The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon Page 7

  She arched against him, writhing in ecstasy. Her hands fisted in the sheets as she moved with him. Her moans increased as he relentlessly plied his tongue. She gripped his shoulders, thrashing, her legs shifting.

  “Now,” he said. “Now, I’m going to fuck you and take your screams of pleasure into my mouth. And when you come apart in my arms, I’ll be there to catch you.”

  He moved up her body, plunged his penis into her core and pumped. He pressed his mouth against hers, taking in her little mewls of pleasure. He rolled over with her so that she was riding him. She undulated astride him, her belly flexing.

  He cupped her ass, her skin soft; the underlying muscles firm and strong. He closed his eyes letting his other senses come into play. The feel of her flesh beneath his hands. The sound of her voice as she panted and sighed. The scent of her arousal and overlaying it a fragrance he’d only encountered briefly once before. And shouldn’t have sensed it here in this room with Abby.

  He opened his eyes and his breath hissed.

  Riding him, her movements frantic as she neared her climax, was the woman whose bed they lay upon. Lucrezia, Duchess of Ferrara, strove above him and called out the name ‘Alfonso’ as she attained her release. He came almost simultaneously with her, but the name that fell from his lips was ‘Abby’.

  And the woman in bed with him heard. Her eyes flashed open. She gasped and sagged against him, slipping into unconsciousness.

  And breaking whatever spell there might have been.

  Antonio shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Impossible. It must be his worry about the break-in or his concern about the unveiling of the new perfume. That must be it. Why, he thought he could smell the elusive scent that the ancient flacon had emitted when he’d first opened it. He couldn’t tell Abby. She’d think him insane.

  He gazed at her limp form draped by his side. She had fallen into a natural slumber. Her soft, even breathing reassured him that she was all right. He ran his hand down her slim arm and she shifted, shaping her body closer to him, tucking her head against his shoulder. Her soft curls tickled his chin and he sighed.

  He couldn’t stay. He had a business to run, a new perfume to launch, and he couldn’t let Abby’s allure distract him. As for the strange vision he’d experienced ... well, best to leave that alone and chalk it up to ... what?

  He slipped cautiously from the bed, threw on his robe and headed toward the bathroom that connected to Maria’s room. Another bath separated his room from hers. He would lock each door behind him. Perhaps the locks would be sufficient to keep him away from Abby.

  Perhaps not.

  * * * * *

  “Antonio?” Abby stretched and reached over for the man who had given her the most passionate night of her life and found only a rumpled sheet. The little, ornate bedside clock indicated it was past eight o’clock. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to deal with Antonio’s abandonment. Realistically speaking, he couldn’t have stayed with her, not with Lucy in the next room.

  “But, damn it, he could have woken me up when he left.” Leaning over the bed, she grabbed her robe from the floor, and shoved her arms in the sleeves. She stalked over to her bathroom and then tried the connecting door. No go. She smiled and then went back into her room, taking out her manicure kit. She hummed and with a little turn, a little twist, she opened the door.

  “Piece of cake.”

  She gazed around the room, assessing it, trying to acquire a quick picture of the woman who once lived there. She wrinkled her nose.

  “Heavy hand with the perfume. It still reeks.”

  Not lingering, she tried the closed door leading to the former duchess’s bathroom. She moved through that room without giving it a second glance. A few seconds later she was in Antonio’s room. For a moment, she just stood by the door, inhaling his masculine scent. A citrusy cologne with a smoky base note curled around her senses. Antonio’s scent. It had the uncanny ability to make her wet. But she was here on a mission, not to go weak in the knees for the man who’d left her forlorn in her bed, whether or not he was wise to do so.

  She went through the obvious steps first, quickly and efficiently going through his drawers, closet and all his furniture. Nothing. No sign of the flacon. Of course, that would have been too easy, but he might have wanted to keep it close by. Next, she checked for any hidey-holes. This took a bit more time, but Abby’s experienced eyes and hands quickly ascertained that there were no secrets in Antonio’s room.

