The sea had not yet swallowed the sun when Antonia joined the throng. Everywhere was gaiety, music, and laughter. When the barriers of the masks had gone up, all others had come down. Strangers spoke with each other as easily as cast members of a troupe of players delivering their clever lines and reacting to the responses with a smile, a touch, or an overt caress.
The mood of the early revelers was gay and giddy. When dusk veiled Venice, the mood would become one of abandon. The costumes and disguises were spectacular. Some were clever, others unbelievably daring. Seminudity was commonplace. Male and female gender in many cases was blurred to the point where it was undetectable. Some were gaudy, some were bawdy. Many were rude; a few downright crude. All were on display, all were intoxicated, either by the night or by what they had already imbibed.
The mood was infectious, the laughter spreading with abandon from one group to another, linking them in the relentless pursuit of pleasure. Antonia was filled with apprehension. She held herself aloof from hands that reached out to her, and leering mouths that shouted,“Donna! Bella! Grazioso! Per favore!”
A crowd jostled each other good naturedly in front of the gondolas as they waited to be taken across the lagoon. A few vestiges of civilization still clung, but Antonia could see it would only take a small spark to ignite a mood-swing to ugliness. It was apparent she would not have a gondola to herself, so she climbed into one that carried other females. She pulled away, shocked, when another woman touched her intimately. As she looked about, it seemed to Antonia that tonight everyone in Venice had the painted face of a harlot. She blushed delicately. She was no different from the others.
Antonia retraced her steps of yesterday along the crowdedfondamente,smiling in acknowledgment whenever a gentleman touched his fingers to his lips in a gesture of appreciation. She had learned that Italian men were physically demonstrative whenever they saw an attractive female, regardless of Carnival.
The lobby of Casa Frolo was lit brilliantly. Musicians played up on the galleria, their music floating down upon the dancers below along with streamers and clouds of confetti. Antonia examined every face as she searched the crowd for one man. She did not see him, so again she pushed her way through the noisy revelers, realizing how easy it would be to miss him in the sea of masked faces. At last she was certain that he was not yet in the lobby of the palazzo. She decided to go up to the galleria, because she was convinced his chambers were on that level.
She started up the marble stairs and there coming down toward her was a magnificent figure. He wore a crimson turban ornamented with a peacock feather. An Eastern tunic stretched across his wide shoulders. As she gazed up at the raja her heart leapt when she saw his gaze was riveted upon her. The distance between them closed. Breathlessly she realized when he was a few steps above her he had an unimpeded view of her breasts, deliciously displayed by the golden bodice.
Her hand reached out to him. “Signore,” she breathed softly, invitingly.
“Voi siete bella”(You are beautiful),“tesoro.”(darling)“Baciami!”(Kiss me) The man reached for her with greedy hands.
Antonia knew his voice was not Savage’s voice. Her eyes widened in alarm as she gazed into obsidian eyes.
“No, no,” she cried, pushing his hands away. Her reluctance spurred him on and she felt his arm pull her against his body, then he bent his mouth to hers.
She struggled wildly, screaming, “No, no, no, signore, no!”
A bronzed hand descended upon the raja’s shoulder. “I believenomeans the same in Italian as it does in English.”
Antonia almost fainted with relief. Savage’s dangerous voice was unmistakable. Though cloaked in velvet at the moment, its threat was palpable.
“Per dio!”(By God!) The raja went down to his knees as Savage increased the painful pressure upon his shoulder, then Adam took Antonia’s hand and led her safely back down the marble steps to the main floor. She felt the warmth of his hand radiate upward into her arm. He was dressed in black. A black leopard, half-mask stopped just at his lips, concealing the scar. A black cloak swirled about his powerful torso. She knew he represented far more danger than the raja.
“How may I thank you, my lord?” Antonia asked breathlessly.
“I’ll think of something, little butterfly. You are English.” He sounded intrigued.
Her mouth curved deliciously. Her black lashes swept down to her cheeks, then lifted over dreamy pale-green eyes. “Do you offer your protection, my lord?”
“Against all but myself,chèrie,”
Though she was tall for a woman, they stood so close, she had to put her head back to gaze up at him. He lifted her hand to his lips. Antonia felt the jolt all the way to her shoulder as his hot mouth touched her skin.
“You, too, are English,” she whispered.
“Perhaps by birth, but not by nature.”
“A leopard by nature?” She wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.
Adam’s pale blue eyes darkened with lust. He was going to lick that luscious full lower lip with the tip of his own tongue before he kissed her.
She shivered—and burned.
They were still handclasped. He was intrigued by her beauty, her youth, and her nationality.
“I have a proposition for you, my lord. Are you interested?”
How droll. Wasn’t he supposed to proposition the lady? “I shall be enchanted to while away an hour or two,chèrie.Do you have a name?”
She shook her head and the corners of her mouth went up in a teasing smile.
He would kiss the corners of her mouth after he’d ravaged her sensual lower lip. He wanted to pick her up and carry her upstairs to his bed without wasting further time, since that was where they would end the night. Savage fought the need for haste. He must at least buy her a glass of champagne first. She was very young. He must not frighten her quite yet.