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“My lord, I am not worthy—”
He drew nearer to her, enticed by the lushness of her mouth. “You are more than worthy, madonna,” he whispered. “You have no idea who it is who asks you this favor. Please, call me by my given name.”
.....
Sitting on the divan, Francis picked up the blindfold. Small goose bumps prickled his bare flesh. Once he donned this innocent-looking scrap he would become extremely vulnerable. He would literally be in the hands of a woman who was a lovely eccentric. For all he knew, Jessica Leonardo could be in the employ of Venice’s notorious secret police. The Republic would not take kindly to an English spy prowling the dark corners of their unique city. England’s expanding merchant fleet already threatened Venice’s near monopoly of trade with the fabulous East. The merchant princes of the Republic would be exceedingly glad to end Francis’s nefarious career. The mysterious Signorina Jessica could easily stab him with a stiletto while he lay placidly on her couch like a fish on a cutting board.
His shoulder throbbed. He flexed his stiff fingers. The devil take it! He had been in worse spots than this. This woman was said to be a notable healer. He would chance his life—once again. Francis tied the mask firmly in place then gingerly lay down and pulled the blanket up to his neck. His feet hung over the edge of the divan.
.....
