The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon Read online

  They entered the hall and stopped outside Abby’s door. She touched his arm. “I’m sorry you had to stop.”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “I am, too, if not for Lucy ...” His voice trailed off.

  She nodded. “If not for Lucy it wouldn’t have stopped with just a kiss.” She took a deep breath and her voice grew husky. “I want you. I have since I first saw you.”

  He nodded slowly. “I want you, too.” His hand drifted up toward her cheek and his knuckles brushed lightly against her silky skin. “Buona notte, Abby. Dream of me?”

  Giving into the urge, she turned her face and kissed his fingers. Her lips trembled. “Buona notte, Antonio. Dream of me.”

  She opened her door, and, with an audible snick, locked it behind her.

  “Good move, bella. Good move.”

  Antonio strode down the stairs and re-entered the Borgia hot house. He wandered through the fragrant site, making notes about this flower and that plant. He knew that it wouldn’t be easy, but he felt compelled to create a scent for Abby. Something as fresh and elusive as she. It would have to include, though, a mysterious note and some seductive undertones. He would talk with Giorgio about it. He chuckled. He knew the “magnificent nose” would come through.

  He went over the day. So much had happened in such a short time. He never thought to see Lucrezia so happy, but she was. He never thought to find someone who could cause such a powerful effect on him, but he had. Even thinking about her slim figure, her full breasts, her sparkling blue eyes and soft skin, made his cock rise. He knew what he wanted to say to her.

  “Kiss me. I want to hold you. I desire you. I want you. I need you.”

  So quickly? His body tightened. He could see them together. Her smooth body moving against him. Her fingers threading through his hair. Her nipples, pinpoints of fire against his chest. He wanted to sink his prick in her sweet pussy and hear her cries of passion, those incoherent mewls of pleasure. God, he could hear her panting, feel her nails digging into his flesh, taste her salty sweat on his tongue, her sweet cream on his fingers as he delved between her thighs. He could smell her arousal. He ran his fingers through his hair. Christ, he needed a cold shower! His laughter rang out in the scented air. May be he could convince Abby to share one with him.

  He shook his head and turned his steps to his room. If God were good, He’d send him a dream.

  A dream of Abby.

  Chapter Four

  Abby woke with a start. For a moment she was disoriented. The quiet sounds of the country seemed far louder than the city noises she was used to. The moonlight shadow monsters in the room capered on the wall. Where was Alfonso? Alfonso?

  She had dreamed again.

  She remembered the earlier dream now and this one. It was so real, so vivid, so ... hot. Her body ached as though she had just made love. Her nipples pushed against her nightgown’s lace bodice. Her lips felt bruised and puffy. She turned on the bedside lamp, walked to the mirror, peered at her face and gasped.

  She looked well and thoroughly loved. How was that possible?

  Turning back toward the bed, her eye latched onto the ornate top of Lucrezia’s chest. She knelt, and, with an unsteady hand, reached inside, found the trigger to the secret drawer and opened it. Her fingers felt the smooth, leather cover of a book. Were the pages in as good condition? She drew it out, sank to a sitting position on the floor, and slowly turned to the first magically, perfectly preserved page that showed no signs of age. “My Journal.” She closed her eyes, then opened them, unwilling to believe what she saw. She flipped to the next leaf and read the entry aloud in a hushed voice.

  “January 2, 1502. Tonight my husband fell in love with me.”

  She let the book fall shut and shook her head in wonderment. Somehow, she had connected with Lucrezia’s spirit. Here, amid the contents of her boudoir, Lucrezia’s soul had found hers.

  She knew she should give the journal to Antonio, but would it hurt to keep it to herself for just a little while? After she made the switch with the flacon, before she left, she’d leave it for him. Perhaps it would ease her conscience.

  Perhaps not.

  A shaft of early morning sun slipped past the curtains and Abby realized she’d been sitting on the floor for some time. Carefully replacing the journal, she made her way to the bathroom. A nice, hot shower would make her feel better. Of course it would.

  Wouldn’t it?

  * * * * *

  “Abby, Abby, are you done yet?”

  Through the closed bathroom door, Abby heard Lucy’s eager, young voice and smiled. Running a brush through her damp curls, she was ready to face her little charge.

