by Lora Thomas
“Did you just insult me?”
“You can take it any way you feel. How can I say it is a pleasure to meet you when I know nothing about you?”
“Yes,” Drakos growled. His eyes went to Madelena. “Well, I really don’t care if you like me. I get to be the envy of every man in Rome for having that pretty young thing, now don’t I?” The way his eyes traveled over Madelena was revolting. His features were pulled into a lewd grin. Licking his lips again, a lascivious flash came to his weathered eyes as he sipped his wine.
“Please quit ogling Signorina Madelena like she is a piece of meat you recently purchased to gorge on. It is rude and inappropriate to display such vile actions in public. Apparently, men in Greece lack manners and behave like beasts.” Oliver knew he should have kept quiet, but he could not. The way this man was ogling Madelena infuriated Oliver.
“Cocky little bastard, are you?” Drakos replied. “She is mine, and I can look at her any way I damned well please. Russo, why did you introduce me to this ingrate? Was it to piss me off?”
“That was not my intention,” Antonio replied. “My wife thought you would like to meet Signore St. John and establish a connection in the West Indies.”
Drakos snorted. “If I am to ship with any company, it would not be with this bastard’s company. His rudeness is unacceptable. I’ll keep on using East India. At least their representatives know how to treat their clients properly.”
“You mean they kiss your ass,” Oliver answered. “Signore, I can assure you, even if Emerald Shipping were the only shipping company upon this earth, we would never ship for the likes of you. We prefer our clientele to have a bit more refinement than swine.”
Drakos’s fingers tightened around his cup. “Why you—”
“I am not above striking an elder. I haven’t had to do so in some time. Do not make me break my streak.”
“You cocky—”
“Bastard?” Oliver filled in. “Of course I am. I am a St. John, and we pride ourselves on our arrogance and cockiness. We also pride ourselves on whose company we hold. I have tarnished my reputation enough by being in your presence.” He looked at Angela. “Would you care for another dance, Angela?”
A pleased smile came to her face. “Of course.”
Oliver looked at Madelena. Madelena was not surprised to see the hurt expression in Oliver’s eyes. She had hoped not to see him with Drakos present. Oliver’s green eyes were full of contempt and scorn. Her heart ached. She wanted to shout that Sandra was forcing her to endure Drakos’s company, but knew the outcome if she did. Instead, she looked away towards her intended, trying to control the quiver of her chin.
Oliver noticed the direction of Madelena’s gaze. How could she have turned so cold so quickly? She had used him and now acted like she did not know him.
Rudeness was in his voice as he spoke. “Best wishes, Madelena. I truly hope your marriage is a short one.” With that, Oliver spun on his heels and left, Angela on his arm.
Sandra gasped in horror at Oliver’s discourtesy. Antonio let out a low growl. And Madelena simply stared after Oliver, wondering when he became so familiar with her sister.
“I cannot believe you wanted me to meet that cocky bastard,” Drakos complained. “He would dampen any good mood.” His eyes went back to Madelena and landed on her chest. “But a pair of firm tits always makes things better.”
“Sir!” Madelena protested. “That is very rude of you to say.”
Drakos shrugged and swilled down more wine. “I don’t care. I own you.”
“We are not married yet,” Madelena hissed out.
“Madelena,” Sandra scolded.
Madelena looked at Sandra and could see the warning in her eyes. She had to put up with Drakos’s lewd behavior. If not, then Oliver would pay the price. Instead of apologizing, she said, “I am still free until we wed.”
Drakos smacked his mouth. “And that will be soon.” He looked at Antonio. “I am in Rome for only a few days. The purity check will be completed tomorrow. If she passes, then we will wed three days later. Russo, I assume you can have a special license by then?”
“Yes,” Antonio answered.
Madelena could feel her stomach churn. She forced a pleasant smile to come to her lips. “I look forward to the day.”
“You should,” Drakos said, his eyes roaming over her. “I know I do.”
