by Michele Hauf
The man narrowed his thin black brows at him. "Why is Jane staying in a nearby palazzo? Who lives there?"
"Uh…" Carlo realized now he had a tendency to say too much before getting the pertinent details about a situation. "Who did you say you are?"
"Parson Thatcher Emery. I'm Jane's husband."
Ah, fuck.
"Right. Jane Emery. You two have the same surname. Imagine that! So. Jane has a husband who is a man of the cloth? Of course."
What a holy bloody mess. Did Marcello know as much? He couldn't possibly. That man avoided messes, especially the relationship kind.
"So she's staying a few houses away, you say?" the parson asked.
"Yes, with a very kind soul who is not someone you should consider a threat."
"A threat?" The man spun toward the door. "Good day, sir!"
Carlo dashed for the kitchen, dodging a pair of tile setters, and aimed for the door that led outside to an alleyway, which ran along the canal toward the Sebastiani palazzo.
"I must get to Marcello before the husband does!"
* * *
Marcello pulled his cock out of Jane's tight heat and moaned against her shoulder as the orgasm shuddered through his body. Nothing felt better. Not even the bite. And yet…
Just thinking about the bite made his fangs lower in his gums, and he dragged them across Jane's breast. She purred. Her blood had tasted so sweet. And combined with the sex, the orgasm had been immense. He could do this every day. Bite and fuck Jane.
But he must be cautious. He could only bite her so many times in succession before she lost too much blood. Recovery time between bites must be allowed.
"I've been bitten by a vampire," she said in a dreamy tone. "How wondrous."
"I shouldn't do it again."
"Why not? Didn't you like it? Is there something wrong with my blood? Oh, mercy, if a vampire does not like the taste of me!"
"Jane. Jane. Sweet, dramatic Jane. You taste like those heavenly beams in the sky I can but dream about. It is a sweet treat that I must only indulge in on occasion, however. If I bite you too often, you will lose too much blood and…."
"Die?"
He nodded.
"Hmm…" She considered it.
"I thought we could do some sightseeing today," Marcello suggested as a means to change the subject. "It's raining, and the sun is hiding behind the clouds. I can go out for a stroll."
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay in bed a while?" She curled her fingers around his semi-erect cock and gave it an aggressive squeeze.
"You've convinced me to linger."
A sudden rapid knock on Marcello's chamber door annoyed. "Go away, Adamo!"
"It's Carlo!"
"What the hell is he doing here?"
"One of your vampire friends?" Jane sat up and pulled the sheet across her breasts.
The door burst open and spat in a frantic Carlo.
"How dare you?" Marcello stood and approached his friend, naked, and not caring about it one bit. "Carlo?"
The man grabbed the damask night robe from the back of a chair and tossed it at Marcello. "Get dressed. You've a visitor that Adamo just let in downstairs."
"A visitor?" Jane asked from the bed. She reached for her robe.
Carlo thrust an admonishing finger at her. "You have a husband!" And turning back to Marcello, he said, "And you should not sleep with other men's wives."
"My husband is here?"
"Yes, and…" Carlo gripped Marcello by the robe. "You're fucking a parson's wife? That is really low. Of all the—"
"Enough. I don't need your judgment. The man beats her. She fled for her life."
Carlo's jaw dropped open, and he gave Jane an apologetic look.
"He's below?" Marcello asked.
"Yes, he was at the new place asking after Jane. I told him where he could find her before I knew he was her husband. Sorry. Uh, but you should probably get down there before he comes up here."
Marcello pushed Carlo out the door. "Stall him. Tell him I'll be right down. Do not mention that Jane is here."
"It's too late for that," called a voice from down the hallway at the top of the stairs. "Is my wife in your bedchamber?"
* * *
Stumbling out of bed and wrapping her night-rail about her, Jane had barely gotten the sash tied when the voice down the hallway alerted her.
"Thatcher? Oh, mercy!"
