russo was doing. She was purposely trying to get him to spend more time with them to pair him with one of her hideous daughters. But the mischievous side of him had another plan. If he were to spend time with the Russos, why not all of them?

“That is a splendid idea. It is a tad warm today. I will finish tomorrow. And since you so kindly invited me to dinner, I do hope to see all of your daughters.”

Sandra clasped her hands together and held them to her chest. “Splendid. There will be plenty of room at my table. With Madelena engaged to Signore Drakos, she will not be able to attend—”

“So, not all of your daughters will be there?”

“No. You see—”

“Pity. I heard that the sun could not compare to the beauty of Signore Russo’s daughters when all five were together.” His eyes went back upward. “Then if that is the case, I shall finish my repairs today and allow you to prepare for your guests.”

“What?”

“Yes. You said that Madelena was to wed Signore Drakos within the next week. Since your husband will be needed for the Carnival activities, I assume Signore Drakos is to come to Rome to wed your daughter. A fete no father would want to deprive himself of. And if that is the case, I assume Drakos will be at your home. You will have him to entertain and do not need to trouble yourself with me. I have already met your lovely daughters. Well, all but two, so there would be no need to entertain me for more than one night.”

“But Signore St. John,” Sandra said, trying to come up with a reason to not have him leave. The more nights he was with her daughters, the better the chance of a marriage proposal.

“Do not trouble yourself, Signora. Signore Russo is renowned through all of Italy. I simply wanted a chance to meet all of his children. But since that will not happen, I will finish my chores. Now, if you will excuse me.” Oliver turned to climb up the ladder.

“Wait!” Sandra looked around the courtyard. She had about as much desire to invite Madelena as she did to have the pox. But if that would be the only way to get St. John to stay, then so be it! Besides, it wasn’t like that little harlot could take him away from her girls for she was already to wed.

Oliver stopped and turned. “Yes?”

Sandra opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to get the words to leave her throat. “I will see if Madelena can make it.”

“Only see? I do say, you must insist! I would be terribly disappointed if I did not get to meet all of your daughters. I have heard only their praises and wish to see if the stories are true.”

“Well.” Sandra’s mouth twitched as she tried to hold her tongue. The only one who ever had praises sung about them was Madelena. “I will see if she can come.”

“Let’s ask her, shall we?”

“Now?” Sandra screeched out.

“Of course.” Oliver looked at the open window, mischief twinkling in his green eyes. “Madelena Russo! Are you here? Signorina Russo, is that you in this room?”

Madelena covered her mouth as her heart pounded. Oliver was so naughty! He was inciting her mother’s wrath on purpose. Pain coursed through her cheeks as she tried to hide the smile behind her hand.

“Signorina Madelena Russo!” Oliver called again.

“You see, she is not here,” Sandra said.

Madelena dropped her hands to her side. She would not allow Sandra to ruin her life! She wanted to see Oliver again.

“Yes, Mama!” Madelena called from the window and stepped into the light.

The instant Oliver’s gaze was upon her, she could feel heat travel up to her roots as butterflies settled inside her stomach. She felt like a giddy school girl each time she saw him. Why did he have such an effect upon her?

“Signore St. John is having dinner with us this evening and wondered if you were not too busy to attend.”

Madelena looked down at Sandra and could see the warning in her eyes. But she would not cower. Not this time. Not ever again.

“I tried to tell him that you would be otherwise engaged with Signore Drakos, but he insisted on asking you himself.”

The warning in Sandra’s tone did not go unnoticed by Oliver or Madelena. Madelena sneered at her mother and turned her attention to Oliver.

“That is too kind of you, Signore St. John. As my mother stated, Signore Drakos will be taking up quite a bit of my time.”

Sandra let out a relieved breath, but her spine went stiff when she heard Madelena’s “However”.

“However, it would be rude of me not to receive you this evening. After all, your family has brought many wonderful things to Rome, and it would be my honor to attend dinner with you this evening.”

“Splendid!” Oliver replied. He directed the next question purposely to Madelena. “What time would you like me to arrive?”

“Seven.”

“Seven it is. I look forward to meeting you again, Signorina Russo. Now, please excuse me. I must return to my lodgings and freshen up for this evening.”

Oliver descended the ladder. The instant his feet were upon the ground, he turned to Sandra.

“Signora Russo. I will tend to your tiles tomorrow morning, if that is suitable for you?”

“It is,” Sandra forced out.

Oliver bowed politely. “Wonderful. Is it all right if I leave the tools in your barn?”

“Yes.”

“I will clean up the mess I made from repairing your steps and shutter and then be on my way. Thank you again for the dinner invitation, Signora Russo. I will make certain that my father learns of the kindness that you and your family have bestowed upon me during my visit. He is an important man, you know, and likes to return these things in kind.”

Oliver turned and began cleaning up the wood pieces around the yard.

Sandra’s gaze traveled back to the window and locked onto Madelena. Madelena was watching Oliver with too much interest to suit Sandra. Sandra’s face reddened. She would not have that tart ruining any chances that Angela or Flora had with St. John. She would not allow it! She had to make certain that Madelena did not attend. But how?

Madelena jumped when she heard the keys rattle in the lock on her door. She didn’t know why she did. She had been expecting Sandra for some time now. Apprehension perhaps? Whatever the reason, knots formed in the deepest pit of Madelena’s stomach. Today was the day she had been dreading for the past four days, and she had tried to mentally prepare herself for the humiliation. She had thought about applying several layers of clothing to delay what was to come; however, it would only delay the inevitable. So she kept the dirty, ragged brown dress on along with the shawl. To aid in her appearance, she did smudge a bit of soot upon her cheek from the residue of the candle wick and spat a bit of chewed up fruit onto her bodice all in order to repulse the midwife in hopes she would report it to Drakos.

The palms of her hands grew sweaty. She was thankful now that she had opted to remain in the chair by the window because her legs trembled so as she watched the door open.

Sandra stood in the doorway, that menacing scowl pulling her ugly features down. Her fingers were fisted around the key as heat flashed from her eyes.

“I have just received word from Signore Drakos.”

Madelena could feel the bottom fall out of her stomach, and she swallowed hard.

“It appears that his midwife will not arrive today as we expected. Signore Drakos will arrive sometime next week along with the midwife. Once the purity check is completed, you will wed that day.”

A combination of emotions flooded Madelena. Hope and excitement. Terror and dread. Happiness and sorrow.

Sandra continued, “You will remain locked in this dingy little room until that time.”

“What of the dinner tonight—”

“You will not attend! I forbid it!”

“You promised Signore St. John. If he arrives and I am not here, he will leave.”

“He will do no such thing! If he values his company’s placement in Rome, he will stay, and before the end of next week, he will propose to one of my girls.”

A glint of maliciousness came to Madelena. “What if he proposes to me?”

“I have made certain that he is aware of your circumstances. He would not dare.”

“How do you know? I may ‘charm’ my way into his favor just like you claim I have done to every other suitor that has come to visit.”

“He is a gentleman. Gentlemen would never take advantage of another man’s fiancée and especially a little tart like you.”

Madelena so desperately wanted to scream that she had spent the night in Oliver’s bed. Wanted to shout how he had taken her virginity and caused her to cry out in pleasure. Yet, if she did, it would only cause hardship for him, and she would not do that.

“That may be. But he will expect me. And imagine what Papa would say should he know that you promised my presence and lied regarding my absence.”

“I could care less about what your father thinks. He is a man that I used for my own gain. St. John will be another.”

“What gain can you possibly get from Oliver? Other than trying to pair one of my sisters with him.”

“Oliver?” Sandra repeated with interest.

Madelena inwardly cringed. “That is his name, is it not? And since I’m such a tart, do not loose women call men by their given name?” She hoped that would cover the slip.

“You say his name as though you have met him before.”

Madelena defiantly raised her chin and snapped her mouth shut.

“So you have. You little trollop. I knew you were just like your mother.”

“I met him at the docks when he arrived,” Madelena decided to say. She could not let her mother know that she had seen him numerous times.

“What were you doing at the docks?”

“Whatever I damned well pleased.”

A shocked gasp left Madelena when she felt the sting of Sandra’s slap to her cheek.

“You will not back talk to me, girl. You are still seen to the world as my child.”

“Why hide it? If you hate me so, then tell the world who I truly am and be done with it.”

An eerie calm fell over Sandra. “If it were only that simple. There are consequences to that action.”

“Then I will accept every one of them if it means that I will no longer be set to wed Drakos.”

Sandra ran a hand gently over Madelena’s cheek. Madelena jerked her head away, but Sandra captured her chin between her thumb and index finger and gave a firm squeeze.

“Oh, you will, pretty, pretty Madelena.”

Madelena grasped Sandra’s wrist and plucked her hand away from her chin.

“Get out,” Madelena hissed.

Sandra stayed towering above Madelena for a few minutes longer. “You will remain in your room and stay quiet this evening. If I hear one sound from you, I will make certain that you will no longer be known as the pretty Russo.” With that, Sandra left.

Madelena stared at the door. What was that to mean?

Chapter Fifteen

Oliver stood on the doorstep of the Russo home, his fist raised but unable to knock. Martin had called him a bloody idiot for agreeing to come. Martin had tried to give Oliver every reasonable excuse not to come, but Oliver could not do it. He had to see Madelena again. There was something about her that intrigued him.

He kept staring at the door as if it would magically open itself. What was he waiting for? This would be a way to spend the entire evening with the most enchanting woman he had ever met, yet here he stood on the stoop to the doorway afraid to knock like a weak-kneed lad. Why was he stalling? Perhaps it was the notion that he did not want to spend the evening with all of Madelena’s family, only her. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Signora Russo would sit him squarely between Angela and Flora. Or perhaps he was simply a coward.

A chicken behind him clucked rapidly.

“Your encouragement does not help matters any,” Oliver mumbled to the large, white hen.

The fowl ignored him and continued her rapid cluck until her chicks joined her.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and knocked.

The door was opened by a young girl. He did not have to be told this was one of Russo’s daughters for she looked like Flora. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Why would one of Russo’s daughters open the door instead of a butler? Perhaps to sing the qualities of her sister?

The young lady batted her eyes. “Good evening, Signore St. John.”

“Good evening,” Oliver returned, giving a polite bow.

She curtsied, causing the skirt of her peach gown to flare outward. “We have not been properly introduced, but I am Bella.”

“A pleasure to meet you, signorina. You are as beautiful as your sisters.”

Bella smiled, revealing a mouth full of large teeth. “You are too kind. Please follow me to the drawing room. Angela is playing the pianoforte until dinner is ready.”

“After you,” Oliver said. He entered the home and cringed upon hearing the music. Angela certainly needed practice. Every other note was off. Then he could hear…singing? It sounded more like a cat squalling.

“That would be Maria,” Bella informed. “She thinks she is a grand singer, but I hate to inform her that she is not.”

The corner of Oliver’s mouth twitched with humor.

“I can see you agree with my sentiment,” Bella said.

“I never said as much.”

Sandra was sitting beside the pianoforte, pride beaming from her eyes as Angela played. The music stopped, and Sandra clapped enthusiastically. “Wonderful, Angela. That was simply wonderful!”

“You didn’t have to,” Bella whispered to Oliver. She then addressed her mother. “Mama, Signore St. John has arrived.”

The daughters present turned to face the doorway. They were all dressed similarly. Each was wearing an evening gown in a shade of peach or orange. The older two wore plunging necklines, whereas the younger two had modest square ones.

Oliver suddenly felt like a mouse being stalked by a group of ravenous cats. The older Russo women present had a predatory gleam to their brown eyes—as if he were a prize they were willing to kill.

“Signore St. John,” Sandra said, standing and motioning towards a red settee. “Please sit. Signore Russo has yet to arrive but should be here momentarily.”

Oliver gave a polite nod and approached the settee. “Please introduce your daughters to me once more, signora.”

“Of course.” Sandra clapped her hands, and all of the daughters lined up. “This is Angela,” she said.

Angela battered her eyes coyly and curtsied, leaning forward to allow more of her cleavage to be presented. “Signore St. John.”

“A pleasure,” Oliver replied, bowing slightly.

“Flora,” Sandra said, motioning to another daughter.

Flora curtsied and politely replied, “Signore St. John. So good to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Oliver replied.

“The next is Maria.”

Maria attempted to mimic Angela’s movements; however, her age and inexperience showed. Her breasts were not as pronounced as Angela’s, and her actions were not as refined.

“Signorina,” Oliver said.

“And lastly, is Bella.”

Oliver bowed again. Standing upright, his eyes scanned the room. “I was under the assumption that your other daughter Madelena would be joining us tonight.”

Sandra’s hand came to her chest as she attempted to sound mournful. “I am so disappointed to say that Madelena is ill this evening.”

“Is that so? She appeared perfectly well this afternoon.”

“A sudden illness,” Sandra answered quickly. “Won’t you please sit?”

Oliver gave a nod, not believing Sandra’s excuse. As he went to sit, his eyes went to the doorway, and he stopped. Madelena stood in the doorway, looking like heaven. She was wearing a pale yellow gown. The bodice was square, but Oliver knew what treasures it hid. The high waist caused the skirt to flare outwards.

“Madelena!” Angela spoke, shock in her voice.

“What?” Sandra said, turning to the doorway, her face twisting in anger.

“I hope I am not late.”

Oliver crossed the room, uncaring. Stopping before her, he spoke. “Not at all.” He bowed. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Oliver St. John.” Taking her hand, he placed a light kiss across her knuckles. Heat flooded Madelena as she felt his tongue lightly touch her hand.

Swallowing she attempted to push away the heat flooding her and curtsied. “A pleasure to meet you again, Signore St. John.”

The extra attention he gave Madelena did not go unnoticed by Sandra. She glared at the couple and cleared her throat. Madelena looked at her mother and saw the warning in Sandra’s eyes.

Straightening, Oliver motioned to the settee. “We were just about to sit and converse until your father arrives. Won’t you please join us?”

“I would be delighted,” Madelena replied, casting a spiteful look at her sisters.

“A word, Madelena,” Sandra said.

“In a moment, Mama. It would be rude to leave our guest so soon after arriving. Isn’t that correct, Signore St. John?”

“It is highly inappropriate. Come now, let us all become better acquainted.”

The group made their way to the chairs around the room and sat down. The conversation was pleasant, yet there was tension in the air. All present felt it. Signore Russo arrived shortly after, and the dinner went on without incident. Oliver spoke of his large family, delighting all present with tales of his boyhood adventures with his brothers.

“So you are a twin?” Madelena asked.

Oliver nodded. “Yes. Between Owen and me, I am the older. My sister says that we cause more mischief than two leprechauns.”

“I do believe she would be speaking falsely, Signore St. John,” Angela interjected, trying to draw Oliver’s attention to her.

“The one thing Madison never does is lie. She is very straightforward with her words.”

“Madison. Such an unusual first name for a woman,” Sandra said.

Oliver nodded. “Yes. My mother likes uniqueness.” If only that were the case. Madison was named after Charles Madison Davenport, the Duke of Somerville. The same Duke who had abducted his mother. The same Duke that his father nearly murdered. His father only witnessed the oldest twins and heirs, Eli and Jacob, being born. When Oliver and his brothers were born, Robert was away on business. He had to go to England after Elizabeth discovered she was expecting. However, she gave him an ultimatum—if he were not home to witness this child’s birth, then she would name him after the Duke. Father promised. But needless to say, he missed the delivery. Their mother became angry when she went into labor, and Robert was nowhere to be found. Having already decided that she was having another boy, she had previously named the child Charles. But imagine her shock when she had a girl. At first, she thought of keeping her name as Charles but decided against it and used his middle name of Madison. When Father returned home two weeks later, he was furious at the name and demanded Mother change it. Needless to say, they fought, and according to Eli, Elizabeth easily won.

“You say your father is an Earl?” Angela asked, leaning over the table.

“Sit up properly, Angela,” Antonio scolded.

Angela righted her posture, thrusting her lower lip out in a pout.

Oliver ignored the attempt at seduction. “Yes. The Earl of Hyntington. My brother Eli is the next in line. I am delighted to say that I am so far down the family line that no title will come my way.”

“Why is that?” Russo asked.

“Parliament and the House of Lords have too much drama for my liking. I will sit back and happily allow Eli the hassle. He has a knack for these things.”

“Eight brothers and one sister. That is a large family,” Madelena said.

Oliver’s eyes drifted to her. As predicted, Sandra had sat him between Angela and Flora, next to their father. Madelena was placed at the opposite end of the table next to their mother. Angela twisted her head and shot a heated glance at Madelena. Oliver could feel the tension in the room. He recalled that Madelena said her mother disliked her, but apparently her sisters did as well. Russo sat at the head of the table, seemingly uncaring about the hostility being shown his beloved daughter. Martin had called Madelena Russo’s favorite, yet he did not appear annoyed with her treatment by his other daughters. Actually, he seemed…bored. Uninterested. The older man was simply staring at his plate, pushing his food around.

“It is,” Oliver answered. “It made for a hectic upbringing, but I would not change it for anything. My eldest brothers, Eli and Jacob, are nearly eight years my senior.”

“Fascinating,” Angela said, placing her hand upon Oliver’s arm.

A perplexed expression crossed Madelena’s face. “I thought you said that someone named Max was your eldest brother?”

Her astuteness surprised Oliver. He’d only briefly spoken of his true eldest brother. “I did.”

“So why did you say that the others were?”

“Because Max is illegitimate.”

Sandra gasped in disgust, placing a hand to her chest. “Your poor mother.” She shot a furious glance at her husband. “Your mother must have been devastated to know that your father sired a child by another woman.”

Oliver gave an indifferent shrug. “There was one hell of a fight upon that discovery. Max is only a few months older than Eli and Jacob. However, the actions leading to his birth occurred prior to my parents meeting. Mother’s anger at Father eventually cooled, and she has come to accept Max and his wife as part of the family.”

Madelena set her sight upon Sandra. Her tone held condescension as she spoke. “You say that your mother learned to accept Max as one of her own? Despite his parentage, she holds no ill will towards him?”

Oliver noted the direction of Madelena’s attention and wondered what he was missing. “To an extent, yes. There is still tension at times between her and Max, but she knows he is not responsible for the actions of his parents. She also feels empathy towards him and his family. Father is the only family they have. Max’s wife’s family were killed. They have no one else. I always liked Max for he had a way of needling my older brothers just enough. Kind of like the way Owen and I do. Yet he is one of the most intimidating men I have ever met. He is one man that I hope to never anger.”

“Why is that?” Flora asked.

“He was a pirate.”

That captured Russo’s attention. The older man’s head snapped up from his plate. “A pirate?”

Oliver took a sip of his wine, apparently at ease with the discussion. “Yes. My family has had several pirates. Max and Jacob’s wife. All pardoned.” Well, not all. His sister Madison’s husband, Nicholas, was a pirate as well. Yet he decided he need not mention that tidbit considering Nicholas’s father was the governor of Eleuthera.

“No action was taken against them?” Russo asked.

Oliver shook his head. “Yes and no. Max was arrested for a short while—after he had aided in the abduction of my sister—”

“He took your sister!”

“Yes,” Oliver continued as if discussing a mundane event. “It all ended well. Max was a quartermaster on a pirate ship. At any rate, the pirate who actually took my sister died.” Oliver drew his brow together. “It is all rather complicated once you think about it. Too complicated to discuss during a dinner conversation.”

“But he is a criminal,” Russo pressed. “He needs to be punished.”

“Perhaps. He was raised by an abusive prostitute and knew that his siblings were living a life of luxury. Conceivably, his childhood was his punishment. I have no qualms about him not being imprisoned. It only seems fair. Occasionally, laws can be a hindrance, and from time to time a blind eye must be turned for past indiscretions. Perchance the good performed outweighs the bad. It is all situational.”

“That makes no sense.”

“No, it does not. It was not meant to.” Oliver turned his attention to Signora Russo, who was still staring at Oliver as if he were speaking of her. “This meal is quite delicious. I cannot say when I have had chicken so succulent.”

“Thank you,” Sandra replied. She pulled her attention back to her cup and took a long drink.

“Signorina Madelena,” Oliver said.

“Signore St. John, you have no right to call her by her first name,” Maria scolded.

“Apologies. I did not mean to overstep my bounds. But you see, with so many of you present, how would one know who I am addressing if I say Signorina Russo?”

“That is quite all right, Signore St. John,” Madelena butted in. “I do not mind.”

“No harm, no foul,” Oliver spoke, mischief causing his green eyes to sparkle. He knew all too well her singing talents. “Now, do you play an instrument or sing as well as your sisters?”

Angela snorted and rolled her eyes. Bella giggled.

“She sings like an angel,” Bella said, stifling her laugh.

“Then, when we finish, I insist on a sample.” Oliver looked at Russo. “If that is all right with your father.”

Antonio seemed pleased that Oliver thought to ask his permission. He gave a nod. “It has been some time since I have heard you sing, Madelena.”

All eyes were suddenly upon Madelena. She could feel the heat from her mother and sisters. Sandra mouthed a “no” in her direction. Angela glowered at her as did Flora. Bella, on the other hand, was bobbing her head up and down, causing her black ringlets to bounce.

“Of course,” Madelena said, placing her napkin upon the table.

“Splendid! At your leave, my lady.” Oliver gave a discreet teasing wink in her direction.

The group made their way to the drawing room, and Madelena placed herself at the pianoforte. Antonio poured a glass of sherry and plucked a cigar from a box. After all were seated, Madelena began. Oliver was enthralled as he watched her fingers nimbly move over the ivory keys. Those same fingers that tentatively touched his flesh only the night before. Her voice came out strong, yet in a way that was not too overbearing. That same voice that moaned and cried out in pleasure was now soothing as she sang.

Sandra glared from the back of the room at Oliver as he watched Madelena. Like all men, he was captivated by her. Why? She was beautiful but, in Sandra’s opinion, that was her only redeeming quality. Nothing about her was remarkable. Perhaps men liked her defiance. Maybe she was more enjoyable to be around than her sisters. Doubtful. Or perhaps she emits a scent like a bitch does when they are in heat. Whatever the reason, Sandra need not worry about it much longer. Drakos would be arriving soon. And soon, her dearly, beloved daughters would not have to contend with that wanton stealing their beaus.

When Madelena’s fingers strummed the last chord, Oliver stood and applauded.

“Magnifique!” Oliver boasted.

Madelena bashfully lowered her lashes and grinned.

“I do say, Signore St. John,” Angela spoke. “That is a little overdramatic for such a simple piece.”

“On the contrary, Signorina Angela. I have never heard such fine music.” He turned his attention to Russo. “You have truly talented daughters, Signore Russo. You must be proud.”

Antonio took a long draw from his cigar. He purposely allowed the smoke to swirl out slowly knowing it would agitate Sandra. She hated cigars. “Of course. What father would not be proud of such a talented group of daughters?”

“What of you, Signore St. John?” Angela spoke in an attempt to make herself the center of attention. “Do you have any talent?”

Oliver chuckled. “My dear, I am afraid my talent lies with a hammer and saw.”

“Oh, come now. Do not be modest. Surely you have some talent other than carpentry? Dancing? Painting, perhaps?”

Madelena and Oliver burst out in laughter.

“Did I miss something?”

“I regret to inform you that painting is far from my forte. However, I dance when the occasion calls, such as at soirees or balls.”

“That is wonderful to hear. There is a ball at Signora Cancio’s the beginning of the week.” Angela cocked her head and batted her lashes at Oliver.

“Signore Henshaw mentioned as much.”

“Then I insist upon a dance,” Angela asserted.

Oliver wondered why her parents weren’t scolding her for such a bold move? But Martin’s words rang in his ear. “Signora Russo is on the hunt for husbands for her daughters.”

“I was not invited, Signorina Angela. It would be rude of me to arrive without an invitation.”

“Then you will come as our guest,” Sandra jumped to say.

Oliver’s eyes grew wide, and he resembled a lamb being led to slaughter. “I beg your pardon?”

“You will come as our guest. Isn’t that right, Antonio? Nichole is a dear friend of mine and would not protest.” Sandra came to her feet. “In fact, I will pen her a note as we speak.”

“There is no need to trouble yourself, Signora Russo—”

“No trouble at all. Antonio, please keep our guest entertained while I go make arrangements for Signore St. John to attend Nichole’s ball.”

“Why is she having a ball during Carnival?” Antonio asked.

“Why, for us. The upper crust. Only blackguards and ruffians attend Carnival after dark and more so on the last evening.” With that, Sandra left the room.

“Well, now,” Antonio said. “This has been an eventful evening, and it is growing late. Girls, please say your farewells to Signore St. John.”

“But Papa,” Angela protested. She would not let Oliver slip through her fingers as Stephano Mortilini had. That little tart Mae Valenti swooped in and stole Stephano from her, but she would not let anyone take Oliver from her. No one! Not even her own sister. If need be, she would sabotage Flora’s dress to have Oliver to herself.

“Signore Russo is correct. It is nearing ten. He is a busy man, and the streets are packed with people enjoying the revelry of Carnival.” Oliver had to get away from these marriage hungry females.

“See, Angela, even our guest knows the rules of propriety.” Russo stood, and his daughters followed suit.

Giving a polite bow, Oliver spoke, “Thank you for a delightful evening, Signore Russo. Your daughters are wonderful company.”

Russo nodded.

“I will show him out,” Madelena interjected, coming from the pianoforte.

“That is very kind of you, Signorina Madelena,” Oliver acknowledged.

Madelena rounded her sisters and stood at the doorway, waiting on Oliver. He followed her out to the front door but could feel the eyes of her sisters upon his back. He held in the desire to pull Madelena into his arms and kiss her in front of her prying sisters. It would serve them right. None of them could compare to Madelena in her kindness and spirit.

Stopping at the door, Madelena opened it and handed Oliver his coat. Taking his coat, he slipped it over his shoulders.

“Safe travels,” Madelena spoke, holding in the desire to touch him.

Their eyes locked, and time stood still. Madelena was not certain how long they stayed gazing in each other’s eyes. The only thing she knew was disappointment when he broke the gaze. Heat filled her from head to toe as she felt him take her hand and place a kiss across her knuckles.

“Until we met again, Maddie.”

He stood and left.

Madelena closed the doors, and her hand lingered longer than it should upon the wood.

“He’s mine, and you keep your hands away from him,” Angela hissed.

Madelena turned to find her older sister behind her.

“You are to marry Signore Drakos. He’s mine.”

Madelena squared her shoulders. “He is not property to claim, Angela. Signore St. John is no more yours than he is mine.”

“Papa!” Flora protested in a shrill screech. “Do something! I want him for myself!”

“Silence!” Antonio ordered.

The hallway grew quiet.

“All of you to your rooms. Signore St. John is here on holiday. Meaning a short stay. If you want him to stay longer then I suggest you quit squabbling over him like he is a toy and begin seeking him as a man you intend to marry. Which means, quit displaying yourself as spoiled children. It means to behave like ladies.” He turned his fury to Angela. “None of this trying to get his attention by thrusting your bosom out or inappropriate touching. If you act like a whore, then you will get a wastrel. If you behave like a lady, then you will get a gentleman. Understand?” When no one answered, he repeated with more force, “Understand?”

“Yes, Papa,” Angela and Flora replied.

“Good. Now go to your rooms. All of you.”

“Not all of them,” Sandra said from the study door.

Antonio forcefully exhaled. “What now?”

“Madelena, I need a word with you. The rest of you go to your rooms.”

Angela and Flora headed to the steps.

After climbing up three steps, Angela turned to Madelena and sang, “You’re in trouble.”

“And you are a child in a woman’s body.” Madelena proudly raised her chin and entered the study.

Angela gasped, hefted her skirts and stormed to her room.

Madelena approached the center of the room and waited for Sandra.

The sound of the door quietly closing caused Madelena to cringe. She knew why she was called here. Sandra was curious about how she got out.

Sandra rounded Madelena and stopped before her.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Madelena asked.

“How did you get out? This was a dinner for your sisters, not you. And now you have ruined it.”

“I was invited.”

“St. John invited you, I did not.”

“I am still a part of this family,” Madelena defended.

“You are not my child. You never have been. Why would I invite you to eat at the same table as me? You are nothing but a harlot’s bastard.”

“And she is my daughter,” Antonio said from the doorway.

Madelena turned to view her father and was taken aback by the anger upon his handsome features. His brows were drawn together, creating a deep crevice between his brown eyes. A firm set to his mouth caused his jaw to appear more pronounced. And the rigidness to his spine caused him to appear taller.

“So she is,” Sandra said.

“You will remember this, Sandra. She is my daughter.”

“But she is not mine.”

“To the world she is. That is part of our bargain.”

“Would you two quit acting like I am not in the room! I am right here. In the middle of you two. I do not know what bargain you had, and I do not care. I simply want to be treated equally in this family.”

An unladylike snort left Sandra. “Equally? Your father has always placed you on a pedestal above your sisters.”

“But you have the final say. You always have. Is that the bargain you made? You would stay silent about my birth for the rule of the house?” Madelena asked Sandra. She looked to her father for verification.

“It is much more complicated than that,” Sandra said. “Now, how did you get out of your room?”

“The door was unlocked. Guess you forgot to lock it.”

“Never. I made certain that it was locked.”

“When I came home this afternoon, I unlocked it,” Antonio said.

“How could you?!” Sandra protested, crossing the room to him. “You know she is to stay in her room. After what she did? Acting like a harlot. Seeking out a man for carnal satisfaction. Having a stranger take her virginity. All in hopes of ruining her marriage to Drakos.”

“She is still my daughter, Sandra, despite the plans we have made for her. She will be allowed out.”

“But her reputation—”

“Nothing will be said of her reputation. All know the consequences should they soil my daughter’s name.”

“Antonio! You cannot do this! I will not allow it!”

“I can and I will. You have ruled this house too long, Sandra. I caved at your asinine requests and turned a blind eye to your extravagant spending in order to abide you. All in order to help purchase your silence. But no longer. Madelena will be allowed her freedom until her marriage.”

A vindictive sneer came to Sandra. “Vico will know.”

Antonio took a step and came closer to his wife. He towered over her, glowering down at his wife. “Speak one word and I—”

“Will do nothing,” Sandra hissed. “What can you do?” She stepped away. “If it is known that she is your bastard, what do you think Vico will do? Madelena Russo, the bastard daughter of a slave. A slave that you bought with my dowry and then freed!” A maniacal laugh left her. “Do what you will, Antonio. If you try to harm me, then Vico will know, and your precious, precious Madelena will be taken away. Mayhap he will give her back to that sultan you bought her mother from. And you will be hanged. You know this to be true. Fornication is frowned upon in the church. Adultery is frowned upon in the church. You are a sinner, and no amount of penance will take away that stain. Either way, she will be out of my sight and out of my life. I will no longer have to look at Francesca’s image anymore. So, please, strike me. Kill me. You know what I say is true.”

Antonio’s fists were coiled tight at his side as he resisted the urge to hit his wife, a bitch through and through.

Sandra whipped around to face Madelena and was surprised to feel the sting of Madelena’s hand upon her cheek.

“Do not threaten my father!”

Sandra’s hand came to her cheek. “You dare to strike me?”

“I do! I have had it! I am sick of your treatment of Father and me. Now that I know the truth, why continue with the masquerade of liking each other? Allow Papa and I to go our own ways.”

