Читать книгу Winds of Nightsong - V. J. Banis - Страница 6
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
Italy was beginning to settle down after the year-long war with the Turks over the rights of Italians in the Turkish colony of Libya in North Africa. Though Libya and the Dodecanese Islands were again under Italian control, there was brewing unrest in the northern parts of Europe. The Balkan Wars had started, the Balkan countries fighting each other for more territory. There were constant rivalries over trade and commerce, everyone battling to control the raw materials, competing for new food sources and new regions to colonize. The German navy was threatening British supremacy on the high seas, and the Russians were hoping to dominate all of the Balkans.
The city of Venice was a fantasy place where Caroline Nightsong tried to forget her unhappiness as she travelled the canals that took the place of streets, visited the museums, churches, and palaces. The city seemed far removed from all turmoil. This peaceful serenity was what kept Carolina rooted to the place. She wanted to think of herself as a woman alone in an enchanted land where the sordidness of her past did not exist. Though only twenty-four and extremely beautiful, she didn’t feel beautiful. She always wore her thick black hair as plainly as possible, hid her sparkling green eyes and flawless complexion behind broad-brimmed hats.
Part of her wanted desperately to go back to Nob Hill. But a larger part of her shivered at the thought of returning to the home of her grandmother, who’d only serve as a constant reminder of everything Caroline wanted to forget. Caroline still found it almost impossible to believe that Adam Clarendon was her brother. How could she have had sex with him and not have felt some intuitive warning of their blood-relatedness? He wasn’t a full brother, only a half-brother, according to her grandmother. Still, it terrified her to recall the sexual pleasure she’d experienced in the arms of a man forbidden her.
“Dear God, I still love him,” Caroline cried aloud, feeling the sting of tears at the back of her eyes. He was several years younger than she, but that didn’t matter. He was so sophisticated, so British, with his charming accent and courtly manners. She was sure he loved her as desperately as she loved him. He had to love her.... He had to, she kept telling herself.
She cried into her hands and then began shaking her head. “No, this is madness.” She would have to put Adam out of her mind, forget she’d ever even met him.
Of course she’d been telling herself that every day since running away from him that afternoon in London. She still insisted to herself that there was no actual proof that he was Adam MacNair and not the son of Lord and Lady Clarendon. But deep down, she knew the truth.
As Caroline stood on the balcony of the Palicio D’Oro looking through her tears at the bobbing gondolas, she thought she might have made a mistake coming to Venice, land of beauty and romance. A gondolier with his straw hat and fluttering red ribbon was crooning softly to a couple wrapped in each other’s arms, oblivious of Caroline standing there, crying softly. The sky was the color of a robin’s egg, with clouds as wispy and white as fluttering feathers. It was a clear, perfect day, a day she should be spending happily out-of-doors instead of moping here in her room, wishing for the impossible.
She pushed herself away from the balustrade and went into the sitting room with its high, ornate ceiling and heavy Italian Renaissance furnishings. She’d go into Saint Mark’s Square and have some lunch at a little cafe, she decided. The square was one of her favorite spots in Venice, a place where she could sit, almost unnoticed, sipping an aperitif as she watched the constantly changing parade.
She put on a blue dress and wide, floppy hat. Her hair she knotted tightly in a bun at the back of her neck. The mirror told her she looked the way she wanted to look, like a woman alone who wanted to be left alone.
The sun was warm but not hot on her back as she turned along the canal, crossed one of the stone bridges with its wrought-iron railing, and headed toward the square. She’d been warned of the canals’ odious smell during the hot summer days, but she noticed nothing objectionable. But then, she thought with a sigh, so many people constantly found fault with perfection. And Venice, to her, was the perfect city.
As always, the moment she stepped into the square something propelled her to its very center. There she stood gazing up at the giant arches, the elaborate carvings, the vaulted windows, the gilt and rich colors, all fused together in one magnificent tapestry so breathtakingly beautiful one could only stare in disbelief. Pigeons fluttered, circling and recircling before alighting as one white mass.