What to do? How had the man found her? He'd actually come looking for her? And he'd found her in another man's bed.
"I shall burn for this. Burn! Oh!" She paced beside the bed, aware that Marcello was doing his best to calmly dissuade Thatcher from entering the room. But of a sudden, her husband burst in.
Jane turned and met her husband's shocked stare.
And then she promptly fainted.
Chapter 13
"She does do that a lot," Marcello muttered as he shoved aside the parson and went to gather up Jane from the floor.
"Don't touch her!" The man of God stepped forward, but Carlo blocked him from approaching Marcello and Jane. "Unhand me, man!"
Carlo maintained his stance, keeping the angry husband from getting closer.
Marcello checked Jane's face, pushed the curls from her lashes, and she offered him a smirk. "You fainted."
"It's a talent. How did he…?"
"Step aside and allow me to see to my wife!"
"I'll take care of this. Just stay here, Jane."
Marcello rose before Thatcher, and Carlo stepped aside. The Englishman assessed the threat standing before him with ineffectual fists tightened at his sides. Marcello's shoulders stretched twice as wide as his, and he towered over the parson by a head. And if that weren’t imposing enough for the holy man, he could take out his throat with a lunge and a bite.
"You"—Marcello stabbed a finger toward the man's chest—"have no right to be here."
"And you have no right to harbor my wife in your bedchambers!"
"It is a safe harbor, which is more than can be said for the wretched life you have shackled her with."
Thatcher scoffed. He wore the clerical collar, but his mien was anything but kind or benevolent.
"No man has a right to raise a hand to a woman," Marcello insisted, "not even his wife."
"My Bible says differently."
"Your Bible is a whole lot of stories penned by men who wish to hold power over women."
"How dare you!"
"Jane does not love you, nor does she wish to remain with a man who would harm her so deviously. She is scarred!"
At that announcement, Carlo fisted a hand into his opposite palm. Marcello met his friend's gaze, and the twosome exchanged a silent communication only vampires could share. Carlo would not move on the parson. Not without Marcello's word.
"Jane, you will come home with me at once," Thatcher insisted.
Marcello glanced over his shoulder for her reaction. As if a small child, she stood with arms crossed over her stomach, and head bowed. She shook her head.
"She wants to stay," Marcello said. "And she will stay. I will protect her from you and your vile cruelties with my life." He set back his shoulders and lifted his chin. "This I promise."
"You've no right!"
And before he could gauge the parson's next move, Marcello felt the sting of the man's palm clap his cheek. He should have sensed that movement and—
He fisted his fingers and started to swing…
"Marcello!" Carlo's warning tone stopped him from connecting the punch to Thatcher's surprisingly calm face. His friend shook his head, and Marcello opened his fist.
Of course, using violence against the man would only bring him down to his level. A level not even the lowest, legless, crawling creature would wish to occupy.
He would stand before Jane and take whatever insipid punishments the fool thought to dole out in his anger over his inability to keep his wife.
"You have offended me, signore," the parson said boldly.
"Not to
mention cuckolded you," Marcello felt the need to add.
The parson's mouth gaped open, but he quickly recovered. Stabbing an admonishing finger at Marcello, he said, "I will have my recompense! We duel with pistols. Tomorrow. At dawn!"
"I accept the challenge. Now leave my home."
Thatcher nodded and stepped backward toward the door. Shaking that ridiculous bony finger, he said, "You've made a horrible mistake, Jane. Your family has disowned you. But you can still come home to me. I will give you that chance."
Marcello felt Jane's hands clutch at his arm. She didn't reply to the parson. She silently clung to Marcello, shivering. He swept an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close as the parson left the room.
"You shouldn't have done that," she said.
"A duel with that bastard will be but a nuisance. Don't fret, Jane. I'll make sure he leaves Venice alone, and with no desire to ever speak your name again."
"Yes, but, Marcello…you must know something about Thatcher."