“No. I have too much to gain from your father’s presence in my life. With you gone, men will come to court my girls. They will wed them, even if they have no desire. And do you know why? If they don’t, Antonio will make certain that unfortunate circumstances befall them.”

“It's not true. Papa is a good man. He would never do misdeeds for your benefit.” Madelena looked at her father for his reaction. “Papa?”

Antonio worked his jaw. Damn Sandra! He hated that woman with every fiber of his being. He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and watch the life leave her body. No one but four people would miss her. Yet if he did, then her threats would hold true. Vico would harm Madelena, and he would not allow that to happen.

“Papa?”

“You will still marry Drakos.”

His words were like a slap to Madelena’s ears. “What?!”

“Your mother may—”

“I am not her mother,” Sandra declared.

“Sandra may be a cruel, hateful bitch, but she is correct. Drakos will keep you safe.”

A triumphant gleam came to Sandra’s eyes.

“No! You cannot do this to me!” Madelena beseeched.

“You will remain in your room until you wed.”

“No!”

He addressed Sandra. “For appearance's sake, she will be allowed to attend any soirees we are invited to attend.”

“I will not allow it.”

Antonio turned. “I have spoken.” With that, he left.

A haughtiness came over Sandra. She had won again. “Why are you still here? Go to your room.”

“But—”

“Now, Madelena. Your father will always take my side. Always. Now march.”

Madelena turned and climbed the steps. When the door locked behind her, she sank onto her bed as she felt her heart tear at her father’s betrayal. Why was this happening to her? Her fingers fisted around her dress. She had to leave. She had money saved. She would buy a ticket on a ship leaving Italy and sail west. And perhaps along the way, the love she so desperately craved would find her.

Chapter Sixteen

Oliver sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he stared at the cards in his hand. The sound of Stephano drumming his fingers upon the table did not help Oliver’s concentration. The smoke-filled room and men laughing did not aid in his thoughts. Each face upon the card staring back at him contained dark, seductive eyes, olive skin, inky-black hair and full, sensual lips. The queen of diamonds stared at him, her dress in colors of vibrant blues and greens. Hell, even the king of spades looked like the haunting image. Every card resembled the woman who had plagued him since their first meeting.

“Are you going to play a card or sit there holding it like it will play itself?” Stephano asked.

Grabbing a card, Oliver tossed it upon the table, not caring what he played.

Stephano gave a quizzical glance. “You plan to trump my ten with a two?”

“All part of my strategy.”

“If losing is your strategy, then you are doing a smashing good job,” Martin said, playing a Jack. “I win.” Leaning forward, Martin slid the winnings his way. “I do say, your mind has been far from here all evening. What is troubling you?”

“If I were a betting man, which I am,” Stephano said, “I would say a woman is the cause of his troubles.”

“You don’t say?” Martin asked, taking the discarded cards from the table and shuffling them.

“I am not troubled by any woman,” Oliver mumbled, taking a sip of the brandy in his glass. “Besides, what would make you the expert on this, Stephano? From what I can gather, you are as much of a rounder as the rest of us.”

“Don’t place me in your current situation,” Martin said, dealing the cards. “I am quite happily married.”

“Yet, here you are, in a gentleman’s club, drinking and playing cards with the rest of us bastards,” Stephano said, downing his drink.

“Geneva is somewhat emotional presently. I cannot abide a crying woman.” Martin picked up his cards. “Your go, Oliver.”

Oliver laid down an eight. “Expectant mothers are quite fickle.”

Martin snorted. “If only she were fickle. Fickle I can handle. But all this blasted crying and moping, it tries one's nerves it does.”

“Speaking of crying,” Stephano chimed in, directing the conversation to Oliver. “I heard you left the Russo girls in quite an emotional catastrophe the other evening.”

“Don’t speak of those women to me.”

“Oh, ho! We have struck a nerve,” Stephano said, placing a card upon the table. “So, which one of those…those…lovely women have captured your attention? Please don’t tell me it’s that Angela. She’s a troublemaker.”

“No. It's not her,” Oliver snapped, forcefully tossing a three on the table.

“Then it is one?” Martin inquired. “I told you not to go to that dinner. If Signora Russo knows you are interested in one of her daughters, you will never leave Italy without one of them as your bride.”

“Sweet Judas, Martin. You are a bigger pain in the ass than my brothers.”

With sincerity, Martin asked, “What did I do?”

“You struck a nerve, that is what you did,” Stephano replied, his interest in Oliver’s love life now piqued. “So, which one?”

“If you must know, I am being forced to attend that damned ball that”—Oliver looked at Martin—“your neighbor is throwing. I am being forced to escort Angela.” He looked at Stephano. “Who has her sights set for you is my guess.”

“Me?” Stephano asked.

“Yes. She was rather taken with you at Marino’s the other night.”

Martin added, “You have been visiting the Valentis frequently. It only makes sense. Since Angela can’t have you, she has set her sights on Oliver.”

Oliver tossed his cards upon the table. “You bloody idiot! She doesn’t want me. She wants him, and since she can’t have him, she is trying to make him jealous through me.”

“And you know this how?”

“I just do,” Oliver snapped, picking his cards back up.

“I do say. That’s not it. One of Russo’s daughters has gotten to you.” Suddenly Martin’s eyes grew wide. “Was Madelena there?”

“Shit,” Oliver mumbled, tossing his cards back down on the table and downing his drink.

“Madelena Russo?” Stephano inquired. “I heard she is a beauty and rarely seen these days since it was announced she was to marry Miles Drakos.”

“You say that like she has been in exile for years. I only heard it through the gossip a few days ago.”

Stephano shrugged.

“You have never met her?” Martin asked.

Stephano shook his head. “No. I heard that she is beautiful and acts nothing like her sisters.”

“Oh, she is beautiful.” Addressing Oliver in his usually meddlesome way, Martin asked, “So, was she there?”

“Why am I friends with you?” Oliver asked, rubbing his forehead.

Martin gave a cheeky grin. “Because I am the one person who can annoy you more than your brothers.”

Stephano began, “So, Madelena was or was not there?”

“She was,” Oliver bit out.

“And is she as beautiful as rumor has it?”

More so. “She is.”

“Damn,” Stephano complained, leaning back in his seat. “I would fancy meeting a woman whose beauty is as legendary as hers.”

Oliver shot a frustrated look at Stephano. “Legendary?”

“Yes, my island friend. All who have ears know of Madelena’s beauty and Russo’s watchful eye of her.” Stephano looked around the room with suspicion. Leaning forward, he added in a whisper, “It is even rumored that she is not truly Signora Russo’s daughter but that of her husband’s lover.”

Martin slowly placed his cards upon the table, leaning in. “You don’t say?”

“Yes. Just a rumor though.” Stephano settled back into his seat and slouched languidly.

Oliver and Martin shot knowing looks at each other, the conversation that Oliver overheard coming to mind.

“Interesting,” Martin mumbled.

“Very interesting, indeed,” Oliver replied.

“Yes, it is.” Stephano held up his glass and moved it in an arch in front of him as he continued, “And we have all seen the ghost of his beloved mistress.”

“Madelena?” Oliver questioned.

Stephano laughed. “I see where your interests lie. But, no, my friend. In Russo’s office. The painting of the woman by his desk is his beloved Francesca Demachi. The woman whom he was rumored to have betrayed his wife for.”

“Why would he keep her portrait up if he works for Cardinal Vico? The Cardinal frowns upon adultery and immoral acts. Wouldn’t the Cardinal be suspicious of the painting?” Martin inquired.

Stephano shrugged. “Maybe the good Cardinal does not care since Russo keeps the peace. Perhaps he turns a blind eye to the hand who enforces such strict laws. He looks the other way for the man who makes certain no foul events or misdeeds are transpiring in Rome that would cause the Pope to be seen as less than holy. Or maybe it is simply because Signore Russo tells all that the painting was a gift granted to him by the king.”

“How do you know this?” Martin inquired.

Stephano gave a toothy grin and downed his drink. “You forget who I am. Who my father is. We are very wealthy men, and wealthy men get invited to events that common folk, like yourselves, do not. Besides, when I was just a young lad, I overheard him tell my father as much. Albeit, he was a tad foxed.” Stephano sat up and motioned for another drink. “Now, are we going to play cards or discuss rumors and gossip like a bunch of old women?”

Oliver began dealing the cards. “Are you attending the Cancios’ party?”

“Indeed, I am.”

“Are you going alone?” Martin asked, picking up his cards from the table.

“As a matter of fact, I am not. I have asked Signorina Valenti to accompany me.”

“Valenti? The same Valenti you have been visiting?”

“The one and the same. Why such a sudden interest in my love life?”

Martin shrugged. “I just find it interesting that you, the owner of the most prestigious vineyard in all of Italy, is seeking a relationship with a woman whose father owns the most prestigious vineyard in Rome, and is attending a ball thrown by a man who hopes to have the most prestigious vineyard in Rome. That is all.”

“A heart wants what it wants.”

“Heart? Are you saying you love the chit?”

Stephano waved away the question. “She is rather pleasing to behold.”

“Who are we discussing again?” Oliver asked.

“Mae Valenti. Her father is Jacopo. You met him the other night at Marino’s house.”

Oliver shook his head with uncertainty.

“You cannot forget the man,” Martin said. “He’s rather loud and obnoxious.”

“With a large belly,” Stephano added.

Oliver continued shaking his head.

“He tried to get you to build him a sloop.”

“Oh! Him? He was rather obnoxious.” Oliver looked at Stephano. “You are interested in his daughter?”

“She is nothing like her father. And since he has traveled to Naples on business, it is only fitting that Mae and her mother have an escort to the Cancios.”

“I’m certain it is,” Oliver replied with knowing.

A mischievous twinkle came to Stephano’s eyes. “And she is a very close friend to Madelena Russo. Perhaps, since you seem so enamored of the beauty—”

“I am not enamored of her.”

“Your eyes say differently. But if you are not interested in Signorina Russo, then perhaps you can simply distract her for a moment. I will ask Signorina Valenti to go for a walk in the gardens. Of course, her mother will insist upon a chaperone, and Signorina Russo will eagerly volunteer. You, being the gentleman, would insist upon escorting her…” Stephano paused, giving a look to Oliver that suggested he could fill in the rest.

“So, you can slip away for a few minutes alone with Signorina Valenti, then no one would be the wiser,” Oliver snapped.

“Precisely, my friend.” Stephano raised his brows up and down. “A few stolen kisses with a beautiful woman. What more could a man ask for—for now?”

That was a question that plagued Oliver. How much more could he ask for from Madelena? They had been together, yet it was not enough. He wanted more. How much more could he want? It was a notion that would haunt him until his dying days. And that was what he feared.

After another hour, the men parted ways. Stephano heading to the townhome he had rented for his stay and Oliver and Martin to Martin’s home. It was still early in the evening, and the streets were crowded. People lined the streets enjoying the merriment around. Jugglers and acrobats. Singers and dancers. Men participating in fisticuffs and others placing wagers.

“I’d like to place a wager on you against him,” Martin said, nodding to the man entering the circle of men. The man was tall and broad. The man proudly displayed his biceps by forming a fist and bending his arms, then patting the muscle and nodded his head. The man then began antagonizing the men around him, asking for a fight.

“Pomp and show,” Oliver replied. “Two hits and I would have him flat on his arse.”

“Care to wager?” Martin said.

“What do you have that I could possibly want?”

Martin rubbed his chin. “If he beats you, then you finish my boat.”

“That did not answer my question. What do you have that I would want?”

“Five pounds.”

Oliver sputtered. “Five pounds. I have more than that in my pocket now.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“That old pistol you found.”

“What pistol?”

“You know? When we were boys. You found an old pistol with an ivory handle.”

Martin gave a questioning look to Oliver. “You remember that? Hell, I lost that thing years ago.”

“You did not. It’s in your top desk drawer in your study.”

“Have you been snooping?”

“No. I was looking for the key to the liquor cabinet. Why was it locked anyway?”

“That is beside the point, Oliver.”

“No, it is not.”

“Fine. Do we have a wager?”

“Agreed.” Oliver stepped forward. Removing his coat, he tossed it to Martin. “Hold that for me, old man.” He approached the brute and rolled up his sleeves.

The brute looked Oliver up and down. “This ought to be easy. I’ll plant you in the ground like the little pansy you are. Or perhaps, I’ll go easy on you and let you suck my cock afterward.” The man grabbed his crotch emphasizing his point.

Oliver did not take the bait. He remained calm and removed his vest. Holding up his fists, he waited. The man took a swing. Oliver sidestepped. The man took another swing. Oliver sidestepped that one as well.

“Don’t just dance around, fight!” the man complained.

“All in good time, lass,” Oliver needled.

The man growled and lunged at Oliver. Oliver landed a hit to the man’s right flank as he passed. The man turned and took a swing, connecting with Oliver’s cheek. Oliver stumbled back a few feet and shook his head. The man grinned and spat on the ground. The man advanced. Oliver waited until the man was closer and landed a solid punch to the man’s midsection, then an uppercut to the man’s jaw. The brute stumbled backward and shook his head to ward off the stars. Oliver jabbed the man’s nose, and then a left hook took the man down. The brute landed with a thud on the ground and a cheer from the crowd. Oliver collected his vest and approached Martin.

“You said two hits. That was five.”

“Who’s counting?”

“I was. You said two. That was five.”

“That was not part of the stipulations. You lost. Please have my winnings securely packaged for my trip home.”

“Home? Are you leaving now?”

“No, next week.”

“Tired of my company already?” Martin asked, handing Oliver his coat.

Oliver shrugged on his jacket. “No.”

“Then what? I was expecting you to stay longer.”

Oliver patted Martin on the arm and turned, walking away. How could he explain to Martin that Madelena was a distraction? A distraction that would get them both into discord with Russo. The sooner he left, the sooner he would be away from her temptation. And perhaps, the distance would allow him to forget the woman who haunted him.

Chapter Seventeen

“So lovely to see you this evening, Signora Russo,” Nichole addressed Sandra from the foyer. Her eyes drifted over the guests with Sandra. Signore Russo was in attendance and dressed in his finest, causing the distinguished-looking man to appear more dashing. All the Russo daughters were accompanying them. Shocking. Yet, Angela was attached to the arm of an annoyed-looking red-haired man. The aggravated man was handsomely dressed in his finery. The form-fitting charcoal coat and light gray brocade vest caused his eyes to appear bolder. The sleeves of the man’s jacket were pulled taut over the muscles of his upper arm. “I see you have a guest with you?”

“Yes,” Sandra said. “Nichole, you remember Signore St. John, don’t you? We met him the other day while he was working on Signore Henshaw’s boat.”

Nichole’s eyes grew wide. “Oh! Yes, yes. It is so lovely to see you again, Signore St. John. How are you enjoying your visit to Rome?”

Pulling his arm away from the leechy Angela, Oliver bowed politely. “Thank you for having me this evening, Signora Cancio. I find Rome charming and full of delight.”

Nichole flipped open her fan and waved it in front of her face. “It would be rude of me not to invite you. After all a friend of Signore Henshaw’s is always welcome in my home. Please enjoy yourself.” Nichole stepped away.

Oliver kept his posture rigid. He hated the situation he was in. First off, Signora Cancio had not invited him, to his knowledge. And even if she had, Oliver would have refused. Being this close to Madelena and not being able to touch her was torture. And secondly, Signora Russo entered the ballroom purposefully slow, allowing all the eyes in the room to come to them. She was putting him on display like a prized pony she had just purchased. She was making a statement that she had already claimed Oliver for one of her daughters. And he was not about to allow that.

The Russos descended the steps. Angela latched onto Oliver’s arm and purposely took her time going down the steps. Oliver tried to hide his annoyance, yet it was hard. But when his eyes landed on the back of Madelena, he momentarily forgot where he was and who he was with. Madelena was even more beautiful tonight than when he first saw her at Carnival—if that was possible. She was wearing a lavender ballgown with a square bodice accentuated with white lace. The back was modest. A mint green ribbon hugged her waist and was tied in a large bow upon the back. Her hair was in an updo with a few of her thick locks allowed to hang down and curled in tight ringlets. A white lace choker with a golden cameo hugged her neck. Long, white, silk gloves covered her toned arms. With grace, Madelena approached the ballroom. With grace, she controlled her movements.

“Signore St. John?” Angela said, drawing Oliver’s attention away from Madelena.

“Hmm?”

“I asked how many dances can I expect you to reserve upon my dance card?” She coyly batted her lashes. “Two? Three, perhaps?”

Oliver gave that dashing, whimsical smile he was known for. “Signorina Russo, I like spontaneity. I will not reserve a spot upon your card. I simply come and take my place when I want to.”

Angela giggled and flipped open her fan, waving it before her face. “Signore St. John, that is a rather bold thing for a man to do. Simply assume a lady will dance with him without asking.”

“Signorina, I am a St. John,” he said, hoping that excuse would be enough of an answer to keep the chit enthralled all night. Enough of a response to keep her hoping he would ask for a dance. Deep down, Oliver knew he would have to dance at least once with the overzealous woman. Just when was up for debate.

Oliver escorted Angela to her mother and sisters. Giving the excuse of needing to speak to Signore Mortilini, he left the horde of marriage hungry women. Spotting, Stephano, Oliver made his way over to him. Despite Stephano’s arrogance, Oliver liked the younger man. Then again, Stephano was no more arrogant than the St. Johns. The St. Johns just did it with more charm.

Oliver noticed the woman with Stephano. She was beautiful in her buttercup yellow gown. She had a figure that any woman would desire with deep curves where they should be. Her face was oval with high cheekbones and a stunning smile. There was a woman standing to their right and the similarities were uncanny. This must be Signora and Signorina Valenti.

“Stephano,” Oliver greeted.

“Oliver! How good to see you. I would like to introduce you to Signora Valenti and her daughter Mae. Ladies, this is Oliver St. John.”

The women curtsied.

“So good to meet you, Signore St. John,” Mae spoke. “I have heard many good things about you.”

Oliver bowed. “The pleasure is all mine, Signorina Valenti. I must say, Stephano spoke of your beauty, but he did not express it to the extent he should have.”

Mae blushed.

“You are too bold, signore,” Maude spoke, an impish glint to her eyes. “Yet I like boldness.”

Oliver laughed. “Then, signora, prepare to be shocked for St. Johns are notorious for being bold.”

“I do say,” Maude spoke, keeping her eyes upon Oliver. “I like him, Stephano. You should have introduced me to him sooner.”

“If I had, then he would be visiting instead of me.”

Maude snorted. “Doubtful. I said I like him. I did not say he would be a suitable suitor for Mae. No, no. He is not from here, correct?”

“You would be correct, signora,” Oliver answered. “I am from the Caribbean.”

“See. Too far away for a proper courtship. Besides, Mae is enjoying the excitement of having men vying for her attention. Isn’t that right, Mae?”

Mae looked between the trio, her eyes so wide it did not seem humanly possible.

“Mae?”

“I’m sorry, Momma. You just have caught me off guard.”

“But you like having men chase after you, correct?”

Heat flooded Mae’s high cheeks. She did not appreciate her mother’s outspokenness. “I do not care for all this attention. Signore Mortilini, would you care to dance?”

Stephano bowed. “I would never refuse a request from you.” He offered Mae his arm. “If you will please excuse us.”

The instant the pair was upon the ballroom floor, Maude turned her attention to Oliver. She was grinning like a fool. “I like to put people on the spot. See what type of character they have.”

“And whom were you putting on the spot? Your daughter, Stephano, or me?”

“All three. You handled yourself splendidly. Stephano could have replied better. Mae behaved as expected.”

“As expected?”

“Yes. You see, she does not like to stand up to me in front of others. It is time for her to learn to stand her ground. If she is to successfully run her own home how she sees fit, then she will need to be resolved in her decisions and unafraid of ruffling a few feathers.”

“That is an interesting philosophy, Signora Valenti.”

“It is not a philosophy. It is a teaching tool. A tool that you apparently do not need. I take it your upbringing taught you to stand up for yourself as well.”

“My parents made certain that my brothers, sister, and I were not afraid to have our voices heard.”

“Good for them. Now, I would like to have attention drawn to me. Dance with me.”

“I beg your pardon.” Oliver was taken aback by the sudden demand of a dance.

Maude took his arm and pulled him to the ballroom floor. Before Oliver would protest, she began dancing, taking the lead.

“I would think a worldly man like yourself would be accustomed to bold women,” Maude said as she twirled.

“I am accustomed to being the initiator.”

Maude laughed. “I figured as much. You are a go-getter. A man who knows what he wants and is not afraid to go after it.”

“To an extent.”

“You have limitations?” She was surprised to hear his confession.

“Propriety has limitations. I, on the other hand, do not. However, we are all subject to the laws of the land and must take into account those limitations.”

“Like craning one’s neck to view Madelena Russo?”

Oliver’s step faltered.

“Are you all right there, Signore St. John?” Maude asked, a glint of naughtiness in her dark eyes.

“I tripped.”

“Over my words. An unusual circumstance.”

“I did not trip over your words. Besides, that is not how the saying goes.”

“I know how the saying goes. What I am saying is that I noticed how you were watching Madelena when you climbed down the steps. I also noticed how your eyes kept scanning the room for her.”

“I think you are mistaken, Signora Valenti.”

Maude snorted, and the dance stopped. She leaned over and whispered. “I am not the only one with eyes in this room, Signore St. John. Just be wary of where your eyes wander. Antonio is very protective of her and will do anything to keep scamps like you away.” She curtsied. “Thank you for the dance.”

Oliver watched the older woman leave. What was that supposed to mean? Be wary of where his eyes wander? Hell, was he supposed to keep his gaze fixated upon the bloody floor?

He left the ballroom. If what Signora Valenti said was correct and that he was lingering on Madelena, he needed to distance himself from her. Perhaps a drink would help his mind.

Oliver made his way into an adjacent room. Several men were playing billiards. He played a few rounds and enjoyed keeping himself distracted for the time being. The less time he was in the view of others, the less of a chance Angela would have of finding him and the less of a chance he would see Madelena.

Stephano found him and motioned with his head for Oliver to approach.

“Yes?” Oliver asked.

“I was wondering where you had hidden yourself. It is getting a bit stuffy in here.”

“Then leave.”

Stephano shot Oliver an agitated glance. “I was wanting to take a walk. With Mae. Remember?”

Oliver closed his eyes. Hell, he had forgotten about that plan.

“Oliver?”

Oliver looked back at his new friend. “Actually—”

“You did forget. No, wait, you’re not going to back out on me, are you?”

“I do not think it would be a wise idea for me to be seen with Madelena. Russo already dislikes me for some reason. I do not need to give him more reason.”

“Come on, man. I want a few minutes alone with Mae. Signora Valenti will allow her to take a walk only if Madelena goes as a chaperone. If Madelena is with us, then how can I be alone with Mae? You have to help me.”

“Isn’t there someone else?”

“No one who is willing to risk Russo’s wrath.”

“Thanks,” Oliver replied with sarcasm. “Is that the only reason you like me? Because I am not afraid of Russo.”

Stephano chortled. “No, but it certainly helps.”

“Shit,” Oliver mumbled.

“Please.”

“Fine.”

Stephano swatted Oliver upon the back. “I knew I could count on you. Now, wait for us at the bottom of the steps leading into the garden.”

“Not just outside the doors?”

“No. I need to make certain Signora Valenti isn’t watching. If she sees you so soon after we step outside, then she is liable to come as well.”

“This holiday is becoming quite tedious. First, I had to repair a home, then had to entertain the Russos, and now this. I think I should have stayed in Governor’s Harbour.”

“Great,” Stephano said, ignoring Oliver’s rant. “You go take your place. We’ll be outside momentarily.”

Stephano departed the billiards room. Oliver made his way through the crowded ballroom, occasionally giving a polite greeting to the patrons. Glancing around the room, he slipped out the veranda doors to the designated rendezvous point. What had he gotten himself into?

Stephano stood across the ballroom and watched for Oliver to leave. He wanted to make certain that Oliver was not going to back out on him. Stephano’s entire plan revolved around his new friend. His plan? A few moments alone with Mae. A few stolen kisses. He found her very intriguing, and before he left Rome, he was hoping to ask her to marry him.

He spotted his prey. She was at the back of the room speaking with her mother and several other women. Where was Madelena? That was the only way he could get Oliver to agree to this, and that was the only way he would be granted a few moments alone with Mae. If another went then he might as well kiss his alone time good-bye for it would never happen.

His gaze drifted over the dancers. Where was she? You would think spotting a woman of legendary beauty in a room full of eligible bachelors would be easy. You would think men would be surrounding her. But apparently not. Evidently, her father’s reputation kept men at bay. Even from as far away as Stephano lived, he had heard of Russo’s reputation. Russo was a man known to use brutal practices to get what he wanted. Bribery. Extortion. Fear. Murder. Name an intimidating tactic and the magistrate had used said tactic to keep the peace and to get the desired outcome. Yet, Stephano was not worried about Russo for the influential man played only a small role in his desired goal. Stephano's goal? Well, presently, it was to be alone with Mae.

Russo was across the ballroom. The man seemed vexed. His usually blank façade appeared angered. The man’s face was etched in hard, angry lines, and his jaw was clenched tight. Even from Stephano’s location, he could tell it would not be wise to approach Russo. Russo spoke to a man to his right. The man was older and on the portly side. The man’s long white hair was pulled back in a queue and caused his sideburns to appear rather…well, fluffy was the word that came to mind. The man gave a smile that caused Stephano’s insides to churn with nausea. The strange man then patted his obese stomach and looked around the room, reminding Stephano of an eel searching for its prey.

Stephano spotted Marino and approached. “Who is that man with Signore Russo? I don’t believe I have ever met him before.”

Marino snatched a glass of wine from a passing tray. Without looking, he answered, “That would be Signore Miles Drakos from Greece. Repulsive looking man, is he not?”

“Repulsive is not a strong enough word. Why would the Russos pair their daughter with that man?”

Marino sipped his wine and his face involuntarily crinkled. “I do say, Signore Cancio’s wine tastes like piss. They should have imported your wine.”

“Thank you.”

Marino smacked his lips and sipped the wine again. “Now, what was your question?”

Stephano stared at Marino. “Are you drunk?”

“I am in the process of getting soused, yes. I had a little disagreement with the missus and intend to be completely snockered before the carriage ride home. That way, when she starts her tirade again, I will be so foxed, I will not care.”

Stephano shook his head. “Why did the Russos pair their daughter with that man?”

“Oh.” Marino placed the cup to his lips again. He looked into the cup and then over at a potted plant. Pouring the contents into the pot, he answered, “My guess is so that Signora Russo can finally get Madelena as far from her as possible.”

“Why?”

“She hates the girl. Despises her.”

“Why?”

Marino looked around and pulled Stephano next to the wall. In a loud whisper, he spoke, “Because Madelena is not her daughter.”

“That is rumor that few people know.”

Marino shook his head. “It's not a rumor. I heard the confession myself.”

“When?” Stephano asked.

“A few days ago, I was delivering furniture to Signora Cancio. She and Signora Russo were on the veranda in a heated discussion. Signora Russo shouted it at Signora Cancio and said that Madelena was the daughter of Russo’s quadroon whore.” Marino puckered his lips and shook his head. “No, that does not sound right.” He rubbed his chin, and his eyes grew wide. “His black whore! That’s what she called her.”

“Shhh,” Stephano scolded.

“Oh! Am I a tad too loud?”

“Yes.”

“Apologies. Anyway, Signora Russo went on to say that Madelena’s mother was Francesca Demachi. Russo purchased her from some sultan, freed her, and made her his mistress. Signora Russo learned that Russo was going to leave her for Francesca.”

“You heard all that?”

Marino bobbed his head up and down. “No.”

Stephano drew his brow together in confusion.

“Not entirely. I had already heard part of that rumor. What I did not hear was how it came to be that Signora Russo claimed Madelena as her own.”

“Interesting,” Stephano mumbled.

“Isn’t it? This town is full of interesting little tidbits. Like did you know that Signore Cancio’s wine tastes like piss?”

Stephano patted the older man upon the arm. “I hear that Signore Cancio has a collection of brandy, the likes of which you have never seen.”

“Brandy, you say?”

“Yes. Well-aged.”

Marino rubbed his chin. “I think I will go sample a few. Care to join me?”

Stephano glanced at Mae and noticed that a beautiful woman he did not know was with her.

“Is that Madelena with Signorina Valenti?”

Marino smacked his lips together and looked at the Valentis. He widened his eyes and then squinted. “That would be the woman in question. Madelena. Now, I believe I will have a sampling of Lucio’s brandy. Care to join me?”

So that was the legendary Madelena Russo. The gossip about her was not wrong. She was stunning. No wonder Oliver was so enamored with the woman. Stephano shook his head as he answered Marino, “Not now.”

“Your loss.” Marino stumbled away.

Madelena sighed again for the thousandth time. This ball was entirely too boring. Well, it wouldn’t be boring if she were allowed to leave her mother’s side. Instead, the entire evening, all she got to do was listen to her mother brag to everyone who would listen on how she was going to pair Angela with Oliver. And how she had three other daughters that she needed to match with rich, handsome men. Madelena wanted to hurl herself under a racing carriage. The pain from that would be far less than what she was experiencing now. However, that was not possible, so she simply stared at her hands.

“Oh, look, Madelena. Your intended is here,” Sandra said.

Madelena’s head shot upward. “What?”

“Signore Drakos is here.”

“What? Why? I mean, I thought he wasn’t coming until the end of the week.” Alarm caused Madelena’s voice to come out shrill.

A snide smirk came to Sandra. “I guess he decided to arrive early. Let’s go meet him, shall we?”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“That is not an option.”

“Signore Russo,” a man said approaching. “I need a moment of your time, if you’ll allow me?”

A look of triumph flashed over Sandra. This was one of the men she was hoping to pair Flora with. “I did have a prior commitment.”

“It is about your daughter, Signorina Flora.”

“Well, I suppose I can postpone my commitment. Madelena, be a good girl and get me a glass of wine.”

Madelena did not have to be told twice. She nearly ran from her mother. She had to get as far away from Sandra, Drakos, and every other person in this blasted ballroom. She spotted Mae. Perfect!

Madelena weaved her way through the ballroom and came charging up to Mae, uncaring that she was interrupting. Unbeknownst to her, the timing was perfect. “Mae, I need to go for a walk.”

A man approached at that time. He stopped before the women and bowed.

“I have traveled the globe and have never seen a more attractive group of ladies in my life.”

Mae bashfully fluttered her lashes. “Signore Mortilini, that is kind of you to say.”

Madelena snorted.

Mae motioned to her friend. “Signore Mortilini, I would like to introduce you to my dear friend, Madelena Russo. Madelena, this is Stephano Mortilini.”

“A pleasure,” Madelena said, giving a curtsey. Yet her words were lacking sincerity.

Stephano bowed. “Signorina Russo, the pleasure is all mine. I do say, being engaged in a conversation with the most beautiful women in Rome will make me the envy of every man here.”

“Signore Mortlini,” Mae said, blushing.

“Please, we have known each other for long enough. Call me Stephano.”

“Very well.”

Maude stepped forward. “She will do no such thing. It is too soon for such familiarities.”

“Momma,” Mae protested.

“Signorina Valenti, your mother is only looking out for your reputation. She has your best interests at heart,” Stephano said.