  Should she go back and check Maria’s room? Instinct told her that he never would have left something as cherished as the flacon there. And it was getting late. Time to get back to her room, throw on some clothes and see to her little charge.

  * * * * *

  “What shall we do today, Lucy? Would you like to have a picnic?”

  “Si! What shall we take?”

  “Sandwiches and fruit and some cider. Sound good?”

  Too excited to speak, Lucy merely clapped her hands, her face wreathed in smiles.

  Abby had been given use of any of the Duke’s vehicles and here she found that Antonio was anything but conservative in his choices. Housed in a garage adjacent to the villa, were spaces for several cars. Resisting the temptation to select the cherry-red Ferrari convertible or the shiny Vespa, she opted for the more sedate sedan with a child’s safety seat in the back. Putting a picnic basket filled with goodies from Renata’s kitchen in the trunk and taking some of Lucy’s favorite dolls for picnic guests, they set off for the Po Delta Park.

  Chapter Six

  The countryside Abby and Lucy traveled through was lush. Peach and pear orchards and quaint, square farmhouses with arcaded hay barns dotted their route. As they continued toward Buonacompra, they entered the lands that Lucrezia brought as part of her dowry. An eerie sense of déjà vu overwhelmed Abby. She checked the rearview mirror and gasped. The road behind her was unpaved. The telephone poles had disappeared. A horse and rider could be seen in the distance and a farmer driving an oxcart trudged not too far behind.

  What the hell was going on?

  She blinked and the scenery wavered. The road returned to a curving line of black and the vehicle behind her was a bright, blue Fiat. Her hands, white-knuckled, gripped the wheel. The only thing keeping her from laughing hysterically was Lucy dozing in her safety seat. She took a deep breath and concentrated on not straying from the road. If she dwelled on what had just happened, she’d probably crash the car.

  Reaching the park, she pulled into an area set aside for picnickers. A few wooden tables and benches offered an invitation to relax and enjoy the stunning scenery, an offer she gladly accepted.

  She used the emptied picnic basket as a seat for Lucy’s dolls, earning enthusiastic applause. Renata had made several tiny canapés to serve as sandwiches for the little guests and while Lucy nibbled on them, offering some to her dolls, Abby let her mind wander.

  She was finding it more and more difficult to separate her feelings for Antonio from the job. She didn’t need the growing desire and attraction verging perilously on love complicating her mission, but there didn’t seem to be any way to stop those feelings.

  And then there was Lucy. She identified with the little girl, but felt so much luckier having a grandmother who shared a rich family history as she was growing up. The stories she heard had been the impetus for Finding Justice.

  “Abby, you’re not eating your strawberries. May Isabella have them?”

  Brought back to the present, Abby turned her attention to Lucy’s request.

  “Of course.” She smiled. “You and Isabella can share them.”

  With Lucy focused once more on food, Abby’s attention drifted back again to Antonio and last night. Just thinking about him making love to her made her panties wet. She shifted on the bench, trying to find a more comfortable position. A futile task; now the only position that would satisfy her was underneath Antonio.

  Would he come to her room again tonight? Her pussy tightened. God, just thinking about him making love to her made her breasts ache. Who was enticing whom?

  Lucy piped up again. “Do you think papà will be home for dinner tonight?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe later.”

  “Can I stay up for him?”

  Abby shook her head. “Sorry, little one. Three late nights in a row is too much. Remember your papà said he’d tuck you in when he came home.”

  For a moment Lucy pouted. Abby chose to ignore it and the little girl soon gave up hope.

  They explored the area, strolling along the raised canal banks and watching the falcons and herons soar above. Would the Duchess Lucrezia have noticed them?

  Soon enough it was time to return for Lucy’s nap. Abby packed up the remnants of their picnic and a tired little girl and headed back to the villa.

  This time the road remained solidly planted in the present.

  * * * * *

  It was a dinner for two that night. Antonio stayed in town. The office had a small apartment attached and when Maria was alive he spent many nights there. Was he avoiding her? Abby wondered.

