The Secret of the Glass (32 page)

“Your own jewels are certainly large and impressive,” Sophia said, nodding at the woman’s adorned décolletage.

The pretentious woman preened, raising her pointy chin higher and thrusting out her chest where a heavy band of diamonds and sapphires lay against the pristine ivory skin.

Sophia lost all grasp of common sense. Her lips curled with evil intent. “Are they cast-offs of your husband’s mistress?”

The women gasped. Sophia’s verbal opponent took a step forward, her pale skin bursting with splotches of scarlet.

“Why you insolent bi—”

“There you are, Signorina Fiolario.”

Sophia felt the tug on her upper left arm, felt the long fingers as they wrapped about her appendage and the gentle insistence as they pulled her away. She looked up into the smiling face of Teodoro Gradenigo.

“The Doge has asked to pay his respects and awaits you in the next room. Ladies, if you will excuse us?”

Teodoro didn’t stop, but inclined his head toward the group of stunned courtiers as he led Sophia from their company and out of the chamber.

Sophia fumed, her piercing stare volleying from her escort to the women they’d left in their wake and back again.

“Where are you taking me?” Sophia whispered, her emotions in a jumble, so thrilled to see him yet so ashamed he had witnessed her rude behavior. Her feet skittered to keep pace with his long-legged stride, the click of her delicate evening slippers double-timed to the drum of his heavy-heeled shoes.

“I thought you could use some fresh air,” Teodoro said without looking down at her.

He ticced his chin and brows at a nobleman as they passed him in the narrow corridor leading away from the Grand Council Chamber.

“Good evening, ser Descalzo,” Teodoro said.

“Gradenigo.” The mumbled reply echoed against the walls of the hallway.

“Nod and smile, nod and smile, that’s it,” Teodoro murmured through the side of his mouth.

As they stepped out into the warm, moist night, under the clear sky ablaze with summer’s stars, he released his hold upon her arm, offered, in its stead, his hand, and a smile. She reached for both without hesitation.

“You cannot say whatever pops into your head,” he scolded her as they descended the Staircase of the Giants, incapable of keeping the grin of amusement from his lips.

Sophia saw it in the flickering light of the torches blazing about the circumference of the
piazzetta
. She shook her head and chuckled at her own silliness, his teasing regard illuminating the foolishness of her behavior.

“They talk so much but say so little.” She tried to rationalize her conduct but the attempt was futile. She found his intent regard below the shaggy cap of brown hair. “In truth, I don’t know what came over me. I fear I have not been myself much of late.”

“It happens to us all at one point or another.” Teodoro leaned toward her, drawing near, and lowering his voice for her ears alone. “Shall we take some time and be ourselves?”

His breath brushed against her cheek and her tongue felt dry and barren in her mouth; she nodded in silent accord, sparing a surreptitious glance toward the night revelers who occupied the courtyard regardless of the hour. Teodoro led her away from the smatterings of merrymakers and toward the Molo, leading her along the length of the palace, then right, and into the Giardini ex Reali behind the Procuratie Nuove.

They turned into the deserted Royal Gardens, footsteps crunching on the pebbled pathway. The sounds of the ever-busy Venice fell away, the
sploosh
of gondoliers’ oars, the laughter of the nocturnal carousers, and the music wafting out of open windows became hushed fragments of noise in the distance. Their intrusion into this secret, verdant world silenced the noisy crickets’ song, quieting the small creatures hiding beneath the bushes. No more than a few torches burned within the secluded lushness and the bright blooms of hibiscus and astrantia were submersed in the dim light. Their redolence, uninhibited by the night, infused the air and Sophia inhaled their pungent freshness.

With keen sureness, Teodoro led her to a stone bench situated at the edge of a round patch of flora and placed her delicately upon it.

“You know your way through here uncommonly well.”

Sophia tried to relax as he sat beside her, as his thigh accidentally brushed against hers.

He turned his body toward her, his face glowing in the light of the torch just beyond their shoulders, his sweet yet rugged features brought to stark relief by the sculpted shadows the flickering glow created.

“I frequently come here when the Council takes their breaks. I sometimes prefer the quiet and introspection it affords me.”

Sophia smiled, feeling a kinship with his sentiment.

“I know just what you mean. It’s much like I feel when sitting before the fires of the glassworks.”

