Belladonna

“If I’d known you were going to spend such a long time in my chambers, I would have been there to entertain you.” Piero smiled, but there was nothing amusing about the way he looked at her—as though he wanted to devour her.

Cass found his gaze too intense; she had to look away. Thunder boomed outside the window, and she flinched.

“Are you all right?” Piero asked, his hand coming to rest gently on her forearm.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Just in pain.”

Softly, he touched her face. “You have a fever,” he murmured. “Let me help you back to bed and then I’ll prepare your medicines.”

Before Cass could protest, Piero bent down and scooped her into his arms. He headed for the hallway.

“You don’t need to carry me.” Cass was blushing furiously. “I’m not an invalid.”

“I believe you said something to that effect last night as well.” Even though she refused to look at him, Cass could hear the smile in his voice. “And then you fainted.”

She gave up and let Piero carry her through the first floor and up the winding staircase to her room, praying that they wouldn’t accidentally bump into Falco. She did feel a little unsteady. She didn’t know if it was her condition or seeing the spiders that had caused it.

In her room, he set her down gently on her bed and started to remove her dressing gown.

“No,” Cass said quickly, willing herself not to start blushing again. “I’d like to keep it on. I’m a little chilled.”

Piero looked concerned but nodded. He tucked her beneath the covers, adjusting the pillows behind her. A piece of Cass’s hair fell in front of her eye. She and Piero reached for it at the same time, and their fingers brushed. Cass felt a spark move through her. She dropped her hand awkwardly into her lap. Piero tucked the shock of hair back into her cap, his fingers lingering on her jawbone for a second.

Cass thought back to the party she had crashed at Palazzo della Notte, at the way Piero had pursued her as if she were prey. She remembered the way Hortensa had willingly given herself to the masked stranger, the alleged vampire. But Piero was no vampire. He had saved her.

“Rest, Signorina Cassandra. The butler sent word to your friend and handmaid, and they will come tomorrow for a visit.” He blew out the candle that sat on her washing table. “I’ll be back much sooner, with more medicine to ease your pain.” He smiled at her again.

After he had gone, Cass lay beneath the sheets, listening to the rain on the rooftop, trembling in a way that had nothing to do with her fever. Piero was part of the mystery, she could feel it. He wrote of experiments and spoke of humors. He owned a ring engraved with the six-petaled flower. Cass had to get close to him, even though he scared her. One way or another, he was involved with the Order of the Eternal Rose, and she would do whatever it took to get him to tell his secrets.

twenty

“Mandrake was used frequently by the Ancients, as both an analgesic and a sedative. In large doses it has been known to cause delirium.”

—THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE

Cass woke from a dream, disoriented by the darkness. Her chest went tight for a moment until she remembered she was at Belladonna’s villa. There was a faint padding noise, and she saw a flash of movement as the blackness distorted around her. Someone else was in the room.

“Piero?” she croaked out. “Is that you?”

A candle flame sparked to life. “Sorry to disappoint.” Falco’s teasing grin materialized in the soft yellow glow.

Cass smiled and then immediately winced. Why was it that she couldn’t do anything except lie like a block of marble without her arm starting to throb? She adjusted the pillow behind her back. Mannaggia. She felt as broken-down as her aunt Agnese.

“Should I send for Dottor Basso?” Falco asked, sounding as if it were the last thing he wanted to do. He knelt down with the candle so their faces were just inches apart. “You were thrashing about in your sleep. Is it the pain?”

Cass shook her head. For once she couldn’t remember her dream, which was undoubtedly a blessing. “I’m fine.” Her arm was aching, but she didn’t want Piero. She didn’t want anything to steal away these precious moments with Falco.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Falco set the candle on the table next to the bed. He traced the hollows under her eyes, skimming a finger across the bridge of her nose. “You look so pale,” he said. “Like a ghost. I can’t believe I could have lost you. What were you doing all alone in the woods?”

Cass told him about de Gradi accosting her in the library, how she’d panicked and fled the villa. “Did you know that he was here?” she asked.

Falco wrapped the fingers of her right hand in his. He sat next to her on the bed. “He’s heard about the trials, about the people drowned and then dumped in graves outside the city.” His mouth tightened into a hard line. “Easy pickings. He’s been . . . encouraging me to go back into my former line of work.” Falco added quickly, “I said no, of course.”

Cass felt her stomach seize. Thinking of what he had done in Venice for money still made her queasy. “How many bodies can de Gradi possibly need? Surely Venice has its fair share of the dead.”

“I suspect there are other reasons for his presence in Florence,” Falco said. “He’s the one who told me about the showing at Don Loredan’s. Maybe he knew Belladonna would be there; he seems to be quite enamored with her.”

“She seems to be quite enamored with you.” Cass did her best to keep her voice light.

She was hoping Falco would deny it, but he merely shrugged. “As you’ve probably noticed, she’s quite fond of most pretty things. She seemed quite taken with you at her birthday dinner.”

“True, but she’s not posing nude for hours in my company.”

Falco laughed. “She might if you asked nicely. She’s not particular when it comes to her admirers.” He reached out and ran the back of his hand down the side of Cass’s face. His voice lowered. “She’s nothing compared with you.”

Warmth bloomed in Cass’s chest. Falco’s gentle touch never failed to melt her. Did he really find her more beautiful than his stunning patroness?

Falco lifted her chin and leaned forward. His lips grazed her cheek. “There’s something hard about her, like she’s part sculpture. Unreal,” he murmured. “You are all softness, and all real. You are ten times as beautiful as she is.”

He leaned in even closer, and then hesitated. Cass knew he was waiting for her to close the almost- nonexistent gap between them. She didn’t do it. She couldn’t. She had come to Florence with the noble intentions of clearing Luca’s name. And what, exactly, had she accomplished? She’d betrayed Luca yet again and almost gotten herself killed.

But maybe she had crossed paths with Falco for a different reason, a higher purpose. He could help her. He could be her eyes while she was trapped in bed.

She pressed her forehead against his cheek, but turned her lips away from his mouth. His face felt cool against her damp skin. “I need your help,” she whispered.

“My lovely tormentor,” Falco said softly. “How can I be of assistance?” Cass could hear the hurt in his voice.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “The Book of the Eternal Rose—” she started to say, and then gasped as something flickered in the corner of her vision. In the dim light she could just barely make out the door