Madelena’s eyes drifted to the dance floor. She watched Oliver smile and laugh with Angela. He danced two more dances with her before leaving the ballroom leaving Madelena to wonder what was to become of him if Sandra had her way.
Oliver restrained his temper as he stepped away from the vilest man he had ever met—and he had dealings with pirates! Now, because of his spontaneity and need to insult Madelena for her betrayal, he was forced to entertain Angela.
He twirled the overzealous woman around the ballroom, trying to be witty when in truth he wanted to toss her from the bloody window. Yet he laughed and flirted all because of his wounded pride. After two dances he bid Angela goodbye and left her in the hands of Signore Demetri. Spying Martin and Geneva next to a potted plant, he approached.
“I’m leaving,” Oliver said.
Martin nodded. “Very well. Geneva and I will be home shortly.”
“No. Rome. Italy. I am leaving and going back home. My home. To the Caribbean.”
Concern pulled at Martin’s eyes. “Why? You have only been here for little over a week.”
Oliver’s expression was resolute. “I have a feeling my presence here will only cause you hardship.”
“Dammit, Oliver. Be more specific, man.”
“Russo. I am pissing that man off with every meeting.”
Martin gazed over at the Russos and noticed Madelena standing next to Drakos. “Is it that or because of Madelena and her intended?”
Oliver’s look turned darker. “I am going home. When will the next ship depart?”
“What do I look like? A bloody porter?” Martin questioned. “Look. I know you have had a stressful past few days. Go to my home. Calm yourself. I will be home shortly, after your temper has cooled, and we will discuss this.”
“There is nothing to discuss.”
“Bloody hell, Oliver. You are allowing that chit to ruin your visit? It has been years since we spoke, and since your arrival, you have seemed preoccupied with something else.”
“Gentleman,” Geneva spoke. “The both of you are causing a scene. Let us all depart, and we can continue this discussion in a more private setting.”
“I thought you wanted to stay?” Martin asked.
“No. I despise Nichole Cancio. I only came because you wanted to.”
“No. I only came because I thought you wanted to,” Martin elaborated. “Well, now that that is settled, let us all go home, and we can discuss Oliver’s current dilemma.”
Oliver headed out the door. Martin turned just in time to see Drakos wrap an arm around Madelena’s waist and attempt to kiss her. She leaned back and pushed away. No wonder Oliver was upset. Hell, he found the public display of affection repulsive, and he was not interested in Madelena. He took his wife’s hand and led her out the door. If Madelena’s involvement with Drakos was the reason for Oliver’s sudden desire to leave, then Martin must do something to convince his friend to stay.
“There is nothing you can say, Martin,” Geneva spoke.
“Pardon?”
“Oliver. He has his eyes set for Madelena, and she is now out of his reach.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“Is it? I have only recently become acquainted with Oliver, but from the stories you shared, he was not the type of man to become upset when a fling took up with another. I think he has feelings for her.”
“Are you saying he loves her?”
“He is attracted to her. And not for her beauty. He is intrigued by her.”
“And you know this how?”
Geneva patted Martin’s arm. “I am a woman.”
“That is supposed t
o answer the question?”
“It is.”
Martin shook his head. His wife had a way of leaving him more confused than not. And now was no different.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning proved no different in persuading Oliver to change his mind about leaving. In fact, Oliver was even more insistent. And Martin could not help but think that the morning’s paper was part of the cause. In the society section, in large bold print, was the announcement of Madelena’s wedding to Miles Drakos of Greece.
“Oliver,” Martin pleaded. “You cannot let this”—he patted the society section of the paper—“cause you to leave. There are plenty of other women in Rome. Why are you so intrigued by Madelena?”
“That is not helping, Martin,” Oliver said, snatching the paper from Martin. Roughly poking the words of the announcement, Oliver spoke, “He does not deserve her. She is a free spirit being given to a bloody odious bastard who is more disgusting than any pirate I have ever met. I am not upset that she is marrying. She told us both that the morning that her father came searching for her. What is upsetting is who she is marrying. What is upsetting is that she knew he was at the blasted ball and kissed me—”
“Kissed you?” Martin repeated, sitting straighter in his seat.