“That is better,” Maude said.

“I was wondering, signorina, if you would be so kind as to allow me to escort you through Signora Cancio’s gardens? I hear that the roses are quite stunning to behold in the moonlight.”

“I would be delighted.”

“Roses are not blooming this time of year,” Maude protested.

“Roses? I meant to see the moonlight reflecting off the lake. It is a sight to behold.”

Maude snorted. “Nice recovery.”

Stephano gave a winsome smile. “Do I have your permission, Signora Valenti, to escort your daughter to view the lake by moonlight?”

“Not without a proper chaperone,” Maude intervened.

“Signora Valenti,” Stephano spoke. Now was time to turn on his charm. “No need to take you away from such a social gathering. You look too beautiful to be hidden in the dark. And your charm will only be wasted in the darkness. You need to be here, to shine in the eye of others.”

Maude snorted. “Are you trying to charm me?”

“Is it working?” Stephano arrogantly asked.

“Yes and no.”

“All I am suggesting is that you allow, say…Signorina Russo to escort your daughter. That way you can stay and socialize with your friends and Signorina Valenti will have a proper chaperone. No one would dare to question the impropriety of me escorting your daughter if Signorina Russo is with us.”

“That is an excellent idea!” Mae interjected. “Please, Momma.”

Maude looked at her daughter and the pleading in Mae’s eyes broke down her defenses. “Very well.”

A small squeal left Mae. “Thank you, Momma.” She took Stephano’s outstretched arm and turned to her friend. “Come along, Madelena.”

“What have I missed?” Madelena whispered to Mae.

“I’ll tell you outside,” Mae answered.

Madelena fell in line behind the couple. She was happy for Mae. At least her friend was getting what she wanted. Madelena wished to speak to Mae but had not been granted the opportunity thanks to her confinement. She had hoped to get a few moments to talk to her this evening, but the number of guests had made it nearly impossible. It was only by sheer luck that she had managed to slip away from her parents’ watchful eye now. Well, not luck. She simply was supposed to get a glass of wine and neglected to return. If they knew she was leaving the home, they would tie her to the stair railing until it was time to go. But she simply did not care. Her life was ruined! She was destined to live in hell with the devil as her husband. Oh, she had the grand notion of leaving Rome with her saved money, but how? She was under constant watch, and when she wasn’t, she was locked in her room. A room from which there was no way out except the locked door or the window. The window was not an option for her chambers were on the third floor. So unless she learned to fly, there was no way out.

With a heavy heart, Madelena followed Mae and Stephano. The couple was standing a little too close, but Madelena did not mind. They appeared to be in love. If Madelena could not find happiness, the least she could do was allow Mae hers. She trailed behind as the pair spoke in hushed tones. Madelena allowed her eyes to wander. The Cancios had a lovely property. Tall trees provided shade during the day. Stone-lined paths were scattered about the property. Madelena had not realized that the Cancios’ property was so large. In the distance, the moon’s light reflected from the pond and danced over the ripples.

The group made their way down a set of steps and stopped by the water.

“It's lovely here,” Mae said.

“Not nearly as lovely as you, Signorina Valenti.”

“Please, call me Mae. I do not hold my mother’s sense of propriety.”

“Mae.”

Madelena rolled her eyes at the sentiment.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused Madelena to turn. Her eyes widened upon seeing who was hidden in the dark. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Oliver approach.

“Am I interrupting?” Oliver asked.

“Oliver,” Stephano replied. “Of course not. You remember Mae?”

Mae curtsied and Oliver bowed.

“A pleasure,” Oliver spoke. “Stephano has spoken of nothing but you. I can see why he thinks so highly of you.”

“You are too bold,” Mae protested.

“I have been told as much.” Oliver turned to Madelena. “Signorina Madelena. We meet yet again.”

“Again?” Mae inquired looking between the two.

“Yes,” Oliver answered. “Signora Russo invited me to dinner the other evening where Signorina Madelena graced us with her musical talents.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Mae spoke, looking at Madelena.

“We haven’t spoken since,” Madelena answered. “Remember, I have been…indisposed.”

Mae’s eyes widened with knowing. She had forgotten about Madelena’s confinement, which she had learned about from her servants.

“Well, now,” Stephano spoke. His gaze locked onto Oliver. “Care to join us for a stroll?”

“Actually, I would like to speak to Madelena. Alone,” Oliver said.

Mae shook her head. “I don’t think that would be a wise idea. Momma said I must have a chaperone.”

Stephano spoke, “I promise to be on my best behavior. Besides, no one will know but the four of us, and I promise not to tell.” Stephano looked at Oliver and Madelena.

Oliver shook his head. “I will not say a word.”

Madelena nodded. “I promise.”

Mae looked at Stephano with apprehension in her eyes. She was excited to spend time with him, but alone time?

He sensed her worry. “I promise to behave like a gentleman. Your virtue will be safe with me.”

Mae looked at her friend. “If you hear me call out, come.”

“I will.”

Mae placed her hand upon Stephano’s arm and allowed him to escort her away.

Madelena looked back at Oliver. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“I do.”

“About what?”

Oliver looked around. The night was perfect. Warm with enough light for couples to see but dim enough for privacy. A gentle breeze rustled the foliage of the evergreens.

“Oliver?”

He looked back at her and was entranced. What was it about this Italian beauty that he was drawn to? Since their first meeting, she was all that he could think about.

“Let’s take a walk.”

“But Mae—”

“Will be fine. Stephano is enthralled with the chit. She is all he speaks about, so I highly doubt he would do anything to jeopardize their relationship.”

“She is all he speaks about?” The doubt in her voice caused Oliver to grin.

“Well, mostly. But he is taken with her. I believe if she asked him to jump into this lake, he would do so without question.”

“You’re jesting?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. I have not known him long, but long enough to know that he is smitten.” He extended his arm. “Now, about that walk?”

Madelena cocked her head to the left. What would be the harm? Other than if he kissed her and then she would be lost to him again. She stared at his offered arm for a few seconds before placing her hand upon it. She hoped she did not regret this. But mostly, she hoped that he would do something to her so that she did.

Chapter Eighteen

Madelena could feel her heart race, and heat flooded every part of her body. What was it about this man that made her insides quake and her knees grow weak? Ever since she first met him, it was like this. From that first glance at the dock when he gave her that smile. The one that turned her insides to jelly and caused heat to flood the most intimate part of her body. Where her hand touched his arms felt like flames.

“It is such a lovely evening for a ball. I am glad the weather cooperated for it looked like rain earlier,” Oliver said as he led Madelena down a stone path, closer to the water’s edge.

“Yes,” Madelena whispered.

“And it did not rain on Carnival.”

“Is that what you wanted from me? To discuss the weather?”

“No.”

“Then what did you wish to discuss?”

“Actually, I was to distract you so Stephano could be alone with Mae.”

“What?!” Madelena suddenly stopped.

Oliver turned. “Stephano wanted a few moments alone with Mae.”

“That scoundrel! And you helped him? Why?”

Oliver shrugged. “I cannot blame him. What man does not want to be alone with a beautiful woman. I agreed only if it were you who would be the one chaperoning Mae. And we are not scoundrels.”

“If you are not scoundrels, then what are you?”

He looked at her and did that thing that made her insides quiver. He gave her that smile. “We are lovers of beauty and intelligence. We are lovers of wit and cunning. We are lovers of tenacity and perseverance. We, my lady, are rogues.”

“That is the same thing.” She pulled her hand away from him.

“I beg to differ. They are not the same.”

“In what regard? Scoundrels and rogues both play upon unsuspecting females and their fantasies of love.”

He nodded sagely. “True. However, scoundrels are also after wealth, whereas rogues are only after…other attributes.”

“You mean what lies under a lady’s skirt.”

“Exactly.”

She turned. “Then I should be concerned about Mae. If he is out to ruin her, I will…I will…I don’t know what I will do, but when I find him, it just will happen.”

She began walking away but suddenly found herself being pulled backward and into Oliver’s embrace. Her back was to his chest. She struggled against him.

“Let me go,” Madelena demanded.

“He is not out to ruin her.” Oliver leaned in closer to her. Madelena’s struggles stopped. His breath was hot upon her flesh. His lips inched closer to her ear, and they brushed a trail of kisses down the side of her neck. Her flesh quivered as he spoke, “But I would like to ruin you again, if you would allow it.”

Her eyes closed as she tried to control her breathing. “Please, don’t, Oliver.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, nuzzling against her ear.

“We can’t.”

“We have.”

“But we can’t again.”

“Why?” he asked, stepping around her, yet still keeping her within his embrace.

“What we did was wrong,” she panted. “I don’t want you to think less of me for my actions.”

“My sweet, sweet Maddie. I could never think less of you when I only want more.” His lips fluttered against hers, and she did not resist. How could she? She had longed to see him, to feel him again, and it was about to happen. After all that life had tossed her way, she was finally getting something she wanted. Oliver.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, yet the kiss remained subtle. Butterfly kisses against her lips. His fingers splayed across her lower back and pulled her in closer. Her knees began to tremble with excitement. His right hand held her back, and his left traveled to the nape of her neck, deepening the kiss. His lips brushed over hers in a seductive dance meant to arouse, and it was having the desired effect.

A deep moan left her, and she opened her mouth to fully enjoy the feel of Oliver. When his hand cupped her breast over her dress, her eyes flew open, and she gently pushed away.

“We can’t.” This was wrong. Her intended was in the home, and she was in the gardens acting like a harlot.

“You said as much before.”

She shook her head and looked over her shoulder. “It’s different now.”

He leaned closer and took her ear lobe into his mouth, sucking. “How?”

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, and longing entered her. This man caused all sense of reason to leave her. Laughter from the home captured her attention. Drakos was inside, and her mother fully expected her to entertain the bastard the remainder of the night. She would not allow it. If her life to come was going to be miserable, then she planned on enjoying herself until that time.

Looking at the house, she spoke, “Someone will see.”

He nodded his head with knowing. “Follow me.”

Holding out his hand to her, she took it and allowed this rogue to take her to a place she knew she should not go. A place where he would ruin her again. A place where she knew pleasures awaited.

Slipping through the garden, he ventured close to the water’s edge. The sound of the waves gently lapping the shore was tranquil as they traveled by the faint light of the moon.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“A secret place for rendezvousing lovers.”

He stepped to the left, and she spotted it. A small shed located at the edge of the property.

“Whose?”

Oliver shrugged. “I assume Signore Cancio’s. But right now, it is ours.”

Oliver led the way to the shed and opened the door. Stepping inside, Madelena studied the structure. The front appeared like any ordinary building with a door and a small window, but the inside was different. A bench was under the window along with some tools. A long walkway extended outward over the water and the open back of the building.

“A boathouse?” she asked.

“So it appears.”

Oliver slipped his arms around her waist from behind. He nuzzled her ear and breathed in deeply, memorizing her scent. His lips found her ear and gently suckled the lobe. Madelena closed her eyes and tilted her head, enjoying the feel of Oliver’s flesh on hers.

He stepped in front of her and nipped downward to her neck and then gently kissed the mounded peaks of her breasts. Her chest heaved with excitement. With shaky fingers, she aggressively loosened the knot to his cravat.

“Easy,” Oliver instructed, taking hold of her fingers. Together they loosened the knot, and he slipped the garment from his neck.

His lips found her flesh again, and he gently nipped her skin and kissed the tops of her breasts. “I would love nothing more than to tear this gown from your body and ravish you here, the way you should be ravished. A slow tantalizing manner that would have you feeling pleasure like you have never experienced.”

Her lips parted and disappointment settled over her brow. “I don’t understand.”

He kissed her deeply before he continued his explanation. “It would take hours for me to show your body the pleasure I long to and just as long to get you back into this dress.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“I had to see you. I had to feel you again. You have entranced me, Madelena—placed a spell over me that I cannot break. From that first moment I laid eyes upon you, I can do nothing but think about you.”

Her eyes locked onto his, uncertain as to how to reply. What did he want her to say?

His lips found hers again in a crushing kiss. Her mouth parted and his tongue entered, causing a moan of pleasure to leave her. The encounter became more passionate. Oliver’s hand found her breast and gently caressed it, causing an ache to settle in her loins. This man was killing her! She might be new to lovemaking, but she desired to feel the way she did that night. To feel him move inside her and bring her to blissful pleasure. The hand that held him to her mouth left his neck and traveled down his body to his manhood. His deep moan let her know she was doing something right. Her hand caressed him over his clothing, and she could feel him grow hard.

“Minx,” he whispered against her lips.

He stepped forward, causing her to step back. She continued retreating until she felt the shelf upon her backside. A startled gasp left her when she felt him lift her onto the ledge.

“I know this is far from the proper location, but I do not care. I want you, Madelena. You drive me mad with desire. I will stop if you want me to. I will allow you to leave out that door and not follow. But if you do, please do so with the knowledge that you are the only woman I want. Because of you, no other women are desirable to me. You have vexed me to the point that when I leave, you will haunt me until the end of my days.”

She placed a hand upon the side of his face. “Then let us make memories together that will last us both until the end of our days.”

Her lips found his. This was not how he planned on this evening to go. He planned on taking Madelena for a walk and perhaps get a few stolen kisses. But he could not refuse her offer. The gentleman inside him wanted to deny her, but he did not have the willpower to do so. He needed to stop this, but when he felt her fingers loosening the buttons on his trousers, he was lost. His fingers worked the hem of her skirt upward until it rested against her hips. In his focus on her dress, he was unaware that she had finished unbuttoning his trousers until he felt her hands upon his manhood. His lips found hers in a rough kiss. She did not protest and nipped him. Leaning into her, his shaft found her core. In a swift move, he entered her and met no resistance. Despite the awkward position, their hips moved in rhythm together. Her fingers clawed the back of his jacket as he moved inside her. Velvety softness surrounded him, and he increased his thrusts.

Madelena did not know what had come over her. She just found she wanted him, even in this boatshed. When he placed her upon the shelf, a notion came over her. If she was destined to have a loveless, horrid marriage, then the least that could happen was for her to have pleasure beforehand. The feel of Oliver moving inside her was intoxicating. She had forgotten how good he felt. Her hands left his back, and she leaned back, resting her hands upon the wooden shelf. Tossing her head back, her chest heaved with pleasure. Oliver’s lips found the mounds of her breasts. Yet it was not enough. She wanted to feel him suckle her breast. Wanted to feel his lips upon her nipples. Her right hand left the shelf and tore at the bodice of her gown until her breast was exposed. A gasp of pleasure left her when she felt Oliver take her into his mouth. Her head tossed back again, and her hips thrashed against him. She felt his hand move to her hips as he pushed her in rhythm with him. He pulled her against him harder; she leaned back onto the shelf and arched her back, pleasure coursing through her veins.

Oliver could not help himself. He knew he was being too rough on a woman new to lovemaking, but she felt so good around him. When he saw her tear at her dress, he had to feast at the treasure offered. He loved her breasts. They were perfect. He suckled and nipped at the nipple, causing it to pebble tightly. The desires running through him were too much to fight. He righted his body and grasped her hips, needing to plant himself deeper inside her body. As he did, he watched her breast bounce with each movement. There was something arousing about watching the firm breast move with each thrust that increased his pleasure. He pulled her harder against his body. She sat up and grasped his shoulders again, thrusting her hips against his. Her head tossed back as she cried out in ecstasy. As her body tightened around him, he could not hold back any longer and exploded deep inside her.

Reality slowly came back to the couple. Madelena rested her head upon his chest. Labored breathing was the only noise. Madelena raised her head. Oliver gently caressed her cheek and kissed her one last time before stepping away to readjust his clothing. She adjusted the bodice of her gown. Oliver tucked his shirt back into his trousers and fastened them. Bending over, he located his cravat and wrapped it around his neck. Several times he tried to tie the knot, but it was pointless. Without a mirror, he was making a mess.

“Allow me,” Madelena said. He stepped to her. She adjusted the material and tied a proper knot. “There. No one will be the wiser.”

He placed his forehead to hers. “Except for the rosy glow to your appearance.”

She gasped and playfully slapped his chest. “You cad. How do you know I have a rosy glow? It is dark in here.”

“You did last time.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I did not.”

Instead of replying, he kissed her soundly. “We better get back before Stephano and Mae wonder where we have disappeared to.”

Madelena hopped down from the shelf and wobbled, causing a giggle to leave her. “Why, Signore St. John, I believe you have made me weak in the knees.”

A wolfish grin pulled his lips as he pulled her into his arms again. He leaned in close and whispered into her ear, “I truly hope to be able to do so again.”

“Oliver!” Madelena scolded without merit.

“Come now. Do not tell me you do not want to.”

Madelena shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I am under lock and key, remember?”

“And yet here you are, unchaperoned with me in a boatshed.”

“So I am.”

Oliver placed a tender kiss upon her lips and caressed her cheek. He then offered his arm. “My lady, may I escort you back to your friend?”

Madelena placed a finger to her chin and looked around the building. “I don’t know. I was expecting an offer from someone else.”

“If the old chap hasn’t come forward by now, then he is not worthy of your time.”

“Since you put it that way, I will accept.”

Madelena placed her hand upon his arm. The pair made their way from the shed, up to the path to the steps leading to the lake. They weren’t there long before voices could be heard, and Mae and Stephano appeared.

“There you are,” Mae said.

“Yes,” Madelena replied.

“Stephano and I returned, but you weren’t here. We thought you might have gone looking for us and went in search of you.”

Oliver spoke, “I am a restless man. Madelena granted me the pleasure of escorting her for a stroll while we waited for you.”

Mae tilted her head with suspicion. “Really?”

“You were taking a while,” Madelena answered, hoping that would keep Mae’s curious nature at bay.

“I was?” The ploy worked. “What are we to tell Momma?”

“Relax,” Madelena said. “We were enjoying the view of the lake in the moonlight. Nothing more.”

“Do you think she’ll believe that?”

“Absolutely.”

Stephano grinned as he looked between Oliver and Madelena. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one stealing a few kisses.

“Relax, Mae,” Madelena said. “You were with me. She will believe me.”

“Why is there debris in your hair?” Mae asked Madelena. She then turned her attention to Oliver, and her mouth formed a perfect “O”.

“It’s not what you think,” Madelena spoke.

“What am I supposed to think? Here I thought you were here to protect my reputation, and it should have been me protecting yours?!”

“Shhh,” Madelena said, motioning her hands downward. “Not so loud. Someone will hear you.”

“So?”

“So? If my father discovered that I was alone with Signore St. John, what do you think he would do to Oliver?”

“Nothing good. And when did he become Oliver?”

Stephano tried to hide his humor, but he could not. His cheeks strained from the smirk he was trying to hide as he watched the scene before him

“When did he”—Madelena pointed to Stephano—“become Stephano?”

“What?” Mae asked. She shook her head. “Don’t change the subject.”

Madelena looked between Oliver and Stephano. “Can we have a moment?”

Oliver nodded and motioned his head for Stephano to follow. The men stepped a few feet away.

“Look, Mae. I have been meaning to speak to you, but since my exile, I haven’t had the chance.”

“About what?”

A deep breath left Madelena. “Do you recall the night I didn’t come home?”

“How could I forget? Your father threatened to toss my entire family in jail if we didn’t tell him where we were hiding you.”

“Well,” Madelena swallowed. “I stayed the night with a man.”

Mae’s mouth dropped until her chin was nearly resting on her chest. Her head whipped back to face Oliver and then back to Madelena. “You were with him?!”

“Shhh. You cannot tell anyone.”

“Madelena—”

“Look, Mae. My…mother arranged a marriage for me to Miles Drakos that would only take place if his midwife performed a purity check and I passed. I thought that if there was nothing there to check, then I would not have to marry.”

Mae’s hands covered her mouth. “Oh, Madelena. Why? I mean, he was a stranger. He could have harmed you.”

“I know. But I had met him before.”

“When?”

“He was the one who bought my baskets before Carnival. I ran into him a few other times, and the notion came to me.”

Mae’s hands came to her hips. “And now? Did the notion just come to you again?”

“It's not like that, Mae. Oliver is a good man. He does not need to face my father’s wrath over my actions.”

“He could have said no.”

Madelena nodded. “He could have.”

“But he didn’t. He is no more a gentleman than I am a goat.”

“Look, Mae. He tried to refuse. I just wouldn’t let him.”

“You forced yourself upon him?”

“That didn’t come out right,” Madelena mumbled. “I was slightly tipsy, and it was Carnival. Things just happened. He was kind and gentle to me. Even when Papa searched his room, he hid me—”

“Hold everything! Start from the beginning. You were in the room while your father searched for you, and he didn’t even find you?”

“Yes.” Madelena went on to tell Mae what happened and how she got home. “So you see, if you say something, then you involve the Henshaws, and Signora Henshaw is now expecting which will only cause her undue hardship. Just keep this a secret and know that Oliver did not do anything that I did not want him to do. He behaved like a gentleman until I behaved like a…like a…like a…”

“Whore,” Mae filled in.

“Well, you don’t have to be crude.”

“Tart. Strumpet. Harlot. Are any of those better?”

“No.” Madelena lowered her head.

Guilt entered Mae. “Fine. I will not say anything. Who would I tell? You are my dearest friend, and if I did, then your father would not allow me to see you before you have to leave.”

Madelena wrapped her arms around Mae. “Thank you.”

Mae returned the embrace. Pulling away from her friend, she plucked sawdust from Madelena’s hair. “Just know that this still does not change my opinion of Signore St. John. He is still a scoundrel.”

“Rogue,” Madelena corrected. “And remember, if it were not for him, then you would not have had your alone time with Stephano.”

“True.”

Madelena smiled, and Mae returned the gesture.

“I take it that it is safe to return?” Stephano asked.

“Yes,” Mae answered. As the men approached, she spoke again, “Madelena told me what happened. While I do not approve, I promise not to tell anyone.” Mae’s eyes widened, and her hands came to her mouth. “Oh, no! I just told Stephano.”

“Told me what?” Stephano asked.

“Nothing,” Mae said, her eyes as innocently wide as she could make them.

Stephano’s brow rose. “Very well, I think. Shall we venture back into the house before suspicion arises over our long absence?”

“Yes. Good evening, Signore St. John,” Mae said. “Come, Madelena.”

Madelena began following the couple. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at Oliver. He gave her a teasing wink. She stifled her giggle and turned, walking away.

Entering the ballroom, the group made their way back to Maude.

“How were the gardens?” Maude asked.

“Lovely,” Mae replied.

Maude looked at Madelena for verification.

“Lovely,” Madelena mimicked.

“No issues? You were gone for quite a while.”

Mae shook her head. “No. None. No issues whatsoever. Everything went splendidly. How was your alone time? How is your day? I’m starving. Are there any hors d'oeuvres?”

Maude turned her attention to Stephano. “What did you do?”

Stephano’s eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Then why is she acting like she is trying to hide something?” Maude crossed her arms over her chest.

Stephano shook his head. “Honestly, Signora Valenti. Nothing happened.”

“I do not believe you.”

“It's my fault,” Madelena interjected.

“Your fault?”

“Yes. I am angry with my parents and wanted to avoid them.”

Maude raised her chin. “Ah. Is it because Signore Drakos is with them?”

“Yes.”

“What?” Mae asked, turning to Madelena. “You didn’t say he was here.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with my troubles. You seemed so happy.”

“Oh, Madelena!” Mae exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her friend. “I am here for you. That’s what friends are for.”

“Thank you,” Madelena said. She glanced around the ballroom. “I had better return to my parents. I do not want you to get into trouble because of me.” Madelena gave a curtsey and left. Rounding a corner, a startled gasp left her when she felt a hand grab her forearm.

Chapter Nineteen

“Where have you been?” Sandra asked, suspicion in her voice.

Madelena could feel her heart race and a flush creeping up her cheeks. “To get you some wine.” Sandra’s skeptical look caused Madelena to continue, “But I drank it. I decided if I was to meet Drakos, then I wanted to be drunk.”

“That was almost an hour ago,” Sandra spat.

“I drank it. Then drank another. In fact, I swilled down an entire bottle.”

“Don’t lie to me, girl!”

At the suspicious glance Sandra received from a guest, she hissed to Madelena, “Follow me and do not dare protest, girl.”

Sandra turned. Madelena closed her eyes and groaned. What now? She fell in line behind Sandra and followed her “mother” to the back of the home, to Nichole’s private study. Madelena entered and approached the center of the room. The room was decorated tackily with gaudy orange curtains and a bright yellow settee so large you could hide a mule behind it. The sound of the door softly closing caused Madelena to turn and face the woman who had tormented her for her entire life.

Sandra raised her chin with condescension. “I know you went for a walk. When you didn’t return, I went looking for you and spotted you from the balcony.” A vindictive sneer came to Sandra. “I saw you and St. John.”

Madelena’s lips slightly parted.

“You think I am so stupid that I do not know that there is something going on between the two of you? I know for a fact that you were with him that evening you did not return.”

“That’s a lie.” Madelena had to keep Oliver safe from her parents’ wrath.

“No. I have connections. Household connections in many of the prominent families in Rome. What do you think your father will do when he learns that you were acting like a harlot with Signore St. John? I tell you what he will do. He will harm that boy.”

Madelena stared at her mother. Her heart hammered as her mouth went dry. Chest heaving with anger, she asked, “What do you want?”

“I will keep your Jezebel ways hidden. You will entertain Signore Drakos, without complaint. You will engage in the purity check, speak nothing of your whorish ways during the transactions, and help deceive the midwife.”

“Why should I do these things? You can still tell Father.”

“True. But if you pass, then Drakos will marry you. Once married, you can find a way into fooling him into believing you are still a virgin. He will then cart you away to Greece where you will be out of my face once and for all. You will do all this without complaint. Once, you are wed, you will convince that boy to marry Angela. I do not relish the idea of her marrying your snippets, but he is wealthy enough to make me forget that you have lain with him. Otherwise, I will make certain that that boy does not leave Rome in one piece. Do we have an agreement?”

Madelena glowered at her mother. She had always disliked Sandra, but now she hated her. The loathing that entered her was a new sensation. Her fists coiled at her sides, and her cheeks turned red with anger.

“Do we have an agreement, Madelena? Or do I need to speak to your father? You know he will not think twice about creating a scene in public. He thrives on it.”

“Where did you get this so-called proof? Father is aware of our hatred for each other, and you cannot use the bribe of you remaining silent over who my mother truly is any longer. I know you are not my mother. I know my father loved my real mother more than he ever loved you.”

Sandra drew back her hand and sent a brutal slap to Madelena’s cheek.

Madelena gasped and placed her hand to her stinging cheek.

“Never mention that whore in my presence. Never remind me of your father’s betrayal. I hate her. I hate him. And I hate you.”

Tears welled in Madelena’s eyes. Blinking several times, she willed away the moisture from the pain.

“So you have no proof,” Madelena stated.

A maniacal laugh left Sandra. “I have proof. One of Signora Henshaw's housemaids was the housemaid for your whore of a mother. She knows that I did not give birth to twins. She knows I did not give birth to you. Your father paid her well for her silence and shipped her away. But I found her, brought her back and hid her.”

“Why would she return? Father has a reputation—”

“Because I pay her better than your father. And her reward for the information about you was well worth every cent.”

Madelena’s mouth parted as the images of the Henshaws’ household staff ran through her mind. There was the one whom she borrowed the dress from. The one who brought her the morning meal. The one who escorted her away from the home. Madelena’s eyes grew wide. The one who escorted her from the Henshaws’.

“Geneva’s maid, Izabella,” Madelena whispered in horror.

“Exactly. She is a valuable resource who will gladly tell Antonio where you were that night. It will not be a lie either. You know this. Now, you agree to my terms or would you like your father to kill that boy tonight?”

This could not be happening! Why? Madelena wanted to scream. She wanted to take the figurine on the end table and bash it over Sandra’s head. She wanted to tell the hateful bitch before her to go to hell. Instead, she closed her eyes and nodded.

“Fine.” Madelena dragged the word out.

A triumphant gleam came to Sandra’s cold, brown eyes. “Your fiancé is this way.” She turned. Madelena followed Sandra out the door to her hell.

Angela raised up from behind the ugly yellow settee, her eyes wide as saucers and her mouth agape. She had come to Signora Cancio’s private study to rehearse what she wanted to say to Oliver when he danced with her. It had to be witty and charming. Instead, she had overheard a deep family secret. A secret buried so deep that it was inconceivable. Madelena was not her twin! Madelena was a bastard. Madelena had sex with Oliver St. John!

Angela did not like the idea of Madelena having Oliver in that fashion. It was not fair. Madelena always had men fawning over her, and now Oliver St. John was added to the list.

The corner of her lips pulled upward. Yet, Madelena was to marry Drakos and move to Greece. Angela just had to bide her time. If her mother’s plan came to fruition, Oliver would be asking for her hand before he left Rome, and she would be sailing away from Italy as Angela St. John. She exited the study and made her way to the ballroom. Now, she just had to find her future husband.

Oliver entered the ballroom with a bounce to his step and a smile that would not go away. He knew Madelena was the cause. She was the reason he found Rome delightful. After she left the gardens, he waited around before returning. He did not want suspicion to be drawn to his entrance so soon after hers.

The instant he stepped into the home, his eyes were drawn to Madelena. She looked…unhappy. She was speaking to her parents and another man. The stranger was the same height as Madelena and on the obese side. The portly man rubbed his belly, laughed and reached for Madelena, pulling her to him. Oliver became angry. His anger heightened when he saw the man place his lips upon Madelena’s, and she did not protest!

The smile melted from Oliver’s face. He grabbed a man passing. Hostility was in his voice as he asked, “Who is that man speaking with the Russos?”

“Miles Drakos from Greece. Madelena Russo’s fiancé. Why?”

Oliver released the man and shook his head. Betrayal hit him as pain tore through his chest. He knew Madelena was engaged but for her to slip away with him and for them to have sex while her intended was present? It was unheard of! He did not answer the man’s question. Spotting Angela, he crossed the room to her. The young man who was speaking to her, protested when Oliver stepped between them and whisked Angela onto the ballroom floor.

“Signore, St. John,” Angela pretended to protest. “Signore Demetri had already scheduled this dance on my card.”

“Then he should have protested more,” Oliver said, twirling Angela around the room.

Angela batted her lashes coyly. The timing for this dance could not have been planned better. Here she was looking for Oliver, and he found her. “I do say, you did warn me. About taking what you want when you want, that is.”

“So, I did.”

“Do you take what you want frequently?” She fluttered her lashes. “Without asking?”

Her flirtations were annoying. Sickening. He had no desire to listen to her babble in an attempt to appear tempting. The only reason he grabbed Angela to dance was that he was angry at Madelena. He wanted Madelena as angry at him as he was presently at her. And what a better knife to use to get even…the sibling she despises?

As they twirled around the room, Madelena and Drakos appeared. A malicious chuckle left Angela.

“What is so humorous?” Oliver asked.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?”

“What?”

“Madelena and her intended are to make their debut this evening. It serves her right. Papa always dotes on Madelena. She could do no wrong in his eyes.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. Well, I hate to gossip, but the other night she did not return home. She spent the entire evening with some strange man and did not return until well after noon. Mama said that Madelena needs a strong hand to keep her in line. They arranged a marriage for her with the man she is with, Miles Drakos.” Time to plant a seed of betrayal in Oliver. If he thought Madelena was a tart, then he would not think twice about her again. She had to come up with something, someone, Madelena had been with. Perhaps multiple men? “What neither Mama nor Papa know is that one of the men she was out with is here this evening.”

