Rayna, for her part, was enjoying her dance with Celestino, for she had already managed to speak to the marchese. If Celestino believed her laughter the result of his wit, there was no one to tell him otherwise. Indeed, he spoke of his conquest some hours later to both Adam and Gervaise as they sat in the comte’s narrow drawing room, sipping brandy.
“Ah, yes,” Celestino said, “the girl obviously has taste. Prefers me to the both of you.”
Adam sipped silently on his brandy. Gervaise, his fair brows raised, said in his hoarse drawl, “Any girl who prefers you, Tino, has need of glasses.”
“You’re jealous, Gervaise,” Tino said with some satisfaction. “I made her laugh.”
“She was likely laughing in anticipation of your waistcoat buttons popping over your fat belly.” His eyes went toward the marchese. He swirled the amber liquid about in the snifter for a long moment, as if in silent contemplation. “I think the time has come,” he said finally.
Adam stretched his long legs before him toward the fireplace, hoping his excitem
ent did not show on his face. “Oh?” he asked, looking bored.
Celestino leaned forward in his chair. “Really, Gervaise?”
“Yes,” the comte said, his eyes still on Adam. “I believe I have an answer to your boredom, mon ami.”
“I hope so, Gervaise,” Adam said easily. “I am considering joining the French troops in Calabria. I grow weary of the court and of paying compliments to that hag of a queen and her simpering daughters.”
“How severe you are,” the comte said. “Before you decide, marchese, I ask you to attend me. I believe you will find my diversion far more pleasurable and far less harrowing than the French Army.”
“Then I shall wait,” Adam said.
Chapter 11
Arabella stood in the shadow of the villa, a bemused smile on her face at the sight of Adam. He was leaning against an oak tree watching Rayna pace about the garden. She would retreat, she told herself, the moment Adam approached Rayna. Even though the evening shadows had lengthened, she could still see the expression on his face. He looked hungry, she thought, startling herself at such an odd notion. No man had ever looked at her like that. She felt a spurt of jealousy and longing. Stop it, she told herself firmly. She glanced toward Rayna, and imagined that Adam, who had never seen her with her hair loose, was thinking of rubbing his hands in the thick tresses that flowed nearly to Rayna’s waist. How strange it was that Rayna, two years younger than she, did not look at all virginal in her simple white muslim frock. Indeed, her every graceful step seemed a promise. Was Adam’s pulse quickening at the gleam of excitement in Rayna’s hazel eyes? Arabella felt an elusive, faint pain. Someday, she thought.
Finally Adam dusted his hands on his black breeches and walked silently toward Rayna. Arabella grinned, for the wall surrounding the garden at Lord Delford’s villa was not particularly high, but it was filthy.
Arabella knew she had to leave them and turned to walk quietly back into the villa, her thoughts turning to Lord and Lady Delford. She didn’t want to imagine her consternation when they learned of their daughter’s attachment to Adam Welles. She told herself fiercely that it wasn’t their lives or their decision. It was Rayna’s and Adam’s. She only wished that Rayna knew who Adam really was. What a shock that would be. She smiled when she heard Adam say Rayna’s name softly, obviously not wanting to startle her.
Rayna whirled about to face him, and for a moment they stared at each other. “I am glad you waited for me,” he said.
“Pietro,” she said, “I was afraid you would not come.”
“So little faith in me?” he said lightly. He switched from French to Italian. “Where is our guard dog?”
“I am not certain. Bella just told me she would be about and we were not to worry. I imagine she is keeping an eye on Papa’s study, and Mama and her cooking.”
Her starchily accented Italian brought a smile.
“But we are alone. Bella promised she wouldn’t interrupt unless she had to. How did you get into the garden?”
“Over the wall,” he said, grinning. “Actually, I would have swum a moat to see you.”
“I am glad that wasn’t necessary. You would have smelled dreadful, I would imagine.”
He chuckled at the laughter in her voice. “We will speak quietly, even though your papa is in his study and your mama is immersed in her cooking.”
“At Arabella’s home in Genoa,” Rayna said, looking up at him, “there are exquisite gardens. And in the gardens are marble statues of naked gods and goddesses. I thought the male statues truly beautiful, despite what my father said. But you, marchese, you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
“Even with my pirate’s black beard?” He tried to keep his voice light, but failed.
Rayna raised her hand and lightly touched her fingertips to his thick bearded jaw. “Yes,” she said simply.
She is too young and innocent, Adam told himself, forcing himself to pull away from her fingers, and she is only infatuated, for the first time in her life. But he did not want to believe it.
“Come,” he said, “let us sit down.” He took her arm firmly and guided her to a narrow marble bench beneath a rose bower.