She saw Count Cambruzio sitting alone at one of the small tables under an orange-and-white awning. He was engrossed in his newspaper and didn’t look up as she walked toward him. Caroline hesitated, wondering for a moment whether she wanted the company of this handsome young man or would rather sit alone and think about Adam.
Adam is lost to you, a voice inside her chided. She stepped forward and spoke the count’s name. “Tonio.”
He got to his feet immediately, a brilliant smile showing perfect white teeth. His hair was black and slicked back from his forehead; his eyes were the color of polished onyx.
“How nice to see you,” she said, extending her hand.
He bowed over it, touching it with his lips. “My dear Caroline, this is a wonderful surprise meeting you like this.”
“I know I should be back at the hotel catching up on my correspondence, but the day was too lovely to waste indoors.”
“You did not return my call last evening,” he said, sounding hurt.
“I met some American friends who invited me to the opera. I didn’t get your message until I’d returned to the hotel and then it was much too late to call you.”
“And this morning?”
“I slept late. I was going to call later today.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t of any great importance, only that I would have liked to have had dinner with you again.” He reached for her hand. “I am afraid I am becoming much too fond of you, Caroline.”
Caroline laughed softly and tactfully took back her hand, motioning with it to a passing waiter. “Cinzano, per favore.”
“Signore?” the waiter asked Tonio.
“Due,” he said curtly, annoyed at the man’s failure to address him by his royal title.
Tonio leaned across to her. “And did you enjoy the opera with your American friends?”
“Yes, very much, though Otello is not one of my favorites, I’m afraid.”
“Your friends...they didn’t, er...make you homesick for your San Francisco?”
Caroline laughed. “No, I have no plans to return to the States for quite some time, Tonio, if that is what you’re asking.”
He smiled broadly. “Good.” He took her hand again, rubbing his finger suggestively over the palm. “You will have dinner with me this evening, yes?”
“If you like.”
“I would like very much. There is something I want to ask you.”
“Oh?”
He looked around. “It is not a question a man asks of a woman in a public place like this. There must be flowers and music and soft candlelight and wine.”
Caroline felt a slight tingling sensation as she withdrew her hand. “Ah, you romantic Italians,” she sighed. “I trust your question will not be an indelicate one, Signore,” she said with an impish smile and a raised eyebrow.
He continued to smile. “And if it were, would that frighten you away from me?”
Caroline cocked her head as her wineglass was set before her. When the waiter left, she looked him straight in the eye. “No. I’m not easily shocked or frightened, Count Cambruzio.”
“Good.” He saluted her with his glass. “Wear your most provocative gown. We will go somewhere very smart, and afterward....”
“Afterward?”
“Ah, that you will have to wait and see.”
Caroline gave him an encouraging smile.
She had known Count Cambruzio for several months and had seen quite a lot of him during that time. Each month she stayed on in Venice she kept telling herself that she should leave, but Tonio Cambruzio was excellent company and helped her forget Adam. Tonio had not yet tried to take her to bed, and she wondered about that. Italian men, she’d found, were an impetuous lot and not a bit shy about propositioning a lady.
He certainly wasn’t homosexual. She knew this merely from the way he looked at her. There was a hunger in his eyes that was unmistakable. Yet, there was something not quite right about him. Behind those dark, smoldering eyes lurked a mystery. Perhaps he was married. That was a distinct possibility, although he’d never mentioned a wife or family in all the times they’d been together.
Now he glanced at his pocket watch. “Forgive me, Caroline, but I have a rather pressing appointment. Had I known I would run into you I would have cancelled it.”
“That’s all right, Tonio. I have some things I must do. I’ll see you this evening.”
He kissed her hand. “I will call for you at eight o’clock. I look forward to it with such pleasure.” There was that sexual glint in his eyes again, she noticed. If he planned to invite her into his bed, she wouldn’t disappoint him, Caroline told herself. She hadn’t had a man since Adam, and Adam had been her first. Now she wanted as many men as it would take to erase him from her mind and heart.
And that might take a great many, she reminded herself as she watched Tonio saunter across the square, one hand thrust deep into his pants pocket, his hat slanted jauntily down over one eye. She liked the way he moved, so masculine and self-assured. She was already looking forward to the evening.