"What? That he's an uncaring, violent man, who would use religion to justify his treatment of you?"
She winced. "Well, yes, but… He is a sharpshooter. Every summer he wins the prize at the country fair shooting competition. He never misses the target."
"Is that so? Then I'll just have to be quicker with my trigger finger."
Carlo cleared his throat.
"What is it?" Marcello asked.
"The two of you seem to have overlooked the most important issue here. The risk."
"Beyond my husband's perfect aim, there is another?" Jane asked.
"I know what it is." Marcello hugged her tightly against his side. "It is a risk I'm willing to take."
"What risk?" Jane pleaded.
"I," Marcello said, "a vampire, have just agreed to a duel. At dawn."
* * *
Jane fretted most of the day and into the evening. Marcello had gone out with Carlo after Thatcher left. They'd wanted to follow him and make sure he didn't get up to anything suspicious. Prudence kept the tea flowing and sat vigil as Jane paced the floor before the pianoforte, surely wearing a rut in the carpeting.
What she needed right now was to have Marcello by her side. To feel his reassuring presence. And to know that at least one man in this world had a care for her safety.
That Thatcher had traveled across the ocean and two countries to find her was incredible. But it also meant that he was not about to allow her to leave their marriage without a fight.
"A duel," she whispered for perhaps the sixth time. "In the daylight!"
"I don't understand why you are so worried about the time of day?" Prudence asked. "Most duels occur at dawn. Are you not more worried that Signore Sebastiani might take a bullet from your husband's sure aim?"
"Oh, Prudence!" Jane landed on the piano bench, an arm across her forehead as she tilted her body to the side and caught her other arm across the keys. A discordant tune disturbed the air. "There is something I must tell you about Marcello."
* * *
"Is there something you are not telling me about Jane Emery?" Carlo asked as he and Marcello held post in the shadows across the canal from the inn where they'd tracked Thatcher Emery. The day was dreary with rain. "Why is this woman so important to you that you intend to risk the rising sun?"
"Perhaps it will be another rainy day tomorrow?"
"Marcello, please. Do you…?"
"Do I what?"
"Come on, man. I have known you a long time."
"That you have."
"There have been other women who have turned your eye."
"There have been."
"Then what is it about this particular woman? Do you love her?"
Marcello furrowed his brows, focusing his gaze on the dull, dark waters of the canal before them. Did he love Jane? He must feel something for her to take such a risk.
On the other hand, he was no man to balk at protecting a woman. And Jane needed protection from, of all things, a holy man. The idea of it sickened him. He would not rest knowing she might return to England with Thatcher Emery.
But, if not, then she would remain with him. And he was perfectly fine with that arrangement because…
He shrugged and muttered, "Perhaps."
Carlo clapped him on the back. "It happens to all of us sooner or later. You've taken your sweet time, good man. How many centuries?"
"Five, very nearly six."
"Then it is high time love has entered your life. Good for you."
With a lift of his shoulders, Marcello decided it could be a good thing.
Or the worst mistake he'd ever made.
"You'll be my second?" he asked Carlo.
"Of course. But I'll be standing off in the shadows, if you don't mind."
"We'll choose a safe place. The alley near the canal that is covered by the canopy. It's always dark, even when the sun is high."
"Good call. Now to brush up on your aim. A sharpshooter, eh? This could get interesting."
Chapter 14
Seated before the vanity, Jane stared at the candle flame flickering before the silver-backed mirror. She'd brushed her hair for so long, it was staticky, so she set aside the sable brush and again glanced at the chamber door. When the knob turned, she stood in anticipation, but then sat abruptly. It could merely be Prudence.
When the tall, broad figure swept into her room and tugged her up from the stool, she cried out in joy and wrapped her arms around Marcello's shoulders.
"I thought you'd not come in tonight. I missed you today."
"Sorry. I had some arrangements to make. And I paid a visit to my solicitor. The city auditor accepted the birth record and receipt of sale for the palazzo."
