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“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“It happened before I knew you.”
Raven shook her head. “What happened to the assassins?”
“I destroyed them.”
“What, all of them?”
“There were only ten. After the assassination attempt, we went to war with Venice and defeated them. Since then, the traitors have been too cowardly to risk open conflict. They colluded with the hunters to try to kill me. Now I believe they’re trying to use the Curia.”
“You defeated ten vampyres? What, at once?”
William smiled. “I am an old one.”
“Why would the traitors use the Curia? If they come, they’ll kill all the vampyres.”
“The Curia makes treaties when it suits its purposes.”
“William,” she whispered, resting her cheek against his chest once again.
He wound a lock of her hair around his finger, his gaze fixing on the black strand. “This is not how I envisioned our evening. At least now you understand why I cannot take you to York.” His expression brightened. “But I would like to take you with me tonight.”
Raven looked at the motorcycle, her grip on him tightening. He watched her, a shadow of hope crossing his handsome face.
She could not disappoint him. “Lead on, old one.”
He smiled widely and led her to his machine.
William appeared to have chosen the darkest, most winding road that led from the city. Fortunately for Raven, his Triumph roadster had twin headlights that cut through the night.
She held him tightly, sitting as far forward as possible, her front pressed to his back, her arms clasped around his waist. The position was uncomfortable for her leg, but she ignored the discomfort, focusing on the feeling of being so close to the person she loved.
He wore sunglasses, but no helmet, much to her consternation. He liked to feel the wind in his hair, he’d said, and was indifferent to the risk of an accident.
“I won’t let harm come to you,” he’d promised, insisting she wear a helmet. He’d procured a black leather jacket to protect her from the wind and took great pleasure in placing it on her.
Raven clutched him more closely, shifting forward on the passenger seat at the back, her face turned to the side as the large, powerful motorcycle wound around the curves at high speed.
“Are you all right?” He lifted his voice above the roar of the machine.
“It’s a little fast.” Her reply was muffled by the helmet.
She lied. It was far too fast and the strain of having to hold him so tightly aggravated her injuries, but she knew how much William enjoyed speed. She could feel his joy, his wild abandon, as he revved the engine in the straightaways and effortlessly guided the bike around the curves. Excitement thrummed through his body, his muscles taut with control.
Her thighs tightened on the outside of his as they went around a corner, her arms cutting into the unyielding steel of his abdominals. William decelerated and she heard him chuckle, the sound of his amusement disappearing on the wind.
He was happy. He was free. And because he loved her, he wouldn’t dare approach the speed he preferred.
“It’s a lovely night.” He gestured to the inky sky that peeked through the canopy of trees above them.
She hugged him in response. Her injured leg began to throb, so with regret she squeezed his right side, the signal that she needed a rest.
William slowed immediately, pulling off to the side of the road near a private drive. He removed his sunglasses, climbed off the bike, and helped her with her helmet, placing it on top of the seat before offering his hand.
When her stiff leg wouldn’t cooperate, he lifted her into his arms. In the dim starlight, she could still see the joy on his face.
His eyebrows drew together under her perusal. “What?”
“Seeing you happy makes me happy.”
Without warning, he pressed their mouths together. When they came apart, he whispered in her ear, “I’d forgotten.”
“You’d forgotten what?” Her questing fingers sifted through the hair at the back of his head.
“What it’s like to be loved.”
She hugged him as tightly as she could, trying to show with her body what she couldn’t communicate with words.
He placed her on the ground, winding his arm around her lower back to support her. “I rode horses when I was human. I liked them. I have a couple of fast cars, including a McLaren.”
“What’s a McLaren?”
William grinned. “It’s a car made by a company that makes Formula One race cars. It’s an exceptional vehicle, but ever since my first ride on a motorbike, it’s been my favorite.”
“I can understand that.” She returned his grin.
He led her into a grove of cypress trees that skirted the edge of a private drive, piloting her up a smaller hill.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere special.”
They walked for some time. Just as Raven was sure she couldn’t walk anymore, the trees thinned out, revealing a beautiful terraced garden. There were small white lights wound around some of the trees and a few electric lanterns scattered across the terraces, interspersed with terra-cotta pots filled with flowers and greenery. Rosebushes and lavender perfumed the air. To the right side, a short distance away, was a grove of what looked like orange trees.
He brought her to the center of the largest terrace, next to a large, impressive fountain that featured a statue of Venus and Cupid. Potted lemon trees stood broadly around its circumference. Raven inhaled the sunny, citrus scent.
“It’s incredible. What is this place?”
“The garden belongs to a villa farther uphill. It was built in the fourteenth century.”
“Do you know the owners?”
“I knew the original owners. I believe the villa is still in the family.”
“They were friends of yours?”
“I don’t have friends, Raven. The owners were friends of the Medici, which is how I met them.”
She glanced around. “We’re trespassing.”
“The current owners are elderly. They’re probably asleep.”
“Do you come here a lot?”
“I was a guest several times in the fourteenth century. Since then, I’ve visited only on occasion, always under cover of darkness.” His attention drifted over the terraces, pausing from time to time. “I’m fond of the gardens. It’s very peaceful here. And not a vampyre in sight.”
“Have the gardens changed much since the fourteenth century?”
“
Happily, no.”
She fitted her arm around his waist. “Tell me what it was like living during the Renaissance.”
William rubbed his chin. “It was fascinating. There were tremendous innovations in architecture, art, politics, and science. Florence was the center for many of those innovations. And at the center of Florence were the Medici.
“I played the part of a wealthy Englishman who was eager to spend his family’s money and rub shoulders with the elite. Florentine society welcomed me with open arms. I used that opportunity to learn all I could from the intellectual innovators, and quietly began acquiring art.
“Vampyres had been driven underground by the Curia, but it was easy enough to mingle with humans between the hours of sunset and sunrise. They were suspicious enough to keep their distance but not fearful as their ancestors had been, when we lived openly.”
“You knew Dante and Botticelli.”
William frowned. “I did. I can’t say I liked either of them. I certainly admire Botticelli’s work, when he isn’t trying to paint me into one of his paintings.”
“You knew Beatrice.”
“Not well, but I met her. She was lovely, very noble, and the kind of woman who turned heads when she walked down the street. I knew Botticelli’s muse, Simonetta Vespucci. I knew Brunelleschi, Machiavelli, Michelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo, Savonarola, Galileo . . .” William waved a hand in the air. “I had the advantage of a long life and access to the circles in which they traveled.”
“Were any of them killed by vampyres?”
“No.” William’s gray eyes danced. “But two of them became vampyres.”
Raven’s mouth dropped open. “Really? Which ones?”
“Guess.” William appeared amused.
“Um, Michelangelo and Brunelleschi? They’d make good vampyres.”
“No.”
Raven frowned. “That’s too bad. I would have liked to meet them.”
“I can introduce you to Simonetta. She’s the Princess of Umbria.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I am not. I can also introduce you to Machiavelli, but you’ve already met him.”
Raven fanned a hand to her forehead. “What?”