Oliver pressed his lips together and turned his head.
“Bloody hell, Oliver! I thought you had more sense than to involve yourself with her again.” His eyes grew wide. “Is that where you disappeared last evening? I saw you and Mortilini discussing something. Next thing I know he is escorting Signorina Valenti and Madelena outside.” Martin’s eyes grew wider. “You didn’t?!”
“What are you yelling about?” Oliver retorted.
Martin waggled his finger at Oliver. “You idiot! I know what you did.”
“What did I supposedly do?”
“We grew up together, Oliver. Or have you already forgotten? I remember your ultimate goal for each of the soirees your mother held. To take a maiden out back and see if you could get into her skirts. Is that what happened last night?”
“You had the same goal.”
Martin held up his hands and shook them. “Don’t change the subject.”
“What do you want me to say, Martin?”
“I want to hear you say that you did not have relations with Madelena last night at the Cancios’ ball. I want to hear you swear it to me that nothing happened between the two of you.”
Oliver locked eyes with Martin.
“I want to hear you swear it, Oliver.”
“I can’t,” Oliver replied.
Martin leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stand up. “Judas, Oliver! If you keep this up, Geneva and I will have to move away from Rome. And I am here to tell you, she will not take that news well. Her family lives here. If you keep having relations with Russo’s favorite daughter, Emerald Shipping will be lucky even to be allowed within a hundred miles of Rome. And you will be lucky to leave Rome in one piece.”
“I do not need you lecturing me, Martin.”
“Someone needs to. I know she is a beautiful woman, but dammit, Oliver, find another. Find one whose father is not as powerful as Russo.”
“I don’t want to find another. I only want her!”
The silence that followed after that confession was deafening. The only audible noise was the gentle tick of the large clock sitting upon the mantel.
“Then you must let her go,” Martin solemnly spoke. “She is out of your reach now, Oliver.”
Oliver shook his head. “I can’t.”
A deep sigh left Martin. “Look, Oliver. I know how these Italian women can be. They take a man’s heart and brutally rip it into pieces and then send a knife into your pride. They are Peitho and Aphrodite. But they are also Enyo, Eris, and The Graces.”
“You are comparing Roman women to Greek Goddesses,” Oliver corrected.
“Blast it all, that is not the point. The point is that they will love you with all their heart and soul. But when you are scorned by them, when you are no longer needed, when duty calls then the pain they cause is excruciating. They break a man, Oliver. Break a man to the point that he is no longer the same.”
“Yet you married one.”
Martin nodded in agreement. “I did. What you do not know is that, at first, it was a rocky relationship. At one time, she refused to see me because she thought I was looking at other women.”
“You most likely were,” Oliver snapped.
“I am trying to make a point here, Oliver.”
“Then make it and quit belaboring the issue.”
“The point is, Geneva nearly married another. Her parents hated me because I was not ‘one of their people’ and convinced her that I was not a good choice. It nearly killed me knowing this. I made a bloody fool of myself—”
“That wasn’t hard,” Oliver mumbled.
“—in order to stop her marriage. It took some time, but I managed to persuade Geneva’s parents otherwise, and now they adore me.”
“And how did you accomplish all of this?”
“Hard work and perseverance. I had to prove to them that I would be a suitable husband. I had to earn their acceptance.”
Oliver snorted. “Why? She seems like an independent woman.”
“Yet, she values tradition. If her parents had not agreed…well, things would be different.”
“If she truly loved you, then she would disobey her parents’ wishes and do as she wished.”
“I did,” Geneva said from the doorway. She entered the room, walking with the elegance of a queen. Sitting beside Martin, she spoke, “My parents never saw the redeeming qualities in Martin that I did until well after we were wed. When they saw the lengths he went to in order to ensure my happiness, they changed their view of him.” Geneva took Martin’s hand. “And I know now that I would have never been happy without Martin in my life.” She turned her attention to Oliver. “But my circumstance was different. My marriage was not arranged but by my choice.”
