Rovere's widow was like her father. He realized that, in spite of himself, he was admiring of her. He remembered the silk merchant seated in his chambers with Rovere, dictating the terms of the marriage contract. It was he who had insisted that if Rovere predeceased his daughter, half of his estate would go to the widow. Guardini had been shocked by such a request, and even more shocked that Rovere agreed to the terms. His client had just laughed and said, "If she can outlive me, she will have earned it." The silk merchant had nodded grimly.

Well, she had outlived him, but chose not to profit from her husband's death. He shook his head. Yet having met Bianca Pietro d'Angelo now, Guardini could not help but consider if she had a hand in her husband's death. She would not be the first woman to pay for the a.s.sa.s.sination of her spouse. But then where would she have gotten the monies for such a deed? She had been in hiding from Rovere, and her honest surprise at learning she had inherited half of his estate, an estate she would not accept, really ruled out any malice on her part. No. Rovere's wife had simply benefited from the man's ability to make enemies. And the belief that he could escape justice had been Rovere's downfall.

The lawyer set to work writing a doc.u.ment to be signed by Bianca and by Rovere's two sons, who were now each twice as rich as they had believed themselves to be. It took him some time, for he was not used to doing such work himself but rather a.s.signing it to his notary, but by late afternoon he had written the doc.u.ment out four times. A copy for Bianca; one for each of her stepsons; and another for the court. The doc.u.ment stated that Bianca Pietro d'Angelo renounced the bequest made to her by her late husband, Sebastiano Rovere, with two exceptions. Her dower with interest calculated by the di Medici bank would be returned to her, not her father; and the slave woman known as Nudara would be sold, the profit from such sale to go to the convent of Santa Maria del Fiore.

"It's a simple enough doc.u.ment, but quite legal," Guardini said. "You are empowered to act for yourself as Rovere's widow. Sign here, signora."

Bianca signed the four doc.u.ments, pa.s.sing them next to Stefano, who then pushed the parchments to his younger brother. All three parties having signed, Guardini put his own signature and seal to the doc.u.ments. Then he gave one to Bianca and one each to Stefano and Alberto Rovere. They then adjourned to the dining room for the meal, and afterwards were shown to their chambers by Filomena. The next morning the three men departed after being fed a simple breakfast of bread, cheese, and wine.

"Will you be returning to Florence now?" Stefano asked her as his horse was brought from the stable.

"No, Luce Stellare is my home now," she told him. "I am content."

"Your father will want to make another marriage for you, Bianca. I hope it will be a happier one."

"I want no more husbands," Bianca said quietly. "Tell me, Stefano, do you know how your father found me? Few knew where I was."

Stefano Rovere nodded. "Yes, I do, although I am ashamed to tell you," he said, looking embarra.s.sed.

"But you will nonetheless," Bianca said.

He nodded again. "He kidnapped your brother Georgio, off the street one afternoon, brought him to the house, and showed him that d.a.m.ned donkey violating a wh.o.r.e. Your brother fainted with the shock of what he saw, for the wh.o.r.e screamed and screamed. When he was brought around to consciousness, my father threatened to put the donkey to Georgio unless he found out where you were hiding and told him. Of course the boy was terrified. He did my father's bidding. I know this because my father insisted I be in the chamber when the violence was done so your brother would not run. And afterwards I took Georgio home. I am sorry, Bianca, and I am very ashamed."

"You are forgiven, Stefano, for I know what a frightening man your father could be. He was not someone to p.r.o.nounce idle threats. If he said it, he did it," Bianca told the young man. "I suffered at his hands enough to know that."

"Thank you," Stefano Rovere said, kissing both of Bianca's hands.

"We will not meet again," she told him.

"I understand," he said. Then he mounted his horse, joined his younger brother and their lawyer, and rode away.

She watched them go as relief swept over her. At last the Roveres were out of her life. She looked at Ugo, who stood waiting for the order he knew was coming. "Go to Prince Amir and tell him my guests have gone."

"At once, signora," the man said, bobbing his head at her and smiling.

Bianca laughed aloud, and twirled about. She was happy. She was happy! The darkness that had filled her life the past three years was finished. She was in love with a prince, and he with her. Her life was going to be perfect.

Amir came that evening, and their idyll continued as they spent the days walking, riding, and talking-and the nights in an ecstasy of endless pa.s.sion. A look, and she was afire. A touch, and his desire flamed. Neither had ever imagined that a love like theirs could exist. They cherished each other, and the time they spent together.

