Chapter Eight

Bianca woke around midday. It had been hard to get back to sleep after Lorenzo had left her aroused and unsatisfied. She’d never felt so empty. Why hadn’t he finished what he’d started? He’d been hard and had to have been aching for release, just like she had. Yet he’d denied them both what would have been a night of absolute pleasure.

She threw the covers back and dropped her legs over the side of the bed. Maybe she should be happy that he’d decided to behave like a gentleman after all and not insisted on her paying for her sojourn by acting as his mistress. In fact, she should be very happy about it. For once, she wouldn’t have to pay with her body. It was a welcome change. But it was confusing to say the least.

Bianca knew she had a good body. Plenty of men had told her so, and she’d even seen it in Lorenzo’s eyes when he’d gawked at her in her nudity. Had something repulsed him? Had he not wanted her to suck him? Darn, why was she even second-guessing herself? He didn’t want her to be his mistress. She should rejoice in that fact. And he hadn’t thrown her out yet, which meant she could do what she’d come to do: find the treasure.

With renewed determination, she jumped out of bed, careful not to make too much noise. She’d heard Lorenzo come back before sunrise and enter her father’s old room. It appeared that was where he’d made his bed for the night. He’d not attempted to sneak back into her bed, even though she’d half wished it. Bianca shook her head. It was stupid to think like that. She didn’t want him. He was merely a nuisance she had to deal with while she was searching for her father’s treasure. Nothing more.

Since she had taken a bath the night before, she washed very quickly with the cold water from the pitcher on the commode, cleaned her teeth and pulled out a clean dress from her bag. If what Lorenzo had said was true—that he slept during the day—then she would have the house to herself to search at her heart’s content. She didn’t want to waste another minute of it. The faster she found what she was looking for, the faster she’d be able to leave.

Bianca tiptoed past Lorenzo’s chamber and hurried down the stairs. She would start her search in the rooms furthest from where Lorenzo was sleeping. Since she’d already examined the kitchen the night before, and since it was the least likely place her father would have hidden anything, she skipped that room and headed for the parlor. Her father had spent much time in this room, and the ornate decorations throughout it provided plenty of opportunities to disguise a hidden compartment or a false floor.

Systematically, she went to work. What made the work somewhat tedious was the fact that she couldn’t simply rip things apart and leave them that way. Because Lorenzo was in the house, she needed to make sure he didn’t realize what she was doing. When she pried a loose wooden panel off the ornate cabinet that had been built into the wall and found only dust and cobwebs behind it, she had to jam it back into its old position. Bianca used her elbow to put enough force behind it until the loose panel was sticking again.

Her hands were already dusty as was her dress from sliding against the walls and the furniture, not to mention from crawling on the floor to peek under furniture in case her father had stuck something to the bottom of a piece.

After lifting the ornate rugs in the parlor and finding nothing underneath them, she abandoned the room and went back to the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled. The larder was virtually empty, but the things she’d always liked were there: a jar of olives, hard cheese, and a partial leg of dry cured ham. She inhaled and cut herself thick slices of cheese and ham and spooned a large helping of olives onto a plate.

When she devoured the first slice of ham, she realized how hungry she’d been. Within minutes, the plate was empty, and she felt much better. It was easier to resume her search with a full belly.

Her father’s study was her next destination. When she entered the room, it was dim and badly lit. While the window was unobstructed by any drapes, the early afternoon sun didn’t reach into the room: the window backed up to another home whose wall was too close, preventing the sun’s rays to penetrate at this angle. She couldn’t understand why her father had ever chosen such an unsuitable room for his study.

Bianca lit a candle and appreciated its soft glow as it brought light into the room. While the study was small, the walls were stuffed with books from top to bottom. Many were covered with dust. She sighed. It would take her hours to remove book after book to see whether anything was hidden behind them. She set the candlestick with the lit candle to one side onto a shelf, so the light flooded over her shoulder and went to work.