  A cranky little girl and a frustrated big girl prepared for bed that evening. After reading her the bedtime story of Giovanuzza, the Fox, Abby decided to do some bedtime reading of her own.

  Locking the doors, she went over to Lucrezia’s chest and drew out her journal. When she had read it earlier, she had sensed the woman’s desperation and frustration. What had happened? She opened the journal, her curiosity spiked.

  * * * * *

  3 febbraio 1507

  I can no longer cry. I am desperate. I take no joy in court activities. Ariosto has composed yet another poem praising my beauty. What good does it do me to be beautiful? Men desire me. The magical balm still has power, but I
care not. It is my husband whom I crave.

  Once more, I have miscarried. If I cannot bear Alfonso an heir, I will willingly absolve him of his marriage vows and seek solace in a nunnery.

  * * * * *

  5 maggio 1507

  We have a new dance master, Gugliemo Ebreo Pesaro, a Jew. His instructions in the dance have caused a sensation at court. He is related to the young maid who helps with dressing my hair. Guiditta is a gem and my hair has never looked so glowing. Usually after a miscarriage it takes months for it to regain its resiliency. With her lotions and oils, it shines like fire.

  The other day, after Pesaro’s lesson, he casually strolled over to where I stood by the window, fanning myself. Sotto voce, he murmured that Guiditta had told him of my problem.

  He says he can help.

  * * * * *

  Abby put the book down. This was a new, vulnerable Lucrezia. She skimmed ahead a few pages until a stark sentence caught her eye.

  * * * * *

  1 febbraio 1508

  I am pregnant.

  Last summer, I visited Eli’ahu Rofai, the Jewish physician, in the dead of the night at his home in the Jewish quarter. He examined me in the presence of his wife and Guiditta. He quizzed me on every facet of my daily routine -- what I eat, drink, wear, my bathing habits. Tutto.

  He even asked me how Alfonso and I make love -- how often and where and what positions. At first I demurred -- this is a sacred act between husband and wife -- but when I saw that he did not display a puerile interest in the information I told him everything.

  The first thing he insisted that I do was bathe before Alfonso and I made love and use only fresh rain water to do so. He instructed me on everything -- even when we should make love, informing me that we should wait until a week after my menses ended. The next day I must bathe and that evening and every other evening after, Alfonso and I should make love, freely and joyously.

  He recommended that I increase my intake of fruits and vegetables; decrease my consumption of eels -- which shall be hard, since I so love anguilla alla brace -- and no more shellfish.

  One other suggestion made me smile. Eli’ahu told me to have music playing while Alfonso and I copulated. This would help to relax my body and make it more receptive to Alfonso’s seed.

  Introduce these changes gradually, he advised. By the summer’s end, I would be pregnant.

  My hands trembled and my heart raced. How could Eli’ahu be so sure? I asked him if he were an astrologer.

  He shook his head. “No, ma donna. I merely follow the traditions of my forefathers.” He smiled. “I shall dance at the birth of your child.”

  Would the babe be a male?

  “That I cannot predict.”

  I opened up the purse I had brought with me and prepared to pay him, but he refused.

  “After the babe is born, I ask only that your spouse continue the sponsorship of the Jewish community in Ferrara and that he instruct his heirs to offer Ferrara as a safe haven for my people.”

  I nodded, but decided that I would anonymously donate money to their house of worship.

  I had not written of this before for fear I would tempt fate, but now that I am past the seventh month, I feel I may express my joy.

  * * * * *

  14 aprile 1508

  I have a son!

  Ercole was born with great ease on the fifth of aprile. When I learned of my pregnancy I conferred with Eli’ahu who advised me to rest, exercise moderately and refrain from intercourse with Alfonso from the second month on.

  That was the hardest thing of all for both of us. When I shared this with Alfonso he grumbled but agreed since he saw how well the pregnancy was progressing.

  I have secured a wet nurse for Ercole. As soon as Eli’ahu permits, Alfonso will return to our marriage bed.