Giovanni Pietro d'Angelo wrote to his daughter requesting that she return to Florence now that the danger was past for her. Bianca wrote him back that she preferred to live in the country. Master Pietro d'Angelo wrote again reminding his eldest daughter of her duty to him. Bianca wrote back that as a widow she was now free to make her own decisions, and she had made the choice to remain at Luce Stellare. Master Pietro d'Angelo pointed out to his daughter that he owned the villa in which she lived. Bianca replied that she would like to purchase the villa from him. He wrote that he would not sell it to her. She wrote that she would find another villa by the sea to buy.

Orianna Pietro d'Angelo arrived two weeks later. Mother and daughter greeted each other lovingly. Bianca invited her parent to join her on the terrace that overlooked the sea. Agata brought sweet wine and sugar wafers, then discreetly withdrew just far enough not to be seen, but close enough to hear the conversation.

One look at her daughter had told Orianna what she needed to know. Bianca had taken a lover. She was radiant with happiness. It would be the Turkish prince, of course. There was no one else nearby, and Bianca was too fastidious to take one of her male servants to her bed. Orianna had seen both Primo and Ugo. They were rough men of the earth, and hardly the type to sweep a girl like Bianca off her feet. No. It would be the prince.

"Your disobedience has distressed your father greatly," Orianna said, sipping at the sweet wine. It was quite good. She had never tasted anything like it before.

"My father must understand that I am now in charge of my own life, Madre," Bianca answered her parent. "I am a widow, not a virgin in need of protection."

"You must remarry, Bianca," Orianna said.

"Why? I did not find marriage to my liking at all, Madre."

"You didn't find Rovere to your liking," Orianna corrected her. "You are not unhappy with your lover, Bianca." She looked directly at her daughter as she spoke.

Bianca flushed, but then she said, "No, I am not unhappy with my lover, Madre. But he has no authority over me as a husband would have. We simply love each other, and share pleasure together."

"Is it the prince? Of course it would be. He is very handsome, and I suspect he was most persuasive," her mother said. "You are not as sophisticated as you think."

Bianca laughed. "Yes, Amir is handsome, and yes, he is persuasive, but would you be surprised to know that I am persuasive too, Madre?"

Now Orianna laughed. Suddenly they were no longer just mother and daughter, but two women together speaking of love. "Still," she said, "for propriety's sake you must remarry or enter a convent. You are not a courtesan, Bianca."

"I will not remarry, Madre. That is why I prefer to remain here in the country by the sea. Let any who remember me believe I was so badly damaged by my marriage that I have eschewed society altogether. Is it not better that way? I am not a woman for the convent either. You must speak of me in hushed tones when your friends ask."

"Do not be dramatic, Bianca. Marriage is the only option open to a woman of good family. You will not remarry in Florence. We will find you a husband elsewhere, and you will begin anew. Since you are a widow, your lack of virginity will not distress a second husband. The wealth you inherited from Rovere will make you most desirable."

"I took nothing from his estate but my dower plus interest. I have had the monies placed with the di Medici bank, Madre. I had Sebastiano's notorious slave woman sold, and the proceeds were given to your kinswoman at the convent that sheltered me those many weeks. I thought that only fair," Bianca told her mother.

"Bianca! You have been cheated!" Orianna gasped, horrified. "I know that your father saw to it that your husband's will gave you half of his estate should you survive him."

"It did indeed," Bianca said. "I did not want it, Madre. I wanted nothing that belonged to that man. When I fled I left behind the jewelry he had given me. It is cursed, Madre. All of it. Cursed! I could not have kept a bit of it in good conscience."

Orianna was pale with shock at her daughter's p.r.o.nouncement. "You are a foolish, foolish girl," she told her daughter. "You would have been a very rich woman. We could have found you a great n.o.ble for a husband. Now"-she sighed-"I do not know."

"But I don't want another husband, Madre," Bianca said. "Why will you not understand that? I am happy now, and content. Am I not allowed to be so?"

"You don't want a husband now, Bianca, but what happens when your prince grows tired of you, or returns to his native land? What then, my daughter? Have you bothered to think that far ahead? No! You are just living in the moment, little ingenua!"

"The moment, Madre, is all any of us really has," Bianca replied. "I love Amir. I will never love another. If he leaves me, then I will be alone. But I will not love again."

Orianna sighed. "Those are the words of a woman in love for the very first time, my daughter. You will love again. We all do."

"Did you, Madre?" Bianca asked softly.