Alarm caused Oliver’s senses to prickle. “And you know this how?”

“I have my sources.” Angela looked around. “She was with one of Signore Cancio’s servants. I am trying to figure out which one. I suspect it is the one by the punch bowl. He seems like Madelena’s type. Plain and boring. And he was just the first. From what I gathered, she had visited many men that night, ending the night with Signore Cancio’s hired help.”

“It is highly inappropriate to gossip about others, especially a sibling.”

Angela shrugged. “It is. But I wanted to warn you away from her. I saw how vulgar her flirtations with you were the other evening at my home, and I fear she has her sights set for you to be her next fling. She makes men fall in love with her and then breaks their hearts for sport. It is just how she is. How she has always been. But then again what would one expect from her kind.”

“Her kind?”

Angela licked her lips. She knew the next confession would sway Oliver her direction. Nobody wanted a bastard in their family. “Yes. She is not truly my sister. She is illegitimate. Momma felt sorry for her. In order for the world to accept Madelena, she told everyone that Madelena was my twin. It is just how we are. Placing others above ourselves.”

Oliver’s jaw worked in anger. Anger at the pain in his chest he felt at seeing Madelena with another man. Anger at the idea that they had been together this evening. And anger at Angela for her gossiping.

“Why, she disappeared just this evening several times to be with some of her men. She had the audacity to do so knowing that Signore Drakos was here. Imagine, her acting like a tart with her fiancé so near. It speaks a lot of her character.”

“So does gossiping about a sister.” Oliver’s words were harsh.

Angela tried to set her eyes in a sympathetic pull, but it did not have the desired effect. Instead, she looked like a bug-eyed fish. “I apologize. It’s just that you are so easy to speak with. I feel like I have known you for my entire life. I feel a connection to you, Signore St. John. Please tell me that it is not a one-sided connection. Do you feel one, too?”

“Signorina Russo—”

“Please call me Angela.”

“Signorina Angela,” Oliver forcefully spoke again. He would not fall into this chit’s trap; however, he was now angry. The sight of Madelena with another man was something that Oliver had not prepared himself for. “I am in Rome for only a short while. Not nearly a sufficient enough time for me to call you by your given name.”

“Perhaps you can be persuaded to say longer.” Angela fluttered her lashes at Oliver, causing him to cringe inwardly.

The dance ended. Oliver gave a polite bow. His eyes drifted around the room again and stopped upon Madelena and Drakos. A lecherous grin was upon the man’s face as he ogled Madelena. Madelena returned his smile. “Thank you for the dance…Angela.”

Angela curtsied and glanced over at her parents. Her mother gave a subtle twitch of her head, indicating that Angela should return with Oliver.

“Would it be too bold for me to call you Oliver?”

Oliver’s gaze was still on Madelena and Drakos. “No.”

“Thank you, Oliver. I enjoyed our dance. But you cannot depart yet. It appears Papa wishes to see you.”

Oliver forced a smile to his lips. “Of course, he does.”

Oliver escorted Angela to her parents.

“Signore St. John,” Russo spoke. “I would like to introduce you to Miles Drakos from Greece. Signore Drakos, this is Oliver St. John. His family owns Emerald Shipping.”

Oliver studied Drakos. The man was disgusting. He was more than obese. Morbid came to mind. What little hair the man possessed was completely white and pulled back in a queue. His flesh was wrinkled and greasy, and his lips were overly large and…wet. The old man reminded Oliver of a fat pig who had been doused in oil.

“Signore St. John, good to meet a man of your family’s caliber.” Each word Drakos spoke ended with him spitting. The man did not offer his hand in greeting. Instead, he licked his already wet lips and took a long drink from his wine.

“Thank you.”

“The polite thing to say would be ‘likewise’,” Drakos replied.

“If it were true, then yes.”

“Did you just insult me?”

“You can take it any way you feel. How can I say it is a pleasure to meet you when I know nothing about you?”

“Yes,” Drakos growled. His eyes went to Madelena. “Well, I really don’t care if you like me. I get to be the envy of every man in Rome for having that pretty young thing, now don’t I?” The way his eyes traveled over Madelena was revolting. His features were pulled into a lewd grin. Licking his lips again, a lascivious flash came to his weathered eyes as he sipped his wine.

“Please quit ogling Signorina Madelena like she is a piece of meat you recently purchased to gorge on. It is rude and inappropriate to display such vile actions in public. Apparently, men in Greece lack manners and behave like beasts.” Oliver knew he should have kept quiet, but he could not. The way this man was ogling Madelena infuriated Oliver.

“Cocky little bastard, are you?” Drakos replied. “She is mine, and I can look at her any way I damned well please. Russo, why did you introduce me to this ingrate? Was it to piss me off?”

“That was not my intention,” Antonio replied. “My wife thought you would like to meet Signore St. John and establish a connection in the West Indies.”

Drakos snorted. “If I am to ship with any company, it would not be with this bastard’s company. His rudeness is unacceptable. I’ll keep on using East India. At least their representatives know how to treat their clients properly.”

“You mean they kiss your ass,” Oliver answered. “Signore, I can assure you, even if Emerald Shipping were the only shipping company upon this earth, we would never ship for the likes of you. We prefer our clientele to have a bit more refinement than swine.”

Drakos’s fingers tightened around his cup. “Why you—”

“I am not above striking an elder. I haven’t had to do so in some time. Do not make me break my streak.”

“You cocky—”

“Bastard?” Oliver filled in. “Of course I am. I am a St. John, and we pride ourselves on our arrogance and cockiness. We also pride ourselves on whose company we hold. I have tarnished my reputation enough by being in your presence.” He looked at Angela. “Would you care for another dance, Angela?”

A pleased smile came to her face. “Of course.”

Oliver looked at Madelena. Madelena was not surprised to see the hurt expression in Oliver’s eyes. She had hoped not to see him with Drakos present. Oliver’s green eyes were full of contempt and scorn. Her heart ached. She wanted to shout that Sandra was forcing her to endure Drakos’s company, but knew the outcome if she did. Instead, she looked away towards her intended, trying to control the quiver of her chin.

Oliver noticed the direction of Madelena’s gaze. How could she have turned so cold so quickly? She had used him and now acted like she did not know him.

Rudeness was in his voice as he spoke. “Best wishes, Madelena. I truly hope your marriage is a short one.” With that, Oliver spun on his heels and left, Angela on his arm.

Sandra gasped in horror at Oliver’s discourtesy. Antonio let out a low growl. And Madelena simply stared after Oliver, wondering when he became so familiar with her sister.

“I cannot believe you wanted me to meet that cocky bastard,” Drakos complained. “He would dampen any good mood.” His eyes went back to Madelena and landed on her chest. “But a pair of firm tits always makes things better.”

“Sir!” Madelena protested. “That is very rude of you to say.”

Drakos shrugged and swilled down more wine. “I don’t care. I own you.”

“We are not married yet,” Madelena hissed out.

“Madelena,” Sandra scolded.

Madelena looked at Sandra and could see the warning in her eyes. She had to put up with Drakos’s lewd behavior. If not, then Oliver would pay the price. Instead of apologizing, she said, “I am still free until we wed.”

Drakos smacked his mouth. “And that will be soon.” He looked at Antonio. “I am in Rome for only a few days. The purity check will be completed tomorrow. If she passes, then we will wed three days later. Russo, I assume you can have a special license by then?”

“Yes,” Antonio answered.

Madelena could feel her stomach churn. She forced a pleasant smile to come to her lips. “I look forward to the day.”

“You should,” Drakos said, his eyes roaming over her. “I know I do.”

Madelena’s eyes drifted to the dance floor. She watched Oliver smile and laugh with Angela. He danced two more dances with her before leaving the ballroom leaving Madelena to wonder what was to become of him if Sandra had her way.

Oliver restrained his temper as he stepped away from the vilest man he had ever met—and he had dealings with pirates! Now, because of his spontaneity and need to insult Madelena for her betrayal, he was forced to entertain Angela.

He twirled the overzealous woman around the ballroom, trying to be witty when in truth he wanted to toss her from the bloody window. Yet he laughed and flirted all because of his wounded pride. After two dances he bid Angela goodbye and left her in the hands of Signore Demetri. Spying Martin and Geneva next to a potted plant, he approached.

“I’m leaving,” Oliver said.

Martin nodded. “Very well. Geneva and I will be home shortly.”

“No. Rome. Italy. I am leaving and going back home. My home. To the Caribbean.”

Concern pulled at Martin’s eyes. “Why? You have only been here for little over a week.”

Oliver’s expression was resolute. “I have a feeling my presence here will only cause you hardship.”

“Dammit, Oliver. Be more specific, man.”

“Russo. I am pissing that man off with every meeting.”

Martin gazed over at the Russos and noticed Madelena standing next to Drakos. “Is it that or because of Madelena and her intended?”

Oliver’s look turned darker. “I am going home. When will the next ship depart?”

“What do I look like? A bloody porter?” Martin questioned. “Look. I know you have had a stressful past few days. Go to my home. Calm yourself. I will be home shortly, after your temper has cooled, and we will discuss this.”

“There is nothing to discuss.”

“Bloody hell, Oliver. You are allowing that chit to ruin your visit? It has been years since we spoke, and since your arrival, you have seemed preoccupied with something else.”

“Gentleman,” Geneva spoke. “The both of you are causing a scene. Let us all depart, and we can continue this discussion in a more private setting.”

“I thought you wanted to stay?” Martin asked.

“No. I despise Nichole Cancio. I only came because you wanted to.”

“No. I only came because I thought you wanted to,” Martin elaborated. “Well, now that that is settled, let us all go home, and we can discuss Oliver’s current dilemma.”

Oliver headed out the door. Martin turned just in time to see Drakos wrap an arm around Madelena’s waist and attempt to kiss her. She leaned back and pushed away. No wonder Oliver was upset. Hell, he found the public display of affection repulsive, and he was not interested in Madelena. He took his wife’s hand and led her out the door. If Madelena’s involvement with Drakos was the reason for Oliver’s sudden desire to leave, then Martin must do something to convince his friend to stay.

“There is nothing you can say, Martin,” Geneva spoke.

“Pardon?”

“Oliver. He has his eyes set for Madelena, and she is now out of his reach.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“Is it? I have only recently become acquainted with Oliver, but from the stories you shared, he was not the type of man to become upset when a fling took up with another. I think he has feelings for her.”

“Are you saying he loves her?”

“He is attracted to her. And not for her beauty. He is intrigued by her.”

“And you know this how?”

Geneva patted Martin’s arm. “I am a woman.”

“That is supposed to answer the question?”

“It is.”

Martin shook his head. His wife had a way of leaving him more confused than not. And now was no different.

Chapter Twenty

The next morning proved no different in persuading Oliver to change his mind about leaving. In fact, Oliver was even more insistent. And Martin could not help but think that the morning’s paper was part of the cause. In the society section, in large bold print, was the announcement of Madelena’s wedding to Miles Drakos of Greece.

“Oliver,” Martin pleaded. “You cannot let this”—he patted the society section of the paper—“cause you to leave. There are plenty of other women in Rome. Why are you so intrigued by Madelena?”

“That is not helping, Martin,” Oliver said, snatching the paper from Martin. Roughly poking the words of the announcement, Oliver spoke, “He does not deserve her. She is a free spirit being given to a bloody odious bastard who is more disgusting than any pirate I have ever met. I am not upset that she is marrying. She told us both that the morning that her father came searching for her. What is upsetting is who she is marrying. What is upsetting is that she knew he was at the blasted ball and kissed me—”

“Kissed you?” Martin repeated, sitting straighter in his seat.

Oliver pressed his lips together and turned his head.

“Bloody hell, Oliver! I thought you had more sense than to involve yourself with her again.” His eyes grew wide. “Is that where you disappeared last evening? I saw you and Mortilini discussing something. Next thing I know he is escorting Signorina Valenti and Madelena outside.” Martin’s eyes grew wider. “You didn’t?!”

“What are you yelling about?” Oliver retorted.

Martin waggled his finger at Oliver. “You idiot! I know what you did.”

“What did I supposedly do?”

“We grew up together, Oliver. Or have you already forgotten? I remember your ultimate goal for each of the soirees your mother held. To take a maiden out back and see if you could get into her skirts. Is that what happened last night?”

“You had the same goal.”

Martin held up his hands and shook them. “Don’t change the subject.”

“What do you want me to say, Martin?”

“I want to hear you say that you did not have relations with Madelena last night at the Cancios’ ball. I want to hear you swear it to me that nothing happened between the two of you.”

Oliver locked eyes with Martin.

“I want to hear you swear it, Oliver.”

“I can’t,” Oliver replied.

Martin leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stand up. “Judas, Oliver! If you keep this up, Geneva and I will have to move away from Rome. And I am here to tell you, she will not take that news well. Her family lives here. If you keep having relations with Russo’s favorite daughter, Emerald Shipping will be lucky even to be allowed within a hundred miles of Rome. And you will be lucky to leave Rome in one piece.”

“I do not need you lecturing me, Martin.”

“Someone needs to. I know she is a beautiful woman, but dammit, Oliver, find another. Find one whose father is not as powerful as Russo.”

“I don’t want to find another. I only want her!”

The silence that followed after that confession was deafening. The only audible noise was the gentle tick of the large clock sitting upon the mantel.

“Then you must let her go,” Martin solemnly spoke. “She is out of your reach now, Oliver.”

Oliver shook his head. “I can’t.”

A deep sigh left Martin. “Look, Oliver. I know how these Italian women can be. They take a man’s heart and brutally rip it into pieces and then send a knife into your pride. They are Peitho and Aphrodite. But they are also Enyo, Eris, and The Graces.”

“You are comparing Roman women to Greek Goddesses,” Oliver corrected.

“Blast it all, that is not the point. The point is that they will love you with all their heart and soul. But when you are scorned by them, when you are no longer needed, when duty calls then the pain they cause is excruciating. They break a man, Oliver. Break a man to the point that he is no longer the same.”

“Yet you married one.”

Martin nodded in agreement. “I did. What you do not know is that, at first, it was a rocky relationship. At one time, she refused to see me because she thought I was looking at other women.”

“You most likely were,” Oliver snapped.

“I am trying to make a point here, Oliver.”

“Then make it and quit belaboring the issue.”

“The point is, Geneva nearly married another. Her parents hated me because I was not ‘one of their people’ and convinced her that I was not a good choice. It nearly killed me knowing this. I made a bloody fool of myself—”

“That wasn’t hard,” Oliver mumbled.

“—in order to stop her marriage. It took some time, but I managed to persuade Geneva’s parents otherwise, and now they adore me.”

“And how did you accomplish all of this?”

“Hard work and perseverance. I had to prove to them that I would be a suitable husband. I had to earn their acceptance.”

Oliver snorted. “Why? She seems like an independent woman.”

“Yet, she values tradition. If her parents had not agreed…well, things would be different.”

“If she truly loved you, then she would disobey her parents’ wishes and do as she wished.”

“I did,” Geneva said from the doorway. She entered the room, walking with the elegance of a queen. Sitting beside Martin, she spoke, “My parents never saw the redeeming qualities in Martin that I did until well after we were wed. When they saw the lengths he went to in order to ensure my happiness, they changed their view of him.” Geneva took Martin’s hand. “And I know now that I would have never been happy without Martin in my life.” She turned her attention to Oliver. “But my circumstance was different. My marriage was not arranged but by my choice.”

“How long have you been listening?” Oliver asked.

“I haven’t. A woman just knows.”

“Snoops.”

“Knows,” Geneva corrected. “Madelena is like a rare painting. Everyone wants her, yet only one will get her. And unfortunately, none of us can afford the price except Drakos.”

“Why him?” Oliver snapped.

“Perhaps it is the rumor that Stephano mentioned,” Martin said.

“What rumor?” Geneva asked. “You never mentioned knowing gossip.”

Martin gave a sheepish grin. “It is only rumor.”

“Then what is it?”

“Do you remember the other day when you overheard the neighbors arguing about Russo’s illegitimate child?”

“Yes?”

“That child is Madelena.”

Geneva gasped. “No!”

“That is the rumor. She is the result of Russo’s affair with his mistress. What was her name?”

“Francesca,” Oliver added.

Geneva’s brown eyes widened, reminding Oliver of an owl, as her hands came to her mouth. “It can’t be.”

“It is only gossip, Geneva love. We do not have proof.”

A deflated sigh left Geneva. “So, what we have going on is that Sandra Russo is marrying off Madelena to Drakos to spite Antonio and to rid herself of Antonio’s illegitimate child. Correct?”

Martin nodded. “If the rumors are true, then yes.”

“That still doesn’t explain why that repulsive man,” Oliver grumbled.

Sympathy pulled at her features. “Signora Russo is a spiteful woman. Drakos is a hideous man. Signora Russo feels scorned and knows that Signore Russo loves Madelena more than anything. What better vengeance for her than forcing his favorite daughter to wed an ogre?”

“She could wed another,” Oliver said.

Martin’s eyes widened. “Egad! Am I hearing you correctly? You want to marry?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. But she could wed someone else. Then Drakos could not.”

“Oliver, I know you have good intentions, but Russo is dangerous. His wife must be holding something over his head, such as Madelena’s status, in order to get him to agree to the marriage. If that is the case, and even if Madelena did wed another, an unfortunate accident would befall them.”

Geneva spoke, “It’s true. As I said, Sandra Russo is a shrewd, spiteful woman.”

Oliver leaned back in his seat and sighed.

“Oh, this came for you, dear,” Geneva said, pulling a note from her pocket.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Yes, you do. You always read the mail.” Martin flipped open the note. “Seems that there aren’t any passenger vessels heading for the Caribbean for another month. In a few days, there is one heading to Boston, but once there, who knows how long before one leaves from there for the Caribbean. I will go into the office later this morning and see if any Emerald Shipping vessels are scheduled to dock.”

“You mean, you don’t know?” Oliver inquired.

Martin nodded. “That would be correct. You see, your brothers make their own schedules by the seat of their pants. I usually do not know they are coming until they arrive. Occasionally, I receive a correspondence from them a few days before their arrival but not often.”

“I’ll come with you,” Oliver said.

“Very well. I need to gather my coat, and then I will be off.”

The trip to Martin’s office was uneventful. Most of the inhabitants of Rome were either asleep or recuperating from their last night of Carnival. Even Martin’s assistant was feeling the effects. The normally jovial Valerio was cradling his head in his hands. After a cordial greeting, the older man handed Martin the mail and went back to holding his head. Martin scanned the ledgers in his office and determined that no Emerald Shipping vessels were scheduled to dock until the end of the month. Martin flipped through the mail, and his fingers tightened over one.

“It’s from Jacob,” Martin said, his fingers breaking the seal.

“What does it say?” Oliver asked rounding the desk to peer over Martin’s shoulders. Before Martin could read a word written, Oliver took the parchment from him. “He will be here the end of the week. It seems they are to pick up a passenger and transport him to Governor’s Harbour.”

“Really? Who? Anyone I know? Please don’t tell me it is Drakos.” Martin laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

“You are not helping matters any, Martin.”

“I thought it was humorous. You want to go home, and if Drakos and Madelena were upon the same ship, you’d go mad.”

“Shut it,” Oliver snapped. “And, no, it is not Drakos. It’s some chap named Ross who came to Rome with his wife a month ago. His father knows my aunt. He is traveling home, and passage had already been paid prior to him coming.”

Martin nodded. “So they had already booked passage. That explains why I haven’t seen anyone by that name.” He looked down at the correspondences upon his desk. “I think I will work a bit.”

“Go ahead. I am not much company.”

“Then go enjoy the day.” Martin pulled out his pocket watch. “It is nearly ten. Meander around the square a bit. Maybe something will catch your interest.”

“I’ll see you this evening.”

When Oliver left, Valerio spoke, “I take it he doesn’t see eye to eye with Signore Drakos.”

“Who does?”

“Not many. What did Drakos do anyway? Young St. John there seems like an easygoing fellow.”

“It is complicated.”

“It usually is.”

Martin sat down behind his desk. “Nothing that would interest you. Go back to sleep. I will handle any business until the aftereffects of whatever spirit you indulged in has dissipated.”

“Homemade whiskey. Worst drink I have ever placed in my mouth.”

“Then why did you drink it?”

“And let my brother know that I couldn’t handle his brew? Preposterous.”

Martin laughed. “Sleep, my friend. I have a feeling that our week is about to become busy.”

Oliver left Martin’s office and traveled to the docks. He loved watching the ships come in. Listening to the various captains bellow orders and watching the crews bustle about seemed to give purpose to the chaotic order of life. Crewmen scurried up the rigging to secure canvases, and dockworkers raced to the incoming ships to tether the lines. Seagulls squawked in search of an easy meal. Life seemed simple. If only that were the case.

“Easy, men!” a captain ordered as his ship eased into a slip. The sound of the bow of the boat gently tapping the wooden pier caused Oliver to study the vessel.

It was well crafted and appeared relatively new. No barnacles were upon the belly, and the lines and rigging were not dulled from the wear of time. The white sails were pristine and blinding, even tethered to the mast. His eyes roamed over the entire ship as he looked for flaws. Despite the newness of the vessel, Oliver could see weakness.

“Your stern was not properly pitched!” Oliver shouted to the captain.

The captain looked down from the railing. “What say you?”

Oliver cupped his hands to his mouth. “Your stern is not properly pitched! You will take on water by month’s end.”

A scowl settled over the captain. The captain looked like so many with a beard and deep lines around his weathered eyes from years of squinting in the sun. You could tell that his hair was once a dark brown but was now faded from the sun. The captain’s clothing was well laundered, despite the wrinkles upon the front of his shirt.

“You say my pitch is bad?” the captain inquired. “How do you know?”

“I build ships.” Oliver pointed to a section on the stern, just above the waterline. “The pitch was not applied thick enough. Your ship will take on water by the end of the month if more is not applied. I have built many ships, and I am here to tell you, that needs to be repaired or you and your crew will be swimming to your next destination. The pitch appears thick, but it is low quality. Mixed with another substance. Most likely whoever applied the sealant was skimping in order to make the supply last longer…or make more of a profit.”

The captain growled. “It is by God’s graces that you were here to see this. Thank you. I will see to it immediately.”

“You are welcome.”

The captain turned, leaving the railing, and called for the carpenter. How simple life is with a hammer and a saw in one’s hands. Things just make sense. But now? Now, nothing makes sense. Ever since meeting Madelena, nothing had made sense. From their first meeting where he knocked her down, she had intrigued him. The mysterious basket lady from a week ago was all he could think about. And when he learned who she was, despite the warnings to avoid her, he found that he could not. What spell had she cast over him?

Oliver meandered along the pier, allowing his thoughts to haunt him. He hated that he had been so rude to Drakos. He did not want Madelena to see him as a spiteful bastard. But how was he supposed to react after their intimate encounter and then being introduced to her betrothed? It was too much. He knew she had not betrayed him. He knew she was to be wed. But seeing her with Drakos caused rage like he had never experienced before to fill his soul. He needed to apologize to Madelena. To set things right before he left. He did not want her to regret her decision about seeking him out for her first encounter.

Turning, he left the docks and headed back to Martin’s home. People were waking from the previous evening’s festivities. Men could be heard laughing, and the mumble of voices blending together echoed around him. Peddlers were trolling the streets with their goods. Children were laughing and running, playing a game of chase. He passed the Fountain of the Four Rivers, and the corner of his mouth twitched at the memory of Madelena and him splashing in the water.

Oliver turned right and continued his trek home. Maybe Martin was correct. Perhaps he needed to put Madelena out of his mind by seeking companionship with another. His eyes drifted over the women present. They were beautiful, but none held his interest. Some were sitting at an outdoor café with their mothers enjoying a mid-day meal. He knew these types of women. They were on the prowl for a wealthy husband. The veneer of civility they put on soured his stomach. Many times in the past, he had socialized with women just like these, and each time he found them just as revolting.

He made his way back to Martin’s home and walked around the structure to the log. Removing his coat, he rolled up his sleeves and snatched the hatchet from where it was buried deep into the wood. If he could not have the woman he wanted, then he would take his frustrations out on the only thing that would not protest.

Over and over he brought the hatchet down, sending fragments of wood flying all around. He attacked the wood until his arms screamed with pain, and his hands burned from the force of his grip. He looked down at his hands. The injury to his hand had been healing, but now it lay open again with ugly raised blisters. Splinters were scattered about his fingers. Martin needed better tools. Pushing the pain to the back of his mind, he grabbed the hatchet again. Perhaps he could finish Martin’s boat before he left. Better yet, perhaps he would work himself to the point he collapsed and not have to think about Madelena again.

Chapter Twenty-One

It had been four days since the Cancios’ ball. Jacob would be here this afternoon, and Oliver could put Rome behind him once and for all. These past four days had been hell. He kept his mind occupied during the day by working on Martin’s boat, but at night he could not sleep so he drank. He knew he looked a mess.

Bloodshot eyes peered back at him from the mirror, as he ran a hand over his unshaven face. He was amazed Geneva had not complained about his appearance. He looked worse than any deckhand he had ever seen and smelled worse, too. He needed a hot bath and a good shave.

Opening the door to his room, he stepped out into the hallway and spotted a servant.

“You there,” Oliver said. “I need a bath.”

The older woman stopped and turned, her arms full of linens. Heat flooded the woman’s face as she diverted her eyes to the floor. “Yes, signore. I will have one brought up.”

Oliver closed the door and looked down. Closing his lids, he growled. No wonder the woman looked like she had walked in on the Henshaws naked for he was lacking a shirt and his breeches were unbuttoned, exposing the hair around his manhood.

Fastening his breeches, he approached a chair and pulled on a discarded shirt.

There was a rap upon the door before it opened. The servants worked quickly readying the bath. A large wooden tub was brought up along with several pails of warm water. Clean linens were placed upon his bed while he waited, and several clean towels were left behind as they departed.

Dipping some of the water from the tub, he opted to shave first. After his whiskers were removed, he entered the water and scrubbed away the toils of his work. Once cleaned, he dressed and exited the room.

He found Martin and Geneva sitting in the dining room. Martin sat at the head, Geneva beside him, each with a newspaper.

Martin peered over the top of his paper. “Don’t move, Geneva. A wild beast has emerged from his den, and I fear that we might spook it.”

“Martin,” Geneva scolded. “It is good to see you bathed and shaven, Oliver. I was beginning to think that you had forgotten that we owned a tub.”

“I apologize.” Oliver approached the breakfast buffet and filled a plate with sausages and eggs. Approaching the table, he took a seat beside Martin, opposite to Geneva.

“Martin tells me that your brother will be here today,” Geneva began.

Oliver nodded. “Yes. Jacob. Do not worry about him staying with you. He lives upon his ship.”

“You mean palace,” Martin mumbled.

“Martin,” Geneva scolded.

“What? It is the truth. His ship is far grander than many of the homes in Rome. I was always afraid to touch something, afraid it would break.”

“You are clumsy,” Oliver said.

“No. Your brother scares the life out of me. Hell, most of them do. And they’re vengeful, too. If I did break something, they would take great delight in tormenting me. Slowly picking away at me until there would be nothing left.”

“They are not that bad,” Oliver spoke. “They are worse.”

Geneva shook her head in disbelief. “You both are going to grow warts from your lies.”

“They are not lies,” Martin defended. “They are the truths. Did I ever tell you the one time that Nathan and Noah tied me upside down to the mast of a ship because I accidentally knocked Noah into a puddle?”

“Horse manure,” Oliver said.

“It was not!”

“No. It was not a puddle. It was a large pile of horse manure from where the stalls had just been mucked. If you are going to tell stories, please make certain that you have the details correct.”

“That is not the point, Oliver. The point is that they are vengeful. Their revenge is worse than the crime committed.”

Oliver shrugged as he stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. “It builds character.”

Geneva laughed. “Oh, Martin. You do take things a tad too seriously.”

“Me? I am not the one who has been sulking around the house all week.” Martin shot a look in Oliver’s direction.

“He has been quite productive. At least he finally has that stupid log formed into a boat and in the pond. Whereas, if I had waited on you, it would still be a rotting log in my backyard.”

Martin snapped his mouth closed and flipped the paper back up over his face.

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Geneva said. “It is a beautiful boat.”

“My pleasure,” Oliver said. “She just needs a name, and you will be ready for Martin to paddle you across the pond.”

“What should I call it?”

Oliver leaned back in his seat. “Salacia.”

“The Roman Goddess of the sea. Perfect! I am surprised you know your mythology so well. Many do not.”

Oliver picked up his fork and began his meal again. “Mother made certain that my siblings and I were well educated. We had several governesses who were well versed in many cultures and languages. Yet I am ashamed to admit I have forgotten many of the Roman and Greek gods.”

“Several governesses? That is unheard of.”

“We are St. Johns,” Martin attempted to mimic Oliver’s voice. “We are known for being eccentric.”

“Jealous?” Oliver retorted with arrogance.

Martin folded his paper and laid it upon the table. “Do you see what I had to put up with during my childhood?”

The tone of Martin’s voice let Geneva know that her husband was only jesting. For years she had heard Martin speak of the friendship and adventures he had with Oliver during his youth. In her opinion, Martin revered Oliver and thought of him more like a brother than a friend.

Martin stood and placed a kiss upon Geneva’s lips. She returned the affection.

“I am needed at the office for a bit. Geneva, my love, do you think you can entertain that scamp until I return?” Martin asked.

“No need,” Oliver replied. “Stephano has asked me to stop by before I leave. Seems the old boy likes me and wants to use Emerald Shipping.”

“Really? I had no idea,” Martin replied with sarcasm. “It’s not like you boasted about it all that evening.”

“Indeed.” Oliver pushed his plate away and stood. “Seems to me that I am a better salesman than you are.”

Martin snorted. “No.”

“Really? I thought the Mortilinis would never ship with us?”

“That is not what I said. I just said I had never had the opportunity to speak with them. They travel extensively and speaking with Stephano’s father is near impossible.”

Oliver grinned. “Then that is why you must speak with the son. You see, Stephano is the contact.”

“How do you know this?” Martin asked in surprise.

“Hang around me, Martin, and you will find out all sorts of juicy tidbits.”

Martin laughed. “Gossip. Your knack of discovering information would land me in the jail for a night or two. A residence I do not wish to try.” Martin looked at Geneva. “I will be back soon, my love.”

The men left.

Oliver made his way to the townhouse Stephano had rented for his time in Rome. It was a short walk from Martin’s. The home was red brick with matching clay shingles. Climbing the few steps, Oliver approached the front door and rapped.

The door was opened by an aging man with gray hair. “Can I help you?”

“Yes. Tell Signore Mortilini that Oliver St. John is calling.”

“Signore Mortilini is expecting you. Please follow me.”

Oliver followed the butler into the home. The inside was larger than it appeared with tall ceilings and intricately carved crown molding. Entering the study, Oliver was impressed. Several rows of books lined a wall along with paintings of landscapes from throughout Italy.

“Oliver!” Stephano exclaimed from behind the mahogany desk. “You are early.”

Oliver approached a set of high back chairs by the desk. “I like to keep you on your toes, old boy.”

