Gentleman in the Shadows
Karen Sommers
Copyright © 2020 by Karen Sommers
All rights reserved.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Coming Soon
Also by Karen Sommers
About the Author
Chapter 1
The gentleman in the darkest corner of the dim chamber captured her drifting gaze. Among the wavering shadows, leaning against the stone wall, Shayna thought him elegant, mysterious, and beautiful. Not the proper adjective when describing most men. Such feminine associations stung the male ego. But it was the only accurate word.
As he stood in darkness, his age was indeterminable. The play of shadows gave him more substance than the handsome men in lighted areas with their brocade waistcoats shimmering and jeweled shoes glinting, all eager to be seen. Promenading like peacocks, all their wares on display, they cast furtive, hopeful glances toward the Ricci women.
The collective desire was to snag a Ricci woman for a wife. Meant to entice, seduce, and woo a Ricci female, the pitiful charade had the opposite effect on Shayna. Though dull and self-righteous in everyday life, Alexandria flaunted for them; batting eyelashes, blushing prettily behind her fan, giggling as if held in place by their unending charms. Actions Shayna had no use for, and to her mother’s dismay, had never tried to learn.
The gentleman’s masculine form in the corner drew her gaze and her interest, however. How she wished he would come out and speak to anyone, so she could see his face full in the light. The man was untouched by the movement and festivities all around his shadowy keep.
Turning his head, he looked in Shayna’s direction. No way to tell for certain if he was looking at her or not, but he gave a slight nod. A sudden surge of excitement sped her pulse and hummed through her muscles. The tingle was the most pleasant she had ever experienced. A unique sensation starting under her skin and delving deeper along her nerves, and she had nothing in her thin repertoire with which to compare it.
The boredom of the party burdened Shayna’s heart and mind. Endless entertaining grew to an unbearable level and her focus wandered. The stranger, still leaning against the old castle wall in the dark corner, became more and more attractive with each passing minute. Flickering light from the torches painted the stonework in graceful splays of orange and yellow, the twisting shapes danced close to him, ensconcing him in twilight, piquing her curiosity only to dip away a moment before revelation, burying him in darkness.
A silver tray of half-filled wine glasses bobbed by on the hand of a slender serving boy. A hand appeared in the light, hooking a taper with the grace and agility of a panther snagging a wayward rabbit. The server slowed down and nodded but didn’t need to stop. The hand had been beautiful and strong, but elegant and quick. Torchlight swam in the dark liquid, and then the appendage disappeared into the darkness, back to its master with the wine.
Shayna smiled at the figure and to her surprise, the glass came back into view and tilted in simulation of a toast. Looking around, Shayna scoured the revelers. It was obvious she had been the only person looking in that direction.
Maybe that tiny gesture was a sign he, whoever he was, had been watching her as much as she had been studying him. She would see him before the party ended, she could do nothing else, her heart was a wild beast contained in the cage of her trembling body. Unable to deny it any longer, she stood and took her leave from the present company of clucking women wrapped in fine shawls and draped in gaudy jewelry. Her pulse quickened as she meandered toward the alluring darkness of the far corner.
Several of her mother’s friends descended on her at the first sign of movement. A fluttering crowd of cheek-squeezers who had to speak to her and couldn’t wait. It was nice to have her and the family back in Italy; how beautiful she looked; oh, she was so grown up now; and the false beatitudes continued. If not for her good manners in social situations, Shayna would have elbowed through the crush, but she suffered their inquiries and well wishes with a smile on her face and exasperation building in her chest.
Engaging each person in the group briefly, she remained polite but soon drifted away with a swish of her silken cape. She had to set foot in the shadowed recess and make eye contact with the owner of that gorgeous hand. Though she hadn’t seen his face, there was a connection, a tenuous thread of familiarity floating in the air between them. Blood pumped hot and hard through her veins, leaving her cheeks flushed with heat.
The shadow-clad figure did not move until she was almost close enough to see him. He backed deeper into the alcove with one fluid stride back and to the side, a catlike movement full of unusual grace for a man. Gasping, Shayna followed the faint outline of his form from shoulder to head and smiled up at him. His broad shoulders were squared, his silhouette angled down to narrow hips, but not the bony or sickly kind of slimness, as if he were an adolescent playing at being grown up. No. She stared at a man of great strength. The type of man she had always sought in her secret heart; another quirk of her nature which her mother found appalling.
One timid step, and her smile faltered as her lungs pulled hard at the air. The man remained in shadow. Arms trembling, knees weak, she put out her foot. One last forward motion to pass the ring of light; one final action to reveal the man.
A harsh whisper startled Shayna, stopping her in mid-motion. “Dear lady, if you would be so kind as to stand where you are, I would be grateful.” His voice vibrated through her as if he had touched her.
Veiled from the party by the purgatory that was neither light nor blackness, Shayna stopped and squinted into the heavier shadows of the alcove, prying at the impenetrable wall of darkness.