Caroline took a long time finishing her Cinzano. There was no need for her to rush anywhere. She thought of doing the shops, but she had done them all and had little interest in buying anything new. Her trunks were full as it was, which accounted for at least part of her reluctance to leave Venice. The chore of packing everything seemed too bothersome.
She motioned for the bill.
Perhaps she would stop at the goldsmith’s and buy that bracelet she’d been admiring. It was expensive, but then money was never a problem. Her grandmother saw to that.
She wasn’t paying much attention to anything when she turned down one of the side streets that bordered a narrow canal. There weren’t many people about and she quickened her step, wanting to reach the shop before it closed for the afternoon siesta.
“Look out!” a woman yelled as Caroline felt herself being roughly shoved into a doorway. A second later a large slab of masonry crashed down on the very spot where Caroline had been walking.
“Good God,” Caroline breathed, looking at the shattered stone. “Where did that come from?”
The woman who’d shoved her was about her own age, no more than twenty-four, with wide serious eyes hiding behind horn-rimmed glasses. “Damn,” she swore. “You could have been killed.”
Caroline put her hand over her heart to still its pounding. “Thanks to you I wasn’t,” she said, leaning back against the heavy door as she tried to catch her breath.
The young woman peered upward, scanning the building for signs of further danger. “It wasn’t a part of the cornice,” she said, noting that the ornate edging of the building was completely intact. “It must have rolled off the roof, but I don’t see how, unless someone pushed it over.”
Caroline was still trembling.
To her surprise the woman laughed. “Someone isn’t out to kill you, are they?” Her accent was strictly New York, and there was a hardness in her tone that told Caroline the woman was no stranger to danger.
“Kill me?” Caroline gasped. “Good heavens, no. I’m just an American tourist without an enemy in the world.”
The woman put out her hand. “I’m Alice Pendergast.”
“Caroline Nightsong.”
“The San Francisco Nightsongs?”
“Yes. Do you know my family?”
Alice chuckled. “Everyone who reads a newspaper knows the famous Nightsongs.”
Caroline looked hurt.
“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “I work for a New York paper. Fashions mostly, but I take an interest in anything newsworthy.” She stepped out of the doorway and inspected the top of the building again. “I think it looks safe enough. Isn’t it odd that no one came out to see what the crash was?”
Caroline let herself be led away. “I can’t begin to thank you enough for shoving me into that doorway.”
“Forget it, Caroline.” She laughed again. “Everyone says I’m the pushy type.”
Caroline groaned at the pun. “A newspaper reporter. Sounds exciting.”
“As I said, I mostly cover fashions. The newspaper business is still in the Dark Ages when it comes to letting women reporters cover anything but food and clothing. Still, I do a lot of digging on my own and turn the material in to the editor who usually prints it under his own byline. Someday we women will be liberated from this male-oriented world.”
“I’m not sure I want to be liberated. It’s rather safe to be a woman.”
“Safe? You mean like back there when someone tried to knock you on the head with a slab of concrete?”
“I’m certain it was an accident.”
Alice shrugged. “I don’t believe in accidents like that.”
“Please, Alice, let’s not talk about it. You’ll have me believing that someone really did try to do me in, as they say in the mystery thrillers.”
“Sorry. Don’t listen to me. I’m always turning everything into a melodrama. I see sinister things everywhere.” She frowned. “Still, I would like to know how that piece of masonry found its way from the roof to the cobblestones.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t intended for me.”
“Yes, I’m sure it wasn’t,” Alice said, trying to sound reassuring. She tugged at Caroline’s arm. “Come on, let’s go over to Luigi’s for a stiff one.”
“Luigi’s? We can’t. They won’t let two unescorted ladies in.”
“Stick with me, kiddo. I know every back door in Venice. Come on.”
Caroline found Alice Pendergast delightful company. She was free and open and said whatever was on her mind. She was pretty enough under her veneer of hardness, which Caroline decided was deliberately applied. Her hair was a soft blonde, her eyes—behind the glasses—were deep, deep blue. She wore no makeup, and her clothes were almost mannish.