Her mother flushed. "It is true," she admitted. "Your father was not my first love."

"You were a good daughter," Bianca said. "You did what you had to do, and you married the Florentine merchant who was willing to overlook the paucity of your dowry as the youngest child of a Venetian prince. Your parents saw that you came to know your husband before the marriage. My father is kind, and he understood your position. He respected you, and you gave him enough fondness to create a family, and the respect to which he was ent.i.tled. But you have never loved my father with the same pa.s.sion that I love Amir, Madre, and I know you will not deny that, for you are too honest a woman."

"I see that I have underestimated you, Bianca," Orianna replied. "You are far more astute than I would have suspected until this moment. But the fact remains, Prince Amir is not a suitable husband for you, nor will he wed you. He is an infidel. He is tolerated in Florence because he is the sultan's grandson and an honest merchant. But if he were to violate the laws of the state he would be expelled and forbidden to return."

"Do you threaten Amir, Madre?" Bianca asked her mother. "You surely know he stands high in Lorenzo di Medici's favor."

"Even the di Medici are not foolish enough to defy the state or the Church. They keep their power by retaining the favor of the majority of Florentines. If they lose that favor, they lose their power, Bianca. Do you really believe they would favor a friendship over their own power? You are not that foolish."

"You would make me marry some stranger when I am in love with another man?" Bianca queried her mother. "Do you care nothing for my happiness? Was not my sacrifice for our family as Sebastiano Rovere's wife enough? Do you think I will ever forget my wedding night with that monster, or the nights of debauchery that followed as he introduced me into his perversions, or the beatings I received when I resisted? Now you would force me to wed another man who will have charge over my very life and death when I prefer to remain a free woman? I would die first, Madre! Do you understand me? I would prefer death. Force my hand in this matter and you will find yourself burying me in that great marble tomb that belongs to the Pietro d'Angelo family."

Orianna was shocked by her daughter's words. "Bianca! You cannot mean such a thing. Suicide is a sin in the eyes of the Church."

"What you propose when you suggest destroying my happiness is a greater sin in the eyes of G.o.d," Bianca shot back, angry now. "I would not care if Pope Alexander himself ordered it, I will not remarry, Madre."

It was at that very tense moment that Prince Amir arrived. He had not come by the beach this time but had ridden along the narrow path that served as a road to both villas and beyond. He saw Agata half hidden, listening to the conversation on the terrace, and moved quickly past her, for Bianca's raised voice was almost edged in hysteria. He wanted to learn who distressed her so and put an immediate stop to it. Brushing past the surprised Agata, he stepped out onto the terrace. "Beloved!"

She ran to him immediately, and his arms closed about her. Then his eyes met those of another woman, a woman he recognized at once as Orianna Pietro d'Angelo.

"Prince Amir," Orianna said.

"What have you said to upset Bianca?" He wanted to know.

"You are bold to interfere with a mother and her daughter, signore," Orianna replied. She reached for her goblet, only to find it empty.

"I love your daughter, signora," he said.

"I know you do, and she loves you, Prince Amir. But your liaison is unsuitable, as we both well know. Bianca is inexperienced, but in her heart she knows it too," Orianna told him. "She must remarry as soon after the mourning period as possible, for Rovere is over and done with. I have come with that end in mind, but my daughter will not listen. Perhaps if you explained to her the impossibility of your situation she would understand better, and do her duty by her family. My father is even now seeking a suitable match in Venice for Bianca. I had always meant for her to marry into Venice."

"But I wish to marry Bianca, signora. My lineage is more than suitable. My own mother was the daughter of an English merchant. It is from her I have inherited my talent for trade. I have made myself a wealthy man, signora."

"Impossible! You are an infidel!" Orianna said. "There is nothing that can overcome that fault but for a conversion to our Christian faith. I know you will not convert any more than I, or Bianca, would. Therefore, there is no hope for you, signore. I am sorry, but you certainly understand my family's viewpoint in this matter."

"I would take her back to Turkey. I will not ask that she renounce her own faith," he said. "She will live in my palace, the Moonlight Serai, in the hills above the Black Sea, and she will want for nothing. I shall never cease loving Bianca. You surely understand love, signora. Help us! Do not attempt to part us, I beg of you. But should you try to separate us, I will fight you with every resource that I have. I shall not allow anyone to take my beloved Bianca from me."

