Page 39 of Bloodlines and Birthright

I glanced up at the ceiling.

“Nothing,” Oscar whispered as he closed the bottom drawer on the desk. “No bills of sale for the books, no letters from an antique bookseller.” He looked around at the shelves. “There could be a hidden wall safe where he keeps important documents. Usually, a safe is hidden behind a painting but it could be behind a shelf or panel. Help me look, Gavin.”

A moment of madness overcame me. That was the only explanation for the foolish thing I did next. “I’m going to help Miss Wheeler,” I told him. “She has more rooms to cover than us.”

I left him pressing on the backs of the bookshelves. Across the entrance hall, Miss Wheeler’s lantern light glowed softly. She made no sound as she searched the drawing room. I headed up the grand staircase, thankful it was made of marble not wood and didn’t creak underfoot.

At the top, I could go left or right. I chose left. The right-hand wing was directly over the kitchen. If I were the owner of the villa, I wouldn’t want cooking smells wafting up to my bedroom.

All the doors along the corridor were closed. With my heart in my throat, I tried the first one. Unlocked. I peeped through the gap then closed the door again. The room had been completely empty. It didn’t contain one piece of furniture.

I moved to the next door and again questioned my own sanity. But curiosity won out. I opened the door. Oddly, I didn’t even feel anxious about what I was doing. The drive for an answer to the question burning inside me overrode all else.

I peered inside. The large canopied bed, dressing table, stools and clothing stands were good indicators this was the main bedroom. The two bodies in the bed confirmed it.

I needed a closer look at their faces, however, and dared to take a few steps inside. One. Two. No floorboards creaked. My footsteps were utterly silent. The only breathing came from the two men. Mine seemed to have stopped altogether.

They both faced me, so I was able to stay near the door and use the faint light from my lantern to see. They looked like they’d just tumbled into bed. One of the men was bald and it took me a moment to realize it was Signore Scala without his wig. He lay behind the other man, his arm slung over his lover’s waist. It wasn’t a warm night, but they didn’t need the bedcover and had pushed it down.

Seeing two men entwined like that was shocking. I’d never seen anything like it, nor had I ever expected to. I should avert my eyes.

I did not. I did manage to drag my gaze up from the bare skin of their thighs to the face of the lover.

He stared back at me. Then he smiled.

Chapter 13

I stumbled backwards out of the room into the corridor, until I felt the wall behind me. The man, Signore Scala’s lover, came after me. He was entirely naked.

He whispered something in Italian to me.

Although my tongue felt thick and woolly in my mouth, I managed to murmur that I only spoke English.

He switched languages, albeit with a strong accent. “Who are you and what do you want?”

I swallowed heavily and glanced at the bedroom door. He’d closed it behind him.

He followed my gaze. “He took something to help him sleep. Even so, keep your voice down. Tell me what you want, inglese.” He didn’t look concerned as he studied me. Clearly he didn’t see me as a threat. I admired his confidence. He was the naked one, after all, yet it was I who trembled.

“I…I…” My mind went blank. I didn’t want to answer him and reveal my identity, nor tell him what I’d come for, or that there were two others with me. Yet I couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation. It wasn’t often my mind failed me, but when it did, it meant fear had overtaken completely. All I could do was repeat that one syllable like a blathering idiot.

The man smiled. It was not unpleasant. Indeed, he seemed amused by my predicament. He took a step back and, hands on hips, studied me again. “You do not look like a thief.”

“I…I’m not.” At least I’d managed more than one syllable.

“Look at my face when I am talking to you.”

I wasn’t aware my gaze had slipped until he said it. I locked onto his face.

He smiled again. This time it wasn’t at all pleasant. It was arrogant. “Do you like what you see, inglese?”

“I, er, that is to say…” I pressed my glasses at the bridge of my nose, using the moment to gather my wits.

Downstairs, Oscar and Miss Wheeler would be coming to the end of their search. I didn’t want this man seeing them. At the moment, with just me, he seemed unconcerned and disinclined to wake Signore Scala. If he knew there were three of us, he might feel threatened and start shouting.

So I said the only thing my dumbstruck mind could come up with. The truth. “I know you associate with anarchists. I saw you with two today.”

The man gasped. He lowered his arms and clasped his hands in front of him as if to warm his fingers. “Who are you?”