“That you do. Hell, I never know what to expect from you. Lawrence, please bring us some refreshments.”

“That is all right. I just ate.”

“Very well. Please inform any visitors that I am momentarily indisposed and will call upon them shortly.”

“Very good, signore.” Lawrence turned and left, closing the door behind him.

“I am glad you are early,” Stephano said, coming from behind the desk to take the seat adjacent to Oliver. “I have a few things I need to discuss with you.”

“What would you like to discuss?”

“First, the shipping of my goods. Can you guarantee their delivery?”

“Like all matters in shipping, nothing is guaranteed. There are many variables to consider. Weather, rough seas, the number of ships in line to dock. That being said, we have missed very few deliveries. Once a storm sank a ship. Another time, the docks at London were overly crowded, and the vessel could not dock for nearly a month. Because of that instance, we purchased a slip in London. We have at least one slip in the majority of ports we travel to. In some we have more—such as in the Caribbean. But I can say that Emerald Shipping will do its damnedest to make certain that your merchandise reaches its destination safely and in a timely manner.”

“What of valuable cargo? What type of insurances do you have?”

“If the property is traveling through the Caribbean, we have a former pirate ship that we use as an escort vessel if need be. The crew of the said ship are former pirates and know how to fight and fear nothing.”

“You employ pirates?”

Oliver nodded. “Yes. In fact, several former pirates are now part of my family.”

Stephano laughed. “Hell’s teeth! Your family is something.”

“That we are.”

“So. My wine will be transported safely, timely, and be escorted by pirates.”

“If need be, then yes, an escort can be arranged.”

“I will have my solicitor pay Martin a visit to finish the details. Is that acceptable?”

“It is.”

“Good. Now, article two. I need your opinion.”

“On what matter?”

Reaching inside the pocket of his brocade vest, Stephano removed a small box and handed it to Oliver.

Oliver opened the box. The ring inside was delicately made with a sapphire stone mounted in the center.

“It is a lovely ring and a kind gesture, but I do not think I am your type to love,” Oliver teased.

“You don’t have the type of parts I need to love.”

Oliver laughed. “I take it this is for Signorina Valenti?”

“It is. Do you think she will like it?”

“I have no idea. I only met the chit once.”

“Is it acceptable?”

“Depends on what you want to be accepted?” Oliver gave Stephano a knowing look.

“Quit torturing me, St. John. Marriage. It is a suitable engagement ring?”

“It is a lovely ring. She will be thrilled.”

“But?”

“I didn’t say but.”

Stephano took the ring from Oliver. “You didn’t have to. Is it too much? Not enough?”

“From the brief meeting I had with Signorina Valenti, she seemed like a woman easy to please. She would be thrilled if you gave her a string, so a lovely sapphire will cause her to squeal with delight. Perhaps even swoon.”

“Good.” Stephano placed the ring back into his pocket.

“It is soon for an engagement, don’t you think? I mean, you just met her what? Last week?”

“Almost two weeks now. And I have never been surer of anything in my life. I love Mae. I want Mae to be my wife.”

“Then I wish you all the best of luck and a long, happy marriage.”

“Thank you.” Stephano stood. “Now, would you please come with me to ask her?”

“Why? This is something intimate. Something you should do alone.”

“It is. But her mother is her constant shadow.”

Oliver raised his head with knowing. “Ah, I see. You need me to distract Signora Valenti.”

“Precisely.”

“Is that what you need me for? Distractions? I believe this is twice I’ve had to distract someone for you.”

“But you do it so well.”

Oliver shook his head. “When would you like for this to happen?”

“Now. Her father is still out of town.”

“You haven’t asked for his permission yet?” Oliver asked in alarm.

“No. You see, he doesn’t like me. If I ask for his blessing first, he will refuse. Signora Valenti, on the other hand, adores me. If I ask Mae first, then between the two of them, they can persuade Signore Valenti to accept me.”

“Did you at least discuss it with her mother?”

Stephano nodded. “I did. To a degree. She has the notion that I am interested in seeking further relations with Mae but not to what extent.”

“This could all backfire on you. You realize that, right?”

“I do. That is another reason I want you to come along. You will be a distraction to Maude, and if Mae should refuse, then you are my excuse to leave. Quickly.”

“Very well.”

“Come along. I want to ask her before her father returns this afternoon.”

The pair made their way through the streets of Rome to Mae’s house. Jude granted them entrance, and they waited in the parlor for Mae and her mother. A few moments later, they entered, both with a solemn expression.

“What is the matter?” Stephano asked.

Mae looked at him. “It’s just terrible, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You didn’t hear? Madelena wed. Just this morning.”

“What?” Oliver asked, his mouth parting with surprise. “Madelena married?”

Mae nodded. “Yes. Suddenly. I wasn’t even invited. The maid told me this morning. It was a small ceremony with only Madelena’s parents and sisters present.”

“I am so sorry,” Stephano said to Mae. “I know how close you and Signorina Russo are. You must be devastated.”

“Not as much as Madelena. She hated that man. We didn’t get to speak much since her confinement, but I knew that much.” Mae looked at Oliver. “I am so sorry, Signore St. John. I know you and Madelena…well, you two were interested in each other.” She was not about to let slip what had transpired between Oliver and Madelena. If she did, then it would put everyone in a predicament that would not be suitable.

“It is for the best,” Maude intervened. “Signore St. John is a fine man. He and Signore Russo would not have gotten along. Besides, I hear that Signora Russo thinks he fancies Angela.”

Oliver shook his head. “I have no interest in Signorina Angela.”

“Really? Signora Russo has been telling everyone that you are near to the point of asking Angela for her hand.”

Oliver clenched his jaw. “Is she?”

“Yes. And I must say, the tongues were wagging about the two of you the day after the Cancios’ ball. You did dance frequently with her.”

“I haven’t clapped eyes on the chit since that blasted ball.”

“That’s not what Signora Russo is claiming. She says you have visited daily since the ball.”

“Then I guess it is a good thing that I am leaving tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving?” Mae asked. “I hate to hear that. Momma was having a dinner party next week, and I hoped that you could attend.”

“I would, but I am needed at home.”

Stephano cleared his throat and stared at Oliver.

“Signora Valenti,” Oliver said. “I hear that you have a lovely garden.”

“It is the best in all of Rome,” Maude bragged, pulling her shoulders back with pride.

“I would love to see it.”

“But it’s March. The leaves are still missing.”

“What of those in your greenhouse?” Stephano said in his need to get rid of Maude for a moment.

Pride beamed in Maude’s eyes. “My lilies are doing fabulously there.”

“I would love to see them,” Oliver said.

“This way then.” Maude motioned to the door. “Come along, Mae. Signore Mortilini.”

Oliver offered Maude his arm and dragged her out the door before she could see that the others were not following.

Oliver listened with little interest as Maude bragged about her prized lilies. His mind kept returning to Madelena’s marriage. It felt like a ship had just settled on his chest. A tightness formed around his heart to the point he wondered if it were still beating.

“Where are Mae and Stephano?” Maude asked as she stopped at the greenhouse door.

Oliver looked around pretending to search for them. “I do not know. Perhaps they are still in the house.”

A frown settled over Maude’s brow. “I will not have them alone.”

“They’re fine,” Oliver said, trying to delay Maude’s return.

“What are you trying to hide, Signore St. John?”

A scream of delight came from the house. Maude and Oliver both looked at the doorway and watched as Mae came racing to them.

“Momma!” Mae exclaimed, holding her hand outward. “I’m getting married!”

Stephano was right behind her.

Mae stopped before her mother, holding her left hand out. The sapphire stone of the ring captured the light causing it to sparkle. “Stephano and I are getting married!”

Pride lit up Maude’s eyes as she wrapped her arms around Mae. “I am so happy for you.” She reached outward with her right arm and motioned for Stephano to join them. He stepped forward and the trio embraced. “I am the happiest mother in Rome. You treat my baby well, Signore Mortilini.”

“She will be treated like a queen, Signora Valenti.”

“Call me Mother. After all, we are to be family.” Maude’s eyes widened. “Her father agreed?”

Stephano shook his head. “I haven’t asked for his blessing yet. I was hoping that you could persuade Jacopo in my favor.”

“Please, Momma,” Mae begged, clasping her hands together.

“I will see what I can do,” Maude said. “Now, we have a busy time before us. When is the date? We have to purchase a dress and make a guest list. Oh! And the food!” Maude locked arms with Mae and Stephano dragging them to the house as she chattered on about what was needed for their upcoming nuptials.

Oliver followed inside and then bid the planning trio a good day. He was not needed now. Oliver was happy for his new friend. At least Stephano got the woman he loved. He was leaving Rome a married man. And Oliver would be leaving Rome as a broken one.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Madelena sighed again and paced the room. She looked down at her wedding night attire. The thin white shift she wore was sleeveless and felt like it was made from burlap instead of cotton. Then again, Sandra had purchased it as a gift for Madelena, and Sandra never bought Madelena anything of quality.

The clock on the mantel chimed nine. Madelena had been married for twelve hours, and it already felt like a lifetime. The wedding ceremony was short and simple, with only her family present. She wanted it that way. She did not want her only friend to witness her death sentence. Mae would be disappointed, but at least she would not get to see the worst wedding ever held.

Madelena wiped her mouth with the back of her hand again. She could still feel Drakos’s wet floppy lips on hers. She hated that man. Hated everything he represented. Hated that she had to marry him. Hated that she had to live with him. Hated that she was going to have to lay with him. But it was all to keep Oliver safe.

The thought of Oliver caused a tightness to settle in her chest. He would be safe and she would be miserable. Is this what it felt like? To love someone and know they were forever out of your reach? She loved Oliver. She believed she always had. The notion came to her after their time together at the Cancios as she was walking back to the house. The betrayal she saw in his eyes upon meeting Drakos tore at her soul. She felt like a part of her was dying; the pain was too great to bear.

Looking around the room, a shudder ran down her spine. This was the home that Drakos had rented for his short stay in Rome. It was old and in need of repair. The floors creaked and moaned with each step. The windows screamed in protest when opened. Hell, even the shingles rattled with the least bit of breeze. It was a home of horrors. Fitting.

The door opened and creaked upon its hinges. Madelena did not turn. She already knew who it was. She could smell him as he was coming down the hall. It was a scent of stale whiskey and liniment.

The door closed, and the floor protested as Drakos approached her. He took hold of her shoulder and turned her to face him. A lecherous grin pulled his wrinkled features as he licked his fat lips again.

“Well,” he spoke.

“Well, what?” Madelena asked.

A chortle left the old man. “I like a bit of sass. Not too much. Take off that shift, girl. I’ve noticed your firm tits all night and want to see if what I paid for was worth the price.”

“Paid for? I believe you are the one who received my dowry.”

He waved away the statement. “Go on now.”

Madelena’s hands trembled as they took hold of the thin straps of the shift. She closed her eyes. A silent tear ran down her cheek. Her hand was frozen in place. No matter how much she willed herself, she could not do it. She could not take off her clothing and face this man before her.

“I can’t,” Madelena whispered.

Drakos drew his mouth tight, causing his lips to pucker and his large nose to move. “I want to see you. Now.”

Madelena backed away and shook her head. “No.”

“You ungrateful little bitch. Your mother warned me that you were a bit strong-willed. She never said you were defiant, too. That doesn’t matter none. I know how to handle defiant fillies.” He turned and approached the dresser. Removing a belt, he turned. “You must whip them into submission. You must remind them who is in charge.”

“Wait!” Madelena spoke, shaking her head. “Please. I am just nervous.”

Drakos looked at her with suspicion.

“Please. Sit on the bed. Give me a moment.”

“I don’t have all night.”

Drakos approached the bed and sat down, lying the belt across his lap as a reminder should she defy him.

Madelena turned her back to him.

“Face me,” he ordered.

Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she turned to face the man she loathed. Closing her eyes, she slid one side of the shift down, exposing her left breast. Drakos’s lecherous grin widened; however, his normally dark complexion had turned an odd gray color. Taking a deep breath, she put his appearance out of her mind and dropped the other side down. His lustful stare seared her skin. He stood, unmoving. She could see his erection through his clothing. He took a step. Then another. His lascivious grin faded. He looked at her, clutched his chest and fell. His mouth worked up and down as he reached outward for her assistance.

“Girl. Help me,” he managed to say in a strained voice.

Madelena stayed rooted to the spot. She had no desire to help him. She watched as he struggled to breathe. Several ragged gasps left him before he went limp. His hand fell from his chest and slid to the floor in a soft thump.

Pulling her shift back into place, she took a step and gazed down at her husband. He was staring blankly up at the ceiling. There was an odd grayness to his complexion, almost blue in color.

“Signore Drakos,” she softly spoke. When he did not answer, she repeated his name again and gently nudged him with her foot. He did not move. Kneeling down beside him, she pressed her ear to his chest and listened. He was not breathing, and his heartbeat was undetectable. Leaning back onto her knees, a joyous smile pulled her lips, and she laughed. Drakos was dead! The bastard dropped dead before he could consummate the marriage.

“He’s dead,” she whispered in mortification, her hand coming to her mouth. “This will not be good. Mother will blame me.” She scurried to her feet. Her mother would blame her. Sandra would claim that Madelena poisoned Drakos. Madelena had no alibi to prove differently. She would be sentenced to death and would hang simply because Drakos coincidently died upon his wedding day. Sandra would make certain evidence was planted that would point to Madelena’s guilt. She could not stay here. She had to leave Rome. Now!

Racing to the wardrobe, she pulled out her plain brown dress and pulled it over her head. Finding a reticule, she shoved a few garments inside and closed the bag. She approached the dresser, where her underthings were stored. Removing the bottom drawer completely, she slid her hand inside the opening. Before she left home, she had made certain that she would have extra funds if needed and brought the money that she had made from selling her baskets. It wasn’t much, but surely she could purchase passage upon a ship leaving Rome with the amount she had.

Standing, she approached the door but stopped. If the servants saw her leave, they would come to inspect the room. She had to depart unseen. She had to give herself enough time to book passage upon a ship and leave Rome before Drakos’s body was discovered.

She approached the door and turned the lock, making certain that it was firmly secure before turning to the balcony. They were on the second floor, and by the grace of God, there was a set of steps leading down. She raced down the steps and cringed from the sound of the creaking steps. The noise was going to awake the servants. She slowed her pace, fighting the desire to bolt. With each step, the stairs creaked louder to the point she might as well shout that she was leaving. Once her foot was upon the ground, she glanced up at the landing fully expecting to see a servant. When she saw no one was there, she lifted her skirts and raced down the street away from Drakos’s home.

Weaving her way through the city, her heart raced. Rome was quiet now. All the people who came for Carnival had departed. She would have felt better if the streets were crowded. Now, she felt vulnerable. She felt as if she were in danger. Clutching her reticle to her chest, she wished she had thought to bring a weapon. After several turns to avoid drunken men, she finally made it to the docks. All of the ticket stations were closed for the night. Great! Now what? Where was she to go? She could not go to Mae’s for assistance. Mae would help her, but she did not want her friend to suffer Sandra’s wrath. She made her way around a building and tried the door. Locked.

“Damn,” she mumbled.

She tried several more businesses until she finally found an open door. Slipping inside, she locked the door and sat down upon the floor. Now, to wait until morning.

Madelena tried to stay awake all night but to no avail. She had not slept the night before, and the trials of her wedding day had finally taken its toll. She drifted off into a restless sleep. The sound of muffled voices woke her. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up. The sun had not yet risen, but the room was lightening.

Her valise had made an excellent place to rest her head when she first laid down, but the article had caused a crick to settle in her neck. Rising to a sitting position, she rubbed the pain and pulled the reticle to her. Turning, she came to her knees and peered out the window. A few sailors were present as were porters and passengers making their way to their respective ships.

Smoothing down her hair, she worked the locks into a plait and then twisted it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Digging through her reticle, she located a scarf and wrapped it around her head. Gathering her satchel, she stood and exited the building. She kept her pace slow and steady. She need not look like she was in a rush for that would draw attention to her.

The sun had completely risen by the time she found an open ticket station. Entering the building, she stood in line behind the three other people present. After a few minutes, it was finally her turn.

“Where to?” the man behind the counter asked.

Madelena pulled out her money and placed it upon the counter. “Where can this get me?”

The man peered over his wire spectacles and counted the money. He flipped open a register and ran his fingers over the book.

“For the amount you have, I have a few tickets left for Imperia, Italy; one to Marseille, in France and another to Monaco.”

Sadness pulled at Madelena’s eyes. “Is there anywhere farther?”

“I am sorry, signorina. That is all you can afford.”

Madelena looked at her dismal funds. “I’ll take the one to France. The farthest distance.”

“Marseille.” The porter counted out the funds and gave Madelena what was remaining. Handing her the ticket, he said, “Have a pleasant journey, signorina. Your ship departs in two hours. Next!”

Madelena took her ticket and read the ship’s name. “Destiny.”

“I truly hope it is a pleasant destiny,” she mumbled.

She made her way down the pier. She had never ventured down the wooden structures to where the ships were actually docked. The wharf was like a maze. She weaved down another pier hoping that perhaps this was the correct one. Nearly an hour had passed since she’d purchased her ticket, and she had yet to locate her ship. She would not ask a porter for fear of being recognized. She went to step on another section and stopped in her tracks. Marco was there speaking to someone by a ship. The tall man was intimidating with black hair and a matching beard. They appeared to be in a heated argument. Marco angrily pointed at the boat, and the captain took a step towards Marco. Marco tossed his hands in the air and began walking in her direction.

Madelena turned and ducked behind some crates. Kneeling down, she clutched her reticle in her hands as her heart hammered in her chest.

“She is around here somewhere,” she heard Marco speak. He addressed another man. “What did you learn?”

“The man at the ticket counter said she had purchased passage for France. There are only two ships traveling to France. You guard one and I’ll guard the other. Surely between the two of us, we will find her. Did she truly murder her husband?”

“That is what Signora Russo stated. She said Signore Drakos was found in his room, a knife to his heart. Signora Russo said that Madelena threatened to kill Signore Drakos before they wed in order to collect his properties. Signora Russo claims that a servant overhead Madelena and Drakos fighting. The servant tried to enter the room, but the door was locked. By the time they gained entrance, Drakos was dead and Signorina Madelena was gone.”

“I find that hard to believe, Marco. I mean, Signorina Madelena was always so kind.”

“Women are deceitful, Angelo. I will go to the ship heading to Marseille. You take the one traveling to Monaco.”

“Yes, sir.”

Madelena peeked around the crates and watched Marco head down the wharf to the ship she needed. Angelo passed by the containers and headed to the other.

Madelena closed her eyes. “Great,” she mumbled. “Now what?”

Looking down at her boarding pass, she crumpled it in her hand. She had wasted her money and did not have enough to purchase another ticket. She placed the card in her pocket and headed down the pier. She headed left and spotted her father heading her direction.

“Really?” she questioned in exasperation, looking up. Could this day get any worse?!

She turned and saw a group of people boarding the ship where she had seen Marco arguing with the black-haired man. She did not hesitate. Stepping in line with a group of well-dressed dignitaries, she boarded the boat with them. Perhaps the crew of the ship would think she was a servant. She did not speak as she stepped onto the deck. She stayed behind the babbling group and followed them below deck.

Once below deck, the wealthy travelers entered their rooms. Madelena was standing in the hallway, looking very suspicious in her attire. She kept walking down the corridor. Each room she passed, she could hear people speaking. Spying a door smaller than the others, she pressed her ear to it. Upon hearing no noise from inside, she opened it. The door led to a small room where linens were stored. Stepping inside, she closed the door. She would hide here until her father left. It should only be a few minutes. Then she would leave the ship as she came.

Sitting down upon the small stepstool, she readjusted the scarf over her head. She could hear footsteps hurrying down the hall. More footsteps were heard, and a man started speaking in a language she did not understand. The man laughed, and the sound of a door shutting echoed in the closet. Suddenly, there was a loud pop, and the ship swayed.

“They can’t be leaving just yet!” Madelena said.

She stood and staggered into the shelf as the boat rocked to the side. Opening the door, she left her sanctuary and headed up the steps. Her feet stopped upon seeing a pair of highly polished black boots. If that were the porter asking for her ticket, she did not have one to produce, and then they would toss her overboard.

Spinning on her toes, she scurried down the steps and opened the first door she came to. Closing the door, she pressed her back to it and closed her eyes. Alarm entered her when she heard a familiar voice ask, “Are you lost?”

Geneva held back her tears as she wrapped her arms around Oliver’s neck. “Are you certain you cannot stay longer? I know how much it would mean to Martin if you stayed. And Stephano will be so disappointed if you cannot attend his wedding in a few weeks.”

Oliver patted Geneva on the back as he looked to Martin for assistance.

Martin shrugged his shoulders. “She has been a bit weepy this week. Her mother says it’s the changes the baby makes.”

“I am not weepy,” Geneva defended, releasing Oliver to dab her eyes. “I just hate good-byes.”

“I will miss you as well, Geneva,” Oliver spoke. “I will write and expect you and Martin to write as well. I will visit again when I can. It has been a delight visiting with you.”

Geneva covered her mouth to lessen the sound of her whimper. “You are such a good man, Oliver. I hope you find a good wife one day. A wife who will make you happy. Not some harpy who breaks your heart.” She broke down in tears and threw her arms around Oliver again. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of your heartbreak.”

Oliver’s chest rose as he inhaled deeply. He had tried to put Madelena out of his mind last night by drinking most of Martin’s whiskey. It hadn’t helped. Instead, he passed out. When he awoke, his head was throbbing, and the contents of his stomach came expelling out onto Martin’s desk. It was his fault, though. Jacob had docked yesterday and wanted Oliver to stay aboard The Emerald Jewell. Oliver refused, deciding to stay with Martin until it was time to depart. If he had only taken Jacob up on his offer, he would have been aboard his brother’s ship making a fool of himself instead of his friend’s home.

“It is all right, Geneva. No one could have foreseen the events that transpired these past few weeks. I will travel home and work until no memories remain except for your kindness.”

Geneva rereleased Oliver and turned to face Martin. “Why can’t you say things like that?”

“What?” Martin asked, uncertain of his wife’s question.

“You see. Oliver knows how to connect to a woman’s heart. All you do is work!” Geneva covered her face and ran from the room.

“That was bizarre,” Oliver said.

Martin shook his head. “Her mother warned me that she might be a tad moody these next few months. Perhaps it is a good thing you are traveling home. At this rate, she would divorce me and marry you.”

“I have had my fill of Roman women. They wound too deeply.” Oliver stepped forward and offered an outstretched hand to Martin.

Martin took the offering and then pulled Oliver in for a one-armed embrace. “I will miss you, Oliver.”

Oliver returned the affection. “Take care, Martin. I did enjoy my visit. Next time you wish to have my company, I suggest you come to my home. Less drama.”

Martin laughed. “Not with your family.”

Oliver left Martin’s home and climbed into the awaiting carriage. He knew he could have walked, but the hangover he was presently experiencing took a lot out of him. The carriage was a safer way. If he walked, he might find himself in the clutches of Signora Russo, and that was something he had no desire to contend with presently.

The ride to the pier was short. After directing the coachman where to take his trunks, Oliver walked to the docks. Stopping, he turned and give one last parting glance at the city that brought him such joy and the most pain he had ever experienced. He never wanted to see Rome again. The memories made here created a wound that hurt dearly and would never heal. Turning, he ventured down the dock to The Emerald Jewell. It was a magnificent vessel. He looked forward to traveling with his brother, albeit it would be different this time. Jacob’s wife, Jules, was presently in Governor’s Harbour awaiting the birth of their second child. She had spent the majority of this pregnancy on land despite her pirate background. This child did not like the sea, and every time she stepped foot upon a ship, the contents of her stomach would come up.

Stepping foot onto the deck, Oliver was greeted by Jacob. Not much about Jacob had changed since the last time Oliver saw him. He was still an intimidating individual with a short, dark beard and soul-sucking dark brown eyes—so dark they appeared black. He was wearing a blue shirt that was pulled taut over the muscles in his shoulders and arms.

“It’s about time you got here. I thought I was going to have to toss some bastard into the water. He was demanding to search my ship.”

“I’m certain you told him to go straight to hell,” Oliver said.

“I did. With a little embellishment.” Jacob’s eyes scanned Oliver’s appearance. Oliver’s eyes were bloodshot and dark circles rested under his green eyes. “You look like shit.”

“I had a rough night.”

“Martin drink you under the table? I find that hard to believe.”

“More like I drank myself under the table.”

Jacob’s lip twitched with humor. “Your room is ready. Bob took the liberty of placing your trunk in your room,” he said, referring to the Chinese man who worked on the ship.

“The coachman is bringing them. He should be here shortly.”

“Are you still foxed? I just told you your trunk is already here.”

Oliver pressed his lips together. “My head is killing me, Jacob.”

“Fine,” Jacob snapped. “Go below deck. Your appearance will scare off the clientele that have booked a peaceful trip to the Caribbean.”

“Have Bob bring me something for my head.”

“That bad?”

“You have no bloody idea.”

Jacob shook his head. “Go below deck. Just as soon as the Rosses return, we’ll cast off.”

Oliver made his way down the steps to his room. It was a room that was never available for others to book. It was reserved for family. Oliver had stayed here several times. A sizeable double wardrobe was anchored against the far wall. The large bed had a dark blue bedcovering made of silk and fine sea island cotton sheets. His sea chest sat beside the wardrobe.

Stripping out of the brown coat, he tossed it on a chair. Untying the knot on the cravat, it joined the jacket. He loosened the laces on his tunic just as a knock was heard on his door.

“Enter,” Oliver commanded.

Bob entered carrying a steaming cup. “Here you go, Ollie. Makey your head feel better real quick.”

“You don’t have to do the bizarre broken English with me, Bob. I know you can speak English better than I.”

“Sorry. Habit. It seems to make these English aristocrats feel safer when I speak like an idiot.”

“They are fools. What do they think you will do? Rob them blind?”

Bob shrugged. “I could. They would never see me coming. But I like it here and see no reason to jeopardize my employment with the captain.”

Oliver took the cup and downed the liquid. As he swallowed, his nose involuntarily crinkled. “Whatever you put in this tastes like shit.”

“It is.”

Oliver glowered at the grinning man.

“Not really,” Bob said. “It is an old family recipe. It is best if you do not know what is in it.”

Oliver handed Bob back the cup. “Thank you.”

“If you need anything, just ring.”

Oliver nodded. Bob left, and Oliver sat down upon the bed, cradling his head in his hands. The pain in his head was a welcome reprieve from the pain in his chest. When he learned of Madelena’s marriage, it felt as if his world was ending. He knew then that he loved her. He would always love her. He was glad Jacob had arrived when he did for he did not think he could be in the same city as Drakos without killing the man.

The ship creaked and rocked, signaling that they were departing Rome. It was not soon enough. This should have occurred two weeks ago. Then he could have returned home whole and not the broken shell he was now.

The sound of the door caused him to look up. The physical pain he was experiencing was instantly replaced with emotional pain as he spotted the cause. Surely, he was seeing things. That must be it. It was not Madelena, just someone who looked like her.

“Are you lost?” Oliver asked.

“Oliver?” Madelena’s eyes widened. Surprise was in her voice as she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Oliver said, standing and approaching her, still not believing Madelena was on board of his ship.

“Oh, Oliver!” Madelena rushed forward and tossed her arms around him. “I don’t know what to do. I am so glad you are here.”

Oliver returned her affection. “What has happened? I thought you were married.”

“So much has happened.” She released him and stepped back. Pulling the knot to the scarf over her head, she removed the article and draped it over her shoulders. “I will tell you everything, but first, you must hide me. The ship is sailing, and I don’t have a ticket. If the captain finds me, he’ll toss me overboard and make me swim. I’m not a good swimmer, Oliver. I would drown before I made it back to shore.”

“Calm yourself, Maddie.”

“I can’t, Oliver! Drakos is dead. Sandra said I killed him. I didn’t! I swear it! My father is looking for me. I will hang if I go back. If the captain finds me without a boarding pass, he will force me to go back. I cannot! I simply cannot!”

Oliver ran a hand over her frazzled hair. “Nothing will happen to you. I will not allow it.”

The door opened again. “Are you all right, Oliver?”

Madelena gasped, and her hands came to her mouth as she watched a tall, black-haired man enter. This was the same man that Marco had been arguing with only minutes before.

Jacob looked between Oliver and the woman. “Dammit, Oliver. This ship is packed with influential guests. I know we thrive on scandal, but I won’t have it this time. I warned you about bringing whores aboard my ship before.”

“She is not a whore, Jacob.”

“Then who is she?”

“His wife!” Madelena blurted out. She wasn’t certain how Oliver became acquainted with the captain so quickly, but she didn’t care. She could not go back to Rome. And if pretending to be Oliver’s wife was the only means to keep herself upon this ship, she would do so.

“Wife?” Jacob asked, his right brow rising in a familiar fashion.

“Wife?” Oliver repeated in shock, looking down at Madelena.

“Yes,” Madelena said, wrapping herself around Oliver’s arm. “Newly. I assume you are here to gather our boarding passes. Where did you put them, dear?” Madelena looked at Jacob and batted her eyes. “He has a tendency to lose things. You didn’t lose my ticket again, did you? He lost my last one you see. It was a complete mess.”

Jacob simply stared at the babbling woman. When she finished, he looked at Oliver. “Would you mind telling me what is going on, little brother?”

“Brother?” Madelena squeaked.

A deep sigh left Oliver.

“Oliver?” Jacob said.

“Maddie, this is my older brother, Jacob. Jacob, this is Madelena Russo.”

“St. John, don’t you mean? She said she was your wife. A fact you neglected to mention when we spoke earlier.” His brow came together. “Russo? You wouldn’t be the chit that man was looking for earlier?”

Madelena’s mouth worked up and down as her heart hammered in her chest. She could not have looked more guilty unless she was holding a banner.

“Sweet Judas, Oliver! You married a wanted woman.”

Oliver shook his head. “No. And she is not—”

Madelena looked at Jacob. The anger upon the other man’s face frightened her. She could not allow Oliver to tell his brother the truth…yet. If his brother knew, then he would take her back to shore. Before Oliver could finish his denial, she spoke, “Please don’t toss me overboard.”

Jacob’s brows came together in anger and aggravation. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“I don’t have a ticket. That’s what captains do, isn’t it? If people don’t have tickets? They toss them over and make them swim?”

“You have read too many novels. If you do not have a ticket, they would either place you in the brig or take you back to shore. What I should do is take you back to the authorities.”

“Then I will take the brig. I will not go back to shore.”

“I don’t have a brig. This is strictly a passenger vessel for those who can afford the fare.” Jacob’s eyes scanned her. “And from your dress, I feel quite certain, you cannot afford the cost. Why is she wanted?”

“I can’t go back!” Madelena turned to Oliver, gripping his forearm tightly. “Please, Oliver. Do something.”

“Look, Jacob,” Oliver began. “I will pay for her way.”

“She is a fugitive. I will not allow my passengers—”

“I am not wanted,” Madelena defended. “It is a lie spun by my mother. She hates me and wants rid of me.”

“Look, Jacob,” Oliver spoke again. “If you demanded every person be imprisoned because they were wanted, then we all would be in jail. Yourself included. I can vouch for Maddie. She is no criminal.”

