In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe
was about to go into the garden,’ she said, feeling it necessary to explain. ‘It is warmer today and the house seems too confining.’
‘You must be tired of being shut in the house,’ Michael told her. ‘I fear we have been too busy to entertain you, mistress. However, this evening there is a masque being held in the open air—perhaps you would care to attend? I shall be going and I dare say Lorenzo may be persuaded to spend a little time with us. And I shall take several of our men to protect you, though I think it unlikely that Don Pablo will try another such trick.’
‘I should like to go with you, sir.’ Kathryn looked at Lorenzo. ‘Have I your permission to go?’
His mouth seemed hard and censorious as he said, ‘You are not my prisoner, Kathryn. I am sure that Michael will take good care of you, though I have business that will prevent me from attending. You will need clothes for the masque, which is said to be very entertaining, I believe. I shall instruct my servants to bring you gowns and masks that you may like to wear for the occasion.’
‘Thank you.’ She sensed his disapproval, which was almost anger that she had agreed so willingly. ‘I shall look forward to it, Signor Ignacio.’
‘I shall be here at the hour of seven to collect you,’ he said and bowed to her. ‘And now, if you will excuse me, I have some business I must attend.’
Kathryn turned away as he left, but Lorenzo followed her into the courtyard. She waited, wondering what more he had to say to her.
‘I shall do nothing foolish,’ she told him before he could speak.
‘Michael will make sure that you are well protected. Besides, I do not think that Don Pablo will try another abduction. I have sent him a message and I believe you are safe from him in future, Kathryn.’
‘What kind of a message?’
‘It is not necessary for you to know that,’ he replied, a wintry expression in his eyes. ‘I wanted to tell you that we shall be ready to leave for Cyprus the day after tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ Kathryn did not know why her spirits had suddenly fallen so low. ‘Thank you, sir. I shall be pleased to be with my friends again.’
‘Once there you will have the freedom that has been denied you here.’
‘Yes…’ She felt her throat closing and was suddenly emotional though she did not know why. ‘Lorenzo…’ She swayed towards him, wanting him to take her in his arms, to hold her as he had for that brief moment on the mountainside. She saw something in his eyes, a glow deep down that made her tremble with anticipation, with a strange longing that she could not name. For a brief moment she thought she saw that longing reflected in his eyes and believed that he was struggling with some fierce emotion, but then he moved back and it was as if a barrier had sprung up between them.
‘Excuse me, I have business,’ he said in a curt tone that brought her swiftly back to reality. ‘You should rest, for you will find our Venetian festivals somewhat riotous.’
He inclined his head, turned on his heel and left her. Kathryn’s cheeks flamed. Had she given herself away? Had he seen that longing in her eyes? Oh, what a fool she was! She did not like what he was or what he did—so how could she feel such tempestuous emotions when he looked at her?
Kathryn chose a gown of white silk trimmed with black ribbons. Her mask was a pretty thing of white, silver and black that fitted over the top half of her face and fastened with ribbons. Her cloak was fashioned of fine soft velvet that felt so comforting to wear, for, though the sun had been warm during the day, the night air was much cooler.
She was waiting downstairs in one of the salons when Michael came to collect her. He wore a harlequin costume in the colours of black and white, which complemented her gown perfectly, and looked the picture of a courtier. He was a handsome man, his dark hair and eyes enough to set the hearts of most ladies fluttering. Kathryn wondered why she could not feel something more for him, for he was much kinder and more courteous than his commander.
‘We make a pretty pair, sir,’ she said and curtsied to him.
‘You are beautiful, Mistress Rowlands,’ he told her. ‘I am but a simple sea captain, but you are a lady and far beyond me.’
Kathryn did not know how to answer him, for she was surprised by his words, which seemed to hint at something much deeper and stronger than mere friendship. She smiled and gave him her hand, blushing as he held it to his lips before leading her out to the front of the palace and down the steps to the waiting gondola.
‘I thought that you might like to see the sights before we join the revellers in St Mark’s Square,’ he said. ‘For this evening is a celebration.’
Kathryn allowed him to hand her into the gondola. Their oarsman took them through the narrow waterways of the city, which was lit with many tiny lanterns and torches, and bedecked with ribbons, flowers and flags.
When they reached the square it was already crowded. Music was playing and people were dancing, everyone dressed in beautiful clothes and carrying or wearing masks. Some were very exotic, resembling the heads of animals or mythical beasts, others were sad or comic, though most were very simple, like hers.
She danced with Michael three times, and then stood to one side to watch the others dancing while he fetched her a cool drink mixed with fruits that tasted sweet. She sipped it and then set the glass down, just as someone caught her arm and she was suddenly whirled back into the throng of dancers. Her heart raced for a moment as she thought it might be an attempt at abduction, and then, as she looked up at the masked man, she knew him.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, Madonna?’
‘Yes, very much,’ she said. ‘I thought you were too busy to come with us?’
‘My business was finished sooner than I thought,’ Lorenzo said and smiled. His mask, like hers, was plain and fitted over the top half of his face, but he was dressed all in black, though the sash at his waist was of silver. ‘I thought I would discover for myself what happens on this night of mystery and feasting.’
‘Why mystery?’
‘Do you not know the legend of the Seventh Moon?’
Kathryn shook her head, her eyes wide with curiosity. ‘What is the Seventh Moon?’
‘It is said that if a virgin looks at the full moon in a bowl of water for seven nights without fail, on the last night she will see the face of her lover—and by morning she will no longer be a virgin.’ There was a wicked, teasing note in his voice that made her want to laugh. ‘Have you looked to see the face of your lover, Madonna? And whose is the face you see, I wonder?’
‘Oh!’ Kathryn felt her cheeks grow warm. She looked away hastily for she did not know how to interpret his teasing. ‘But why is the feast held on this night?’
‘That I cannot tell you,’ he said and she knew that he was laughing at her. ‘Perhaps to celebrate the beginning of the legend—who knows?’
‘I think you invented your story, sir,’ Kathryn said and her heart beat faster as she heard his laughter.
‘Did I, Kathryn?’ he asked. ‘Now, why should I do that?’
She shook her head. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt a little faint, as if she were swept away with some emotion that thrilled and yet terrified her. He seemed so different from the cold, hard man she had become accustomed to thinking him, reminding her of someone she had known long ago. Dickon had told her stories, making them up on the spur of the moment to tease her and make her laugh.
The music had ended for the moment and people were moving away to find food and refreshment. Kathryn stood looking up at him, caught by some strange sensation that gripped her, sweeping her back through the years so that she seemed to be a child again.
‘Who are you?’ she asked, her eyes seeming to be locked with his.
‘I