“Why do you not wish me to see you as well as you see me?” The tremor lent a harshness to her voice that had not been there before. Tightening the muscles of her throat, she stood straighter.
The warm, haunting voice drifted, the baritone rumble tripped over her skin, and she pulled her cape over her arms. She could listen to his lilting, soothing tones for eternity and never tire of it. The thick Swiss accent was distinct, unfamiliar, and her intrigue doubled.
“I only admire your beauty. I feel as if I am beholding a treasure mortals can only dream of. The look in my eyes would be so greedy you would find it offensive” The hand retreated into the shadow.
He was so close; it was frustrating and fascinating.
If she never heard his voice in life again, she would hear it every night in her dreams. In nocturnal fantasies where her heart was free, and she was hidden from her mother’s disdainful scowl, his voice would come to whisk her away on an ethereal horse and into great romantic adventures. Without knowing it, he had been hired as her life’s narrator. His would be the voice she heard when reading epic tales of old, and he would be the speaker of heartfelt promises in daydreams. She hated the restrictions of her life, but if she could know this stranger, maybe her dreams of freedom could still come true.
“I think that was a compliment, so, thank you.” Shayna waited for a reply wanting to feel the pulsations of his words again. Her hands shook as she clasped them together.
“You are more welcome than you know.” No movement toward light.
She picked up the slightest nuanc
es with her ears and eyes, the enticing familiarity washed through her again. Had she met this man before? She would have remembered. His stature alone should be enough to recall seeing him in daylight. Not many men in her mother’s circle were as large as her shadow-dwelling caller.
“Sir, could I but persuade you to step into the dim light, so I may see you? What shall I do? I feel there is something extraordinarily familiar about you.” A reply didn’t come. “Please, speak to me again. Who are you?”
“I’m afraid you do not know me. I must take leave of the party as I see your mother is about to give a speech. You should be with her, not here with a stranger. I wish to cause no turmoil.”
Shayna turned to see where her mother was going to launch her treatise. “Yes, she will be on with her Lecture of Gladness for a half hour, but I need not be at her side. I won’t be missed...” Letting her words trail off, she turned back to the shadow.
The exotic stranger was no longer there. She dashed into the alcove, pushed aside a heavy drape, and ran back onto the terrace. A delicate wine flute shattered as her cape snared it, but she paid no heed. What was fine crystal when the man of her dreams had disappeared?
She looked over the side of the balcony and over as much of the estate as she could from her vantage point high up on the second floor. There was no sign of him. Her heart slowed, and her smile sagged at the corners as her gaze raked the landscape. The bizarre encounter had ended too soon for her liking. But, as in her favorite stories, she wanted more. Left with a need to solve a great mystery, uncover layers of truth, and revel in the thrill of adventure, she rejoiced in the mysteriousness of the night.
Standing on the terrace, looking out over the vastness of the unadulterated lands of her ancestral home, Shayna realized she was glad to be back in the old country. The moon appeared from behind a blue-gray cloud like the watchful eye of some long-forgotten god, and the cool night breeze whipped past her, leaving her cloak and hair tumbled.
Maybe I’m dreaming, this is all too beautiful to be real, she thought. And who was that man? Where did he disappear to? Did I dream him to life?
As if in answer to her unspoken question, the scent of a man’s cologne wafted to her, and she breathed it in.
Movement in the tall grass betrayed his position. The wind caressed the greenery around him, and his cloak fluttered, the darkness of it standing out against the moon-silvered surroundings. He made no move to stop the billowing, as if he wanted Shayna to see it.
A flag of surrender? Not him. Men like him didn’t surrender, but it was a nice thought, and her smile returned.
She stared but didn’t motion to him for fear he would run again. She wanted to engrave his figure into her brain and never forget how he stood silhouetted against the grass in the moonlit field.
The mysterious man looked up in her direction, and she knew he was watching her, and he had been all evening. She had been the sole reason he had come to the party. Why did he insist on remaining hidden? Why did he leave so soon? Would she ever know his identity?
The wind whipped across the field, bending the tall grasses, and he put a hand on his hat to keep it steady.
Before she had her fill, he melded into shadows, a phantom fading from sight. Her mind begged to follow him, pleaded for reprieve from the harsh reality waiting at her back, but she reined in her imagination and turned to the party once more.
Descending back to the drudgery and sadness at hand, she put her hands to her hair, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. Opening her eyes, she checked her cloak and dress. Everything in place, and with no one engaging her, the stark contrast of the celebration set against the backdrop of a family loss grated at her nerves as reality enveloped her.
The extended stay in Switzerland dealing with her father’s death had not improved Shayna’s temperament or her ideas about how she should and should not act, whether in public or in private. The relaxing holidays to the Swiss home had taught her there were times when she must put on the proper face, one suited to a member of the wealthy Ricci family, and others when she could lounge about, not worrying about her dress, hair, and demeanor.