  “Almost done.”

  Lucy flung open the bathroom door and stood in the doorway dressed only in her Little Mermaid cotton panties. Her hair was a mess, but a smile was plastered across her face.

  “Abby! Buon giorno! Did you sleep well? I did! I had the most wonderful dream. Do you want me to tell it to you? I will, but not till we’re with papà. Can I help pick out my clothes? Signora Guigliano never let me.” A shadow passed over the little girl’s sunny face. “She made me wash my face and hands and brush my hair and wouldn’t let me eat breakfast until I got it all right.” A coaxing tone entered the little charmer’s voice. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

  Trying to keep a straight face, Abby replied with all seriousness. “I think she was correct, but I’d let you eat if you didn’t do it quite right. As long as you try your best, si?”

  Lucy ran to Abby and threw her arms around her legs. “I knew you wouldn’t be mean like her! I love you!”

  “Lucy? Abby? Where are you?”

  “In here, papà. Come help me choose my clothes.”

  Antonio appeared in the doorway.

  “Papà, Abby said I didn’t have to brush my hair before breakfast.”

  “Lucy, I said no such thing. I said even if you didn’t get it right, as long as you tried, you could still eat breakfast.”

  Antonio laughed and chucked Lucy underneath her chin. “So, you see you can’t trick Abby. Now, let’s pick out something pretty, si?”

  A choice was made and soon the trio headed toward the outdoors.

  The sunny courtyard greeted them and they settled down to breakfast. A platter was piled high with fragrant varieties of bread. Cheeses and creamy balls of butter made Abby’s mouth water. An elegant china pot filled with strong Italian coffee and a pitcher of cream were placed near Antonio’s elbow. A small plate laden with slim pieces of a rich-looking cake studded with candied fruit sat on the far side of the table, well away from Lucy’s reach. Glass pitchers displayed amber-colored apple juice.

  The abundance of food made a mockery of the skimpy breakfasts Abby was used to. Her tummy rumbled.

  Antonio grinned.

  “We’ll put a few pounds on you, si? My cook would say you’re too skinny.” He pointed to the platter of bread. “We are very proud of our bread in Ferrara and our cook, well; she bakes the best in all of Italy.” He chuckled. “At least, according to her.”

  “And me! Renata makes the best pampapato!” Lucy pointed to the dessert bread barricaded behind Antonio.

  “Pampapato?”

  “We usually serve it at Christmas, but Lucy loves it so much that Renata makes it often. It’s very rich and very heavy; a little goes a long way.” He picked up a thin, round bread, tore off a piece, dipped it in some olive oil and handed it to her. “This is piadina -- it’s chewy and my favorite. Try some.”

  Their fingers brushed as she accepted the dripping morsel. The warm oil slid down their skin. Abby wanted to suck each of Antonio’s fingers. She closed her eyes in ecstasy just thinking about licking his flesh.

  “Do you like it, Abby?” Lucy’s earnest voice broke through her enjoyment.

  “Delicious!”

  A smug smile crossed the little girl’s face. “Then can I have your piece of pampapato, per favore?”

  As the two adults broke into laughter, Antonio’s cell phone rang. Abby watched as his laughter evaporated. His responses were too quick for her to follow, only grasping a word here and there. One word she did catch, though -- danneggiato -- damaged. He flipped the phone shut, pushed his chair back and stood, speaking in an agitated mixture of Italian and English.

  “Scusi, I must check Borgia. There’s been an accident. Per favore, take care of Lucy.”

  Without waiting for Abby’s response, he strode toward the connecting door to the perfumery leaving her with a slew of unanswered questions.

  “Abby, what’s wrong with papà? He didn’t give me my pampapato!”

  Taking two slices of the bread, Abby put them on Lucy’s plate and poured a glass of milk for her. “Your papà had some business to take care of, little one. Finish your breakfast and you can show me all your dolls.”

  “Can we have a party with them?”

  “Sure.”

  Lucy looked up from her almost cleaned plate. “Do you think papà will let me stay up late again?”

  Abby smiled. “Maybe one more night.”

  Happy with Abby’s response, Lucy continued to demolish her breakfast.

