Chapter 32 A Rake, A Rogue, A Libertino
A Rake, A Rogue, A Libertino
Near midnight at Villa Montblanc
Instead of retiring to the parlor with the rest of his family, David made his way to the library and settled into an overstuffed velvet chair.
Only a single sconce lit the corridor outside the room, which suited him as he considered his brother’s earlier words.
I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that there has been some hope that you and Vittoria might consider courtship.
The mere thought of courting Vittoria had him girding his loins, until he remembered how she had looked when she was descending the stairs the night before.
She had appeared positively regal. Confident. Gorgeous. Knowing what he did about her now, the silver gown she had worn might have been armor, her dove gray gloves gauntlets, the diamond-encrusted comb decorating her elaborate coiffure a weapon capable of wounding an adversary.
But it was her questing gaze that had caught his attention. She had been looking for someone, and from the way she had placed her arm on Don Luciano’s proffered arm when she reached the bottom of the stairs, it was apparent she had found the subject of her search.
Don Diavala.
Of all the people in the ballroom for her come-out, why ever in the world would she be looking for him?
A rake. A libertine. A predator of young ladies.
Or her prey.
David sat up straight in the chair and blinked in the darkness.
Vittoria hadn’t been seeking out the conte’s son with the intention of joining him for a tryst. She had wanted him to lure her into an alcove. Wanted the opportunity to grasp his nut sac in her hand and squeeze the life out of it—and perhaps out of him.
From what David had learned from his brother, he now realized Luciano Nicholas Michael Tucci, heir to a contea, had been determined they be caught so Vittoria would be forced to marry him. He would gain her dowry in the process.
If her gown’s skirts had allowed it, her knee might have done the damage David’s knee accomplished. He had interrupted her assault on the conte’s heir, though, and taken away a victory that should have been hers and hers alone.
Vittoria!
Stunned at how his body responded to his memory of the night before—to the memory of her—his cock hardened and his heart raced with excitement—David took a steadying breath.
No wonder she was so angry with him. Accusing him of being a rogue, a rake, and a libertine were probably the only insults she knew would hurt him.
I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that there has been some hope that you and Vittoria might consider courtship.
David banged the back of his head against the chair, the stuffing far too forgiving to cause any damage or any pain, for that matter.
Nicoletta and Donald had probably told her to consider a courtship with him.
She might have even been amenable to it if he hadn’t interrupted her assault on the libertine.
I owe her an apology. Right now.
Without giving a thought to the time or to the impropriety of visiting a young lady’s bedchamber in the middle of the night, David was up and out of the chair far too fast. He had to steady himself and, once he was out in the corridor, consider exactly which bedchamber might be hers.
Like his family, she was a guest at Villa Montblanc, Nicoletta having encouraged her to spend the night so she could join them on their planned outing to the Roman Forum on the morrow.
With all the bedchambers located on the second floor, David stood at the top of the stairs and glanced left and right.
He knew their host’s and his parent’s apartments were at the ends of the corridor.
That left three bedchambers on either side.
He was fairly sure he knew where his cousins and their wives were staying—in the rooms on either side of his.
That left the three bedchambers on the other side of the corridor.
He paused before the first and pressed his ear against the wood door.
Not hearing anything, he moved to the second and was about to continue down the corridor when he thought he heard a soft sob.
Lifting a knuckle, he was about to knock but feared it might be heard by others.
Instead, he pushed down on the door handle.
It easily gave way, and he opened it enough to poke his head through the opening.
A gasp was followed by, “Chi c'è?”
“It’s only me, mia donna,” David whispered, his relief at opening the correct door quickly replaced by concern at hearing the familiar sounds of a woman crying.
“What’s wrong?” He carefully closed the door behind him and remained where he was, allowing his eyes to adjust to the soft candlelight from a bedside lamp.
Dressed in a nightrail, Vittoria was sitting on the edge of a bed with a linen handkerchief pressed to her cheek. Her bare feet, the toes red from being stuffed into her uncomfortable half-boots earlier that day, peeked out from beneath the hem of her gown.
At the sight of him, she quickly stood. With the flame from the candle lamp behind her, the silhouette of her naked body was evident. Her long raven hair had been caught in a braid that hung over one shoulder.
David swallowed, well aware his manhood was reacting in a most undignified manner. He bowed. “Apologies, mia donna.”
“I didn’t mean to wake anyone,” she whispered.
“You didn’t,” he replied, realizing too late he could have used her sobbing as his excuse for being there. “May I... may I join you?”
For a moment, she seemed uncertain of how to respond, and then it looked as if she might deny him. Instead, she waved toward the end of the bed, and David was quick to settle next to the corner post, leaving a good deal of space between them.
Meanwhile, she sat near the head of the bed with her arms crossed beneath her bosom. The position merely enhanced the shape of her breasts, her nipples apparent behind the thin cotton fabric.
“Pray tell, why are you crying?”
She sniffled and held out one of her feet.
Despite the dim lighting, David could see the red splotches where her half-boots had been too tight or where they had nearly rubbed the skin raw. He motioned with a hand. “Give me your foot,” he ordered.
“Why?”
“So I can... rub it,” he stammered. “It’s a courtesy some men do for their wives, I’m told.
Then I believe they see to it a shoemaker is employed to make custom slippers and boots so they fit their lady’s feet better than those simply bought off the shelf.
