Betrayed by His Kiss. Amanda McCabe
She tugged on the reins to turn the horse. But the entrance to the courtyard was blocked by two men she hadn’t noticed before and it angered her that she had let her guard down. They were both tall, brawny in their rough russet doublets, their bearded faces shadowed. One of them grinned at her, a horrible flash of yellowed, broken teeth behind his black beard.
‘Look what pretty little bird just landed here,’ the smiler said. His companion just grunted, which seemed even more fearsome.
‘Scusi, signor,’ Isabella murmured, keeping her head high even though she was shivering. She tightened her grip on the reins and tried to slide past them in the narrow passageway.
It all happened in an instant. One of the men reached up and grabbed her horse’s bridle and the other seized her arm in a bruising grip. He dragged her towards him and a sharp bolt of pain shot all down her side. She screamed and tried to kick out at him, but her skirts wrapped around her legs. She managed to catch his cheek with her nails and he cursed and drew back his fist.
Just as suddenly as she was attacked, the man who held on to her was wrenched away and she stumbled over the uneven cobblestones. Her hat tumbled from its anchoring pins and blinded her for a moment. She felt dizzy, nauseated, as the sound of shouts and a loud, bruising thud hit her ears.
Isabella tossed her hat aside and shook back the tangle of her loosened hair. The scene that flashed in front of her was like something in a painting, a judgement fresco in a church, a violent swirl of movement and blurred faces against a swirl of colour. She instinctively scrambled out of the way and pressed herself tight to a stucco wall as she tried to make sense of what was happening right before her horrified eyes.
One of her would-be attackers lay still on the cobbles, a dark stain spreading beneath him. The other man was locked in combat with a tall figure all in black, like some avenging spirit. He moved with a terrible grace, as if mortal combat was nothing to him at all, his fists and booted feet like lethal weapons that looked so elegant and moved with sudden, sharp force.
The man who had tried to attack her landed with a horribly soft crack on the stones near his cohort. He scrambled to his feet with an inhuman cry, lifted up his groaning companion under the shoulders and the two of them fled from the deserted courtyard. In their wake there was an almost deafening silence, where the sound of the dark angel’s breath seemed to rush past her like feathered wings.
Isabella was astonished, appalled—and fascinated. How had the world changed around her so suddenly?
She wanted to flee, to run and hide from the sudden violence and fear that had grabbed hold of her and shaken her. Yet somehow she was held there, staring at him in astonishment.
Her rescuer slowly turned to look directly at her and she bit her lip to hold back a gasp. He did look like an angel in truth, a fallen angel. Glossy dark hair was tumbled over his forehead and a bleeding cut arced across his sun-bronzed cheek, but nothing could detract from that strangely otherworldly beauty. His face was all austere, sharply carved angles, his lips full and sensual, just as she would paint an angel in need of redemption.
But his eyes—his eyes were a bright, pale sea-green, almost glowing in the shadowed courtyard. She glimpsed a flash of something in them that spoke to her of his deep-down soul, something dark and haunted. She knew she should be afraid, but somehow she was not at all. She wanted to move nearer to him, to touch that hair and look into those eyes. She pressed herself back harder to the cold wall, as it seemed to be the only thing holding her up in that moment.
He swiped his narrow black sleeve over his damp brow. It was the only sign it had taken him any effort at all to dispatch two brigands. ‘Are you hurt, signorina?’ he asked. His voice was rough, deep, but calm.
She swallowed hard past the dry knot in her throat. ‘I—nay. You came upon us very quickly. I can’t thank you enough. I—I was lost, you see, and those men...’
A faint, reassuring smile touched his lips. ‘You should be very careful where you go in Florence, signorina. These streets can be most deceptive.’
Isabella thought of the sparkling beauty of the river, the bright life that had surrounded her there. How swiftly it all ended. And now—now there was this man in front of her. A man such as she had never seen before.
‘I see that now,’ she said simply. All the words she had ever known seemed to have fled. Was this how it was for her parents when they met, struck dumb by each other? She had to be very careful.
He took a step towards her and held out his hand. He appeared to be trying to move very slowly, very carefully, as if she was a wild animal he had to calm. ‘Come, let me see you home. I assure you, I mean you no harm as these men did.’
Somehow, she believed him, even against all that she had just seen. He had been so violent with those men, but now—now there was only that pale light in those extraordinary eyes. She gave a rueful laugh. ‘I am not sure where that is. I have only just arrived in the city.’
Disbelief flashed across his sculpted face. ‘But you must have family here.’
‘I do, but...’ Her words trailed away as she was beset by new doubts. She wasn’t sure she should mention her cousins, tell him where she was going.
He gave a short nod, as if he understood. ‘Come, I will find a guard to see you where you wish to go. Someone we can both trust.’
That did not sound a great deal safer. After all, his guards would surely know where she went. But she could see no other alternative. She had to find Caterina somehow and she certainly did not want to wander into another brawl. She studied his face carefully for a moment. That flash of darkness she had glimpsed in him was gone now, covered in a small smile, but she remembered it had been there and it made her shiver.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I am in your debt, signor.’
He shook his head. ‘I have now done my good deed for the day.’
‘And need no more penance now?’ she asked, surprising herself.
He looked surprised for an instant. ‘I must always do penance, signorina. But come now, we will find someone to see you safely home...’
* * *
‘Signorina Isabella! Thank the saints you are safe,’ Isabella heard Mena cry from the thick crowd around the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, where her dark angel’s two guards had led her safely. They looked much as her original attackers had, brawny, bearded men, but they were silent and courteous, watchful of everything that went on as they took her from the tavern where her rescuer had found them. She had no idea who they were, but they had listened to the man closely, nodded and taken her here, to the most crowded place in the city. She did not even know their names.
Nor did she know her angel’s name, or anything about him but the fascination she had glimpsed in his face so briefly. She would not forget him, she was sure. That was a face she would see in her dreams.
But would she ever see it again in real life? She longed to—and yet she feared to at the same time.
‘Mena!’ she cried, straining up in the stirrups until she could see her maid pushing the crowd aside to make her way towards Isabella. A vast relief flooded over her, warm and familiar. ‘There you are!’
‘You vanished and we could not find you!’ the maid said, tears on her wrinkled cheeks. ‘This place is wicked. We should go home.’
‘We cannot go without seeing Caterina,’ Isabella said. She thought it better not to tell Mena all that had happened. There had been too much darkness in the day already. She only wanted to find her cousins’ home, have a bath and a meal—and think about her rescuer. Sketch his face before she could forget it. ‘These men helped me find my way...’
She glanced back, but her guards had gone, melted away as if they had never been her silent escort at all. Had she only dreamed the whole strange scene? It had happened before.
But, no. She remembered