“Not criminal, Oliver. Murderer. They claim she is wanted for killing her husband.” Jacob’s eyes roamed over Oliver. “And you appear to be alive and well…considering her claim that the two of you are married.” He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “Now, what is going on?”

A deep sigh left Oliver. “I swear, Jacob, I’ll explain everything to you in good time. Just as soon as I figure out what is going on myself.”

Jacob’s right brow rose. “You don’t know?”

“It is complicated.” Oliver gazed at Madelena. The terror and fear in her brown eyes tore at his soul. He knew she could never hurt anyone. She had many opportunities to tell her family that he was the man she stayed with that night, but she kept his name silent. “And she will not cause harm to your passengers.”

“That’s well and good. But I don’t have any spare rooms. They have all been booked.”

“Then she can stay with me.”

Jacob shook his head. “Not this time, pup. I will not allow it and besides Aunt—”

“Why? Just tell everyone that she is my wife. No one will be the wiser.”

Jacob glowered at his younger brother. “If you would quit interrupting me, I would tell you why.”

“Fine.”

“The rooms have been booked by Aunt Charlotte and her friends.”

Oliver’s mouth dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jacob relaxed his stance, resting his forearm upon the frame of the door. “‘Fraid not. So, if you tell everyone she is your wife, what do you think Aunt Charlotte would do?”

“Demand to see proof.”

“And since I feel pretty damn certain that you don’t have proof, she will demand that I perform a ceremony, hence making you man and wife.”

“What are we to do?” Madelena asked. “I cannot go back.”

“Would you mind sharing the reason why?” Jacob inquired.

“She has her reasons, Jacob,” Oliver interjected.

The sound of a door opening caused Jacob to lean back and peer into the hallway. “Well, better make your tale up quick for our dear Aunt Charlotte approaches.”

“Shit,” Oliver mumbled, raking his hand through his hair.

“Jacob!” Charlotte sang out approaching. “There you are, my favoritest nephew. I need to have a word with you when you finish…” Charlotte's words stopped as she peeked inside the room. “Oliver! How wonderful! Why Jacob, you never mentioned that my other favoritest nephew would be traveling with us.” She looked at Madelena and asked with interest, “Who is this?”

Oliver looked like he had been caught with his pants down. His eyes widened in horror as he spotted Charlotte. He needed to think of something to tell his aunt. If she knew the truth, then she would demand that they take Madelena back to Rome, and from the frantic way Madelena spoke earlier, Oliver did not think that would be a wise decision.

“Aunt Charlotte, I would like to introduce you to Maddie.”

“I’m his wife,” Madelena blurted out.

“Wife!” Charlotte exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “How wonderful! She is simply lovely.” Charlotte pushed her way past Jacob and flung her arms around Madelena. “Welcome to the family, my dear.” Charlotte held Madelena at arm's length, turned her head and tsked her tongue. “Shame on you, Oliver St. John. You marry such a beautiful woman and have her wear nothing but rags! Dressed as a servant! We are St. Johns!”

Madelena looked between the occupants of the room. Why had Oliver not protested when she said that she was his wife? He appeared so indifferent towards her the last time she saw him at the Cancios. In fact, he was rude. It tore at Madelena to have him turn so cold towards her, especially after what had transpired between them only moments before that night. And now? Now, he was putting his bachelorhood at risk in order to help her escape Rome. Why?

Oliver kept his focus on his aunt, his mind trying to come up with a reason for his marriage. If he told the truth, then Jacob would take Madelena back to Rome. He could not allow that. She appeared terrified of the notion. If he kept up the ruse, then he would be foregoing his carefree bachelor ways, tying himself down to one woman for the remainder of his days. Would that be such a bad thing? He did enjoy Madelena’s company. He thought his world was crashing down around him when he learned of her marriage and eagerly began looking for a way to leave Rome immediately. And now? Now she was standing beside him, either a widow or a new bride running from an unwanted marriage, in fear of her life.

“We eloped,” Oliver said.

“Ah. I see. She had to pack lightly. But that does not explain why she is dressed in such a fashion.”

“Her father does not care for me. Her mother wanted me to wed her sister and had paired Maddie with another. Despite Maddie’s insistence that we loved each other, her parents would not listen to reason. They became suspicious of our plans and began watching her more closely. So, she dressed as a servant to be able to slip out of her home undetected.”

“Brilliant!” Charlotte’s brows came together as her eyes widened. “Then you were not properly wed, by an officiating individual. We cannot have that. No, we simply cannot! Why my dear daughter, Anne, she eloped herself with a Scot! He’s a farmer! My Anne knows nothing about farming.”

“That was several years ago, Aunt Charlotte,” Jacob said. “She probably knows a thing or two about farming now.”

Charlotte waved away the observation and made a funny noise. “That is beside the issue, Jacob.” She took Madelena’s hand. “Come, my dear. I insist on a proper wedding. Jacob, you draw up the proper paperwork while I find Maddie a suitable gown to wear.” Her eyes traveled over Oliver. “And you clean yourself up. You look like you have been on a three-day drinking spree and not your honeymoon.”

“Aunt Charlotte, I must protest,” Oliver said. Perhaps he could forgo this faux marriage by persuading Charlotte otherwise. Besides, he needed to speak with Madelena and see if Drakos was truly dead. If he weren’t, then their marriage would not be legal, and Drakos could forcibly cart Madelena to Greece, despite both of their protests. “We are married. Why do you insist upon having us do it again?”

Charlotte proudly raised her chin. “I know how randy you St. Johns are. I would not put it past you to say this lady is your wife in order to travel with a female companion. It is for the best, Oliver. If you truly are married, then you will not care to do the ceremony again. However, if this is just a ruse, and you refuse, then it will be up to me to see to the reputation of this young woman who apparently has fallen victim to your bad influence.”

Oliver stared at his aunt as her babbling words rolled around in his head. “What?”

“You will either marry this girl in front of proper witnesses, or you will never see her again without me present. If she is truly your wife, that would not be the ideal situation.”

Oliver glared at his aunt. Damn her! The old fox was smart. She had seen through his ploy. And Jacob was not helping the matter. Instead, he was standing there grinning like a fool.

Madelena locked eyes with Oliver. She had as much say in this fiasco as he did, but she appeared to be as much at a loss of words as Oliver.

“Well?” Charlotte asked. “Are you going to marry this girl again? Or is it as I suspect and that you brought her aboard for your entertainment?”

Madelena gasped. “I am no man’s entertainment.”

“Then I take it a wedding will take place? Say this afternoon? I know Jacob needs to see to his duties as we depart. Who is seeing to that by the way? You know, since you are here?”

“My first mate, Mr. Jamison.”

“He’s a fine man,” Charlotte said. “I always thought that he and Anne would be a fine pairing. But she is as strong-willed and defiant as every other person with St. John blood in their veins. So?”

“I’m going up top,” Jacob said. “The three of you can discuss this.”

“Oh, no,” Charlotte protested, turning and taking Jacob’s arm to keep him from leaving. “You must oversee this venue.” Charlotte’s eyes widened again. “And Matthew can stand in as your best man.”

“Matthew?” Oliver repeated. “You neglected to tell me that Matt was here.”

“Matthew’s here,” Jacob said.

“Thanks.”

Jacob shrugged.

Charlotte began. “Now, Matthew will stand with you.”

“What am I witnessing?” a deep voice said from the hallway.

Madelena watched as one of the broadest men she had ever seen came to the door. He was massive. The material of his jacket strained under the size of his arms. He possessed the same black hair as Jacob along with piercing blue eyes. She could see the resemblance between the three brothers present…now that she knew they were related.

“Matthew, my other favoritest nephew. Just in time,” Charlotte said. “Your brother here is going to get married.”

Matthew’s right brow rose upward. Drolly he asked, “He is?”

“Yes. To this lovely lady here, Maddie…was it?”

“Madelena, actually,” Madelena managed to say.

Matthew looked between the occupants of the room. “What did I miss?”

“I’ll explain it to you later,” Oliver said.

“I truly hope so.”

“Now, what time is the ceremony, Jacob? I have no idea how long your duties take,” Charlotte said.

Mischief twinkled in Jacob’s eyes as he watched Oliver squirm. “It will take about an hour to navigate the river and another to make it past the coast. I will draw up the paperwork.”

Charlotte rubbed her chin. “I must find a proper dress for Madelena to wear. She will need a bath and Lidia,” she said, referring to her servant, “will insist upon fashioning her hair. Let’s say three, shall we?”

“Won’t Uncle Hugh protest all the extra visitors in your quarters? I know he doesn’t like interruptions,” Oliver said, hoping to keep his aunt from her desires to see him wed.

She waved away the statement. “Hugh will be thrilled.”

“Mother will be furious if you see me marry instead of her. We should wait.”

A giggle left Charlotte. He should have known that wouldn’t work. Elizabeth and Charlotte never saw eye to eye.

“That is precisely one of the main reasons for this to happen now.”

“I thought it was for my reputation?” Madelena finally spoke.

“In part. The other reason is that I simply adore the fact that I can so easily rile my sister-in-law.” Charlotte took Madelena’s hand. “Come along, Madelena. I will tell you all the wonderful tales of your mother-in-law while we ready you for your wedding. Three, Jacob?”

“Three it is,” Jacob answered.

“Splendid!” Charlotte said, pulling Madelena from the room. “Come, child. We have much to do. I cannot leave you alone with Oliver until I know that the two of you are properly wed. Matthew, be a dear and have Chessi come to my room. Cheerio. Much to do! Much to do!”

Oliver collapsed down on the bed and cradled his head in his hands.

“What the hell did I just miss?” Matthew asked.

Jacob’s humor could not be contained. “It seems our dear baby brother has been caught with his hand in the honey pot.”

“I’m not following?”

“Oliver?” Jacob questioned.

Oliver lowered his hands and looked up. “It is a long, complicated tale. Much too long for me to be able to tell you without you neglecting your duties.”

“I’m the captain,” Jacob said. “Who will complain?”

“Hold up,” Matthew said. “I will find Chess and tell her to visit Aunt Charlotte. The two of you meet me by the wheel so we can all hear this tale.”

Oliver cocked his head to the left, viewing Matthew. “I thought sea travel made you nauseous?”

“At first. I’ve been on here long enough that I have acquired my sea legs. Now, I’ll meet the two of you up top.” With that, Matthew left.

Jacob turned. “I’m going topside. You’ve got five minutes, pup. If you’re not up there by then, I’ll tell Aunt Charlotte the truth.”

“You don’t know the truth.”

Jacob shrugged. “I can make it up as I go. Who do you think she’ll believe? Five minutes.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Oliver’s eyes involuntarily closed as he stepped foot onto the deck of the ship. The crew bustling about greeted him with a friendly “hello” but did not stop from their chores. Jacob ran a tight ship. Despite his strict rule and discipline, his crew were loyal to him and defended him. He was not an unfair captain. He treated his crew well and expected each man to pull their weight. Jacob did not ask his crew to do a job that he himself had not done in the past. Jacob knew the dangers and the hardships. He knew the difficulties of what he ordered. And that is why his crew were loyal. They knew that their captain could do any duty ordered.

Oliver spotted Jacob at the wheel, speaking to Mr. Jamison and Matthew. George Jamison was one of those men that gave Oliver the jitters. He was courteous and had never done anything out of sorts. The sole reason was his uncanny knack at predicting the weather. It was as if Jamison could speak to God and know what was coming.

Approaching the wheel, Oliver heard Mr. Jamison speak. “Weather will hold for a few days.”

“And then?” Jacob asked.

“I would steer clear of Africa. If we keep our present course, we’ll encounter a squall. I would recommend heading west for two days, traveling towards Sassari, then head to Gibraltar. We’ll bypass any storms if we do that.”

Jacob nodded. “West it is.”

“Oliver,” Jamison said in a friendly greeting.

“George,” Oliver acknowledged with a nod of his head.

“I will leave the three of you to catch up.” George left.

Oliver watched him leave. “That man scares the shit out of me.”

“George?” Both Matthew and Jacob said.

“He’s a good man,” Jacob defended.

“I know. It's just that thing with the weather.”

Jacob gripped the wheel and gave a gentle turn to maneuver the ship away from the shore. “And that is why his pay is more than most first mates.”

“More?” Matthew repeated. “Hell, Jacob, he makes more than most captains.”

“I know. We pay him well, so he won’t leave. No other company could afford to pay him what we do. Except for East India, and they like to keep their profits for their stakeholders. I insisted that his pay be the same as mine, in order to keep him for myself. I don’t like sharing valuable employees.”

“Speaking of sharing,” Matthew spoke, looking at Oliver. “Mind sharing what is going on, young’un?”

Oliver exhaled. “This will be a treat for the both of you.” He went on to describe how he met Madelena, about her family and their relationship.

“So she is already married?” Jacob asked. “If so, then I can’t marry the two of you.”

“I know that, Jacob,” Oliver replied. “That is why I need to speak with her before our vows. She said that Drakos is dead. I believe her, but I want to know the full story first.”

“Why?” Matthew asked.

“Pardon?”

“Why? You seem to like your bachelor life. If you tell Aunt Charlotte the truth, then you won’t have to marry the chit. Granted, you won’t get her into your bed on this voyage, but you will be single.”

“It’s not that simple, Matt,” Oliver grumbled.

“Why not? That is unless you love the girl.” Matthew raised an inquiring brow upward.

At Oliver’s silence, Matthew grinned. Matthew threw his head back and laughed. “You do love her. Lord help her. A mischievous leprechaun has fallen for a seller of baskets. She going to make the pot for your gold?”

“Shut up, Matthew,” Oliver growled.

Matthew’s right brow shot upward. “Are you wanting to go a round or two, young’un? I can oblige. However, your little bride might not like how you look when you say your vows with a broken nose and missing teeth.”

“I see Chessi has not taken away your charming personality,” Oliver drolly replied.

“Behave, Matt,” Jacob intervened. He knew firsthand the power behind Matthew’s fists. Hell, he was still recovering from their last bout before they left London.

“Very well,” Matthew replied. “It is still a long trip home. I’ll see him in the ring before we dock.”

Jacob looked skyward and watched the clouds float peacefully overhead. Lord help him, this was going to be a long trip with these two aboard.

“What’s the matter, Jacob?” Matthew asked. “Our brotherly love not to your liking?”

“This is not brotherly love. This is you seeking to place your frustrations on someone other than on whom they belong.”

“I am placing my frustrations right in front of me,” Matthew defended. “Oliver needs a good thrashing to remind him of his place.”

Jacob shook his head. “No. I heard that little spat you had with Chessi this morning. Hell, I am amazed Oliver didn’t hear it from Martin’s home.”

Giving an indifferent shrug, Matthew replied, “She has a bit of a temper. Grams,” he said, speaking of their grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Hyntington, “said give her a few weeks, and her temper will cool. A child in the womb makes women temperamental.”

“A child?” Oliver questioned. At Matthew’s nod, Oliver patted his older brother’s back. “Congratulations, old man.” Then for spite, he added, “I hope she’s having a girl…twins.”

Jacob joined the levity. “Aye, a set of blond-haired lasses to drive you mad. It would be a fitting retribution for your bachelor days. Philandering with married women.” Jacob’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that how you and Chessi met? You were in the midst of having carnal relations with a married woman?”

“No,” Matthew snapped. “She stole Gramps watch.”

“Ah, that’s right. She caught you having sex later,” Oliver added.

Matthew’s jaw clenched.

“We better behave, pup,” Jacob told Oliver. “Our brother here can dish out it out but can’t take it very well. Just like his punches”

“I can take them better than either of you,” Matthew growled. “How're your ribs?”

“Now, Matthew,” Jacob replied. “You cannot harm the captain.”

“I’m not wanting to hurt the captain. I want to thrash my brother. Big difference.”

“Gentlemen,” a voice said, coming from the steps. “Please do not harm each other until we reach our destination.”

The brothers turned and watched Aunt Charlotte’s husband, Hugh Ashford, approach. Hugh was the Marquees of Dunshire and a good match for their aunt. He was tall with blond hair and brown eyes. He kept a pipe either in his hand or mouth at all times. Very rarely had any of them seen him without his heirloom pipe. Yet, he handled Charlotte’s babbling and rants with grace and had the ability to calm her notorious St. John temper with ease by simply puffing on his pipe and offering her reassuring looks paired with his uncanny logic.

“Uncle Hugh,” Jacob acknowledged.

“Your aunt tells me that there are shenanigans afoot or some such fiddle-faddle. Something about a wedding.” He tapped the end of his pipe upon his hand, tightening the tobacco down on the inside.

“She would be correct,” Jacob answered.

“I see.” After several attempts, Hugh lit his pipe and clenched the item in his teeth. Taking several puffs, the smoke filtered outward, and he spoke. “And, Oliver, my boy, you agreed to her nonsense?”

“I had no choice,” Oliver replied.

“No choice? You most certainly did. If you are legally wed, then she had no right to take your bride from you nor does she have the right to forbid you from seeing your bride without Char present,” Hugh replied, calling Charlotte by the pet name he had given her.

“She is as stubborn as Grams, Hugh. You know this.”

“That she is. But you have that same strong-willed St. John blood running through your veins. Combine that with that irritating Winters’ blood,” Hugh said, referring to their mother’s family, “and you can best her anytime you wish.”

“Don’t let Mother hear you call her family irritating,” Matthew replied.

Hugh grasped his pipe with his hand and pulled it from his mouth. “I have told her so, many times. Her entire family should be hanged. I have never seen such an unhappy group of individuals in my entire life. Elizabeth is the only one even tolerable, and I credit that to your father. Robert has a tendency to bring the best out in people.”

“I thought you and Father did not see eye to eye?” Oliver asked.

“We don’t…on matters of your grandmother. He wants her to be coddled. I, on the other hand, know she can handle her own quite well and have seen how well she manages on her own. If he visited from time to time, he would see that for himself. Instead, he has not set foot in England for well over ten years.”

“It is a long trip,” Matthew defended. “I will not protest his refusal to sail on that reason alone.”

“I think it is because your mother has him henpecked.” Hugh placed the pipe back into his mouth and clamped down. “He loves her entirely too much and allows her to control him.”

The brothers looked at each other and then laughed.

“Uncle Hugh,” Oliver began, “You have it all wrong.”

“Then why does he not sail to England?”

Jacob answered, “Sailing no longer agrees with him.”

“What?” Hugh did not believe the reason.

“Sailing began disagreeing with him.”

“He gets seasickness worse than Eli or me,” Matthew replied.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Hugh replied. “Hell, he used to captain his own ship. He’s traveled to and from England more than any of you.”

Jacob shrugged. “It is true. The onset came after a severe ear infection. He was dizzy for several months afterward.”

“He most likely should have seen a true doctor and not that voodoo woman that your brother Eli insists on keeping around,” Hugh said.

“If it weren't for Eli’s voodoo woman, Father would have died,” Oliver defended. “The physicians weren’t doing anything. They said to give him fluids and then poured enough laudanum down his throat to help ease the pain and sedate him. The voodoo woman saved him, and there is nothing that can convince me otherwise. He was rambling like a madman before Natasha came. She came despite Mother’s protests for Mother has the same opinion as you do of Natasha. So, we dragged Mother from the house and allowed Natasha to tend to Father. By the next morning, his fever had broken, and he was no longer combative. He was resting and slept for three days. When he awoke, he was no longer incoherent. He was weak, but his mind was good. Afterward, any sudden motion caused him to become nauseous. Natasha said it would most likely never leave.”

“I never knew,” Hugh admitted. “Elizabeth wrote that he had been ill but not the gravity of the situation.”

“She didn’t want everyone to worry,” Oliver informed him. “She knew that Grams could not make the journey and would insist upon doing so. She decided just to tell everyone that he was not feeling well.”

“If Grams discovered this, she would be furious at the lot of you for not telling her,” Hugh said.

Matthew nodded. “We know. That is why we never mentioned it. Her temper is worse than any of the St. Johns.”

A deep breath left Hugh. “It comes from her gypsy blood.”

“Or the fact that she’s just mean,” Matthew said, smiling. Of all the St. John grandchildren, he was the closest to her. Then again, he had lived in England for well over fifteen years and lived with Gramps and Grams for part of those years.

“You can say that. I fear that if anyone else did what she does, she’d clobber them with her walking stick.” Hugh took several puffs from his pipe. “Now, the wedding?”

“It seems that Oliver has fallen for his bride,” Jacob supplied.

“That so?” Hugh asked, still puffing on his pipe. “She is a rather intriguing chit. Did you know she can speak Latin?”

“How the hell did you find that out?” Oliver asked.

Hugh removed the pipe from his mouth. “If you hold actual intellectual conversations…instead of trying to get into one’s bed…you will learn all sorts of information.”

Heat traveled up Oliver’s face as Matthew and Jacob laughed.

“Well, getting into one’s bed is the true challenge,” Matthew replied.

“And you have been into many. I do say, it makes it quite an awkward situation in the House of Lords…you know, considering I am dealing with men whose wives you have had relations with. I am amazed I have not been shot.”

Matthew did not even appear to be fazed by the accusation. All knew the facts to be true. Matthew loved his bachelor life. That is until Chessi came into his world, Then he found that she was the only woman that he ever wanted.

“We are getting off topic,” Hugh said. “Wedding. Char said it’s to be held at three on the deck. She insists that it be decorated and has assigned me that task.” Hugh shook his head. “I have no bloody idea why? What does a man know about decorating for a wedding?”

“Perhaps it was just a way to get you out of the way. There is nothing to decorate a wedding with upon my ship,” Jacob said. “And I will be damned if I turn around to gather flowers.”

“Well, we had better do something. If we don’t, we’ll all have hell to pay. Since she could not see our Anne married in a fashion she deemed appropriate, she is placing all that energy into your wedding to Madelena.”

Jacob spoke, “I’ll speak with Bob and see what he has.”

“That funny little Chinaman?”

“His wife is onboard. Hopefully, Etta will have something.”

“Etta? What an odd name for a Chinese woman,” Hugh said, returning his pipe to his mouth.

“Nobody can say her real name except Bob. So we all call her Etta.”

“Do you think she can decorate the ship in a fashion to suit your aunt?”

Jacob shook his head. “I sure the hell hope so.”

Madelena was left speechless as Charlotte dragged her down the hall, babbling the entire way about the upcoming nuptials. Following Charlotte into her chambers, a gasp left Madelena upon viewing the size of the room. It was designed like a sitting room with two small settees in one corner. A man reading a paper sat upon one of the sofas, a pipe clenched in his teeth. The man did not even look up from his newspaper as Charlotte continued to speak. A table with three chairs sat in another corner. A desk sat against the far wall, and a thick ivory rug was a striking contrast to the highly polished dark wood.

Charlotte continued talking as they entered. “Hugh. Hugh!”

The man did not even lay his paper down. He continued reading as he replied. “Yes, Char?”

“Don’t be rude, Hugh. We have a guest. And not just any but Oliver’s bride.”

Hugh lowered his paper and peered over his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Who?”

Charlotte threw her hands in the air. “I swear, Hugh Ashford, do you even know any of my family? Oliver. My nephew.”

Hugh’s eyes widened. “Oh, him. I wasn’t aware he was traveling with us. I thought it was only Matthew.”

“Oliver just joined us. Now, this is Madelena. She states that she and Oliver eloped last evening. I cannot have that. I simply cannot! They need a proper wedding, and it will happen today at three.”

A deep breath left Hugh. “Charlotte, you’re being a little dramatic, aren’t you? If they eloped, then they are married.”

“They need a proper wedding.”

“Are you doing this because of Anne?”

“Absolutely not! I am looking out for the welfare and reputation of Madelena. I know my nephews, Hugh. They love female companionship. If Madelena and Oliver are truly married, then this wedding is only a formality.”

Hugh laid down the paper. He knew better than to argue with Charlotte when she thought she was doing what was right. But sometimes, she needed a reminder. “Charlotte. I know you are concerned—”

“What do you think his mother would do if she discovered we were allowing them to travel without a nuptial properly witnessed?”

“She wouldn’t care. And she will be furious if she discovers that you are doing this to anger her.”

“What do you know?” Charlotte said. Pointing to the door, she said. “Out. I need you to see to it that the deck is properly decorated for a wedding.”

There was a knock upon the door.

“Enter!” Charlotte called.

Madelena watched as a beautiful blond-haired woman entered. She was wearing a dark blue dress that made her eyes seem like sapphires. The woman appeared slightly pale and was clutching the doorframe.

“You needed me?” the woman asked.

“Chessi!” Charlotte greeted in excitement. “You look pale, my dear. Is it the baby?”

“I am fine,” Chessi replied. “I just don’t like sea travel. How many times must I remind you?”

“Every time,” Hugh mumbled.

“Why are you still here?” Charlotte asked her husband. “I told you to leave.”

Hugh removed his glasses and laid them upon the seat. Standing, he approached the door and spoke to Chessi, “Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

“I heard that,” Charlotte said.

“I was hoping you did.” Hugh patted Chessi’s hand. He looked at Madelena. “Are you certain you want this?”

Madelena nodded. “Yes.”

“You are Italian?” Hugh observed, noting her accent.

“I am.”

“You speak English rather well.”

“Thank you. I also speak French and some Latin.”

“You don’t say? I never met a lady…or anyone for that matter…who could speak Latin.”

“Hugh!” Charlotte interrupted. “Why are you still here?”

“I was just leaving, my dear.” Hugh gave a kind smile and left.

“What is going on?” Chessi asked.

“Chessi, this is Madelena. She and Oliver eloped last night, but I believe they need a proper wedding.”

Chessi closed her eyes and groaned. “Not another proper wedding. Wasn’t mine enough? You nearly drove me mad.”

Charlotte grinned. “Well, I had to. You know, since your mother passed and all, you needed a woman’s help.”

“You took over, though. Your sisters and Grams wanted to help.”

“Isabella and Claire know nothing of fashion. And Grams did help. She ordered me about like I was her servant. But your wedding was so beautiful! If only I could have helped with my Anne’s…” Her voice trailed off. “Anyway, Madelena here needs our assistance. She had to depart unnoticed and was forced to dress as a servant. She will need a gown. Do you have any to spare?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Another knock came upon the door. “Enter!”

A man opened the door. He was followed in by another man. The pair was holding a large wooden tub.

“Where would you like the tub, my lady?” the man asked.

“The bedchambers.” Charlotte approached a closed door and opened it.

The men carried the tub inside and sat it down. As they did, a boy appeared carrying two buckets of water. The boy worked diligently, and after several trips, the tub was filled with warm water. Lidia appeared at that time and curtsied.

“My lady,” Lidia addressed Charlotte. “You requested my assistance?”

“Yes. Madelena needs your assistance in bathing and hair. Make it a beautiful updo. It is her wedding day, and she must look her best.”

Charlotte entered the adjacent room.

Madelena stood in the middle of the sitting room, looking around like a lost child.

“You’ll get used to her,” Chessi informed, approaching the settee and sitting down. “She’s like a whirlwind, but she means well.”

Madelena looked at Chessi. “This is a mistake. I don’t need her to witness my marriage.”

Chessi shrugged. “That is just Charlotte.”

“What of the others? Will they be just as demanding?”

“Others? I assume you mean their parents?” Chessi shook her head. “I am not certain how they are. I have never met them.”

Concern drew Madelena’s brows together. “You haven’t?”

“No. Matthew and I married some time ago, but neither of us likes to sail. He gets seasick, and I cannot swim. But now that we are expecting our first child, he decided he wanted to see his parents again and managed to persuade me into coming.”

“So, you are as much a stranger to the St. Johns as I?”

Chessi nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“How? You said you have been intertwined with this family for some time.”

A deep breath left Chessi. “I have. My past is complicated, you see. I come from the lower levels of the world. My mother was a maid to a duke.” She decided she didn’t need to mention that the duke was her true father and not the man her mother had wed.

“How did you meet? I mean, if you were a servant.”

Chessi smiled. “I was never a servant. My mother was. I was a thief… a skilled one. Matthew hired me to retrieve a family heirloom that had been stolen.”

A gasp left Madelena. She suddenly felt the desire to keep a closer eye on the few items that she had packed.

A laugh left Chessi as she sensed Madelena’s apprehension. “Relax. I have since retired from my light-fingered ways. I have no need to steal to survive. That is what I did. I stole to stay alive.”

“But your mother—”

“Was murdered by my father.”

Another gasp left Madelena as her hands came to her mouth.

“All of our pasts are complicated. If you are like the other wives of the St. Johns I have met, then your life is full of tragedy as well. Jacob’s wife had a life much like mine. And Eli’s wife is another matter entirely.” Chessi turned her head slightly to look at the door Charlotte had gone through. “London…that is what everyone calls Eli’s wife. Her name is actually Reanna. She is not one you should confess your secrets to. She cannot keep them. Her life is somewhat complicated, as well. The others, I have not met, but I hear that their pasts are as fascinating as mine. What of you?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You married a St. John. It will be assumed that you have a fascinating past. And if you don’t, Grams will call you a liar.”

“Who’s Grams?”

“Their grandmother, Vivian St. John, the Dowager Countess of Hyntington.” A fond smile came to Chessi. “If you should ever meet Grams, you will love her. Just don’t be surprised by her boldness. Now, your past?”

Madelena shook her head and looked down at her hands. “I am afraid my past is rather dull. I am a simple basket maker.”

“Basket maker?”

Madelena nodded. She could not tell these people who she truly was. If she did, then it would somehow get back to her father, and she would not go back to Rome to hang for a crime she did not commit! “Yes. I make baskets. I am afraid I am as boring as they come. No family mysteries. No pirates in my background.”

Chessi gave her a skeptical look. Her eyes ran the length of Madelena and noticed an item sticking out from a pocket in her skirt. “Why would you mention pirates?”

“One evening at dinner, Oliver spoke briefly about his family.”

“Interesting.”

“You seemed surprised that he would confess such a secret.”

Chessi nodded. “Grams arranged for the pardon of Jacob’s wife, Jules. I think our father-in-law arranged for the pardon of the eldest brother.”

“Madelena!” Charlotte called from the other room. “Come here, dear girl.”

Madelena rolled her eyes.

“She can be very persistent,” Chessi said, standing. She approached Madelena and gave her a reassuring embrace, her hand slipping into the pocket in the process. “Just entertain her. She means well.”

“What other choice do I have?” Madelena mumbled. Standing, she entered the bedroom and was surprised to find it was just as large as the sitting room. A large bed sat against one wall. Another held a large wardrobe. This room was larger than the one she found Oliver in, and that was surprising.

The tub of warm water was sitting against a wall. The steam rising from the tub looked tempting. A hot bath would feel wonderful if it were under different circumstances. Madelena had no desire to marry, let alone participate in a fake wedding. Well, it would be a real wedding, and if she weren’t careful, then she had no doubt that an annulment would be out of the question for her and Oliver. He was a handsome man and could easily seduce her with just that smile. And it was a long voyage to the Caribbean.

“Now, let’s get you out of that dress and readied for your vows. Lidia!”

The maid stepped forward. “Ma’am,” Lidia addressed Madelena.

Madelena walked to the tub and looked into the water. What had she gotten herself into?

