Chapter32
A Rake, A Rogue, A Libertino
Near midnight at Villa Montblanc
Instead of retiring to the parlor with the rest of his family, David made his way to the library and settled into an overstuffed velvet chair.
Only a single sconce lit the corridor outside the room, which suited him as he considered his brother’s earlier words.
I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that there has been some hope that you and Vittoria might consider courtship.
The mere thought of courting Vittoria had him girding his loins, until he remembered how she had looked when she was descending the stairs the night before.
She had appeared positively regal.Confident.Gorgeous.Knowing what he did about her now, the silver gown she had worn might have been armor, her dove gray gloves gauntlets, the diamond-encrusted comb decorating her elaborate coiffure a weapon capable of wounding an adversary.
But it was her questing gaze that had caught his attention.She had been looking for someone, and from the way she had placed her arm onDonLuciano’s proffered arm when she reached the bottom of the stairs, it was apparent she had found the subject of her search.
Don Diavala.
Of all the people in the ballroom for her come-out, why ever in the world would she be looking for him?
A rake.A libertine.A predator of young ladies.
Or her prey.
David sat up straight in the chair and blinked in the darkness.
Vittoria hadn’t been seeking out the conte’s son with the intention of joining him for a tryst.She hadwantedhim to lure her into an alcove.Wanted the opportunity to grasp his nut sac in her hand and squeeze the life out of it—and perhaps out of him.
From what David had learned from his brother, he now realized Luciano Nicholas Michael Tucci, heir to acontea, had been determined they be caught so Vittoria would be forced to marry him.He would gain her dowry in the process.
If her gown’s skirts had allowed it, her knee might have done the damage David’s knee accomplished.He had interrupted her assault on the conte’s heir, though, and taken away a victory that should have been hers and hers alone.
Vittoria!
Stunned at how his body responded to his memory of the night before—to the memory ofher—his cock hardened and his heart raced with excitement—David took a steadying breath.
No wonder she was so angry with him.Accusing him of being a rogue, a rake, and a libertine were probably the only insults she knew would hurt him.
I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that there has been some hope that you and Vittoria might consider courtship.
David banged the back of his head against the chair, the stuffing far too forgiving to cause any damage or any pain, for that matter.Nicoletta and Donald had probably told her to consider a courtship with him.She might have even been amenable to it if he hadn’t interrupted her assault on the libertine.
I owe her an apology.Right now.
Without giving a thought to the time or to the impropriety of visiting a young lady’s bedchamber in the middle of the night, David was up and out of the chair far too fast.He had to steady himself and, once he was out in the corridor, consider exactly which bedchamber might be hers.
Like his family, she was a guest at Villa Montblanc, Nicoletta having encouraged her to spend the night so she could join them on their planned outing to the Roman Forum on the morrow.
With all the bedchambers located on the second floor, David stood at the top of the stairs and glanced left and right.He knew their host’s and his parent’s apartments were at the ends of the corridor.That left three bedchambers on either side.He was fairly sure he knew where his cousins and their wives were staying—in the rooms on either side of his.That left the three bedchambers on the other side of the corridor.
He paused before the first and pressed his ear against the wood door.Not hearing anything, he moved to the second and was about to continue down the corridor when he thought he heard a soft sob.Lifting a knuckle, he was about to knock but feared it might be heard by others.Instead, he pushed down on the door handle.It easily gave way, and he opened it enough to poke his head through the opening.
A gasp was followed by, “Chi c'è?”
“It’s only me,mia donna,” David whispered, his relief at opening the correct door quickly replaced by concern at hearing the familiar sounds of a woman crying.“What’s wrong?”He carefully closed the door behind him and remained where he was, allowing his eyes to adjust to the soft candlelight from a bedside lamp.
Dressed in a nightrail, Vittoria was sitting on the edge of a bed with a linen handkerchief pressed to her cheek.Her bare feet, the toes red from being stuffed into her uncomfortable half-boots earlier that day, peeked out from beneath the hem of her gown.