“You’re April Nightsong’s daughter?” Alice said as they settled themselves in Luigi’s at a small table separated from the larger front room by a velvet drape.
“Yes.”
“But your real name isn’t Nightsong. It’s something French.” She knit her brows, thinking. “Andrieux. Yes, that’s right, isn’t it?”
“You have an astonishing memory.”
“I have a mind like an elephant’s.” She paused. “Your father was killed last year, I read.”
Caroline nodded as she sipped her drink. “He wasn’t much of a father to me. I was raised by my grandmother.”
“The Nightsong Chronicles were well publicized. I’d like to meet your grandmother. From what I’ve read, she’s a remarkable woman.”
“Very remarkable.”
“They never did find your half-brother, did they? Adam? Wasn’t that his name?”
Caroline felt uneasy. “Yes. Adam. No, they never found him.” She recalled her grandmother’s letter telling her about Adam’s disastrous reunion with his real mother, at which time it was decided that Adam would keep his identity as the new Lord Clarendon, and that his true origins would be kept secret unless he himself chose to reveal them.
“And you have another brother, a few years younger than you.”
“Marcus. He’s somewhere in Europe running around in racing machines, I understand.”
“Racing machines? How thrilling. I must meet him one day.” She sipped her drink. “Your grandmother retired, I understand. Who’s running the cosmetics business?”
“Uncle Leon, my mother’s brother—until grandmother decides she’s tired of doing nothing.”
“Ah yes, Leon. I do recall now. His father was heir apparent to the Manchu throne until the republicans took over. You have royal blood then?”
Caroline laughed softly. “Like my Uncle Leon. I do not like to think about it.”
“And your mother?”
“My mother is a different matter entirely. She’s quite proud of the fact that she’s a Chinese princess, and she expects all the privileges accorded to royalty. I’m afraid we don’t get along very well.”
Alice emptied her glass. “Well, I’m off,” she said as she got up and put out her hand. “I hope to see you again, Caroline. I’m staying at the Amalfi. Call me for lunch. I expect to be in Venice for quite a while.”
“I’ll do that, Alice. And thank you again for the shove back there,” Caroline said with a laugh.
“If you like, I’ll walk you to your hotel just in case there are more pieces of loose masonry on somebody’s roof.”
Caroline declined the offer with more thanks. She didn’t think the falling stone was anything but an accident. She put it completely out of her mind once she was back in her hotel room and sprawled across the bed for her afternoon nap. However, she couldn’t forget that had it not been for Alice Pendergast she might well be dead now.
Being dead might not be so bad, she decided as she began thinking of Adam again. She closed her eyes and punched the pillow. She had to stop thinking of him.
When Caroline opened her eyes again, it was six o’clock. Tonio would be calling for her at eight. Caroline stretched and got up from the bed to start getting dressed.
Tonio was in the hotel lobby when she got off the lift. She thought that in some slight way he reminded her of Adam. Perhaps it was only a case of wishful thinking, though. Tonio was several years older and had neither Adam’s features nor complexion, but it was the way he smiled, the way his eyes moved, the motion of his body when he walked that made her think of Adam Clarendon.
“You look ravishing, Caroline,” he said, taking her hand.
Caroline had chosen a pale green dinner gown, fully flared in defiance of the hobble skirts that were so much a craze in America. Fashionable or not, she shunned them as she did everything else that didn’t suit her own tastes. An emerald necklace was draped around her bare throat, and small matching earrings dangled from her lobes. Emeralds were not really her favorite gems, but she knew they brought out the flashing green of her eyes.
“Thank you, Tonio.” Her smile seemed to enchant him. “Where have you decided to take me to dinner?”
“Vincente’s,” he said as he took her arm. He escorted her out of the hotel and into a waiting gondola. “It is a small place, but I think you will like it. It is very romantic.”
“Everything in Venice is romantic,” she said. She let him put his arm around her shoulders and pull her against him as the gondolier poled his boat away from the landing steps.
Vincente’s was a charming restaurant with dim candlelight and pink damask cloths. Their table was set in a little alcove that looked out over the Grand Canal. Caroline settled herself in the plush velvet-and-gilt chair and gazed out at the gondola lanterns making shimmering shadows on the surface of the water. Through the open windows the soft, lilting voices of the gondoliers’ songs drifted through the night air like lovers’ murmured sighs.