Chapter Twenty-Four

The wedding went by too fast. Before Madelena could comprehend what was happening, she had said “I do” and was whisked around the deck, Oliver’s family wishing her their best and the crew offering her their congratulations. Even Charlotte’s friends were excited for her. All were excited, except for her and Oliver.

She looked at him, and he had the same look of dread that she did. Was he regretting his part in this ruse? Would he confess that they were not actually married before? Would he demand that their marriage be denounced?

“Congratulations!” another well-wisher said as he shook Oliver’s hand.

The couple accepted the blessings. Madelena looked around the deck. These people were strangers, yet they had received her. They appeared to genuinely like her despite the fact they knew nothing about her. They smiled and welcomed her into their folds. Madelena was not certain how to react. Her entire life, she had longed to be accepted by her family. And each time, they had rejected her. However, this varied group of souls did not care about her past. They were treating her like she was family, and she found that it made her feel complete…yet lost.

For the remainder of the day and well into the evening, the celebrations continued. A feast had been prepared, and music was played on the deck. Several tables were brought up from the galley, and lanterns were strung about. By the time the festivities were over, Madelena felt exhausted.

The newlyweds made their way to their room, followed by the others. After a round of goodnights, everyone departed for their own chambers. When the door closed behind her, Madelena felt nervous and her heart raced. What was to happen now?

Approaching the settee, she sat and pivoted to watch Oliver. He looked quite handsome in his attire. She had seen him wear the black coat and breeches before when he had dined at her parents’ home. She had thought it looked quite fetching upon him then and even more so now. Perhaps it was his windblown auburn locks. Or perhaps it was the shadowy appearance of a beard. She could not place what it was, but something about him tonight caused him to seem more handsome.

He removed the white cravat around his neck and tossed it upon the bed. Sitting down upon the bed, he faced her. The silence in the room was nerve-racking. Neither spoke. Each waiting for the other to begin.

Oliver broke the silence. “Would you like a drink?”

Madelena shook her head. “No, thank you. I am fine.”

He accepted her refusal with a nod of his head.

She nervously licked her lips. Why did she feel so anxious? She knew Oliver would never hurt her. Yet she could not shake the feeling that he was angry with her.

“Oliver.” She spoke his name but could say no more. Her fingers nervously worked together. “I never meant for this to happen. I simply thought if I told them I was your wife, they would not force me to leave.”

Oliver’s lip twitched. “I know. I guess I should have spoken up. Jacob would not have forced you off this ship. It’s just that Aunt Charlotte…”

“I know. Chessi implied the same. Your aunt has a tendency to get what she wants.”

Oliver nodded. “She does. She dreamed of a wedding for her own daughter and forces those dreams upon others when they decide to wed.” He stood and approached a small cabinet. Opening the drawer, he removed a decanter of liquor. Pouring an ample amount into a snifter, he took a drink and turned to face her. “What happened?”

She looked down at her lap. “So much.”

“It is a long voyage.”

She raised her head but did not speak.

“Then let me ask you something. Did you know Drakos was at the ball that night? Did you know he was there when we took that walk?” Bitterness laced his words, and it surprised Madelena. She had not expected Oliver to be so emotional over their relationship.

“I did.”

“Yet, you allowed me to take you to the boathouse.”

Madelena nodded. “I did. And do not act insulted, Oliver. You knew from our first night together that I was to wed another. You knew that I was destined to marry Drakos, and it did not bother you then or afterward.”

“But when the man you were to wed is present, it makes a difference,” he snapped.

“How?”

“Dammit, Madelena. It makes you seem like—”

“A whore? Was that what you were going to say?” she shot back.

“No,” Oliver growled. “Heartless.”

“Heartless? I had only met the man moments before. And prior to that time, I prayed that he would change his mind about marrying me. You want to speak of heartless, let’s speak of your actions towards me that night afterward.”

“My actions?”

“Yes. You did not want suspicion to be drawn towards us, so I entered the home alone. And when you saw me with Drakos, you fawned all over Angela for you were all she spoke of on the carriage ride home. But let us not forget your ever so well-mannered conversation upon meeting Drakos. You might as well have called him out, the way you insulted him.”

“The man was a vile pig. But you seemed quite taken with him. I saw the kiss you gave him. I saw how you were draped over his bloody arm like his pet.”

“And I had to in order to keep you safe!”

“What?”

Madelena closed her eyes and took several deep breaths in an effort to get herself under control. She knew their conversation was growing loud, and if they kept their current conversation at this level, then all would know that they were not a couple who were madly in love.

“Sandra forced me to. She found out that you were the person I was with the night I did not come home.”

“How?”

“Signora Henshaw’s maid. She was one of my real mother’s housemaids. Sandra said that if I did not accept Drakos’s affections, then she would tell Father that I was with you that night. If Father discovered that fact, he would hurt you. I could not allow that to happen, Oliver. You were not at fault for my actions. I could not allow you to be punished for them. Sandra knew we had been visiting each other. She said if I agreed to accept Drakos, she would not speak to father.”

“You could have told me.”

“What good would it have done, Oliver? You were only visiting Rome and would eventually return to your home.”

“I could have helped you not marry him. I could have helped you leave Rome.”

“Where would I go? I have no skills. I did not have a husband. Sandra would have sent men to find me. To bring me back to marry Drakos.”

“Why?”

“Because I am a constant reminder of the love my father had for another woman.”

“Pardon?” He was somewhat shocked at her confession.

Madelena looked at Oliver. Her dark eyes glistened with moisture. “Sandra is not my mother. My mother was a woman named Francesca Demachi who died in childbirth. My father forced Sandra to raise me as her own. To tell others that Angela and I were twins.”

Oliver set his glass down and approached the settee. Sitting down beside Madelena, he listened to her speak.

“My entire life, Sandra hated me, and I did not know why. I longed to have a mother’s love, yet she kept pushing me away. As a child, I begged for her affections. I tried everything to get her to love me like she loved my sisters but to no avail.”

“Madelena,” Oliver whispered.

“She told me when I returned home after our first night together. She told me I was a whore like my mother. She told me…” The tightness in her throat stopped her words.

Oliver turned and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest. For so long, she had held in the pain. For years, she had no one but herself to confide in. Mae did not understand, yet Oliver seemed to. The comfort Oliver offered her caused her tears to flow. She felt like she could release the pain she had felt when she was in his arms. He made her feel safe and secure.

Oliver stroked her hair and pulled her in close. He could feel her fingers tighten around his shirt as her shoulders shook. How could someone be so cruel to Madelena? She was kind and caring. She had been an innocent child. Sandra had no right to treat her the way she had. If Sandra wanted to vent her anger at someone, it should have been Russo, not Madelena.

“I will never allow anyone to mistreat you, Maddie. You are a St. John now.”

Madelena raised her head. “You are too good to me, Oliver. You need a wife who will be good to you.”

“You will be.”

Madelena shook her head. “I will try, but in the eyes of God, I will not be a good wife. My first husband is dead, and I have not mourned him properly.”

“We have not had an opportunity to speak of that.”

Madelena licked her lips. “Upon seeing me, Drakos deemed that a purity check was not needed. He said my…my…” How could she put it? She would not say what Drakos had. That upon seeing her and her tits it did not matter if she had parted her legs for all of Rome. “He said that after seeing my attributes that a purity check was not needed.”

Oliver snorted. “After meeting that man, I feel quite certain that he did not put it so eloquently.”

Madelena shook her head. “True. The purity check was not needed. I awoke one morning to find Sandra in my room telling me I was getting married…that day. I did not even get a chance to tell Mae. I was whisked to the church for a private ceremony and then taken to Drakos’s home. When he entered his bedchambers that night to consummate our marriage, he said a few crude words, clutched his chest and dropped to the floor…dead. I knew I would get accused of murdering the man, so I took what few notes I had from selling my baskets and left. I purchased a ticket to Marseille. However, before I could find my ship, I spotted Father’s men. I was not going to hang. I saw a group of people boarding this ship and followed them. I hid in a closet until I felt the ship begin to sway. The rest you know.”

“Jacob said your father’s men wanted to search this ship, but he refused to grant them access. They said you murdered Drakos.”

A gasp left Madelena as her eyes grew wide. “He knows who I am?”

Oliver nodded. “I told him.”

“Why?”

“He is my brother. Despite his threatening appearance, he is a reasonable man. I told him you could never murder anyone, but he did make me swear to tell him the truth when I discovered it.”

“You believe me?” she asked, drawing her brows together.

Oliver ran a finger over her face. “Yes.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

Madelena felt excitement when she saw Oliver come closer and disappointment when the kiss stopped on her forehead. What was she expecting to happen? It was their honeymoon, but they were far from newlyweds.

“We have both had a hell of a day. You from running from the authorities and my head is still killing me from last night’s indulgence in whiskey—despite Bob’s remedy. Come, Mrs. St. John. Let us retire for the evening.”

Madelena looked down at her dress.

Oliver removed his coat and approached the wardrobe to hang up the garment. Opening one side, his eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What is it?”

“Seems Aunt Charlotte has gifted you with clothing.”

Madelena approached and peered inside. It was filled with day dresses made of muslin and linen. Sliding open the drawer underneath, she was shocked to find it filled with silk stockings and shifts.

“Who? Whose? Why?”

Oliver shook his head. “Who? I assume Aunt Charlotte had her maid place them here. Whose? I have no idea. Unless she had a few trunks for my sister in the hull. Why? Because you are now family.”

“But she doesn’t know me.” Madelena still had a hard time believing that Oliver’s family could be so kind without even knowing her.

“She doesn’t have to. She knows me.” Oliver handed her a shift. Taking the article, she ventured behind the dressing screen.

Oliver continued speaking. “But it would not matter either way. You are a kind person, Madelena. Even if I were not in the picture, Aunt Charlotte would love you for you are an easy person to love. I know it is our honeymoon, and as much as my heart would love to take you to bed and ravish you, my body says differently. My head is throbbing, I am a tad drunk, and my ribs ache a bit.”

“Ribs?”

Oliver gave her a crooked smile. “Matthew challenged me for a bout. I could not refuse.”

“A bout?”

“Fisticuffs.”

“You fought that beast?”

“I did. And I lost.” Oliver’s hand came to his left side. “Matthew’s left is brutal, but his right is lethal.” A confused look came over Oliver. “Or maybe his right is brutal and his left his lethal. Fighting Matthew is like boxing a fly. You never know from which direction he will come. Glad I only received a teasing of his fists.”

“Do you need medical attention?” Concern was in her voice.

Oliver smiled. “No. Just a good night’s sleep.” He sat down upon the bed and removed his shoes. “I truly hope you will not be upset with me. I did not intend to become so inebriated nor injured upon my wedding day. Albeit, it was a most unusual wedding day, I truly did not mean for it to end this way.”

“And what way did you expect it to end?”

Oliver tossed his shoe in the corner. “With you in my arms as I made love to you properly. Now, I am afraid it will end with me trying to breathe and praying that my head does not explode.”

“Then perhaps you can have one part of your wish.”

Oliver watched Madelena approach the bed wearing a shift. She climbed into the bed. “Just hold me, and I will be happy.”

Oliver tossed his shirt to the floor and lay down. Madelena moved closer. Oliver rolled to his side and pulled her to him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, and a contented feeling came over him. He soon drifted to sleep.

Madelena smiled upon hearing his slow rhythmic breathing. She felt safe in his arms. Her hand covered his as it lay upon her hip. This unorthodox man was now her husband, and she did not fear him. She never had. Peace settled over her, and for the first time in a long time, she drifted off to sleep…happy.

“What do you have there?” Matthew asked Chessi.

She looked up, guilt written on her face. “Nothing.”

“It appears to be something.” Matthew approached Chessi.

She tucked the paper under her leg. “Nothing.”

“Chessi?”

“Fine,” she said, removing the paper and handing it to Matthew.

He looked at the article. “It’s a boarding pass to Marseille. Are you planning on leaving me?”

Chessi stood and tried to take the ticket back. “No.”

“Then why do you have it?”

“You promise you won’t be mad at me?”

Matthew’s right brow shot upwards. “What did you do?”

“Promise me, Matthew.”

“Sweet Judas, you stole it?”

Chessi shook her head and shrugged. “Not really.”

“Dammit, Chess. You swore to me you would never steal again—”

“If you would shut up I would tell you why I did it.”

Matthew ran a hand through his thick black hair before turning from his wife, mumbling under his breath.

“If you want to argue, Matthew, I will be more than willing to oblige.”

“No, I do not want to fight. I want to know why you broke your promise to me, Chess.”

“That,” she said, pointing to the ticket in his hand, “was in Madelena’s pocket.”

“What?”

“Earlier, before her marriage, we were speaking in Aunt Charlotte’s rooms. I told her we all had complicated pasts. She claimed that hers was simple and boring. It just didn’t sound right. I spent enough years in the streets to know when someone is telling the truth and when they are not. I spotted that sticking from the pocket of her dress so I took it. Now tell me, why would she have a boarding pass for a ship named Destiny that was departing today? If she and Oliver had truly eloped, then why would she need a boarding pass for Marseille? And only one pass, Matthew. Only one.”

Matthew looked down at the ticket.

“Something is odd here, Matthew. Madelena is not what she seems. She is hiding something.”

“We all have secrets, Chess.”

“You need not remind me. My past nearly cost us both our lives. I will not allow her past to put us in danger again.”

Matthew smiled at his wife’s need to protect him. “Chessi, you need not worry about us. We will be fine.”

“But she’s hiding something, Matthew.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

Matthew nodded and sat down upon the bed, removing his shoes. “Oliver said her past is unique and promised to divulge more after he had an opportunity to speak with Madelena.”

“After he had an opportunity? They’re married, Matthew. If something needed to be discussed, it should have come up well before now.”

“I agree.” Matthew removed his shirt, and Chessi watched the muscles ripple across his chest. “I tried to beat it out of him, but he is as stubborn as a mule.”

“Then you should have let me speak with him. I need to make certain my father does not discover the truth.”

“Relax, Chess. If Weston hasn’t found out who you are by now, he will never know. His mind is going. He rambles about like a mad man now.” Matthew removed his breeches.

Chessi’s eyes were drawn to her naked husband and his growing manhood. “What are you doing?”

“I am planning on making love to my wife. That is, if she will quit talking.”

“But Madelena—”

“Is a matter for the morning. If it helps ease your conscience, she and Oliver were never married until this evening. But he does love the chit. Now, come here, wife. I find that I need to love you.”

Chessi approached, and a squeak left her when Matthew twirled her around and placed her upon the bed.

“You will be the ruination of me,” Chessi said, returning his affections.

“I truly hope not. I find that I love the taste of you.”

A coy smile pulled Chessi’s lips. “Is that so?”

“Indeed.” Matthew’s fingers pulled the bodice of her gown down, exposing her breasts. A wolfish expression crossed his features as he gazed upon her. “Allow me to show you.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Despite the wind, a round of cheers could be heard echoing around the deck. There was a grunt and the sound of something being struck, followed by several shouts of excitement.

“What is going on?” Madelena asked, exiting from the stairs leading to the deck.

Chessi and Charlotte were sitting upon the deck, a cup of tea in their hands. A group of men were gathered around the bow. Some in the back shouted again and triumphantly shook their fists in the air.

“A fight,” Charlotte said. “More tea, Chessi?”

“Yes, please,” Chessi answered.

“Shouldn’t someone stop it?” Madelena asked, looking frantically around the deck for some sort of intervention by the other crew members not enjoying the activities. Her eyes went to the helm. Mr. Jamison had his hand upon the wheel, yet his eyes were upon the fight.

“Why?” Chessi asked. “It was planned.”

Madelena turned to face Chessi. “Please explain.”

Charlotte patted the chair beside her. “Why don’t you sit, dear? It is best to take this type of news sitting down.”

Madelena cautiously sat down, keeping her spine rigid. “Very well.”

Chessi casually sipped her tea. “Oliver challenged Matthew to another bout.”

“Why?”

“I do not know. I assume it had something to do with you, though.”

“Me?” Madelena repeated, looking at the hoard of men observing the fight. She could not see anything but the backs of the spectators. “What did I do?”

“Oh, it is not what you did, my dear. It is what you didn’t do,” Charlotte said, sipping her tea. Placing the cup back upon her saucer, she set the items upon the table.

“You are going to have to be more specific.”

“Lidia found a boarding pass in your dress pocket for a ship destined for France. The date was for the day this ship left Rome. The time, only an hour later.”

Chessi placed her cup of tea to her lips. She had grown quite adept at hiding her secrets. Lidia came to collect the laundry. As she was gathering Chessi’s belongings, Chessi slipped the pass back into Madelena’s dress. The pass fell from the garment before Lidia made it out the door with the clothing. Chessi played off the discovery. Years of living on the street had made her an excellent actress when it came to denying knowledge pertaining to specific events.

Madelena’s jaw worked as she glanced between Chessi and Charlotte.

“I know something occurred between you and my nephew, I just do not know what. But I will find out the truth some way. Now, you can either tell me the truth now or upon our arrival at Governor’s Harbour. But I will tell you, it will be simpler and easier for all if you reveal what happened now. That way I can help you when the need arises with Elizabeth.” Bitterness came to her words as she added, “Your mother-in-law. The shrew.”

“Aunt Charlotte and I only want to help you, Madelena. If you are in trouble, allow us to help you. Charlotte is a Marchioness and has political pull. I may not have a title, but I have other skills that can aid in your plight. You are family now. Family sticks together, no matter what has transpired.”

Madelena returned her focus to the fighting men. The crowd was thinning. The fight was apparently over, but the battle inside Madelena was still waging. Chessi’s words ran through her mind. Family sticks together. Never had Madelena experienced that and she was not certain if she could accept it now.

“Look, Madelena,” Chessi continued. “You might as well confess the truth now. It makes things easier. I should know. It wasn’t long ago I was the same as you. A newcomer to a family that defends their own. A family that will kill to protect each other. And like you, I hid my past. A mistake, for that past nearly destroyed everything that was dear to me. If you tell us, we can make certain that you are safe from whatever you are hiding from. We can make sure Oliver is safe.”

Worry pulled at Madelena’s eyes as she shook her head. “It is more complicated than you know.”

“Complicated?” Charlotte spoke. “My dear, I would be surprised if it weren’t. St. Johns are notorious for scandal and complications. They thrive upon it. There is nothing you can say that will surprise us. Our family is full of gypsies, actresses, pirates, murderers, thieves, Americans, bastards, and abductees. What repertoire do you add to our varied mixture of loved ones?” Charlotte tipped her tea to her lips.

“Slave and quadroon.”

Charlotte’s cup paused. “I beg your pardon?”

“My mother, my real mother, was a quadroon slave my father purchased. He freed her because of his love and kept her on retainer even though he had already married the woman I thought was my mother.”

Charlotte continued sipping her tea. “I must say, that one is a new one for our family. Please go on. I think the confession will be good for your soul.”

Madelena glanced back at the bow. Oliver was leaning against the railing, his shirt missing and holding his left side. His head was bowed. Matthew stood beside Oliver, his arms crossed over his massive chest. Madelena had never witnessed a man without a shirt on until Oliver, but seeing the two brothers together was unsettling. Both were chiseled, but Matthew more so.

“I should go check on Oliver,” Madelena said, standing.

“Fooey,” Charlotte protested.

“But he appears injured.”

“Is he still standing?”

Madelena nodded. “Yes.”

Charlotte flipped her wrist. “Then, he is fine. Now sit.”

The direct way the older lady spoke her last two words made Madelena comply.

“Now, tell.”

Madelena looked towards Oliver again. He was standing, yet still holding onto the railing. His laugh let her know he would be fine. Looking back at Charlotte and Chessi, she went on to tell her tale. Of Sandra’s hatred and her father’s love. Of her sisters' cruelty and Mae’s kindness. She went on to speak of how she met Oliver. She did not feel comfortable speaking so frankly about her personal life, but it was evident that Charlotte was not about to give her a chance not to. However, she kept a few parts of her past a secret—like her nights with Oliver.

After her story, Charlotte shook her head and tsked her tongue. “Such a shame, but you are with a loving family now. Do not fret over charges on this Drakos’s death. I have a few strings in Italy. It will be forgotten.”

“But my father works for Cardinal Vico,” Madelena informed her.

“So? If your father loves you as much as you say he does, he will not allow any harm to befall you.”

“It is not my father that I worry about so much as Sandra. She hates me. She wants to see me punished. There is no end to her means for revenge. She will find me. If she does, then her wrath will follow Oliver.”

“Poppycock,” Charlotte defended. “You will be in the Caribbean, far from Vico’s reach. But if you are worried, then we can arrange for an alter persona.” She looked at Chessi. “We are good at those type of things.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course,” Chessi spoke. “The one thing, the first thing, I learned about the St. Johns…after the reputation of their tempers…is that they are loyal to a fault and will defend their own, even if death is the outcome.”

“Who is dying?” Matthew asked.

Madelena pivoted. For a man to be so large, he was quiet as a mouse. Matthew had donned his shirt, yet his hair was still mussed. He stepped to the right, and she spotted Oliver behind him.

“What did you do to him?!” Madelena shouted as she stood.

Oliver’s right eye was turning a shade of purple, and his jaw was slightly swollen.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve,” Matthew replied with his typical droll wit.

“Didn’t deserve?” Madelena repeated. “He is your brother. I thought the two of you liked each other.”

“Imagine what I would look like if he didn’t love me,” Oliver replied, attempting a cheeky smile. At Madelena’s alarmed state, he continued, “Relax, Maddie. He has left me in far worse shape.”

“You deserved it,” Matthew replied. “You have a tendency to work on my last nerve.”

“You are always on your last nerve,” Oliver retorted. At Matthew’s dark look, he continued. “But Chessi brings the best out in you, old man.”

“Old man, my ass. I believe you cannot hang with this old man, young’un.”

“I can handle you. What I cannot handle are those sledgehammers you have attached to your arms. They hurt, ya know.”

“Then try dodging them every once in a while.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Oliver replied with sarcasm.

“Boys,” Charlotte intervened. “We have a bit of an issue that needs our attention.”

“What is that, Aunt Char?” Matthew asked, sitting down upon the table.

“Madelena here needs an alter persona. Her father and mother will be searching for her and will force her to return to Rome should she be found.”

“And?” Matthew asked.

“We cannot allow that. She is now a St. John.” Charlotte shot a heated look at Oliver. “Despite the lies we were told upon our first meeting. Eloped, did you? Shame on you, Oliver, for lying to your favorite aunt. I should box your ears for that.”

“We are married now, Aunt Charlotte,” Oliver defended.

“Thanks to my insistence. Imagine the ruination of Madelena’s reputation should she have stayed with you this entire voyage. And do not deny it. I know how St. Johns are. Look at how Matthew behaved before he met Chessi. I am amazed that he didn’t catch some horrid disease that even mercury could not cure.”

Oliver opened his mouth to spout out Michael’s favorite saying, but Charlotte beat him to it.

“Do not quote your brother, ‘a night with Venus and a lifetime with Mercury. What a wonderful way to die?’ Michael was a blasted idiot. He has eaten his words now and knows the dangers. So does Matthew. But you, you took advantage of an innocent girl and took her to your bed.”

“I didn’t say anything of the sort,” Madelena adamantly denied.

Charlotte sipped her tea. “You didn’t have to, my dear. You were alone with a St. John. That is a confession in itself, but your resolute denial is confirmation. Oliver took advantage of an innocent young lady.”

“I didn’t know she was…at the time,” Oliver protested.

“And you,” Charlotte said to Madelena. “Took a stranger to your bed in order to try to stop a marriage—and that didn’t work. But it all ended for the best.”

A perplexed look came to Madelena. She looked at Oliver. “Is she scolding us?”

“I believe she is. You’ll get used to it.”

“That you should. Imagine how your mother-in-law would have behaved. Elizabeth and I do not see eye to eye on most issues, but regarding this matter, we would agree wholeheartedly.”

Matthew laughed. “Egad, Aunt Charlotte! Did you forget that our mother married only hours before Eli and Jacob were born?”

Charlotte waved away the fact. “Water under the bridge now, Matthew. Besides, she and Robert were betrothed.”

“And she went to the Caribbean to break that agreement. We all know how that ended.”

Charlotte tossed her hands in the air. “I do say. You can be just as belaboring as your mother, Matthew. It is a thousand wonders we even get along.”

“But you love me. I am your favorite,” Matthew said, giving an arrogant grin.

“You are. As is Oliver and Jacob. But the lot of you have fallen from my good graces presently.”

“What did we do?” Jacob asked, approaching.

“Your involvement in this mess with Oliver and Madelena. The lot of you knew they were not married and did not tell me differently.”

Jacob looked around the group. “I missed something.”

“Madelena told the truth,” Oliver said. “Our dear Aunt Charlotte knows…everything.”

“Well, at least one of us does,” Matthew replied. “If you would have kept your word, then you would not have been so badly beaten.”

Madelena looked at Oliver and then Matthew. Turning her attention back to Oliver, she spoke, “You took a fierce beating in order to keep my past a secret?”

Oliver shrugged. “You did not want it known yet.”

A tightness settled in the center of Madelena’s chest.

“Now,” Oliver continued. “I need to retire for a moment. Jacob, please have Bob bring me a cup of that concoction he makes for pain. I have a feeling I will need it.”

“If you’d learn to dodge my fists, you would not have that issue,” Matthew jested.

“And allow you to think you can best me? Not a chance,” Oliver said.

“I think we all know he can best you…and me as well,” Jacob added. “I’ll find Bob.” Jacob left.

“Good day, ladies,” Oliver said, bowing his head. He turned and began heading to the steps.

Madelena fell in line behind him.

“Where are you going?” Oliver asked.

“To aid you. Since it is because of me that your brother tried to kill you.”

“He didn’t try to kill me.”

“It looks like he was.”

Oliver shrugged. “It’s all for sport.”

“Sport?! How can having someone strike you repeatedly be for sport?”

Oliver stopped at the bottom of the steps. He opened the door to their chambers before answering, “It is a fantastic way to handle frustrations. I can hit Matt as hard as I want, and he does not complain…or even seem to notice.”

Madelena followed Oliver inside. Before the door closed, there was a knock.

“Enter,” Oliver called.

Madelena watched as the little man brought Oliver a cup. She had seen the man only briefly yesterday afternoon after her wedding. He appeared like a kind man with a pleasing smile.

“I hope you made it strong,” Oliver said, placing the cup to his lips.

“It’ll make you forget all your pains.”

Oliver tipped the cup and downed the entire contents. He closed his eyes and began coughing. “What the hell did you put in that? Pine tar?”

Bob grinned. “You don’t want to know.” He gave a curious glance at Madelena.

Oliver seemed to notice. “Bob, this is my wife, Maddie. This is Bob. If you have any ailments, he is the man to see.” Oliver looked into his cup. “But I would not recommend this.”

Bob took the cup and opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Oliver interrupted him.

“Don’t do that choppy English. She is far too clever for that.”

Bob continued to grin and laughed. “She married you, so I am questioning that. What did you do, Oliver? Drug the poor woman?”

Madelena observed the banter between the two men. Unlike the servants at her home, they appeared to genuinely like each other.

“Go,” Oliver said, pointing at the door. “I get enough ribbing from my brothers without you adding yours to the mix.”

Bob bowed and left.

Oliver sat down in the wooden chair by the table. “You know, if I had known you were going to tell Aunt Charlotte the truth, I could have forgone this beating.”

“You could have entirely by refusing. From the way Chessi speaks, her husband likes fisticuffs and frequently challenges others.”

“It was not that simple. We were arguing. The inevitable happened.”

“What were you arguing about?”

Oliver looked at Madelena. She was wearing one of Chessi’s morning dresses. It was a pale peach with a rounded bodice. The color suited Madelena. As he stared at his now-wife, her beauty struck him. He’d always thought she looked beautiful, but now, at this instant, she was stunning. Her cheeks were flushed from the wind, and the dress hugged her curves perfectly.

“You,” he answered.

“Me?”

“Yes. I promised to tell Matthew more about the events leading up to you being here when I found out. I refused. I could tell you did not want others to know just yet.”

“So, he hit you?”

“He called me a liar,” Oliver defended.

A deep breath left Madelena. “Did you hit him for calling you a liar, or was it out of frustration over our marriage?”

Oliver shook his head. “The name. I could never be frustrated over marrying you.”

Madelena’s mouth parted.

“Look, Maddie. From the moment I first saw you, you have invaded every thought I had. When I learned of your marriage to Drakos, I thought the world was going to come crumbling down around me. And when I found you in this room yesterday, I was so ecstatic that I could have rowed this ship to the Caribbean myself in order to keep you with me.”

“Why? My family has given you nothing but hardship?”

Oliver stood. She watched him approach, and her heart rate increased in anticipation of what was to come.

Oliver stopped before her. Capturing her chin between his index finger and thumb, he tilted her face towards his. “Because I have fallen in love with you.”

Her mouth parted as she shook her head. “That is impossible.”

“No. I have fallen in love with you, Madelena. From our first meeting, I knew there was something about you that was special.”

“You can’t love me,” she insisted, stepping away and turning her back to him.

“I do.”

“You can’t,” she said, turning to face him, pain etched upon her face.

“Made—”

“I am not worthy of you. Of your family. Of this,” she motioned with her hand around the room.

“You are more than worthy.”

“You don’t understand, Oliver. What we have will never work. My past will not allow it.”

“I am not concerned over your father or Drakos—”

“I am a bastard, Oliver. And not just any. My mother was a quadroon slave that my father had purchased. She died upon my birth, and he forced Sandra to take me as her own.”

Oliver shook his head.

“You see. My heritage makes me unsuitable. Especially from where you come from. Quadroons are considered slaves in the Caribbean. I am the daughter of one. What do you think they will consider me as?”

“My wife,” he said pointedly.

“Your slave.”

“No,” he said forcibly. “You are my wife. Anyone who dares say differently will see a side of me that rarely comes forth. I control my temper well, but I would allow it to come forward to protect you. To protect this marriage.”

Sorrow filled her eyes. “But you come from wealth. From influence and nobility. Your parents will reject me.”

“If they reject you, then they will have to reject me as well. I do not care what blood flows through your veins. All I care about is you and having you in my life.”

“I cannot allow you to ruin what you love because of me.”

“What I love is you. My parents will accept you.”

“How can you be so certain? Charlotte describes your mother as unreasonable.”

“Mother and Charlotte never have seen eye to eye. They are too much alike, you see. But when Mother meets you, she will love you as I do.” He crossed the room to her. His hand gently cupped her cheek. “You are mine, Maddie. And I do not give up what belongs to me.”

Her hand covered his, moisture beading in her eyes. “Why would you fight for me? You claim to love me, but you do not truly know me. All you know is the brief time we had in Rome.”

That smile pulled his lips—the smile that made her knees grow weak and her insides quiver with excitement. “We have several more weeks before we make berth. During that time, I hope to rectify that. But presently, I have other matters to attend to.”

“Such as?”

“Making love to my wife.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Madelena stood on the bow of the ship, watching the dock come closer. The past three weeks had gone by too quickly. She was enjoying her time with Oliver and his family. She discovered a great friendship with Chessi, just like she had with Mae. She’d even grown to like Charlotte and looked forward to spending more time with her new friends. Even Charlotte's guests were sociable…when their delicate constitutions would allow them to venture forth. The women present were of noble birth and avoided the outdoors. The men spent the majority of time playing cards or reading. But whenever all were together, they seemed pleasant.

