Chapter 26
Capitolo Ventisei
Ravenna stared at his palm for a moment before lifting her gaze past his shoulder to where couples were arranging themselves across the dance floor.
A wrought iron chandelier hung above the space, casting a warm, golden glow on the sumptuously dressed.
Ravenna didn’t know the steps to many dances, and the ones she did know were, she had no doubt, far too provincial.
It was an art form she had never mastered.
On no account did she want to embarrass herself in front of the upper echelons of Florentine society.
The ornate clock at the front of the hall stood with its gears in full display, letting her know that she still had time before midnight. But now curiosity burned through her as Leonardo’s words swam in her head. Had Saturnino intervened for her? If so, for what reason?
And why did she want the reason to be for her?
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” Saturnino coaxed.
Ravenna flicked her eyes back to meet his. Teasing, flirting, coy Saturnino had returned, leaving his sinister plans out of the banquet hall. She ought to be relieved, but panic flared deep in her belly. This Saturnino was hard to predict.
And infinitely more dangerous to her.
“I’m a terrible dancer,” she said honestly. “I’ll only embarrass you.”
“You could never,” Saturnino said. He clasped her hands and drew her close to him. His movements were slow, marked. Without taking his eyes off her, he murmured, “You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?”
Ravenna blinked; she’d forgotten all about Leonardo da Vinci.
She glanced at him from over her shoulder, but the artist’s attention flickered from one guest to another, lingering on a handsome man who stood off to the side, leaning against one of the pillars.
Leonardo gave Saturnino a polite bow, murmuring, “Not in the least,” before melting into the crowd.
Her gaze returned to Saturnino.
He was still only looking at her.
Ravenna was conscious of the other guests and dancers staring at her, at him, and the pronounced attention he lavished on her.
Saturnino tugged Ravenna to where the other guests danced, his palm cool against the feverish warmth of hers.
He glanced at her from over his shoulder, raising a sleek black brow in a silent question. As if to make sure she was all right.
She felt oddly lightheaded.
They joined the long line of dancers. Saturnino pulled her close until she was nearly pressed against the side of his lean chest—a scandalous distance and fodder for conversation for the numerous spectators surrounding them.
“I’ll guide you through the steps,” Saturnino whispered against her hair.
“There’s really no point,” Ravenna said. “I’m the world’s worst dancer. You could drag me across the hall, and it would look better than what I could manage.”
“Maybe,” Saturnino murmured. “But you’ve never done it with me, and I promise to take care of you.”
Her lips parted in surprise as the music swelled in a distracting rush all around her.
His expression had turned thoughtful, as if he had discovered one of her many secrets, and it wasn’t one he had been expecting.
When he took the first step, she followed, glancing down the long length of the dance floor, where the gentlemen were leading their ladies in gentle circles, their arms raised, palms facing those of their partners with only a whisper of space between them.
It was an elegant dance, measured and slow. The kind of dance that allowed for intimate conversation. Saturnino tightened his hold on her hand and whispered, “Right turn. Then left. I’ll spin you around afterward.”
Ravenna’s eyes flew to his. He winked at her.
If he hadn’t been standing in front of her, she wouldn’t have believed it to be true.
He had learned her secret, and instead of using it against her to humiliate her, Saturnino was guiding her through the motions, through every step, through all the turns.
He tipped his chin to the right, prompting her to make the turn.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, waiting for the next step.
“Left foot forward, then step back,” he whispered promptly, demonstrating the movement. A lock of his black hair fell across his smooth brow, and Ravenna repressed the urge to smooth it back where it belonged, tucked away from her ridiculous impulses.
Saturnino lowered his voice. The brush of his voice teased the wisps of her hair against her temples. “Have you received another message?”
Ravenna stiffened in his arms.
He looked down at her sharply, a fine line between his black brows. “You have.”
“That’s why you asked me to dance.” Disappointment bit her; she couldn’t keep its teeth out of the tone of her voice. “Couldn’t you have just pulled me aside to interrogate me?”
Saturnino wasn’t looking at her anymore, his eyes flicking around the room as if he were keeping watch. “Ravenna.”
