Chapter Thirteen

Not even the warm bath a servant had prepared for her could calm Isabella’s nerves. She tried to piece together the things she’d overheard, but nothing made sense. What did Raphael want from her, and what did he want from Massimo? Did he really believe she was under Massimo’s command? She’d always hated the man, even when Giovanni had still been alive. She hated the way he snuck around and considered her house his own, how he ordered her servants around and pretended to be the master of the house whenever he visited.

For anybody to think that she would do his bidding was ludicrous.

She won’t find out. Raphael’s words still echoed in her mind. What was he hiding? Was he a gambler? Did he already have a wife somewhere else? What was it that he didn’t want her to know?

Clearly, he hadn’t married her for her money. As she perused his bedchamber, she couldn’t help but admire the rich furnishings, the expensive rugs, the beautiful paintings. Everything in his possession fairly screamed of wealth. Her own home looked like a pauper’s in comparison. No, it wasn’t her money he wanted.

Which brought her back to Massimo. What did Massimo have that Raphael and his brother wanted? She had never really figured out what Massimo did. But she’d always hated the fact that when he came to call on them, he would take Giovanni with him, and they’d be out all night. Giovanni would come home disheveled and exhausted. But not once had he answered her questions of where he’d been.

Isabella slipped under the covers of the large bed and forced her eyes shut. Somehow she would get through this. Tomorrow she’d go back to her own house and try to figure out how to extricate herself from this situation. Maybe she could appeal to the Doge and ask for protection. Protection from her own husband? What would Venetian society say? No, she couldn’t make this public. What if Raphael made it known how he’d taken her in that public archway in full view of a stranger? Her reputation would be in shreds despite the fact that she was married.

No, she couldn’t enlist anybody’s help. She was alone in this. Alone and frightened of her own husband. A stranger, a man she knew nothing about.

When Isabella heard the door open and footsteps on the floor, she knew Raphael had come to join her. Since he’d led her into his own bedchamber and not given her a separate one, she’d known he’d be joining her eventually. She would feign sleep so he would refrain from ravishing her again. Surely, he must have had enough for tonight after what he’d done in that archway.

A rustle of clothes confirmed that Raphael was getting undressed. Moments later, he slipped under the covers and instantly pulled her into his arms. He was naked.

“Mmm, you smell amazing.” He nuzzled at her neck, planting small kisses along her pulse. She let out a breath. “So you’re still awake. I was hoping you would be.”

“I’m very tired,” Isabella answered, hoping he would leave her alone. She didn’t want him to touch her when she knew something was wrong.

“I know, my angel. Are you sore?” His hand slipped to the place between her legs that instantly started throbbing.

“Yes, yes, I’m sore,” she lied and wished he’d remove his hand so her body wouldn’t turn wet and needy.

But instead of leaving her alone, Raphael pulled up her chemise. She didn’t have a night rail, so she’d decided to wear her chemise instead to have some sort of protection. It appeared that her new husband didn’t care for it.

“Let me make it better then. Now, let’s get you out of this.” He tugged on the chemise and lifted her toward him, then pulled the garment over her head.

“But,” she protested. Hadn’t he heard that she told him she was sore? Would he not give her reprieve?

He put his finger on her lips. “Shh, Isabella. I won’t penetrate you. I’ll merely soothe your flesh. I would be a poor husband if I didn’t take care of my wife’s needs.” Then he stroked his hand over her hair. “You’ve pleased me tonight, more than you can know. To see you in such ecstasy, to watch your passion, to feel it surge through my body. You amaze me with your generosity.”

She heard his words, and they were colored in admiration. How could he be the same man she’d overheard talking to Dante, the same man who’d admitted to his brother that he was using her? Her chest tightened, and a feeling of despair swept through her. She tried to hide the tiny sob that stole from her lips, but he heard it nevertheless. And misinterpreted it.

“My love, you don’t have to be ashamed of what we did. Nobody will ever find out. You’re my wife, and I’ll protect you from all others.” He let his hand trail to her full breasts, palming them gently. “You were so beautiful tonight. Your bosom pushed out of your bodice, your skirts lifted, your pink pussy glistening. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. And to know that all this is mine and mine alone, it makes me proud.”

He was making love to her with his words. She didn’t understand it, but her body responded against her will. It heated under his caress as his hand moved lower and stroked over her belly. She gasped when his fingers tangled in her triangle of curls.

“Yes, you were so responsive,” he continued in his soft voice. “Your honey was so plentiful, it engulfed my cock, and I’ve never known a more welcoming home for it. Even now, just thinking about it, I’m so hard, I’m ready to burst.”

God, how she wanted this man even though she feared his motives, feared what he was planning. But she had to fight him, fight her own body. She tensed.

“Don’t be scared, Isabella. I promised you, I won’t penetrate you tonight. I don’t want to damage your sensitive flesh any further. But when your flesh is soothed again, I’ll take you and plunge my cock into you so deep I’ll be touching your womb.”

She let out a moan, unable to keep it inside her any longer.

“Yes, you like that. You like my cock. I could tell by the way you sucked me today.”

How was she supposed to resist him when he brought her body to boil, when he sent those delicious sensations through her with just a few words, while his hand rested almost innocently on her sex? He was barely touching her, yet her pleasure spiked and drove her body higher.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please what?”

She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Take the ache away.”

“Yes, my angel.” Raphael made his way down her body and spread her thighs to settle in between them. Then he dipped his head and licked his hot tongue against her moist petals. And with every lick and every kiss, the pleasure in her body built. Forgotten was the conversation she’d overheard and the implied threat within it. All she felt was Raphael’s eagerness to give her pleasure and make love to her.

Within seconds, she felt the heat in her body spiral out of control. His tongue was relentlessly lapping against her pearl, turning it hard. With every lick and every pull, little explosions ignited in her belly.

Isabella buried her hands in the bed linen, grabbing the fabric in her fists as she fought against her own body’s reaction to him. But there was no fighting what he did to her. He gave her pleasure and catapulted her into a world of bliss without asking for anything in return. It made his intimate ministrations even sweeter. When his lips closed around her center of pleasure and tugged, she let go and allowed herself to surrender to him. The waves that followed lulled her into sleep.

The last thing she felt was Raphael pulling her into the curve of his body, pressing her back against his chest, whispering into her ear, “I’ll never hurt you.”