  Abby sighed with envy. If only her questions could be satisfied so easily.

  * * * * *

  “Girls, are you in the kitchen?”

  “Si, papà.”

  The door to the kitchen swung open and Antonio stood for a moment in the doorway. “Ah, here you are.”

  He sauntered further in and snagged a fry from Abby’s plate. Pulling up a chair to the worktable, he surveyed what was left of hamburgers, fries and three glasses coated with the remnants of a milky drink. “I recognize the hamburger and potatoes, but what was in the glasses?”

  “Milkshakes, papà. Abby showe
d me and ‘Nata how to cook ‘merican.”

  “Is there any more of this delicious looking food left, Renata? I haven’t eaten yet.”

  “Sit, sit, Antonio. I’ll bring some to you.”

  “Grazie. My stomach is growling.”

  Renata bustled over to the table with the remaining burgers and fries. Abby picked up a pitcher with the last of the vanilla milkshake and poured Antonio a glass.

  Glancing over to Lucy, busily chattering with Renata, Abby lowered her voice and posed one of the many questions that had been plaguing her all morning. “What happened at Borgia? You spoke so quickly, I couldn’t catch anything but a word or two, but I did hear you say, ‘damaged’? What was damaged?”

  Antonio motioned to the cook. “Renata, would you keep an eye on Lucrezia for us for a moment, per favore?”

  “Si, si, go talk with your girlfriend.”

  Abby blushed. “I’m not Antonio’s girlfriend, Renata.”

  The cook shrugged. “Go talk. I’ll take care of the little one.”

  Antonio led Abby into the courtyard and pulled out one of the patio seats for her.

  “Someone got into the display room and damaged many of the perfume bottles.”

  “Oh, no! Which ones? Not Lucy’s little mermaid.”

  “No, no, the older ones, the ones that will be impossible to replace.” He grimaced. “Of course, I have insurance, but no money can compensate for the loss. I’ve been talking with la polizia.” He took a deep breath. “They accused me of staging the incident for publicity.”

  “How could they? It would be like taking your heart out and stomping on it.”

  He laughed sharply. “Too bad you weren’t there to defend me.”

  “Why do they think you had anything to do with the vandalism?”

  “Because there were no signs that anyone broke into the display room. Whatever insurance money I will receive won’t be released until after a full investigation.” He sighed. “I am so sorry that this should have happened so soon after your arrival, Abby.”

  She stretched her hand and laid it on his arm. “I’m sure the investigation will exonerate you.” Abby’s thoughts whirled. Perhaps she could do some investigating on her own. “Now, I have another question for you. May Lucy stay up for supper with us one more time?”

  Antonio smiled and nodded. “One more time. It’s hard to say no to her, si?”

  Abby returned his smile. “She’s a charmer.”

  Turning serious once more, Antonio urged her not to worry about a possible intruder. “I’ve increased security and will change the code on the alarm system. I’ve called in my security expert who will add to the system to include more surveillance cameras around the estate.”

  Abby nodded. “You’ve covered just about everything. I have utmost confidence in you.”

  “Grazie, bella.”

  “Now, if Lucy is to stay up late again, I think a bath and a nap is next on the agenda.”

  “I agree. So, dinner tonight?” He grinned. “American food?”

  “I think some good Italian home cooking suits me just fine.”

  “Molto bene! Later.”

  “Later.”

  * * * * *

  Abby sighed with tired satisfaction. Lucy had fallen asleep almost before she’d gotten her out of the tub. Tucked in her bed with her favorite doll, she looked like a cherub from some early Renaissance painting. Taking the baby monitor she’d found in Lucy’s closet, she hooked it up, setting it on the small table by the side of the bed. She locked her doors and opened the chest. With great care, she removed Lucrezia’s journal and sat down to read it. It should have been tough going; the Italian of the Renaissance was not the same as modern Italian; Lucrezia’s penmanship was not always clear, but Abby found she understood every word. She could hear Lucrezia’s voice reading aloud the words she had penned, and suddenly, she was living through those very moments.

  * * * * *

  5 aprile 1502

  Alfonso makes love to me every night. He is a vigorous lover and generous, too. Each time, I anoint my body with the perfume the old witch concocted for me.