And now, the leisure trips had schooled her in the pain of losing a loved one. She wouldn’t dwell on sorrow; not at their party to celebrate their return to Italy, although she thought it garish on her mother’s part to plan such an event so soon after Leonardo’s demise. It would indeed keep their collective thoughts from sliding into the dark pit of despair and depression, where they dwelt on missing Leonardo. Shayna supposed she understood that much about it. Gianni had always been one who needed much in the way of distraction and elegance. Whereas Shayna could be happy sitting in her room reading, walking the grounds, or exploring the vast number of rooms in the castle on a dreary day.
The reason Gianni and Leonardo Ricci had insisted on taking their daughters to the country home in Switzerland, far away from the prying eyes of the Florence aristocrats, was to find peace and quiet, and to get away from the uptight strictures ruling their lives.
Even the clear, crystalline beauty of the Swiss mountains couldn’t compare to the sweeping vistas and breath-taking splendor of the Tuscan countryside, in Shayna’s opinion.
Chapter 2
Shayna was still looking out over the field when her sister spoke. “Shayna, the party’s in here.”
Irritated at the interruption, Shayna tore her gaze from the landscape and her mind from its reverie. “I know. How could I forget?”
“Are you all right? You look as if you’ve been running. Your cheeks are flushed.” She stepped close to Shayna.
“I’m fine. I wanted out of the crush of well-wishers to catch a breath of fresh air. Some of their perfume is strong enough to suffocate.” Shayna brushed past, intending to leave her there on the terrace, in the dark.
“Shayna, I’m sorry you’re still so depressed over Father’s passing, but we are all sad. That doesn’t mean we get to ignore ourselves or each other.” Alexandria took two prim steps toward Shayna but didn’t press the issue further.
“I’m not ignoring anyone. Shouldn’t you be up there with Mother when she gives her little speech about how glad we are to be back? Shouldn’t you be trying to impress some wealthy young prince in attendance? Anything besides harassing me?”
Though Alexandria was the eldest, Shayna had difficulty following her sister’s lead. Shayna had never been able to flip, flaunt, and flirt with disregard to her own self-worth. Rather than wed for money, Shayna would settle for a poor man who was honest and caring. Gianni, however, would be quick to remind her youngest it was her daughters’ duties to marry someone who could fill the home coffers as well as take care of his wife and children.
The only time Shayna had been brave enough to question her mother about her motives for marrying Leonardo Ricci, she had been rewarded with a slap which stung for hours and left an angry red welt across her cheek. Shayna was unsure if it had meant Gianni had married only for the wealth, or not at all for it. Standing half on the terrace and half inside the castle, she supposed she might never know.
Alexandria could not contain her emotions around Shayna. Her anger showed in her eyes and the puckered set of her face. At the moment, she wasn’t angry, but she was working up to it. Seeing this, Shayna stood her ground a moment longer.
“Just because I can’t see this party as a good way to come back to Italy so soon after Father’s death, and because I can’t find it in myself to act as you and mother do around wealthy men does not mean I have committed a great sin. I’ve done no more than held to my own integrity and truths. Now, if I may, I would rejoin the party. You should go to Mother.”
Alexandria grabbed Shayna’s cape and jerked. “Don’t walk away from me as if we’re done, Shayna Marie Ricci. This is not over. Your beliefs and your honor, which you so improperly believe Mother and I do not possess, will see you in the poor house. Without Father, we have to see to our own futures and to the future of our mother.” She stepped close, keeping h
er voice admirably low. “You need to get hold of yourself and do your part. I’m not going to do all the work so you can lounge around in your self-indulgent pouts. I’ll not have my future husband supporting you because you think you’re too good for any man with money.” She let go of the cape with a violent shove into Shayna’s side. “You’d be lucky to have any man with your nasty attitude.”
Shayna let Alexandria storm back into the fray of people. All she wanted was to be left alone. She didn’t long for her sister and mother’s approval—and it was a good thing, because she knew she would never have it. Marrying the richest man in Tuscany would not win their approval. Fake acceptance might be offered, but never true respect.
Father had always doted on Shayna; bought her little gifts every time he was gone for more than a day. He would tell her stories of his past and the exciting history of the Ricci family in general as she sat on his knee or beside him under the boughs of their oak trees. The best tales were funny, and she would laugh along with him, which irritated Mother and made Alexandria’s mood turbid.
Shayna never needed the gifts from Leonardo, being with him, listening to his anecdotes, sharing special moments with him was always plenty for her. He sensed this and appreciated it, connected with it. Alexandria, on the other hand, was never satisfied with his tokens of thoughtfulness. No matter what they were, handcrafted dolls, the finest silken gowns, the best shoes made from the most expensive Moroccan leather—she would always take the offering but remind him better ones were out there. Or compare her gift to a similar but more lavish version in the possession of a less influential family, making it appear as though Father was cheating her somehow.
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