“Why ask me to dance at all? Why hold me like this, why—” She broke off. Her throat felt narrow, like she couldn’t get enough air. She swallowed hard and tried again. “For a moment, I thought…”
His lashes lowered. “You thought what?”
She pressed her lips together.
“Ravenna, what did you think?” He leaned forward, his lips a butterfly kiss against her hair. “Tell me.”
She pulled away far enough to tip her chin up so she could meet his gaze. Her amber eyes dared him to lie to her. “I thought you felt something for me.”
He continued leading her through the steps of the dance, his rhythm never faltering. Anyone looking at them would have seen an innocuous interaction; even Ravenna might have been fooled but for his hands flexing against hers.
A very, very brief reaction. She had surprised him.
“And I thought you knew better.”
Ravenna tried to pull away, but Saturnino yanked her forward, spinning her in a tight circle.
Her stomach somersaulted from the abrupt movement.
It felt like he was trying to knock some sense into her, to remind her of where they were, of who they were to each other.
But she was past caring, her heart ticking hard against her ribs, fracturing with every strike.
With honest bafflement she said, “I swear I do, it’s just… ”
It couldn’t all be a lie.
“You keep asking me to be something I’m not, but I have an ulterior motive for everything.” His voice was low, almost tired. “You of all people should know that kindness and survival don’t go hand in hand.”
“But—”
“But nothing.” His hold on her tightened. “You give me far too much credit, Ravenna.”
“You’ve been kind to me.”
“Lapses in judgment, nothing more,” he replied coolly.
Ravenna mulled it over and decided she didn’t believe it. And suddenly, she wanted to prove it. “I don’t know this dance.”
He stared at her, brow puckering. “I’m aware.”
“But here you are,” Ravenna said, “making sure I don’t lose my way. What is your ulterior motive now?”
They reached the end of the line, the air between them crackling with tension.
Saturnino raised his eyebrows and gestured for Ravenna to make a turn by herself.
She snuck a glance at the lady ahead of her as she completed her spin and Ravenna imitated it.
Then Saturnino grasped her hand once more before leading her down the length of the line to begin the dance again.
Ravenna didn’t know how many more times she’d have to endure being spun by Saturnino; she was already dizzy from their conversation, from his intoxicating yuletide scent. He smelled like winter at its coldest and darkest. The way he gazed at her made her shiver.
Ravenna prayed the song would end.
“This isn’t a kindness,” Saturnino warned. “Take a look around, Ravenna. My family claimed you as their own: your company, your talent, your time. You belong to us until we say so. And furthermore, you and I made a bargain.”
She set her mouth in a mulish line. “I had little choice in the matter—”
“But you did,” he countered. “I would keep my family from harming you, and in exchange, you’d provide me with information that I can use in my fight with our great enemy.
Now, stop glowering at me and at least pretend that you’re enjoying my company.
The family has situated you in a place of honor at our table in front of our peers, and you are dancing with the eldest son.
They expect you to behave, Ravenna. So do it, for your life. ”
A sense of dread made her movements sluggish.
As if it mattered—Saturnino moved her across the floor with the aplomb of a puppet master.
From the corner of her eye, Ravenna caught sight of Lorenzo’s handsome brother.
He had the beautiful woman in his arms. He spun her in circles, and she giggled, her gold hair glimmering in the candlelight.
“They dance beautifully,” Ravenna said.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Since you’re not going to be honest, I grew tired of it.”
“How have I not been honest?” Saturnino asked testily, his words still dipped in warning.
He pulled her closer until the bodice of her gown brushed against his bloodred tunic.
He angled his chin downward; his lips were inches from hers.
She felt trapped in the circle of his arms, and her breath hitched in her throat.
His dark eyes glimmered in the candlelight, a bottle green, its contents made of poison.
“I’ve said everything I want to,” Ravenna replied.
His voice had dropped to a menacing hush. “You’re playing a dangerous game with me, Ravenna. Stop it. I’m not innocent or caring, I’m not an untried youth, gullible and vulnerable. I’ve asked you a question. Have you received any messages?”
Ravenna licked her lips, nervous energy ticking up her spine. She cursed that wretched courier who hunted her down. If only she hadn’t been born with the ability to hold a flame in her hands. If only she had remained unnoticed, tucked safely in a quiet town, miles from Florence.