“Check to make certain he is dead,” the leader ordered. “Cut his throat for good measure,” he told the men who had been restraining the prisoner. “Cut off his cock and balls too. Stuff them in his mouth for whoever finds him to see. It is a fitting ending for a debaucher of women.”
One of the men immediately complied. Rovere’s blood pooled in the dirt of the narrow road, then began to congeal. His mouth bulged wide open as his genitals were pushed between his lips, which were even now turning blue.
His executioner turned away without a word, drawing the face covering up again.
“Leave his horse and his purse,” the rider with the deep voice said. “Let whoever finds him know that the murder done was personal and not for gain.” Then seeing all his companions mounted, he gave the signal and they rode away. Above the body of the dead man, carrion birds began arriving with noisy cries of anticipation in the gray skies above.
It was almost a month later when word reached Bianca that Sebastiano Rovere had been set upon and killed on the road as he returned to Florence. She was almost healed now from the beating he had administered before her female servants had driven him out of the villa. She had learned from Agata that they had quickly dispatched the four men-at-arms who had accompanied her deceased husband. Rufina and Pia, the two pretty housemaids, lured them with bared breasts and raised skirts while Filomena and Gemma had slit the throats of each man as he eagerly fell upon a girl.
“They would not allow me to help them with those men,” Agata said, sounding relieved. “They said a city woman had too great a conscience, whereas a country woman did what must be done without regret.”
“What happened to the bodies?” Bianca wanted to know.
“We put them in bags weighed down with stones. A cousin of Gemma’s is the fisherman who supplies us with our fish. He took the bodies one by one out to sea and dumped them. They were scum hired by Rovere, and not his own men. They will not be missed by anyone,” Agata assured Bianca.
They had been living in fear that Bianca’s brutal husband would return with a stronger force to retrieve his wife and take his revenge on the women of the villa. Then had come word of his death. It had been a shock, for Bianca had never considered that her husband might be assassinated by an enemy, though such a thing was not uncommon in Florence. But as the shock quickly evaporated and relief flooded her, Bianca realized that she was at last free.
“Send Ugo to the prince with word that I must see him urgently,” Bianca told Agata, and a smiling Agata hurried out to send the manservant on his way.
That fatal night that Rovere had arrived at Luce Stellare, Ugo had taken a horse and raced down the beach to the prince’s villa to fetch him. When he had arrived he had learned that both the prince and his servant, Krikor, had gone to the city several days prior. He had quickly brought back word to Agata, and it was then the women had acted to drive Sebastiano Rovere from the house and rescue Bianca.
Afterwards Agata had told Bianca of the prince’s absence so she might know he had not abandoned her in her hour of need. Amir had come immediately upon his return and, seeing her condition, had sworn in both Italian and Turkish, vowing to see Rovere dead the next time he came to the villa. Now, upon learning of her husband’s death, Bianca wondered if her prince had not waited for Rovere’s return to Luce Stellare but gone after her husband and killed him on the road.
She saw the gray stallion galloping down the beach from the terrace of the villa where she was standing watching for him. She waved to him, her heart beating rapidly as she considered what her new freedom meant for them.
Amir saw her on the terrace, and when she waved, his heart caught in his throat. She did not look frightened or unhappy. What was so urgent that she had sent Ugo for him? He urged his stallion up the path, and gaining the top he leapt off the animal to run to her side. “What is wrong, Bianca? Are you all right?” He looked anxiously at her.
“My husband is dead,” Bianca told him.
“What?”
“Sebastiano Rovere is dead. I am free of him, Amir. Free!”
“How? When?” Allah, be praised! This was good news.
“The day my women drove him from the villa,” Bianca said. “He was set upon as he traveled back to Florence. There is no doubt it was an assassination, Amir. Neither his horse nor his purse had been stolen.” Bianca had not been told of the mutilation of her late husband.
“Do the authorities know who did it?” the prince inquired of her.
Bianca shook her head. “No one has admitted to it, nor was there any evidence that pointed to anyone. I do not believe anyone cared enough to pursue the matter, even his own sons. They took his body to the city and buried him. I still do not know how he found me in the first place, but it doesn’t matter now.”
“No,” the prince said slowly. Then he pulled Bianca into his embrace. His hand caressed her face, cupping it tenderly as his mouth descended upon hers in a deep, hungry kiss. Raising his head, he looked into her eyes. “The only thing that matters now, beloved, is you and I.” And then he began kissing her again.
Chapter 8
Her head was spinning with delight and excitement as his lips brushed, pressed, and coaxed her shy but eager responses. Bianca had never really been kissed until now. Her late husband had not been a man for romantic kissing. His rough kisses were meant to impress his ownership of her. She was discovering that kissing was a delicate art as she followed Amir’s lead and returned the kisses.
When he ran the tip of his tongue along her moist lips, Bianca gasped with surprise. His tongue immediately took advantage of her open mouth, slipping inside to play with her tongue. The sensation was exquisite, and she eagerly engaged his tongue with hers. Tongue play with Rovere had been disgusting, for he used it as he did everything—to claim ownership. Amir, however, teased and played, their two tongues dancing joyously, his scented breath mingling with hers. She almost fainted with the sensation.
His arousal was instant. He quickly broke off the embrace in an effort to cool his own ardor. He did not want her first real experience with passion to be quick or rough, given all she had suffered at Rovere’s hands, but he still held her close. The softness of her breasts against his chest was almost painful under the circumstances. But he would take her slowly this first time. And with care.
Then she surprised him by saying, “I know, I know, my beloved. You would treat me like a delicate flower, but I am not a delicate flower. I have waited my entire life for you, Amir. There is nothing you could do that would remind me of Sebastiano Rovere. I want you as badly as you desire me. Do you understand what I am saying, Amir?” Then she took him by the hand and led him into the villa, up the tiled staircase, and into her bedchamber. She shut the door behind them after they had entered the room.
“Bianca, beloved, you have never known the passion of one who truly loves you,” he told her as she unlaced his shirt. He groaned as her warm hands slid over his warm, smooth chest. Her dark head dipped to kiss his nipples.
“I’m glad you did not bother to wear a tunic,” she said to him, her hands going to his wide pantaloons and loosening them.
He laughed low. “Oh, my sweet Bianca, you have no idea the beast you are awakening in me this moment. It longs to devour you, my beloved.”