  By now, I should be pregnant, but I am not.

  His sister questions me each month. She has the servants check the laundry to see if I’ve had my menses. They look at my breasts to see if they are more full.

  If she could, she would hide beneath our bed and make sure we make love often enough.

  She still hates me.

  Cesare is having problems. I have only heard this second-hand, but still I worry. We have not always seen eye to eye, but he is my brother.

  * * * * *

  20 aprile 1502

  I cannot believe it. I joked that Alfonso’s sister would spy on us if she could and she has!

  Last night Alfonso came to me after the evening meal. We planned on playing a game. He would be my master and I would be his sex slave. I had smoothed my skin with the magical perfume and it glistened as though dusted with diamonds. Rainbow-colored silk swathed my body, so sheer he would see my mons and rouged nipples. My perfumed hair curled unbound on my shoulders and gleamed in the candlelight. I sat on the edge of the bed quivering with anticipation.

  I was ready for Alfonso.

  He entered wearing a tightly belted, velvet robe, his bearing princely and arrogant. He stood before me, hands on hips, and gazed down at my upturned face.

  “You said you would be ready for me, bella, and yet, you are not.” He shook his head with regret. “You should have been naked, on your back, legs spread, hands cupping your breasts as an offering to me.” He sighed again. “Stand.”

  I rose trembling before him. Excitement raced through me. What would he do? What would he make me do?

  He grasped the silk at my shoulders and tore it from me. He tossed me on the bed and fell upon me, one big, strong hand holding both of mine above my head. He untied his robe with one hand, revealing his rampant cock. “Keep your hands above your head, preciosa.” Taking the belt from his robe, he quickly tied my hands together; drawing the velvet so taut around my wrists I winced. His keen eye caught my involuntary movement. “Are you in pain, cara?”

  I shook my head. The brief, minor pain would only increase the pleasure to come.

  With his hands now free, he drew off his robe, throwing it carelessly to the floor. “Close your eyes, and let me give you ecstasy.”

  I obeyed at once, as a good slave should.

  His hands were everywhere, stroking, shaping, caressing me, and setting me on fire. His hot breath burned me. His love words seared my soul. He rose above me and plunged his scorching penis into my creaming core. I arched my body, rising to meet his every thrust. He moved faster, stoking my fire, but I kept up the pace. I would not falter, not when such incredible bliss loomed near.

  I longed to see him as he made love to me; to witness the intensity of his features as he took me.

  I opened my eyes only to see my maidservant peering in at the door between my room and Alfonso’s! She gazed at us, her mouth slack with lust. I glimpsed a bit of her loose blouse, pulled below her breasts, her hand fondling one plump globe.

  For a moment I faltered in my rhythm. Puttana! Why should I not attain satisfaction just because of a spying whore? I increased the tempo, rocking harder. “Untie me,” I begged and Alfonso complied. I clutched his shoulders, and my body tightened with passion. My heart pounded and I screamed as we climaxed together.

  The female still watched, but I cared not.

  Alfonso collapsed on my sweat-slick body, nearly crushing me with his weight. He made to move off me, but I held him tighter. His heart still raced and he panted.

  “Leave,” I mouthed to the bitch and her eyes widened as she realized that I was aware of her presence. She gasped and shut the door softly, probably grateful to leave with her life. Foolish woman. Later, she would pay for her treachery.

  * * * * *

  Abby put down the journal, barely able to breathe. She longed to read more; unlike Lucrezia, she still burned. If Antonio had been in the room with her now, she would have stripped off her clothes and demanded that he fuck her right there and then!

  With more reluctance than she could ever imagine, she put the journal back in its hiding place and began her preparations for the evening. She opened the armoire and pulled out an emerald-green jersey dress. She was well aware that the bodice clung to every inch of her bosom, its crisscross design accentuating her breasts. Should she wear a bra tonight? She smiled. No bra, not if she wanted to entice Antonio. The long sleeves gave the garment a deceptively demur look, but the way the fabric hugged her hips as she moved belied its innocence. Strappy high-heeled sandals worn without hose and a thong that barely covered her pussy finished her choices for the night.