  * * * * *

  Again Abby flipped forward. With her own frustration running high, she was dying to see if Lucrezia would describe her reunion with Alfonso.

  With a triumphant grin, she finally found the entry.

  * * * * *

  7 ottobre 1508

  Alfonso has at last come to my bed tonight. And I am frightened.

  I must set down what happened while it is still fresh in my mind. I thank God that no one will ever see this for I fear I would be called mad or even a witch.

  Anticipating our love making, I prepared the room carefully. On the balcony outside, a trio of musicians performed softly on treble, tenor and bass violas de gamba.

  In the room, I set a carafe of his favorite wine and a bowlful of succulent pears on a table near the bed.

  I had had a servant lay a fire in the hearth. A pair of candles made from scented beeswax flanked my portrait over the mantelpiece. This was Alfonso’s favorite and one he had commissioned. In it, one of my breasts was bared, arousing the viewer, or so Alfonso declared, to seek out the owner of such perfection.

  My skin now glistened with the magical balm, the scent mingling with the aromas of wine, fruit, wax and burning wood.

  I loosened my hair and let it flow down my back. My breasts had retained the fullness created by Ercole’s birth and I knew Alfonso would be pleased by this. I slipped into a new sheer, chemise decorated with little flowers. Thin, shiny, spring green ribbons tied in bows adorned the bodice.

  I lay back in the bed and awaited Alfonso’s arrival.

  He entered wearing the gift I’d had made for him. From the city of Lucca, it was a black, silk robe with a crimson and gold phoenix on the back.

  He took my breath away.

  He smiled as he stalked toward me like a lion and I, his willing prey. He untied the robe, exposing his rampant masculinity.

  He wanted me.

  I pulled my chemise over my head and opened my arms to him. He wasted no time, joining me on the bed and drawing me into his arms. He fondled my breasts and smiled. “Bigger. I like it.” He cupped one breast and took my aching nipple into his mouth, suckling it. He laved the tight, sensitive bud, making me weep with joy.

  He shifted above me and brushed my cheek, swiping my tears. With tenderness brimming in his eyes, he licked his fingers, sharing in my happiness. Then he plunged his cock deep within me and I opened my heart to his love.

  “Lucrezia, carissima, it’s been so long.”

  And suddenly there were three in the bed. Another woman shared my body, shared my passion.

  Shared my husband.

  Caught in the depth of ecstasy, I gave myself up to Alfonso’s lovemaking. I could not help it. His masterful handling of my body overwhelmed my fear of the stranger sharing it.

  When my climax struck, I felt her slip away and I heaved a sigh of relief.

  Grazie a Dio, I prayed she would never return. She didn’t that night.

  Alfonso seemed unaware of what had happened. He continued his vigorous lovemaking. He was greedy. He encouraged me to worship his penis and I did. I sucked his cock, playing with his ripe plums. He laughed, loving my boldness. With his urging, I straddled him, taking him deep inside me. I relished my power over him. I felt like a goddess. I closed my eyes, overcome with love. Then he grasped my buttocks and thrust upward, moving with me, faster and faster.

  I called out his name as we reached the crest of our passion and heard his answering cry.

  “Abby!”

  A stranger lay beneath me. His features similar but not the same as my beloved’s.

  I am going mad.

  I fainted and awakened in Alfonso’s concerned embrace.

  I could not tell him what happened. Le petit mort, I told him and he basked in the glow of his prowess.

  I pray he will never learn of this madness I experienced. I pray it will never happen again.

  * * * * *

  The journal slipped from Abby’s nerveless fingers. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. How could Lucrezia have experienced such things, the same things that Abby had. But not quite. Abby hadn’t ridden Lucrezia’s husband. What had happened? She had written that the man looked similar to Alfonso. Could it possibly have been Antonio?

  Her head hurt. Had Antonio gone through something similar to what she had experienced? There was no way of finding out tonight. And even when he came home, how could she ask him about it without revealing that she had found and read Lucrezia’s journal?

  She returned the ancient tome back into the chest. Whatever decision she made would have to wait.