"Madre di Dios!" Orianna said. "You actually believe it is possible for such a marriage to take place or to succeed under any circ.u.mstances? Never! I will not allow it to happen. I will do whatever I must to prevent such a travesty. Love is not enough! It just isn't. You are a pair of romantic fools, but I will not allow Bianca to ruin her life. I protect what is mine! Be warned, signore, that I have my resources too. I will use them to prevent any marriage between you and my eldest daughter. If you truly love Bianca, then help her to accept the reality of this situation. Do not foolishly lead her on. She will never be yours, signore, but for this short sweet interlude that you have shared together."

Chapter 9.

Both Bianca and Amir were shocked by the vehemence in Orianna's voice, by her strong words. For a moment they remained silent, and then Bianca spoke.

"Madre, do you not want me to be happy?" Bianca asked her mother.

"You would not be happy as his wife," Orianna said. "Oh, at first, perhaps, but once you realized all you had given up and left behind, you would be miserable for everything you had lost and would now be unable to regain. And what of the other two wives he has? Oh yes, I know of them. I cannot allow you to make such a mistake, Bianca! I will do all in my power to prevent it!" Then, rising from her seat, she left them together on the terrace and stormed back into the villa, brushing past Agata who, seeing her coming, just managed to jump out of the way.

"I have never seen her like that," Bianca said, amazed.

"She is a woman who believes in what she says, and thinks she is protecting her child," Amir replied. "Did you not tell her that I had already asked you to marry me, and you had refused?"

"No," Bianca admitted. "The opportunity hadn't previously come up, but then it was suddenly there. Besides, if I returned with you to Turkey, why could we not go on as we are now, amore mia? I am content."

"We cannot go on as we are because you would live in my home. I would have you on an equal footing with my two wives, Bianca. As my lover you would not be equal in rank to them, and you must be. I cannot rid myself of either Maysun or Shahdi, for they were gifts from the sultan, who received them from political allies. He honored those allies by giving them to me, so I must keep them. They will be your companions, and though you will be my third wife you will remain first in my heart, a distinction they will understand. They know their places, and are content."

"Could we ride and walk together there as we do here?" she asked him.

"Yes, but not if we lived in the city. That is why I prefer the country, among other reasons. I like the freedom I have, and I know you will too. Yet you will be safe," he promised her. "Come with me, Bianca. Here, your family will not stop until they have separated us, and forced you into another marriage of their choosing. Your mother is a very strong woman, beloved. Stronger than many men. She truly believes what she has said to us. I see it in her eyes."

"But you have made a life here, Amir. You are favored by the di Medici, and other wealthy families. If you return to Turkey you will be in danger from whoever succeeds your grandfather when he dies," Bianca said, concerned.

"Yes, I have a life here in Florence, but if I remain I cannot have you," he told her. "My grandfather will live for many more years. If we live peacefully and avoid his court, I will present no threat to his heirs or their heirs. The customs of the di Medici have made me a wealthy man, Bianca. I could live on that wealth, but I will not, for I am not a man to remain idle. I can conduct my trading business from Turkey if I set it up properly before we depart Florence. I have two a.s.sistants in my warehouse who could manage here without me, given the proper instruction."

"If they do not steal from you," Bianca remarked. "And they probably will."

He laughed. "They will steal a little," he said with a chuckle. "It is to be expected, and the cost of doing business, I fear. Let me prepare to return to Turkey with you, beloved. I can make you happy, and I will."

Bianca thought of her mother's words. If she left Florence with Amir she would never see her family again. Was she willing to give them up for this prince? She considered it, and realized she was. Her sisters would be married to men in faraway places. Her brothers would likely wed away but for Marco. Georgio already planned to go into the Church, and as a third son, Luca would be given to a foreign wife who could benefit their family from some distant place. Her parents would die eventually. Her family was already gone in her mind, she realized. "Yes, Amir," she said. "I will go with you. You are my home, my family now."

He drew her slowly into his arms, their eyes meeting in perfect understanding. "I love you," he said, and kissed her a deep, lingering kiss.

Bianca relaxed into the embrace as the pressure of his lips on hers reaffirmed her decision. Their love was more than enough.

Watching them from her bedchamber window, Orianna felt a stab of envy. There was no mistaking the love her daughter and Prince Amir held for each other, but it simply couldn't be allowed to continue. Such a love between a good Christian woman and this infidel was wrong. She must get Bianca back to Florence, back to the safety of the family palazzo, where she might correct this mistake before it was compounded.