“This is lovely, Tonio,” she said, aware that he was looking at her very seriously.
“You are lovely, my dearest.”
“You said you had something to ask me,” she ventured.
“There is time. First we eat. You are hungry, yes?”
“Starving.”
“Good. I will order. I know the chef. You will not be disappointed.”
She wasn’t. The food was superb. And by the time she’d finished the several courses, the wine, and the Cassata Napolitana, all she wanted to do was get out of her clothing and relish the feeling of being very stuffed.
“I ate too much,” Caroline said, rubbing her middle.
“That is good. I like a woman with flesh on her bones.”
Caroline was feeling giddy from the wine and a bit reckless. “It’s supposed to curb the more sensual appetites, they say.”
Tonio didn’t smile. He continued to look deep into her eyes. “I think it is time for me to ask what I have been wanting to ask you for several weeks now.”
“And what is that?” She wanted to go to bed with him. She could blame it on the wine, but if she were to be truthful, she knew that she merely wanted the feel of his strong, young, masculine body, powerful and surging; wanted him to take her in his arms and drive himself deep inside her.
“I would like very much, Caroline, if you would become my wife.”
Caroline stared. She swallowed hard, unable to believe what she’d just heard. “Your wife?”
“Are you surprised?”
“To be honest, Tonio, yes I am. I’m very surprised.”
“Surely you must know that I love you.”
“But....”
“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, Caroline.”
“But Tonio, we know nothing about one another.”
“What is there to know? I know I love you, and I believe you care for me. You do, no?”
Caroline floundered. “Yes, of course I care for you, Tonio, but.... Well, I never thought.... What I mean is, well, I never thought seriously about marrying anyone.”
“Never?”
Caroline was completely flustered. “Someday perhaps, but....”
“You do not want to marry me?” he said, looking devastated.
“Tonio,” she pleaded as she touched his hand. “You are a very nice man, an extremely nice man, and I am genuinely fond of you. But marriage? I just don’t—”
“Don’t say no, Caroline,” he broke in, squeezing her hand. “Think about it. I see now that I was lax in not revealing my intentions sooner. I am not acquainted with American customs about such things. Forgive me if I have spoken clumsily.”
“I do like you very much, Tonio,” Caroline admitted. She still wanted to go to bed with him, but she certainly didn’t want to marry him.
“Then you will think about it?”
Adam came back to her mind and she shrugged him away. Perhaps Tonio could remove Adam’s memory if she gave him the opportunity. “I promise you I will think about it,” she said.
“Good. That is all I ask. Now,” he said, motioning for the check, “as long as you have promised to take me seriously I will do as the American men do and prove to you that I will make a good husband.”
Caroline didn’t understand.
“We will go to my apartment and I will make passionate love to you.”
Caroline gasped, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. She didn’t know whether she was blushing out of embarrassment or anticipation.
“You do not want me to make love to you?”
For a moment her voice left her. Then she found herself smiling seductively. “I think I would like that very much, Count Cambruzio.”
“Good. We will go.”
* * * *
Tonio’s apartment was not far from the restaurant. They walked the short distance, hand in hand. When he ushered her into the large, airy suite of rooms she had the feeling that the place had been decorated by a woman. Though the overall effect was somewhat masculine, there was something definitely feminine about the curtains, the floral arrangements, the placement of furniture and pictures.
Tonio kissed her the moment they were inside the suite. “I do love you, Caroline.”
She didn’t answer; she simply responded encouragingly to his kisses.
He swooped her up in his arms and carried her into the adjoining bedroom. Here, too, a woman’s touch was evident in the color scheme, the coverlet, the fringed canopy of the four-poster. But Caroline was too intent upon the way Tonio was carefully, skillfully removing her clothing to care about anything but the burning need deep inside her. He lowered her to the bed and slowly started to strip himself of his evening clothes. He had a magnificent body, so sleek and muscular, a dark fan of hair covering his well-chiseled chest, trailing down over his abdomen in a thin thread only to bush out into a tangle of black pubic hair that crowned the base of his jutting erection.