She’d completely forgotten how many books her father had collected during his lifetime. He’d often read to her as a child, before they’d fallen out, before he’d gotten it into his head to marry her off to the highest bidder. Bianca pushed the thoughts aside and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. The hours seemed to fly by as she handled book after book.

“What are you looking for?”

Bianca shot up from her crouching position and turned in the same instance, her heart beating frantically at the shock of being discovered. Lorenzo, dressed in breeches and a shirt which was open at the neck glowered over her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I …” She swallowed hard, trying to buy herself some time. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

His jaw clenched. “I asked what you’re looking for.”

It appeared that he wasn’t easily dissuaded. Only her talent for acting could help her now. She thrust her chin up and pursed her lips. “If you must know …” Then she cast her eyes to the side and sighed heavily. “I was trying to find an old book my dear father read to me when I was a child.” She dropped her head toward her chest, letting out a heavy breath, sniffing in the process. “I wanted something to remember him by.”

Bianca forced herself to think of the first few days in Florence, the time when she’d had to live on the streets, the fear and the humiliation. It made the tears come easily—tears she needed now to fool Lorenzo into thinking she was mourning her father.

When she lifted her face back to him, the first tear rolled down her cheek. And with delight, she saw Lorenzo’s expression change from suspicion to compassion. Ah, yes, she could still play any man like a fiddle. They had manipulated her for long enough, now it was her turn to manipulate them.

Feeling his fingers stroke over her cheek was more than she had expected. His show of compassion took her off kilter, making her feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time: that somebody cared about her.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he whispered, his hand still stroking her cheek, his body suddenly so much closer, close enough to touch.

She inhaled his scent, the comforting smell of a strong man, a protector, somebody who would take away the pain. When his other hand came up and pulled her closer, she buried her face in his shirt, feeling his hot skin underneath. His arms came around her, pulling her in for an embrace too close to merely comfort. He pressed her against his chest and stroked his hands over her back, caressing her.

“Shh, my darling. Everything will be alright.”

She felt his lips on the top of her head, kissing her hair at the same time as his hand loosened the bun at her nape to allow her hair to cascade over her back. His fingers brushing against her neck made her shiver.

It felt so good to be in his arms, to feel protected and safe, even if it was only for a few minutes. Bianca sighed as her tears stopped flowing and raised her face to him. His eyes had an orange glow to them, the candle light reflecting in his irises more intensely than she’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes.

Without thinking, she rose on her toes and stretched toward him. His eyes widened in surprise, and a moment later his lips met hers.

Lorenzo’s spicy scent seeped into her mouth as she parted her lips for him. At first, he only teased gently, licking against her lips, briefly sweeping his tongue against her teeth, then withdrawing. Was he going to stop again? She couldn’t let that happen. She wanted to be kissed by him, to feel him devour her.

Her hands gripped the lapels of his shirt, drawing him closer. Her action elicited a deep groan from him. A second later, his hand slipped to her buttocks, and he pressed her against his loins.

Bianca gasped when she felt the hard outline of his erection pressing into her stomach and rejoiced at the same time: Lorenzo wanted her. His arousal was evidence of his desire for her. Boldly, she snaked out her tongue and slipped it between his lips, searching for her counterpart. Determined not to let him get away, she stroked against him, the texture and taste of him sending tantalizing tingles rippling along her skin and brushing over her sensitive nipples.

A shiver went through her when he responded to her by angling his head and urging her mouth to open wider. His exploration was gentle at first. Licking and stroking, he found his way, dancing with her tongue and teasing white hot sensations from her body. She was on fire.

As an experienced courtesan, she knew how to please men, and she knew how to fake her reactions to them, but with Lorenzo she didn’t need to fake any of her reactions. On the contrary, she would have had difficulty hiding them from him. Her body wasn’t her own anymore. Under the ministrations of his talented lips, every part of her body became alive with desires she’d never voiced. Desires which were only intensified with the press of his cock against her. For the first time in her life, she wanted to let herself go and respond to a man without pretense, without lies, and without holding back.