To Bianca's surprise, her mother departed the following day, taking her escort with her. "I will leave you both to contemplate the wisdom of your liaison," she told her daughter and Prince Amir. "You are a man of the world, signore. I can see you love my daughter, but you must know a union between two such different people cannot succeed. For both of your sakes I wish it were otherwise, but it is not. Accept this, and help Bianca to accept it so she may make another, happier union. This is her fate as my daughter. I swear to you that the man we choose this time will be of peerless reputation and kind. He will cherish and esteem the treasure that we entrust to him in Bianca. My child will tell you I am not a woman to make idle promises. I keep my word." Then she kissed Bianca on both cheeks and left.

They stood together watching as Orianna Pietro d'Angelo rode out of sight. Bianca shivered suddenly. "She will have her way unless we are quickly gone from here," she warned her lover. "I know my mother, Amir. She can be ruthless and without mercy when she is defied. She always meant me to have a Venetian marriage."

"Do not be afraid, beloved," he a.s.sured her. "I will begin making arrangements for our departure this very day. It will take time, however. I will not send you alone. We must go together. I need to settle my affairs in Florence, and advise my grandfather that I am coming home. The rest of it I will explain to him once we are there."

"I am suddenly afraid," Bianca said. "I have not been afraid since I escaped my late husband's palazzo. My mother could not have whoever it was she loved and left behind in Venice when she was married off to my father. Francesca once overheard my grandparents speaking of it when they visited, and she told me. My mother doesn't want me to have what she could not. She will do whatever she must to separate us, my love. Do not trust her or her words. Take me away quickly! Before she has time to act against us."

"As quickly as I can, Bianca! Now let us go for a ride and forget the unpleasantness your mother brought into our midst."

Bianca felt better when they returned. The air had been fresh and tangy from the sea, and her fears had evaporated in the warm sunshine. "What are you doing?" she asked Agata, finding her servingwoman busily packing her possessions when she walked into her bedchamber.

"Your mother told me to begin packing for our return to Florence," Agata said.

"I am not going to Florence," Bianca told the servant. "I am going to Turkey with Prince Amir. Will you come with me, or stay here?"

"As if I really have a choice," Agata said candidly. "If I stay, your mother will kill me for not stopping you and send me from the family's employ, so I must go with you."

"I will give you enough money to escape your servitude if you would prefer to remain," Bianca told the loyal Agata. "I do not want you unhappy, but I know my mother would blame you as if you could stop me."

"No, I will go with you willingly," Agata said. "You are a good mistress, and if it is fated for me to die unshriven in a foreign land, then so be it. We have seen no priest since we left Florence all those months ago, and I have almost forgotten my faith."

"You do not seem weighed down with your sins," Bianca teased, and Agata laughed. "Continue packing, for we are to make a journey no matter where we go."

Amir came to Bianca that night, climbing up to the little wrought-iron balcony outside her bedchamber window, entering her bed like a secret lover after removing his clothing. Naked, she wrapped herself around him, sighing as his hands caressed her from the nape of her neck to her shoulders and down her back. Their lips touched and the fires of their pa.s.sion exploded. They reveled in the sensation of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his smooth, hard chest, her slightly rounded belly against his flat belly, her mons sensuously pressing against his mound.

They nibbled on each other. She on his earlobe, her little teeth biting down just enough to give the sensation of pain without hurt, her tongue sweeping around the curve of his ear's whorl while she murmured little endearments to him. He first nipped the nipples of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then fastened his mouth upon one, sucking it hard while his fingers played between her nether lips, teasing at the tiny nub of flesh that could set her afire, then pushing two fingers into her sheath, moving them back and forth until she cried his name.

He tucked her beneath him and entered her eagerly waiting body. She sighed with intense pleasure as his c.o.c.k opened her to his pa.s.sion, filling her with its length, its thickness. She wrapped herself about him, clutching him, her fingers digging into the flesh of his broad shoulders, scoring his back lightly with her nails as the intensity of their coupling increased her pa.s.sion. She loved him. There was nothing else.

She was his! His! He had never in his life wanted and needed any woman until sweet Bianca. His own English captive mother had died when he was young. His father's women cared for him after that, but there was never again the love for him that his mother had lavished upon him. He was educated, fed, and clothed. Nothing more.

He had thought perhaps that one of the two maidens his grandfather had given him would love him, but neither did. They were grateful for his kindness and they were dutiful, but there was no pa.s.sion, no burning need, no excitement. He was appreciative of their care of him when he was at home. But with Bianca, it was all different. There was a constant longing, a need that could be filled only by this beautiful woman. He would not let her go. She was his, and he was hers. Nothing was going to change how they felt.