Tori Phillips - One Knight In Venice

“My lord, I am not worthy—”

He drew nearer to her, enticed by the lushness of her mouth. “You are more than worthy, madonna,” he whispered. “You have no idea who it is who asks you this favor. Please, call me by my given name.”

Her pink tongue darted out and moistened her lips. “Since you and I have concealed our true identities for tonight, I will do as you ask. But on the morrow—”

“Let the devil take tomorrow, sweet Jessica,” he murmured.

Desire, fueled by an overwhelming urge to protect her, rushed through him like a wildfire. Gathering her into his arms, he held her snugly in his embrace. “What is my name, Jessica?” he whispered into her black, silken hair.

Softer than a butterfly’s wing, her long eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. “Francis,” she breathed. Her rosy lips beckoned his kiss.

Sizzling fireworks exploded within him….

Praise for Tori Phillips’s previous titles

Lady of the Knight

“Ms. Phillips weaves an adventurous story…

a good, fast-paced read.”

—Romantic Times Magazine

Three Dog Knight

“Readers will be held in thrall…a gem of a tale.”

—Romantic Times Magazine

Midsummer’s Knight

“…a fast paced plot…fully and funnily

Shakespearean…wonderfully written…”

—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

One Knight in Venice

Harlequin Historical #555

#556 THE SEDUCTION OF SHAY DEVEREAUX

Carolyn Davidson

#557 GALLANT WAIF

Anne Gracie

#558 NIGHT HAWK’S BRIDE

Jillian Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Available from Harlequin Historicals and TORI PHILLIPS

Fool’s Paradise #307

*Silent Knight #343

*Midsummer’s Knight #415

*Three Dog Knight #438

*Lady of the Knight #476

*Halloween Knight #527

*One Knight in Venice #555

Dedicated with much love to our family’s favorite aunt,

Katheryn Nink.

“In mine eye she is the sweetest lady

that ever I looked on.”

—Much Ado About Nothing

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Author Note

“What think you of falling in love?”

—As You Like It

Venice, Italy

February 1550

“Madonna, there is a man waiting to see you,” said the dwarf.

Blowing a tendril of her black hair out of her eyes, Jessica Leonardo smiled at her diminutive friend and confidante. “Many of my clients are men, Sophia. What is so unusual about this particular one?”

The little woman pursed her lips. “He is tall. His head brushes the ceiling.” Sophia shrugged. “Well, almost. And…he is foreign. A Viking, I think.” She shuddered.

Jessica suppressed a grin. “You are not sure?”

Sophia fluttered her pudgy fingers. “God in Heaven, how can one tell? The man speaks our language but with an accent and he is dressed in all the fashions of the world. His hose reek of Paris while his doublet could only be from Verona. His overcoat looks like something the English would fancy, and his bonnet? I cannot begin to guess what nationality his hat calls itself.” She narrowed her eyes. “But this I do know. Though his clothing fits him well, he looks to me as if he wears borrowed finery.”

Jessica cocked her head. “How now? You speak in riddles, Sophia.”

“Then let me tell you plainly. Though he is dressed like a wastrel, he learned his manner in a monastery. I swear that he could hear a merry tale, yet never crack a smile.”

Jessica wiped her marble pestle clean of the dried lavender she had ground. Then she rinsed her hands in a nearby basin of water. “I long to behold this wonder,” she said, drying her fingers on her work apron.

She crossed to the wall that separated her still room from the antechamber. Sliding back a small rectangle of the paneling she squinted through the peephole. “¡Dio mio!” she whispered under her breath.

As Sophia had described him, a giant of a man paced around her comfortably appointed waiting room like a mighty lion in a too confining cage. He clutched his ruby-colored feathered bonnet in his right hand while he ran the fingers of his left through hair that was the color and sheen of old gold. Jessica scrutinized him with a practiced gaze that had beheld many men’s bodies of all ages and stages.

The stranger’s red-and-white-striped hose accentuated the muscles of his unusually long legs. He sported a golden codpiece in the shape of a scallop shell and his tight red-velvet doublet ended just at the waistline instead of below it. A shirt of cream silk billowed through the slashed gold-embroidered sleeves, making his shoulders appear even wider than nature’s design. The sleeveless outer coat that dropped almost to his knees was fashioned from gold brocade and lined with red fox fur—very costly. The short scarlet cape that covered his shoulders gave him the appearance of having wings. Cheerful crimson pom-poms crowned the straps of his golden square-toed shoes.

Yet the gentleman’s most arresting feature was his face. Finely chiseled, as if he were a saint carved by the great sculptor Sansovino, the stranger’s expression belied the gaudy cheer of his apparel. He looked intense, intelligent and extremely dangerous.

“Am I not right?” Sophia whispered behind her. “I told you he is not what he appears to be.”

An icy chill clutched Jessica’s heart. Could the stranger be a priest from the Holy Office disguised to test my faith? She shivered. Please, dear Lord, she prayed, give me strength and courage.

Then she noticed that the man rubbed his right shoulder and flexed the fingers of his right hand. Though his expression did not change, a whisper of pain flickered in his sky-blue eyes. No matter what he pretended to be, Jessica could tell that her mysterious client suffered true discomfort. After replacing the peephole cover, she turned to Sophia.

The little woman cocked her head to one side. “Will you see him? Shall I tell Gobbo to wear his stiletto?”

Taking a deep breath to quell the spasms in the pit of her stomach, Jessica nodded. As she untied her stained apron, she asked, “Did you tell the gentleman of my conditions?”

“Sì,” Sophia snapped, “though he knew about them before I even spoke.” She drew closer to Jessica. “Take care, madonna. This man has no mirth in his soul.”

Jessica swallowed a hard knot in her throat. “Of course not. He is in pain.”

Sophia jutted out her double chins. “Ha! He has no laugh lines around his eyes. You shall see.”

Jessica lifted her leather mask from its peg by the door. The white-painted face depicted Columbina, one of the characters from the popular Commedia dell’Arte. Jessica threaded its black ribbons over her ears and tied a tight knot under her thick braid. Her mask must not slip down at the wrong moment.