Read Online One With the Shadows by Susan Squires - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Squires
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grimly. She was no doubt wearing a dress of Urbano’s latest mistress. How humiliating to take another’s leavings. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. And she was a beggar, surely.
The only thing Sophia had not managed to procure was a veil. No mantilla, no scrap of netting. Kate felt positively naked without something to cover her scar. At least she still carried her reticule with its precious cargo. What cared she that the gray velvet embroidered with silver did not match her fine new outfit? What counted was that the gleaming emerald still lay inside, tantalizing her, along with her cards. Her dreams were so close, yet so elusive. Urbano could take the stone without paying for it at any time. And if no one paid for it, it was useless to her.
She heard him shouting to the driver. Urbano made her uneasy in ways she couldn’t explain. His red eyes were only lenses. There must have been a source for the reflected light. She still wasn’t certain how he achieved that feeling of electric aliveness he shared with the woman called Elyta and the man from whom Kate had stolen the stone. And Urbano’s disconcerting way of coming and going without one quite knowing how he got there … She set her lips. He must practice it carefully. He really had a most successful “man of mystery” act. No wonder women paid so much to keep him. She’d bet he had other services at which he was skilled … And that brought her to the other way he made her uneasy. She had not reacted to a man like she reacted to Urbano … ever, really. Even now, knowing he was just outside the carriage door made her conscious of her body in ways that she’d never been before.
She wouldn’t think about that. Fruitless. He would never feel the same about her. She shook herself mentally. And what of Elyta? She shared Urbano’s lenses and whatever he did to make himself seem so vibrant. But her strength … Kate shuddered. That had been real enough.
The door to the carriage opened abruptly and Urbano swung up into the coach. The small space immediately filled with the cinnamon scent he affected and that electric energy. Could he not leave off with his fraudulent ways, even when she was his only audience, and she’d already sniffed out his lay? He had been riding beside the carriage until now on a prancing dark bay stallion he called Piccolo. Piccolo was undoubtedly the finest piece of horseflesh Kate had ever seen, though altogether frightening to a city girl, and hardly deserving of a name that meant “little one.” Urbano seemed recovered from his burns. How, even if she had been mistaken about the charred flesh she had first imagined? In the light of his foyer, the skin had definitely been red and blistered. He had been burned. She fidgeted in her seat.
“Excuse my intrusion,” he murmured.
“The carriage is yours, sir, the intrusion mine.” She made her voice frosty to discourage any intentions he might have of fraternizing. Sophia and her husband were obviously besotted with him. Therefore Sophia’s opinion that he was a man of honor was worthless. How could a gigolo have honor? And if Gian Urbano had any thoughts of … seduction … or rape …
Nonsense! What man would seduce a woman as scarred as she was? None. Not ever. It was just as well she had no veil. Let him constantly be reminded that she was unattractive. That was her protection. It just didn’t feel like a fortunate thing.
He reached across her to pull down the window shade on her side, jerked down the shade on his side, and wedged himself into the farthest corner from her. She suppressed a shudder as his elbow brushed her shoulder. It was not a shudder of revulsion. She truly hoped the man had no idea what effect he had on her. But she knew by his habitual arrogance that her hope was vain.
“I regret to impair your view of the passing countryside, but I am sensitive to the sun.”
“As you wish,” she said, and pointedly closed her eyes, as though she could sleep
The only thing Sophia had not managed to procure was a veil. No mantilla, no scrap of netting. Kate felt positively naked without something to cover her scar. At least she still carried her reticule with its precious cargo. What cared she that the gray velvet embroidered with silver did not match her fine new outfit? What counted was that the gleaming emerald still lay inside, tantalizing her, along with her cards. Her dreams were so close, yet so elusive. Urbano could take the stone without paying for it at any time. And if no one paid for it, it was useless to her.
She heard him shouting to the driver. Urbano made her uneasy in ways she couldn’t explain. His red eyes were only lenses. There must have been a source for the reflected light. She still wasn’t certain how he achieved that feeling of electric aliveness he shared with the woman called Elyta and the man from whom Kate had stolen the stone. And Urbano’s disconcerting way of coming and going without one quite knowing how he got there … She set her lips. He must practice it carefully. He really had a most successful “man of mystery” act. No wonder women paid so much to keep him. She’d bet he had other services at which he was skilled … And that brought her to the other way he made her uneasy. She had not reacted to a man like she reacted to Urbano … ever, really. Even now, knowing he was just outside the carriage door made her conscious of her body in ways that she’d never been before.
She wouldn’t think about that. Fruitless. He would never feel the same about her. She shook herself mentally. And what of Elyta? She shared Urbano’s lenses and whatever he did to make himself seem so vibrant. But her strength … Kate shuddered. That had been real enough.
The door to the carriage opened abruptly and Urbano swung up into the coach. The small space immediately filled with the cinnamon scent he affected and that electric energy. Could he not leave off with his fraudulent ways, even when she was his only audience, and she’d already sniffed out his lay? He had been riding beside the carriage until now on a prancing dark bay stallion he called Piccolo. Piccolo was undoubtedly the finest piece of horseflesh Kate had ever seen, though altogether frightening to a city girl, and hardly deserving of a name that meant “little one.” Urbano seemed recovered from his burns. How, even if she had been mistaken about the charred flesh she had first imagined? In the light of his foyer, the skin had definitely been red and blistered. He had been burned. She fidgeted in her seat.
“Excuse my intrusion,” he murmured.
“The carriage is yours, sir, the intrusion mine.” She made her voice frosty to discourage any intentions he might have of fraternizing. Sophia and her husband were obviously besotted with him. Therefore Sophia’s opinion that he was a man of honor was worthless. How could a gigolo have honor? And if Gian Urbano had any thoughts of … seduction … or rape …
Nonsense! What man would seduce a woman as scarred as she was? None. Not ever. It was just as well she had no veil. Let him constantly be reminded that she was unattractive. That was her protection. It just didn’t feel like a fortunate thing.
He reached across her to pull down the window shade on her side, jerked down the shade on his side, and wedged himself into the farthest corner from her. She suppressed a shudder as his elbow brushed her shoulder. It was not a shudder of revulsion. She truly hoped the man had no idea what effect he had on her. But she knew by his habitual arrogance that her hope was vain.
“I regret to impair your view of the passing countryside, but I am sensitive to the sun.”
“As you wish,” she said, and pointedly closed her eyes, as though she could sleep
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