He fell down beside her and took her in his arms. Caroline felt a twinge of regret as she realized that she wanted Tonio to make love to her. She was being a traitor to her love for Adam Clarendon, but the erotic feel of Tonio’s body swept over her and she found herself oblivious to everything except the way his hands were caressing, stroking her bare skin. His full, sensuous lips scorched her flesh as he kissed her breasts, her stomach, the insides of her thighs, and Caroline found herself surrendering completely to him.
“Make love to me, Tonio,” she moaned as he placed his mouth against her seeping wetness.
Tonio pressed his face between her legs and began sucking her greedily until Caroline was moaning with pleasure. He kissed and licked and ran his tongue around inside her.
“Tonio. Tonio.”
He raised himself up over her and crushed his mouth to hers. Caroline tasted her own sex on him, pushing her tongue between his lips. She spread her legs as Tonio bent his naked body over hers.
Caroline was quivering with expectancy, waiting to feel the hard contact of him against her. He prolonged it, gently massaging her, taking his time, lowering his lips between her breasts, nuzzling and kissing the pouting nipples until he saw she could not take much more torture. He closed one of her hands around the solid shaft of his penis and whispered hoarsely, “Put it in, darling.”
When she hesitated, Tonio said, “Don’t you want me to fuck you?”
“Oh yes. Yes, for God’s sake, Tonio. I want you. I want all of you.”
Tonio smiled and rubbed the head against her. Then with a quick motion he tensed his buttocks and slid in. Caroline moaned and he stopped, poised above her, the head of his erection buried in her warm, wet cavity.
“Not too big?”
She was too aroused to answer. She simply shook her head frantically.
He tensed his hard, muscled buttocks again and as her hips arched up to meet him he put everything he had into a powerful lunge that sent him plunging deep inside her. Then he lowered his full weight onto her, his muscular chest pressing into her breasts.
Caroline dug her fingernails into his back, pulling him to her with her hands and legs as she worked frantically to match his movements. Her hips tensed and relaxed, squirming and rising to meet his thrusts. Tonio was bringing her to agonizing heights of pleasure with his pounding passion.
Caroline’s lips opened to form a passionate whisper that she hardly recognized as her own voice. “Fuck me, Tonio. Oh God, fuck me!”
“Always, my beloved Caroline. I will fuck you until you die.”
She smothered another cry as he filled her completely. He was so much larger than Adam, and the feel of his body was smooth as velvet. The hairs on his chest tormented her tender nipples as he drove ever deeper into her. She gave herself up to the ecstasy of her senses, moaning over and over again her terrible need for him.
Tonio was an expert lover, not naive and inexperienced as Adam had been. And with her hands and her lips, Caroline urged him on, meeting his thrusts, arching her hips to give him deeper access.
Something strange was happening to her. As Tonio’s passions mounted, all thoughts of Adam left Caroline. The sexual awakening Adam had created dissolved under Tonio’s assault. Her passionate fires burst into gigantic towers of flame as the violence of Tonio’s thrusts and poundings sent her into oblivion. Little cries of pleasure escaped her lips. Her hands stroked his muscled back, his buttocks. She kissed his face, his neck, his shoulders. She dug her teeth into her own shoulder as her orgasm began to build.
“Tonio,” she cried as something wild and wonderful burst into fragments deep inside her. She threw back her head and sacrificed her body to his onslaught. He continued to pound into her until a low, warm flame began to rekindle itself, sending waves of heat coursing through her body.
“Tonio. Oh, Tonio.”
Suddenly she felt Tonio tense. A groan came from his throat as he bolted into her, filling her to overflowing.
“Oh, Tonio,” she gasped, and exploded again, her mind flashing and sparking as blazing stars whirled around inside her head.
“Love me, Caroline,” Tonio whispered. “Marry me,” he sighed as the last spasms gripped him and he kissed her lovingly.
“Tonio,” she sighed. Something told her that tonight, when she returned to her bed, she would dream of Tonio. She wanted to. She wanted to be free of her love for Adam.
You never will be, an inner voice told her. Never.