“How long have you been listening?” Oliver asked.
“I haven’t. A woman just knows.”
“Snoops.”
“Knows,” Geneva corrected. “Madelena is like a rare painting. Everyone wants her, yet only one will get her. And unfortunately, none of us can afford the price except Drakos.”
“Why him?” Oliver snapped.
“Perhaps it is the rumor that Stephano mentioned,” Martin said.
“What rumor?” Geneva asked. “You never mentioned knowing gossip.”
Martin gave a sheepish grin. “It is only rumor.”
“Then what is it?”
“Do you remember the other day when you overheard the neighbors arguing about Russo’s illegitimate child?”
“Yes?”
“That child is Madelena.”
Geneva gasped. “No!”
“That is the rumor. She is the result of Russo’s affair with his mistress. What was her name?”
“Francesca,” Oliver added.
Geneva’s brown eyes widened, reminding Oliver of an owl, as her hands came to her mouth. “It can’t be.”
“It is only gossip, Geneva love. We do not have proof.”
A deflated sigh left Geneva. “So, what we have going on is that Sandra Russo is marrying off Madelena to Drakos to spite Antonio and to rid herself of Antonio’s illegitimate child. Correct?”
Martin nodded. “If the rumors are true, then yes.”
“That still doesn’t explain why that repulsive man,” Oliver grumbled.
Sympathy pulled at her features. “Signora Russo is a spiteful woman. Drakos is a hideous man. Signora Russo feels scorned and knows that Signore Russo loves Madelena more than anything. What better vengeance for her than forcing his favorite daughter to wed an ogre?”
“She could wed another,” Oliver said.
Martin’s eyes widened. “Egad! Am I hearing you correctly? You want to marry?”
Oliver shoo
k his head. “No. But she could wed someone else. Then Drakos could not.”
“Oliver, I know you have good intentions, but Russo is dangerous. His wife must be holding something over his head, such as Madelena’s status, in order to get him to agree to the marriage. If that is the case, and even if Madelena did wed another, an unfortunate accident would befall them.”
Geneva spoke, “It’s true. As I said, Sandra Russo is a shrewd, spiteful woman.”
Oliver leaned back in his seat and sighed.
“Oh, this came for you, dear,” Geneva said, pulling a note from her pocket.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Martin rolled his eyes. “Yes, you do. You always read the mail.” Martin flipped open the note. “Seems that there aren’t any passenger vessels heading for the Caribbean for another month. In a few days, there is one heading to Boston, but once there, who knows how long before one leaves from there for the Caribbean. I will go into the office later this morning and see if any Emerald Shipping vessels are scheduled to dock.”
“You mean, you don’t know?” Oliver inquired.
Martin nodded. “That would be correct. You see, your brothers make their own schedules by the seat of their pants. I usually do not know they are coming until they arrive. Occasionally, I receive a correspondence from them a few days before their arrival but not often.”
“I’ll come with you,” Oliver said.
“Very well. I need to gather my coat, and then I will be off.”
The trip to Martin’s office was uneventful. Most of the inhabitants of Rome were either asleep or recuperating from their last night of Carnival. Even Martin’s assistant was feeling the effects. The normally jovial Valerio was cradling his head in his hands. After a cordial greeting, the older man handed Martin the mail and went back to holding his head. Martin scanned the ledgers in his office and determined that no Emerald Shipping vessels were scheduled to dock until the end of the month. Martin flipped through the mail, and his fingers tightened over one.
“It’s from Jacob,” Martin said, his fingers breaking the seal.
“What does it say?” Oliver asked rounding the desk to peer over Martin’s shoulders. Before Martin could read a word written, Oliver took the parchment from him. “He will be here the end of the week. It seems they are to pick up a passenger and transport him to Governor’s Harbour.”