” He paused and furrowed a brow. “Although I think the men still rub their feet.”
She blinked several times, but finally did his bidding, jerking her foot when he took it in both hands.
“I wish to apologize, mia donna,” he whispered, cradling her heel in one palm as he massaged the top of her foot between his thumb and fingers.
Vittoria inhaled sharply and sniffled. From the way her brows furrowed, he knew he had doubly surprised her. “For... for what?”
“Last night I thought I was... saving you from Don Luciano, but I realized tonight that you wanted to defend yourself. By yourself. That my intervention was unwanted. Probably unnecessary,” he explained, changing his hold on her foot to rub the instep.
Despite her slight inhalation of breath, he continued.
“Mayhap unneeded, although I am glad I was there since I do not believe your gown would have allowed you to deliver the killing blow, so to speak.”
She made an odd sound in her throat. “That’s what the statue was for,” she whispered, her eyes closing when she seemed to be enjoying his ministrations.
He chuckled softly. “Apollo was rather effective there at the end,” he agreed. “You never did say if you were... injured.”
Shaking her head, she sniffled again. “I was not.”
“You were quite formidable,” he said. “You looked as if you were wearing armor, given all the silver of your gown and gloves.” He lifted a hand to his head. “Your diamonds.”
For a moment, she didn’t seem to understand his meaning. “I didn’t wish to be his wife, and I thought it best I make it clear at the very beginning of the ball.”
“Ah. Mission accomplished,” he said, allowing a wan grin after his initial wince. “Here. Give me your other foot.”
This time she didn’t hesitate, shifting on the bed so she could lift her other leg onto the counterpane all while gripping the hem of her nightrail to keep her knees covered.
She used the handkerchief to wipe her nose as David went to work on the foot.
“If the statue hadn’t fallen on him, I would have stabbed him with the comb,” she said, her voice too calm for speaking of such violence.
“Oh,” he responded, not bothering to ask which body part she intended to stab. David nearly moved a hand to cover his crotch, but he continued massaging her foot. “Do you believe all men to be like Don Luciano?”
Vittoria’s eyes rounded again. “Of course not.”
Perplexed, David furrowed his brows. “Then why did you think the worst of me? Why did you accuse me of being a rogue?” he asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “Other than your name, I did not know anything about you.”
“But even after you learned I was Donald’s brother, you continued to accuse me,” he countered.
“I didn’t want you to like me,” she stated.
David recoiled as if she had slapped him across the face, and he stilled his hands. “Why ever not?”
For a moment, her gaze remained directed at the canopy above their heads. “Nikky told me you might wish to court me.”
Blinking, David made an odd sound in his throat. “My brother said something about it after dinner this evening,” he murmured. His eyes suddenly widened when the delayed sense of offense settled over him. “What would be so bad about me wanting to court you?” he asked in dismay.
“You are English,” she stated, the simple words said without censure.
He blinked. “So?”
“You live in England.” Before he had a chance to respond, she added, “You’re an aristocrat. An heir to a marchesato.”
Furrowing a brow, he said, “You must know, mia donna, there are many young ladies who find that rather desirable in a man.”
“Then you should court one of them.”
David blinked again. “Well, I plan to,” he replied.
“Good,” she stated.
Although he knew he should have felt relief at how they seemed to have settled their differences, David didn’t take his leave.
Instead, he regarded her with a look of hurt.
“Is there some reason you don’t wish to do as your Prozia Adeline did?
Become a marchioness and move to England, I mean? ” he asked. “She seems to like it.”
Vittoria shook her head. “I suppose I should welcome the opportunity, but...” She once again shrugged. “Roma is my home.”
David finally nodded his understanding. “Very well.” He took a breath and let it out. “Well, I suppose that’s that,” he murmured, standing. He turned to bow, but paused when he saw her staring at him with a look of disbelief. “What is it?”
She pulled her shoulders back and bent her knees until she could wrap her arms around her shins, leaving her bare feet still on display. She huffed. “You certainly give up easily.”
Narrowing his eyes, David regarded her with confusion for a moment. “You... you little minx,” he whispered.
Her eyes rounded as he approached her, and she quickly unfolded her body and got to her feet as if she might attempt to escape.
He stood before her, his gaze taking in her features before he used a hand to lift the braid from her shoulder.
He allowed the silken mass to slide over his palm, his gaze following it until the last of the strands fell from his hand.
To her credit, she didn’t look away, nor attempt to move from where she stood. “Are you going to prove you’re a rogue now?” she asked in a breathless whisper.
Torn between taking his leave or leaving her wanting more, he reached out with his hands to pull her face towards his. His lips captured hers before she could put voice to a protest, and he reveled in the quiet whimper he heard before she finally returned the kiss.
He continued to kiss her for an entire minute, his fingers not moving beyond her jaw and neck and his body never touching hers.
If he had pulled her closer—if their bodies had collided and remained pressed against one another—he knew he wouldn’t be leaving her bedchamber that evening. He would accept her challenge, see to her ruination, and be forever known as a rogue.
They would be forced to marry one another.
She obviously didn’t want that. He wasn’t sure he did, either, so it was with a good deal of satisfaction when he was able to end the kiss, lift her hand to his lips to kiss the back of it, and then bow before taking his leave of her bedchamber without so much as a “buona notte.”
As for sleeping, it would be hours before he even tried to close his eyes.