“You watch them make the glass often, do you?”

“I…I do.” Sophia turned away, hoping to hide the mild deceit from showing in her eyes.

Crossing one long, lean, silk-stocking-covered leg upon the other, Teodoro inched closer.

“I’ve seen it done once myself. Amazing.” His smile faded. “I don’t support them, you know.”

“Mi scusi?”
Sophia raised a quizzical brow.

“The laws binding the glassworkers. They’re wrong and I’ve fought against them, but we have been outnumbered thus far.” He bumped his shoulder against hers, offering a small, supportive smile. “There are a few of us, but we are growing in number every day. Do not lose all hope.”

Sophia returned the gesture, stirred by his solicitude. Her consideration of him altered; the intrigue and attraction expanded to include respect.

“Tell me more about it, the glass, I mean.” His beguiling eyes beckoned. “Please?”

He resembled a small boy pleading for a reward and she had no willpower not to appease.

“It is amazing, you are right, especially when you see the material first coalesce, when the spark of life ignites and glows.” Sophia’s voice bubbled with all the wonder she felt for the glass and her nervousness eased a bit, expelled by his interest. She relaxed in his devoted attention, felt an almost tangible touch as his gaze moved from her eyes, to her lips, and often to her coiffure.

“The deep amber as the glass becomes liq—is there something wrong with my hair?”

His regard had become too severe and Sophia’s self-consciousness won over, and she raised a hand to her pinned-up curls.

Teodoro laughed a delightful rumble of pleasure.

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s…it’s just the color, like the melted chocolate the Spanish have brought. Everywhere you look these days all the women are red of hair. You’ve never dyed yours as so many others do?”

“No, never,” Sophia scoffed. “It is far too time-consuming, I have no wish to burn my scalp with the caustic liquid nor patience to sit in the sun for hours on end. I’m afraid I am not vain enough to make the effort.”

Teodoro’s eyes sparked with admiration.

“No need to apologize. I think it’s magnificent.”

Under the potency of his appreciative stare, Sophia swallowed the lump stuck in her throat and pressed a hand down upon the knee twitching beneath the heavy folds of her skirt.

“Does your future husband admire your hair?”

Her mouth opened but she found no words to fill it. She lowered her head, reason retreating away from his intense scrutiny.

“You…you know about Pasquale?”

Teodoro gave a reluctant shake. “Not until tonight, when I saw you together. I knew you were betrothed to a
nobiluomo
, of course. This is Venice, Sophia. Everyone knows everything. But I did not know to whom.” His arched brows rose and knit in sincere puzzlement. “I never would have thought…”

Sophia’s head jerked up spastically.

“What? You never would have thought what?”

A wistful smile touched his eyes.

“You are an unlikely pair, though you see it more and more in Venice these days. The older, poor nobleman, and the young daughter of a wealthy merchant.”

“Oh.”

Sophia released the breath she had held so tightly; she didn’t know what Teodoro would say if he knew of Pasquale’s proclivities. She didn’t know if she wanted him to or not. His knowledge may have supplied her with liberating proof or been a portent of his own tastes. She would have been disappointed to hear that his own leaned in the same way as Pasquale’s.

Their gaze met and the silence bound them, as did all that remained unsaid between them. The darkness enveloped them and their emotions separated them in this time and place. The low, full rustle of fresh, moist leaves murmured in the somnolent summer breeze. In Teodoro’s bittersweet smile lay all her own feelings, all the disappointment and longing.

“Is it…is he, what you wish for?” Teodoro shifted away slightly, as if to protect himself from the answer, his strong profile etched against the paleness of the pebbled pathway behind him.

She shook her head though he did not see it.

“No. I want none of it.” Sophia smiled with sheepish resignation. “I do it for my family, as you do. I would…I will sacrifice all of my own desires to ensure their safety.”

Teodoro released a snort of disparaging laughter.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

There was no denying the acrimony in his tone and Sophia raised and crinkled her brow in sad curiosity. Teodoro clasped her bunched fists where they lay in her lap. The heat of his touch warmed her skin and penetrated into her bones.

“One of us is forced to marry, while the other is forced to not.”

Sophia smiled, feeling the grimace in her grin. “There will come a day when I may live for myself, but today is not that day. Until then, I will envision it in my mind and cherish the strength the visions lend me.”