Oliver stepped beside Madelena and placed his hands upon the railing. “I am ready to be off this boat.”

Madelena glanced his direction. “You don’t enjoy sailing?”

“Not particularly. I find being on a tiny ship suffocating. I prefer the vast expanse land can give.”

“Tiny ship? The chambers upon this ‘tiny ship’ are larger than most homes.”

“It is still small when compared to land.” He shook his head. “I like my feet upon soil and a tool in my hand.”

Madelena turned her attention back to the city before her. It was not as large as she was accustomed to. In fact, one might call it small compared to Rome, but it was not small. Numerous homes dotted the hills in the distance, and various buildings were scattered about the shore. Smoke could be seen billowing from chimneys. Hundreds of people were bustling about upon the docks, and ships crowded the waters.

“Do you truly think your family will accept me?”

“I do. My sister will accept you without a doubt. My father will as well. Despite his reputation of having a temper, he is a calm-natured man. My mother will huff and puff in her usual fashion, but she will accept you because I have.”

Madelena kept staring at the dock.

“What is it, Maddie?”

“I have been meaning to ask—where will we live? Many families in Rome reside with their in-laws.”

“I have my own home that I share with my brother Owen. I built it myself. It is small but suited my needs. Now that I am bringing home a wife, I suspect I will have to build an addition or two.”

The ship bumped against the docks, causing Madelena to sway. The crew upon the railing tossed over lines, and the dockworkers quickly tied off the boat. She turned and watched Jacob. He seemed ready to get off the ship himself. He had turned over the docking to Mr. Jamison and was waiting at the railing. Jacob reminded her of a caged animal. He was pacing the deck, barking orders like a general commanding his men to move faster. His temper appeared to be high, and several times she could hear his profanity-filled tirade towards his crew. The language he used caused heat to flood Madelena’s cheeks. Never had she heard a gentleman use such language. The crew appeared unfazed by his rant and continued their duties. The instant the ship was tied off, Jacob lowered the gangplank and left.

“He’s excited to see his wife. She is expecting their second child,” Oliver said, watching his brother speed down the pier.

“I knew she was expecting, I just didn’t know when.”

“She was due last week. I suspect Jacob will be greeted by his wife, daughter, and a very healthy baby boy.”

“Why do you say she is having a boy?”

“Look at him. Does that look like a man who would produce a girl? I am surprised that Claude was a girl.” He chuckled. “She certainly does not behave like one. She can climb the rigging better than most.”

“How old is she?”

“Three.”

“Three?!” Madelena repeated. “And they let her climb around on those tall masts?”

Oliver shrugged. “She is being raised a ship. The sea is in her blood. Claude was born in the middle of the Atlantic. Her father is an excellent captain, and her mother was a pirate. If Jules had not been nauseous during this pregnancy, she would be upon The Emerald Jewell now.”

“That is unheard of.”

“We are a unique family. I suspect you will become accustomed to our eccentricities.”

“Ship secure!” a man yelled from the docks.

Oliver looked at Mr. Jamison. George gave the nod.

“We can depart now.”

Madelena looked at Oliver. “Do you think that is wise? I mean, I have yet to figure out how to address your mother. Charlotte was quite descriptive in her description of your mother. She claims that your mother will find some fault in me.”

Oliver stepped forward and pulled Madelena into his arms. Gazing into her brown eyes, he spoke, “Charlotte does not like my mother. However, she adores you and fears that my mother will sway you into not liking her. But do not fret. Mother will love you as I do.” Oliver brushed a wayward strand of her hair from her cheek. “Now come along, Mrs. St. John. I want to get off this bloody boat and take you home.”

Turning, he took her hand and led her to the gangplank. Once upon the wood wharf, Oliver took her hand and placed it upon the crook of his elbow.

“Governor’s Harbour is a delight. Sailors from all over the globe dock here. We have a vast number of business and restaurants and some of the best tailors in the area. I will make arrangements with a seamstress to fashion you some gowns. A few for leisure, a few ballgowns.” A wickedness came to his green eyes. “And a few underthings to entice. Not that you will need them for you are alluring wearing nothing.”

“Oliver!” Madelena protested.

He tossed his head back and laughed. “I do so love your blush. It is quite becoming. Come, wife. It is not far to my home. We will walk, and I will show you around. That is unless you would like to ride.”

“You apparently do not know me as well as I thought you did.”

“I hope to rectify that,” he said, his eyes feasting upon her.

“You cad. Come, before I am forced to find Aunt Charlotte for an escort.”

“Egad! Don’t do that. I have not had you completely to myself since the last night of Carnival.”

Warmth traveled over her at the insinuation. She knew all too well the look in her husband’s eyes. Lust. She could not contain the excitement it caused. She enjoyed their lovemaking. She enjoyed the way he made her feel. She enjoyed the ecstasy and pleasure their lovemaking created.

The couple made their way through the city. Oliver pointed out businesses and shops. She did not take notice. Her mind was on what was to come when they reached Oliver’s home. It was close to the edge of the town and rested atop a small knoll but was surrounded by trees and was not visible from the road.

They made their way up the hill. The instant they were at the top, Oliver stopped in his tracks.

“What the bloody hell?!” he exclaimed, releasing her arm.

Madelena spotted the cause of his stress. A pile of charred lumber sat where apparently his home had stood.

Oliver approached and picked up a blackened piece of wood. His thumb ran over the rough surface.

“What happened?” Madelena pondered.

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know. A lightning strike, perhaps.”

“It was set,” a voice said.

Madelena looked up and spotted a man coming from behind the outbuilding. He looked so much like Oliver that it was eerie, yet there was a difference. This man’s hair was a brighter shade of red. He appeared more serious in nature than Oliver and was not as broad. The man was being followed by a petite woman, her appearance shrouded by a hooded cape.

“What happened, Owen?” Oliver asked his brother, pain in his voice.

Owen stopped before Oliver, and the resemblance showed again. The two were the same size. Their facial features mirrored the other. From the profile, it was as if one was staring at the same person, yet from two different directions.

“It is a long story, brother.” Owen looked at Madelena. “And it appears we both have a long tale before us.”

“You say it was arson?”

Owen looked at the darkened wood. “Not exactly. It is a long, complicated tale. Let us just say that some of Elena traveling companions did not like her relationship with me and sought to rectify that matter.”

Oliver looked at the woman with Owen. “Your wife?”

Owen’s lip twitched, but he did not answer. “Who is your companion?”

Oliver looked at Madelena and held out his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her closer. “Owen, I would like you to meet Maddie, my wife. Maddie, this is my brother Owen.”

“Wife?” Owen repeated, his right brow shooting upward.

“Do you all do that thing with your brow?” Madelena asked as she observed the familiar trait.

“We do,” Oliver answered. He addressed Owen. “Yes. My wife. As you said, we both have long tales before us.” A deep breath left Oliver as he studied his destroyed home. “Where have you been staying since our home is now gone?”

“Eli’s.”

“Expect company. Aunt Charlotte traveled with us, along with some of her companions.”

“Aunt Charlotte? Traveled here?”

Oliver nodded. “She traveled with Matthew and Chessi.”

“Matt is back?” Madelena noted excitement in Owen’s voice.

“Yes.”

Owen pressed his lips together as he turned to Elena. “It appears that I will have to find other lodgings until they depart.”

“Why?” Oliver asked, looking between his twin and the woman with him. “What has happened, Owen?”

Owen looked at Oliver. “Your first assumption of who Elena is was correct. She is my wife, but no one is aware. We would like to keep it that way.”

“Why?”

“I was a slave,” the woman finally spoke. “Imagine the hardship it would cause Owen.”

Oliver noticed Owen’s perplexed expression upon Elena’s confession. He turned and looked at Madelena. The emotions in Maddie’s eyes were raw. He knew what she was thinking. Maddie had the same idea that Elena did. Not being accepted.

“If Owen cannot handle the hardship of having a wife who was a slave, then perhaps you should have chosen a different man to be your husband.”

“Oliver,” Madelena protested.

“What? If Owen truly loves Elena and wants her to be his wife, then he should proudly admit it, not cower behind the notion, pretending she is his servant.”

“It is not that simple, Oliver,” Owen growled, his fists tightening at his sides. “There is more going on than you realize. We will let others know about our marriage when the time is right. Presently it is not safe to do so.”

“Why? Are you afraid of a little bit of scandal? We thrive on it, or have you forgotten?”

“Dammit, Oliver! Her life is in danger.”

Oliver’s emotions sobered. “In danger? How?”

Owen looked at Elena and then back at his brother. “I will tell you in good time. Just not yet. Just know that it must remain silent. For now.”

Oliver nodded. “Fine. Just don’t expect Jacob or Matthew to be as accommodating as I am. They will try to beat it out of you.”

“Let them try,” Elena said, stiffening her posture and clenching her fists at her side.

Oliver noticed the defensive stance. A grin crossed his face as he tossed his head back and laughed. “Egad! She is feisty. I think you might have chosen the wrong woman, Owen. You like everything peaceful, and I think your wife has a bit of spirit in her.”

“You have no idea,” Owen answered. “Now then. Until the danger has passed, Elena and I will take residence in Madison’s guest house. I suspect Mother will want to have a lengthy conversation with you, so you and Madelena can stay there.”

Oliver closed his eyes and groaned. “I think I’d prefer to stay in the barn. With Aunt Charlotte here, Mother’s mood will be something to contend with.”

Owen grinned as mischief sparkled in his green eyes. “Why do you think I suggested it?”

“Just for that, and because you are the cause of my home burning to the ground, I fully expect you to have plans drawn up for my new house.”

“Already done, old man. I have the renderings at Eli’s. Stop by once you have settled, and I will show them to you.” Owen turned. “Come on. My carriage is behind the barn. I will take you to Mother’s and then go to Eli’s to retrieve my belongings before our aunt arrives. As much as I would love to stay and visit with Charlotte, I fear she would discover my marriage to Elena. I cannot have that presently.”

The group followed Owen around the barn. The carriage was small, but it would suit their needs. The hill traveling to the St. John mansion was steep. Madelena took in the countryside as they rode. The vibrant colors of the flowers and grasses surprised her. She’d always thought that Rome was beautiful but here? It was a different beauty. Tropical. The heat was surprising as well. The long-sleeved gown she wore would not be suitable for this climate.

The horse quickly climbed the hill to the large home, and a gasp left Madelena. Never had she dreamed such homes existed outside of Rome. The St. John mansion was magnificent. It was a massive, three-story red brick house. The covered porch’s roof was supported by sizeable, white marble columns. The windows of each room ran from floor to ceiling, allowing for the ocean breeze to cool the home during the hot summer months. The large chimney in the back of the house produced enough heat during the winter months to warm the house, if needed. Large oak and palm trees that swayed in the gentle, cooling breeze surrounded the house.

“You grew up here?” Madelena asked.

“I did. We had a large family,” Oliver answered.

“But it is so large.”

“At times, it did not feel that way. With eleven of us present, it can feel a tad overcrowded.”

Owen pulled up on the reins, stopping the horse just to the side of the house. “I will let you off here. I would prefer not to answer to Father presently.”

Oliver climbed down from the carriage and assisted Madelena. “I assume you will tell me later.”

Owen nodded. “Yes. Now, please excuse us. I need to gather my belongings.” With that, Owen flipped the reins over the back of the horse and disappeared.

Madelena followed Oliver around the home. Her heart was hammering in her chest as her mouth went dry from anticipation. From the stories she had heard from Aunt Charlotte, Oliver’s mother was a harpy, a tyrant who would try to dictate every aspect of her life. Madelena was not certain she could handle any more dictators in her life. She had had enough of that with Sandra.

Her dread increased as she climbed the steps. The door opened before they reached the top step. A tall, thin man wearing solid black was standing in the doorway. He looked down his hawk-like nose at them.

“Sir Oliver,” the man replied in a monotone voice, holding open the door and bowing.

“Geoffery,” Oliver acknowledged. As they passed, he roughly patted the older man upon the back, nearly knocking him over.

“So good to have you home, Sir Oliver,” Geoffery replied.

Madelena was surprised by the sarcasm in the servant’s voice.

Oliver gave a cheeky grin. “Did ya miss me, Geoffery?”

“I would have been delighted to say it had been peaceful with you away, but I cannot attest to that. Sir Owen caused quite a commotion.”

“He burnt down my house,” Oliver batted, hoping to find out more from the butler. But he was disappointed by the servant’s answer.

“He did. He has not confessed how, though. I fear we may never fully know the truth other than when he returned from Nassau, he had employed a new servant woman.”

“I see,” Oliver said. He motioned to Madelena. “Geoffery, this is my wife, Maddie. Maddie, this is Geoffery. He may seem harsh, but he is a good man.”

Geoffery turned to face her and bowed. “My lady, you have my deepest condolences. Any woman who willingly married Sir Oliver is destined for madness from his shenanigans.”

Oliver laughed. “Egad, Geoffery. Don’t try to run her off. I just found her.”

“If she has traveled with you from Rome and did not jump ship, then I seriously doubt she would run off now.”

“Are Mother and Father home?”

Geoffery closed his eyes and groaned with displeasure. “To my utter disappointment, they are.”

“What has happened? Do they know Aunt Charlotte is here?”

“Unfortunately. Jacob informed us upon his arrival. I must say, he only told your mother so he could get to see his son.”

Oliver grinned. “I knew it. What is my nephew’s name?”

“Lady Jules has not given him a name yet. She was waiting for Sir Jacob’s return.”

“When was he born?” Madelena asked, hoping to sway Geoffery into accepting her. Oliver said he was a good man, and she could use any and all on her side.

“Late yesterday afternoon. He came kicking and screaming into this world to the tune of his mother’s profanity-filled labor pains. I must say, I never knew a lady knew such language.”

“She was a pirate,” Oliver reminded him.

“I know, Sir Oliver. Just hearing a lady speak those words…well, it’s unnerving.”

“Then don’t sail with her.” Oliver patted Geoffery upon the arm. “Tell my parents I will be in the sitting room.”

“Very good, sir.”

Madelena’s quick intake of breath caused Oliver to chuckle.

“What?”

Her eyes widened upon viewing the interior of the home. Pristine white walls and emerald curtains adorned the foyer. Upon the center of the floor was a large mosaic proudly displaying a coat-of-arms. Mahogany furnishings were a stunning contrast to the light colors of the room. As they stepped farther into the home, her eyes were drawn to the black wrought-iron railing of the banister leading upstairs. The bottom portion of the balustrade flared outward to accommodate the fullness of ladies skirts.

Stepping into the sitting room, her inspection continued. A thick wool rug cushioned her feet. Two magnificent Venetian sofas sat in the center of the room, facing each other. The pink fabric was accentuated with pure gold outlines. Several Windsor rockers sat on each side of the picture window. An oak table sat between the two rockers. One wall contained several shelves with trinkets and a few books. A pianoforte sat at the opposite wall, the lid closed over the keys.

Oliver closed the door behind them and stepped to the left. He approached a buffet and removed the stopper from the top of a decanter of spirits. He poured two small glasses and handed one to Madelena.

“Port,” Oliver said. “Mother has a bit of a sweet tooth.”

Madelena took the cup but said nothing.

“Relax, Maddie. Mother will love you.”

Madelena looked into her cup. “If she doesn’t?”

“She will.”

“I will what?” a voice said from the door.

Madelena’s head shot up. The woman in the doorway was beautiful. Her vibrant red hair was styled in a fashionable updo. She was wearing a burgundy gown made of only the finest material. The cuffs of the sleeves were adorned with white lace. The same lace drifted around the bodice of the dress. A gold ribbon cinched her narrow waist, only making her figure more pronounced. But what captured Madelena’s attention were the woman’s green eyes. The same emerald green as Oliver’s.

“Mother,” Oliver said, sitting his glass upon the buffet. He approached the woman.

She smiled and held her arms out. Oliver accepted her affections.

Elizabeth smiled and touched the side of Oliver’s face. “I was surprised when Geoffery informed me you had arrived. I did not expect you to return from Rome for another two weeks.”

“I had a change of plans.” Oliver turned and held his hand out to Madelena.

Madelena squared her shoulders and took a deep breath for courage. She could feel Elizabeth’s eyes scrutinize her. The kindness left and was replaced with suspicion.

“Oliver St. John!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “If you came home married, I will skin you alive! You were my last hope of a sensible marriage. And if you came home married, and I did not get to witness this marriage, I will disown you. Don’t think I won’t!”

Madelena inwardly cringed. Charlotte’s description had been accurate. Oliver’s mother was a harpy.

“Now, Mother. I know you want to see one of us married in the fashion that you think we deserve.”

“I do! I do not want my children to marry the way I did. In a rush. Hours before childbirth.”

Madelena was taken aback that a woman would openly admit she had married just moments before giving birth.

“Madison had a normal marriage.”

Elizabeth sputtered. “Normal marriage? Which part? She has been married twice. Her first husband died upon their wedding night, and her second marriage was to the man who kidnapped her.”

“We didn’t know that at the time. But it ended well.”

Elizabeth turned her attention to Madelena. “Who are you, girl?”

Madelena proudly raised her chin. “Madelena St. John.”

Elizabeth tossed her hands in the air. “I knew it! I knew you would do something as foolish as finding yourself in a situation where you were forced to marry.”

“I was not forced, Mother.”

“Really?” Elizabeth’s eyes ran the length of Madelena. “She is stunning, Oliver. I know how St. John men are. They can charm the skirts off a nun when a woman catches their attention. She is your type. Beautiful. Did you charm your ways into her bed and then get caught like Michael?”

“If you would quit interrupting me, I would explain.”

“Fine,” Elizabeth snapped. She turned, her skirts swirling outward. Taking a seat upon the settee, she motioned to Oliver. “Speak.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Father?”

“He is elsewise occupied by greeting his sister.” The hatred Elizabeth eluded surprised Madelena. She knew Charlotte did not like Elizabeth but to see the feelings returned was shocking.

“Very well. Mother, Maddie and I married upon Jacob’s ship. Jacob performed the ceremony, and Matthew witnessed the event.”

“And let me guess. It was Charlotte’s idea.”

Oliver shook his head. “Not exactly. Maddie slipped aboard Jacob’s ship. We told everyone we eloped. They didn’t believe us. In order to protect Maddie’s reputation, Charlotte insisted that a proper ceremony be witnessed.”

“I knew it! I knew Charlotte was behind it. She wanted to take this away from me. Just because her own child ran off and she did not get to witness the event, she thinks she can take over my children’s weddings and give them the one she dreams of!”

Madelena’s brows came together. She did not understand Elizabeth’s rant. “What?”

“Charlotte. She dreamed of a grand wedding for her daughter. Since that didn’t happen, she thinks she can do so with my children. I will not have it. I will not!”

“Too late,” Oliver replied. “Maddie and I have been married for over a month.”

“Well, I will show her what a wedding is supposed to look like. Why, you will have a wedding the likes of which Governor’s Harbour has never seen!”

“No, we will not,” Oliver said. “Maddie and I will not be caught in the feud between you and Aunt Charlotte. You are just jealous that she took over the arrangements of Matt and Chessi.”

Suddenly, Elizabeth’s gaze locked onto Oliver. “You mean, you were going to allow this woman to stay in your chambers, unwed? And what were your intentions, Oliver? Not good.”

Oliver shrugged. “Well, we are St. Johns.”

“Yes we are,” a deep male voice said from the doorway.

The man in the doorway was older. His black hair contained flecks of white. He was tall and broad. He had the same jawline and nose as Oliver. Both had the same dark complexion and arrogance.

“Father,” Oliver acknowledged.

Robert looked between the occupants in the room. His gaze landed upon Madelena. Madelena was not surprised to see he possessed the same dark eyes as Jacob. However, they were not as harsh as Jacob’s. A smile pulled his lips. “I take it this is your Maddie.”

“She is,” Oliver spoke. “Maddie, this is my father, Robert.”

Madelena curtsied. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. You have made quite an impression upon my sister.”

An unladylike snort left Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth. Behave.”

“I cannot believe your sister is here,” Elizabeth complained.

“You should be thankful. It was the only way you would have ever gotten to meet Chessi.”

“How did you come to that assumption, Robert?”

“Matthew gets seasick but was willing to take on the illness for us to meet his wife. Chessi is terrified of water. She agreed to travel here only if Charlotte came with them.”

“Why? She had Matthew.”

“And what good would he be? For the first week, his head is in a chamber pot. Chessi lost her family and has adopted Charlotte as a mother. Since Matthew could not comfort her, it fell to Charlotte. Charlotte agreed to face you just so you could meet your daughter-in-law. I think you owe her a thank you on that account.”

Elizabeth glowered at her husband. “And where are Matthew and Chessi now?”

“With Charlotte. They shared a carriage. Since Eli’s home is before ours, they had to see her there first before coming here.”

“How did you get here so fast?”

“A horse is faster than a carriage.” Robert turned to Madelena. “Are you certain you want to be in this family?”

“Why wouldn’t she, Robert?” Elizabeth asked.

Robert’s eyes grew wide. “What? You mean you are accepting a bride of one of our sons? You have rejected all of them.”

“And look what good it has done me. Eli spends half his time in London. Jacob sails. Matthew is in London. Michael is in America. Nathan and Noah sail. If I am to have a daughter-in-law to keep my children home, then we must find peace.”

Elizabeth stood and approached Madelena. She stopped before the younger woman, yet kept her chin high. “Welcome to the family.”

Madelena shook her head. “Do not speak words that you do not mean.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I have lived my entire life with a mother who hated me, yet in the eyes of the world, pretended she was a doting mother. I will not tolerate those actions any longer. If you do not like me, then do not pretend to do so.”

Elizabeth’s chin set in stubbornness.

Robert tossed his head back and laughed. “My girl, you will fit into this family just splendidly!”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Madelena sighed as she looked at the men working in the distance. Oliver readjusted the ladder. He began climbing up. She loved watching him work. He was a master at his craft. Yet this time, instead of a ship, he was building their home. A home where they could raise their family.

Her hand came to her flat stomach. She had not told him yet, but she knew he would be ecstatic to learn he was going to be a father. And he would make an excellent one. After her introduction to Elizabeth, Oliver introduced her to the rest of the family. Madelena and Jules hit it off splendidly, as well as she and Madison. For the next month, Chessi, Jules, Madison, and Maddie were inseparable. But soon, life had to return to normal. Jules left with Jacob to take Charlotte, Hugh, Matthew, and Chessi home. She was going to miss her new friends. A few weeks after Jules and Chessi’s departure she met Oliver’s oldest brother Max and his wife Kristina. She found them both delightful…despite Oliver’s description. Shortly after Max and Kristina’s departure, Elena’s past was revealed and it was just as complicated as all of the other St. John wives.

The last six months were a mixture of emotions for Madelena. During that time, Oliver received a correspondence from Martin. It seemed that the rumor of Madelena murdering Drakos ran rampant through the city. It caused great hardship for her family. Shortly after Madelena left Rome, Sandra was found dead. Antonio stated that it was a robbery gone wrong. It was discovered that he had been the one to take Sandra’s life, and a warrant was issued for his arrest. Yet, he disappeared and had not been seen since. Her sisters, on the other hand, were placed in the care of Cardinal Vico who arranged adventitious marriages for all. Madelena had conflicting feelings about her sisters. She loved them for their relation to her, yet she did not mourn their fate. Bella was the only one she was genuinely concerned over merely because of her age, and that was not an overwhelming concern.

Robert and Elizabeth learned of Madelena’s history and quickly came up with a past for her. Their tale? Oliver met Maddie while traveling in Europe; they fell in love and married in France. Even Charlotte aided in their story by stating she knew Maddie’s family and that they were upstanding people. It surprised Madelena to see Charlotte and Elizabeth agreeing on something. Yet she was a common thread for them both. They both wanted nothing but happiness for the St. John children, and if aiding in the tale of a make-believe family would see to that, then they would get along. The name they coined for her was the name Oliver called her…Maddie. Maddie Ramano from Italy who met Oliver while on a holiday in France.

The sound of the men gathering tools brought Madelena back to the present. She watched the men begin packing their tools away for the day. She was impressed by the progress that had been made upon her new home. The final touches were being done. Shutters upon the windows and railings for the porches. Once those were completed, it would be time to move in. Her heart swelled as she viewed her home. It was not as large as the St. John mansion, but it was not small either. It was a beautiful two-story home made of pink brick with large windows. The location was perfect. It was where his had burned down. It was close to his work and family, yet far enough away from the city to be secluded. And it rested upon a cliff near the ocean.

Madelena approached her new home. The workers greeted her with a friendly hello. She liked Oliver’s workers. They were a kind assortment of men, each with a varied background.

She found Oliver near the front porch. He was placing his tools into a wooden crate.

“When can we move in?” Madelena asked.

Oliver turned and smiled. He held out his hand. “Allow me to show you.”

She took his hand, and a squeal left her when he scooped her up in his arms.

“Oliver, what are you doing?”

“It is customary for a groom to carry his bride over the threshold.”

“On their wedding night.”

A wicked grin came to him. “And on our wedding night, I was suffering a horrendous hangover, and you were angry at me.”

“True, but we have been married for six months.”

“Really? It seems like just yesterday.”

“Oh, please,” Madelena said.

Oliver grinned and stepped to the door. He opened the door and carried Madelena inside. Once inside, her eyes widened. The house was fully furnished. Expensive furnishings were scattered about the room. Thick rugs and beautiful paintings. Highly polished wooden floors and floral wallpaper.

“Oliver,” Madelena whispered as she viewed her home. “Where did all this come from? We cannot afford this.”

“We can. But if it makes you feel any better, I do have a few connections.”

“Such as?”

“Our neighbor is moving. He wanted his home repaired before he sold it along with the furnishings. I agreed to do the repair work in exchange for a few of the furnishings. Just enough to get us started.”

“You shouldn’t have, Oliver. It will take up too much of your time. With the new ship Owen is designing and finishing our home, how will you have time?”

“Our home is finished. Save for a few minor touches. Now, I have a surprise for you.”

“Other than you decorating our home?”

“Yes.” He took her hand and led her up the stairs into the master bedchamber. It contained only a bed and a dresser. Gifts from Aunt Charlotte. Oliver approached the chest. The small basket on the top caused her to smile. It was the one Oliver purchased from her upon their first meeting. He removed an envelope from the drawer. Turning, he handed it to Madelena.

“What is this?”

Oliver smiled. “Jacob has a few connections in Morocco.”

“Connects in Morocco?”

He shrugged. “Well, he knows a whoremonger in Morocco. Hassen is the man’s name. Anyway, Jacob did a bit of investigating and discovered your lineage.”

“What?”

“Your third great-grandmother was from Ghana whom some sultan purchased from a slave trader. She was his concubine. He had frequent European guests and used his concubines to entertain his guests. Your second great-grandmother was sired by the sultan. Your great-grandmother by a Frenchman who lived at the sultan’s palace for over a year. The next was an Englishman. Your grandmother is part Hessan, and your mother’s father was an American businessman.”

“How does he know all this?”

A deep breath left Oliver. “Unfortunately, the sultan and his guests like their entertainment young. Your great-grandmother was still alive but suffering the late effects of syphilis. Jacob found her and hoped to bring her here so you could meet her before she passed. In between her fits of madness, he managed to get information from her.”

“My mother has family that is alive?” Madelena asked, excited but knowing the reality.

Oliver shook his head. “She died before Jacob could free her. You do have several cousins but their whereabouts are presently unknown. I am truly sorry, Maddie. I know you would have loved to meet your grandmother.”

“It is for the best.” She turned to leave the bedchamber but stopped. Her eyes landed upon the painting beside the door. It was the portrait from her father’s office. Her shocked gasp caused Oliver to smile.

“Vico decided to sell some of your father’s possessions—before the French raided his office and took the rest. Martin managed to purchase the painting. He thought you might like to have it.”

“He shouldn’t have.”

“That is Martin. He says it is our wedding gift.”

Madelena turned to face Oliver, worry upon her face. “Will he tell that I am here?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. After Jacob took Aunt Charlotte and Matt home, he stopped by Rome and told Martin what happened. Martin knows the danger you face should the authorities in Rome know you are here. He will keep your location safe. I just hope Stephano does not drag it out of him. That blasted man can try on one’s nerves.”

Maddie smiled. “Mae will be good for him. I just wish I could have attended their wedding.”

“I know. Martin said it was beautiful.”

Oliver watched Madelena and could see something was troubling her. She seemed distracted. “What is wrong, Maddie?”

She looked at him and licked her lips. “I have something I need to tell you.”

Oliver could feel his heart sink. “Anything.”

“I’m expecting a child.”

A wide smile crossed Oliver’s face. In two steps he was to her, picking her up and swinging her around the room.

“Oliver!” Madelena protested.

He sat her down and looked deep into her eyes. “You have made me the happiest man in the world.”

“Every man wants an heir.”

“It is not that, Maddie. I love you to the point that it is hard to breathe. Even if you could not give me any children, I would feel the same. I thank God every day for bringing you into my life.”

“I love you too, Oliver.”

His lips found hers in a deep kiss. He raised his head and gave her that smile.

“You know, all the workers have gone home for the day, and there is a perfectly good bed right here.”

“Oliver!” she protested. “There are no locks on the doors. Someone could come in.”

“Let them.”

She laughed. “What am I to do with you?”

“Do to me what I plan on doing to you.”

A wanton smile came to her. “Which is?”

“Love me forever.”

“That can be arranged.”

Oliver carried her over to the bed. The remainder of the day, he made love to his wife. As the sun began to set, he pulled her closer to his naked body and smiled. His past life was just an empty shell without Madelena. He did not know what he would do without her. Without destroying her baskets, he would have never met her. Without the trials of her past, she would not be here in his arms for him to love forever.

Madelena sighed as she felt Oliver’s arms tighten around her. The misery of her childhood was now replaced with joy. She had a family who accepted her for who she was. They did not care that she was the illegitimate child of a slave. They did not care that her mother was a quadroon. All they cared was that she loved and cherished Oliver. She was happy. The love she had longed for her entire life was now hers. And all of it came about because of A Chance Encounter.

About the Author

Lora Thomas is a longtime reader of romance novels. By accepting a challenge from her husband, she wrote her first book Love’s Abyss. Born in Mount Sterling, Kentucky, she grew up in Owingsville, a small town in Eastern Kentucky. She graduated from Morehead State University with degrees in Business, Health Promotion and Nursing. Today, Lora resides in Kentucky on her family’s farm with her husband, son, and several family pets.

www.lora-thomas.com

Authors work hard to produce their written works and love to hear what readers think. If you enjoyed this book, please let others know your thoughts by leaving a review.

Other titles by Lora Thomas:

* Love’s Abyss—St. John Series Book 1

* A Pirate’s Heart—St. John Series Book 2

* The Wild Belle—St. John Series Book 3

* Keeper of My Dreams—St. John Series Book 4

* Jewel of the Sea—St. John Series Book 5

* Innocent Seduction—St. John Series Book 6

* Thief of My Heart—St. John Series Book 7

* Forbidden Love—St. John Series Book 8

* A Treasure Lost—St. John Series Book 9

* Liberty’s Deception

*Deception: Fire and Ice Book 1

*Betrayal: Fire and Ice Book 2

*The True King: Fire and Ice Book 3