Veiled Passions. Tracy MacNishЧитать онлайн книгу.
escort was thwarted and you were grabbed and taken against your will by some unknown assailant?”
His eyes swept over her, taking in all her details, and Kieran felt her color deepen. “You were costumed, escorted, and in a crowd of people who were likewise garbed. No one could see the beauty of your face or the superb form of your body. So, why would he take this risk, why choose you, and not one of our Venetian women, many of whom stroll about unfettered by a doyenne?”
Kieran flushed deeper. This man picked apart her lies with ease, and it unnerved her even as it made her angry. She asserted herself, hiding her doubt. “My brother will believe me.”
“He might. As you say, these things do happen. But if you want his unquestioning belief, you would do well to craft your story better.”
The burchiello came to a rocking stop as they pulled alongside the bank of the canal and the boatmen called out, announcing their arrival.
Matteo didn’t move, but kept his eyes on Kieran. “I suspect that you know precisely who grabbed you, and why he did so. I do not know why you would lie to protect him, but I am certain you will continue your ruse.” His voice dropped and gentled. “I also suspect you would very much like to think life a better option than death.”
“You do not know anything about me. Nothing at all,” Kieran whispered fiercely, and she jumped to her feet. How dare he speak so casually of her darkest longing? “Good night, signore.”
She whirled on her heel and hurried to the door. A moan of dismay escaped her lips as she found it still locked. Before she could turn to demand he open it, Matteo was behind her, so close she could feel the heat of him. His jaw was above her ear, and he spoke quietly as he handed her the discarded pieces of her costume, along with her dagger.
“Perhaps you should stay a while on my burchiello, and allow me to school you in the Italian art of vendetta. It is a tradition in my country, and we believe that when one wrongs another, they deserve to be repaid in full. There is a singular delight in serving justice from one’s own hand.” Matteo moved even closer to her, lowered his voice until it was an urgent whisper. “Only then can one find peace in their soul.”
Kieran turned and looked up at him, her lips parted and trembling. She could not move, but was rooted by his words and the images they created in her mind.
“Ah, you have the most beautiful eyes,” he murmured. “Like the canal at twilight.”
He looked as if he would kiss her, and that was enough to break Kieran’s reverie. She grabbed her things and held them to her chest. “Good night, Signore de Gama. Thank you for your aid, the blankets, and the port.”
“I will tell my men to watch you as you approach the palace, and for them to take care they are not seen. I would not want their presence to spoil whatever falsehoods you might invent.”
Matteo unlocked and opened the door, then stood back so she could depart. A smile played about his lips as he bowed. “And thank you, for a most interesting evening. It has been a long time since a woman threatened to kill me, and longer still since I met such a captivating liar. I also cannot forget that never before have I had the happy privilege of saving a life, let alone, the life of someone so beautiful. So, thank you for the many pleasures.”
Matteo gave brisk orders in Italian to his men.
Kieran hesitated for a moment, but turned and walked away, her wet things clutched to her chest as the boatmen flanked her in escort. She stopped and turned around, saw Matteo standing in the open doorway, limned with candlelight, his face cast in shifting shadows.
He seemed to read her mind. “I have a small casino on the isle of San Giorgio Minore. I shall not be there long, as I will be traveling, but send for me if you wish. If I am available, it would please me very much to see you again.”
“A casino?”
“House,” Matteo corrected after thinking of the English word. “You can send for me at my house.”
“I shall not.”
“I understand, cuore solitario. Someday, when you are ready to let go of some of your hauteur, perhaps you can take back some of your pride. Until then, I wish you the best with your deceit.”
Kieran found herself without words. The man knew no boundaries at all. She turned back around and stalked away, her head held high.
“And remember,” Matteo called out to her departing form, laughter rich in his voice, “mind your lips and chin.”
Kieran left the boatmen on the fringes of the property. She thanked them, but none of them spoke English. They smiled, nodded, and pressed kisses to Kieran’s hand before sauntering away, their light-colored jackets disappearing into the darkness.
She hesitated before the two ornate, double doors, her hand on the iron handle. Taking a few deep breaths to sustain her, she steeled herself against the guilt for the lies she would tell Rogan. Kieran had kept her silence this long; she would not allow the events of this night to rob her of her privacy.
She’d be damned if she’d spend the rest of her life suffering Rogan’s efforts to conceal his shame when he looked at her. She knew well what kind of honor her brother possessed. She would not allow him to find out that his sister had none.
With her mind made up, Kieran opened the door and went inside.
The household was in an uproar, and Rogan was in the process of gathering a search party. Everything stopped as Kieran entered.
“What the hell happened to you?” Rogan demanded. He strode across the room and grabbed Kieran, pulled her into a fast, fierce hug, and then held her by the shoulders for inspection. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.” Kieran struggled for normalcy as she spoke the lies she’d formed. She told as much of the truth as possible, so that if there had been any witnesses, her tale would hold up. “I had heard a noise and sought to see the source, and when I emerged into the corridor, a masked man grabbed me and dragged me outside. I fought him, and fell into the canal as a result. Thankfully, a kind man in a burchiello saw me fall and he rescued me as my assailant ran off. Overall, I’m fine, Rogan, other than a bit shaken. Please do not worry.”
As Kieran finished speaking, Nilo dropped to his knees before her, his head bowed.
Kieran lay her hand gently on his head, her fingers resting on the warm curve of his shorn scalp. “Faithful Nilo. How you must have worried.”
Rogan stood before her, his eyes hard, his face unreadable. “Nilo has asked me to dismiss him.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Kieran turned her attention back to Nilo. “Rise, and face me. There is no room for shame. You are not at fault.”
Nilo stood tall, and met her eyes. “It is my duty to protect you.”
“Yes, and you have stood at my back for three years. By your own vow, you swore that not a hair on my head would be harmed under your watch, and so it has been. You had no control over the events that happened this night; you cannot protect me when you are not present.”
His lips flattened but he remained upright, at attention, as she had commanded him. “Were you hurt in any way?”
“No. I swear it.”
He frowned and sucked in his bottom lip. The expression tore at her heart, calling to mind the one time he’d told Kieran of his life in Africa, when another tribe killed his wife and children, and how sick he’d been on the slave ships, in body and soul. He’d been unable to save his family, and unable to save himself.
The thought that he would think he’d failed her had Kieran speaking from the heart.
“Please don’t leave me, Nilo.” Kieran’s voice broke over the words, and she swallowed hard against the lump that formed in her throat at the thought of losing him. “Please,” she whispered, and the tears that shone in her eyes were honest and real.
“I