Teodoro leaned toward her, staring into her eyes. “Are you not angry?”

“Hah!” The small, cynical laugh slipped easily from her sardonic smile. “Sometimes I feel the rage will envelop me. But then I realize it is useless and only serves to waste my energies, and I release it.”

His glance found her lips and in his eyes gleamed something other than sadness. With one slow-moving hand, his long fingers cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her lower lip with a feathery touch, the skin smooth and warm. It was the most sensual touch she had ever received, and it reached deep within her. She felt a wave of desire course through her and she almost buckled at the force of it. For a moment, she closed her eyes, releasing herself to the reprieve it secured her, allowing the excitement that thrummed within her.

“You are so strong,” he whispered.

He rose off the bench, guiding her up as if in a dance, drawing them closer as they stood together in this private place.

Sophia held her breath as his face drew closer to hers, his intent fixed firmly upon her, unwavering as his plump lips lowered and found hers. They were warm and wet, soft and delicious, tasting of wine and apricots. They stole her breath away with the stealth of a lustful thief. Her eyes fluttered to a close and her head fell back on her neck as she opened herself to him. With trembling hands, she reached up and around, resting them upon the hard sinews of his shoulders. His breath caught, his muscles shuddered under the smooth, cool silk at her touch, and a deep, growl-like murmur of pleasure rumbled deep inside him.

His large hands shifted from her shoulders down each side of her back, slow and surreal, flowing like a waterfall of tenderness and discovery washing over her. His fingers fluttered over each rib until they found her waist, leaving a ribbon of heightened sensation in their wake. Teodoro’s lips stayed upon hers, but their touch became light, brushing softly like the gentle night wind as it skimmed across the waves. His strong arms crossed behind her lower back, his knees bent, one on each side of her, and he curled his body down to hers. Her legs quivered as his caged her between their hardness. His tongue teased her mouth.

Time slowed. Sophia wallowed in the perfection of the moment. The song of the crickets began again, accepting their presence, serenading their lovemaking. She heard Teodoro’s quickened breathing match the rhythm of her pounding heart as her tongue met and answered the fluttering caress of his.

The gentle, insistent wave of his strength possessed her. With agonizing slowness, he straightened his knees, inch by inch. As he rose, their bodies pressed tighter and tighter together; the heat burst at the joining. She felt her feet lift off the ground, felt his thighs hard and strong yet quaking against her own. The hard vigor of his arms and hands held her, one across her back, one cradling her head as he kept her aloft. She wrapped her arms about his neck, holding on.

Sophia hovered above the earth in his arms, sure she had entered Galileo’s heavens. Her head whirled and she released herself to his mastery, to his arms, his hands, his mouth, and to this moment.

Teodoro set her gently back upon the ground, holding her steady, and smiling down at her. Sophia giggled and the trilling sound twinkled through the tranquil air like the night-loving mockingbird’s song. How much time had passed, she didn’t know or care. He swayed with her, both off-balance and giddy, as if they had imbibed too much wine. They stood toe to toe, beaming at each other. The half moon, yellow from summer’s heat, had risen in the sky and the sounds of life had faded farther into the distance. Within these living green walls only the muted sounds of nature prevailed.

His gaze returned to her hair again and again, this time accompanied by a wry smile.

“There
is
something wrong with your hair now.” He reached up, but hesitated. “May I?”

Sophia smiled at his gallantry. They had shared a moment of exploring, tender intimacy—and she had eagerly allowed it—yet he asked permission to fix her hair.

“Of course.”

His masculine hands worked delicately through her coiffure, tucking in loose strands of russet curls, and a tingle fluttered along her spine, so strong it weakened her, bringing the small hairs covering her body erect. She stared up, mesmerized by his face, by the achingly gentle touch of such a strong man. She reminded herself of
Gioiapacco
, the curly white-furred puppy of her childhood, and the adoration he bestowed upon her whenever Sophia snuck him a treat beneath the table. Transfixed by him, her mind dwelled happily upon the memories of their shared kisses and caresses. Tender yet masterful, loving yet lustful, she had never experienced their like. His deep blue-eyed gaze flicked down from her hair to her face and his lips twitched in a half smile, one not just of amusement but of satisfaction.