With a protective hand at the small of her back, he led her along thefondamente,then drew her into one of his haunts. It was a bar with tables by arched windows overlooking the lagoon. The sky was a deep purple, the candlelight flickered and reflected a million lights in her golden-dusted hair. He ordered them champagne.
Savage picked up the fine Venetian goblet. “I toast your beauty and your mystery, Queen Mab.”
Her fingers toyed with the stem of her glass. He, too, thought she looked like a fairy queen.
“Now, what’s this proposition you have in mind?” he murmured indulgently.
“I have escaped my guardian for one night. I seek a lover.”
Even in the shadowed room he saw her blushes. He covered her hand. She did not see the amusement in his eyes. “Let me guess. You are being forced into a loveless marriage and you long to be introduced to erotic pleasures of the flesh before you dry up and blow away.”
She laughed as he had meant her to. “I can never marry. Circumstances forbid it.”
His quick mind assessed the possibilities. A convent? Possible. An invalid parent? More probable. “Never is a long time. Circumstances change. If I agree to become your lover for a night, you may deeply regret me someday.”
“Never!” Antonia vowed.
“How much experience have you had?” he asked, bemused.
“None,” she said faintly.
Savage stood up to leave. “Forgive me,cherie,it is impossible.”
“Please don’t leave me! I am a virgin who is sick and tired of that everlasting state. Is it so shameful of me to want a night of pleasure?”
“There is no shame in it at all,chèrie.It is simply that our time together would be too short for me to give you the kind of pleasure you crave.”
“Then simply unveil the mysteries of sex for me.”
“When a man breaks a young girl’s barrier, there is blood and pain. There is a certain amount of pleasure for the male, but very little for the female, I assure you.”
Her eyes widened. He thought he might drown in the deep green pools.
“Love me tonight,” she tempted, wetting her full bottom lip.
Heat built in his groin. He mocked himself for a fool. He had imagined a night of decadence with a practiced voluptuary, perhaps three or four to slake his unquenchable sexual energy, yet here was an innocent English lady begging for the services of his manhood.
“How old are you?” Savage demanded.
“Sev—eighteen,” she whispered. It was a terrible lie.
Blood throbbed into his shaft with alarming force, making him full and turgid and thick with need. Christ, if he turned her down she would seek another. A mocking voice said,Don’t pretend you’re doing it to protect her.He’d give her one last chance to withdraw.
“I feel it only fair to warn you, I am scarred on face and body. I will repel you.”
“Never that,” she vowed fervently, her hand stealing to his.
“Then drink up, Queen Mab, and fly away with me. I am about to discover if it really is more blessed to give than receive.” Tonight he must truly be the Prince of Fools. He vowed it was the last time he would ever come to the rescue of a damsel in distress.
Chapter 27
The Leopard drew her down the water steps to a waiting gondola and gave instructions in the man’s own tongue.
“You will always remember that romance first stole to you in a gondola in Venice.” He stepped into the narrow boat, reached strong hands to her slim waist, and lifted her down to him. It was an intimate gesture. They stood close, excitement racing their pulses.
Her breath caught in her throat as he drew her to the cushioned seat in the rear. “Come.” His voice was rich, dark velvet, inviting, luring, compelling. She hesitated as she looked down at his magnificence sprawled before her, hers for the taking.
He undid the clasp of his black silk cape and draped one side across the cushions. Her knees turned to water and she sank beside him into the dark, silken cocoon he offered.