"You can stay?"
"Yes, it's confirmed that my family owns it outright. And that I was born about thirty years ago."
"I'm so happy for you. Oh, Marcello, dawn is drawing closer. I've been thinking all day what might happen to you in the sunlight. Will you die?"
He set her on the end of the bed and tugged off his coat then untied the cravat at his neck. "No, not if I don't spend overlong in the light. But I will burn quickly. It could get nasty."
"Then you can't go on with the duel."
"I can, and I will. Carlo and I have secured a location that rarely sees sunlight. It will be over in a matter of minutes. Whatever injuries I suffer will be worth it to free you from that man's terrible rule. But you must tell me something first."
"Anything."
He bowed before her. His dark brown eyes were liquid and warm, and yet, they harbored a menace that Jane knew made him a formidable opponent to those who would stand against him.
"Is this what you want?" he asked. "For me to send your husband away, defeated?"
"With all my heart. Oh, but—" She bracketed his face with her hands. "You mustn't kill him."
"I would never take another man's life. And if I bite him after the duel, I can make him forget he ever wanted you back. I can even suggest he divorce you immediately."
"You can do that? Is that a vampire power?"
"It is. But I will only do it if you grant me permission, Jane." He clasped her hands and bowed his forehead to hers. "I need to know something…"
"I love you," she said without thinking. And the easy confession felt so right, her chest warmed, and her heart pulsed rapidly. "I don't know what you think of me, Marcello, but I adore you. You are kind and strong, and you take care of me. I've never felt so special. So cherished."
He kissed her. It was a slow, delving kiss that mastered her giddy heartbeats and coaxed her into a relaxed yet wanting hug against his chest. "I love you, too."
She peeked up to look into his eyes. "You do?"
He nodded. "This love…is a new thing for me. In all the centuries I have lived and, yes, loved, never have I felt a love like this. One that pierces me deeply. I feel I cannot exist without you, Jane. In fact, I would even go so far as to confess that I would miss your musical stylings were you not in my li
fe."
"Oh, Marcello. Make me yours."
"Anything you ask, I will give to you."
He pushed down the sleeves of her nightgown and opened the tie to expose her bare skin. Bowing over her, he kissed her breasts and teased his tongue over her nipples. Jane fell back across the bed and spread out her arms to accept everything the man gave her. She closed her eyes as his hair tickled her skin and tightened her nipples even more.
He tore away his shirt, then returned his slick kisses to the base of her throat, where he laved his tongue up her neck.
"Could you bite me once more?" she wondered on a whisper.
"I could."
"Would you?"
"I'm…" He leaned up on his palms over her, and she met his concerned gaze. "Jane, if I were to bite you again, so soon after the last bite, you could lose too much blood. I don't want to weaken you."
"I understand." She nudged his erection with her knee. "Then give me this. Right here." She tapped her lips.
He arched a brow.
"Yes," she said with a wicked smile. "Please?"
Shoving down his trousers, the man then crawled up on his knees, straddling her at the shoulders, and tilted his torso forward. His heavy cock bobbed near her chin, and she gripped it and lashed her tongue up its imposing length. Marcello groaned and caught his hands on the tufted headboard.
Delighting in the musky smell of him, the tickle of his nether hairs over her wrist, and the utter strength of him displayed in the powerful rod, Jane used her teeth along him—gently but teasingly—until she licked the underside of the wide and swollen head. His groans bellowed, and she loved that she could make him feel such pleasure.
Propping onto one elbow, she took him into her mouth, slowly sucking at the molten heat of him and drawing an animal growl from his lips.
"Jane," he said deeply. And then again as he thrust his hips gently forward. "Jane."
She devoured him, clasping the base of him with one hand to keep him in her mouth, and slipping her other hand down to cup his heavy sac. She couldn't get enough of him and wanted to claim him in such a manner that he would never look at another woman, or seek such sensual comforts from another.
