Regency Surrender: Ruthless Rakes: Rake Most Likely to Seduce / Rake Most Likely to Sin

The church last night had been enlightening. It had stripped her bare in all ways; her wanting exposed by his hands, his lips; her strategy exposed by his words. He’d spiked her guns most effectively. He knew she meant sex to be her weapon against him, the tool by which she would manoeuvre him into compliance. He’d called her bluff against that hard wall at San Giorgio Maggiore and then given her the choice—to explore the pleasures of sex instead of the politics of it...with him.

Gianna flung her cloak about her shoulders. If that was what today was about, she’d best be on her game. Or off it, a wicked little voice tempted. The thought gave her pause. Perhaps today wasn’t meant to be so much about being on her guard as it was about letting her guard down. Did she trust him enough for that? Did she trust herself? The part of her that remembered his mouth on her in the church, his hands in her hair, wanted to. The cynic in her launched a violent protest.

What would happen if she let him in? It was frightening to contemplate. Letting him in risked much. Her world was a dark mess full of the count’s betrayals and cruelties. If Nolan truly knew the darkness that surrounded her, he might rethink all of it—the burglary tonight, even his association with her. Giovanni needed her to act circumspectly. She’d failed her brother once. It had led to him being sent away, an act the count had meant to punish her and it had. For four years now, it had been the driving force behind everything she’d done, everything she’d endured at the count’s hand: save Giovanni; make a new life for the two them where he could not be made to suffer for her rash actions. She had cost him four years of freedom already, she would not cost him any more. She would make it up to him somehow, even if it meant resisting the temptations Nolan offered.

* * *

Nolan was waiting for her in the lobby, offering her his arm, sweeping her out to the piazza and into the throng of sightseers who’d come to enjoy the city for Carnevale. Apparently, along with rooting out her clothes, he’d grabbed some for himself as well and had taken time to freshen up somewhere else, perhaps the club room, while she’d changed. He’d traded his evening clothes for walking attire and tall boots. He’d even managed to shave. No one looking at him would guess he’d been up the entire night.

‘Isn’t this a little backwards?’ Gianna asked as they headed towards the Rialto. ‘Shouldn’t I be showing you around the city? Technically, you’re the visitor.’

Nolan merely grinned. ‘No, today, you are the tourist. I am going to show you Venice my way.’ When he smiled at her that way, making her the sum of his world in that gaze, she had the feeling resistance would be pointless no matter what vows she’d made herself.

North of the Rialto Bridge was the fish market, the pescheria, the largest and arguably the oldest in the city...and it was exciting. With Nolan’s hand at her back, they navigated the stalls, taking in the fish, all fresh caught that morning in the lagoon or farther out in the Adriatic: shrimps, scallops, lobsters, crabs, cod, sole. The rows of stalls piled with fish on display were mesmerising in their diversity—fish of all shapes and colours stared back at her.

The market was bustling with customers. Fishmongers called out their wares, people haggled over prices, loud voices rose and fell in hearty competition. ‘It doesn’t smell, not really,’ Gianna commented as they stopped beside a booth that served bowls of fish stew.

‘Fresh fish doesn’t usually smell.’ Nolan gave her a curious smile and turned to the vendor, ordering two bowls and a half loaf of fresh-baked bread. He handed one to her. ‘I believe you are in need of breakfast. Let’s sit.’ He motioned to a set of rough benches and plank tables set to the side of the market.

Gianna couldn’t imagine a better breakfast. She followed Nolan’s lead and dipped her bread into the stew broth, laughing when she dribbled. Nolan whipped out a handkerchief and dabbed at her chin. ‘It’s delicious.’

‘I think simple food is often the best food.’ Nolan tore off another chunk of bread and offered it to her. ‘Tell me, have you been here?’

The question caught her off guard. Gianna looked up from her stew. ‘I’ve lived in Venice my whole life.’

‘That’s not what I asked. Have you ever come here?’

‘Not since I was a little girl. Even then only once or twice. My mother’s...’ She paused, hesitated. ‘Er...protectors always arranged for servants, at least a cook and a lady’s maid.’

Nolan nodded, not put off by the reminder of her mother’s profession. ‘And the count?’

‘He had servants, too. There was no need.’ Her voice trailed off and she concentrated on her stew. But she’d already given too much away.

‘You didn’t come here on your own just to walk around by choice? Or the count didn’t permit it?’ Nolan probed. His eyes were on her. ‘You don’t have to lie for him, Gianna.’

She met his gaze. ‘Perhaps I have to lie for myself,’ Gianna answered softly, ‘so we can enjoy this lovely winter morning you’ve planned for us. There is no need to burden you with my life.’

‘Maybe I want to be burdened.’ Nolan dipped a piece of bread into the hot broth and held it to her lips. ‘Or shall I make it easy for you and guess? The count did not allow you to leave his palazzo?’

Gianna summoned her courage. Would he offer pity and then politely distance himself? Perhaps it was better to know now what sort of man he was than to know later when perhaps it was too late to save herself. ‘After my mother died, the count did not allow us to leave the palazzo. He said that was what servants were for, but we knew better. If we left, we might never come back and he knew that.’

‘We? Who is we?’ Nolan asked softly, lifting another piece of broth-dipped bread to her lips.

It was all or nothing now. ‘My brother and I.’ She watched his grey eyes take in the news. It seemed that the bustle of the fish market had receded, leaving them in a cocoon apart from the world. There was only the two of them and her story if she was willing.

Nolan’s voice was quiet and prompting. ‘Where is your brother now?’

She didn’t answer immediately. The shame was too great. Where he was, was all her fault. ‘The count sent him away when he was thirteen.’ She’d not meant to say even that much, but it had come spilling out of her.

‘Why?’ Nolan divided the last of the bread between them and offered her a section. ‘You can tell me, Gianna. You needn’t worry you’ll shock me.’ It was what a lot of people said. Few of them meant it or even knew how to mean it. But Nolan’s next words convinced her that perhaps he might be different. ‘I have a brother, too, Gianna.’ He lifted his eyes to hers. ‘I know what it means to want to save them...and to fail.’

‘I was stubborn. I had stood up to the count one too many times in the months after my mother died. I was furious that he had managed to be named our guardian. He was furious that I wouldn’t sign over complete control of the money my mother had left me.’ Gianna broke the bread into little pieces, trying to tell the story with some detachment. That day was still so vivid although it had been four years ago. In his anger, the count had swung his fist at her. It wouldn’t have been the first time the count had hit her or tried physical force to gain her compliance, but it was the first time Giovanni had been present.

‘My brother stepped between us, trying to defend me.’ It happened in slow motion again in her mind. ‘The count grabbed him and flung him against the wall. He hit his head.’ She had been the one to call the doctor. She had stayed beside him for endless days, fearing that if she left him, the count wouldn’t let her back. She loved Giovanni on his own merits, but she’d also promised her mother they would be together always. It was a promise she hadn’t been able to keep.

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