Excerpt Monday: Moving Violations in a Gondola

Welcome to Excerpt Monday, a day when a group of writers share excerpts on their websites. Please scroll down for links to other writers. Check them out! You might find a new favorite.

This month I'm sharing an excerpt from Dante's Inferno, a novella-length historical romance that I released with Samhain last year-- my first published work. It's a silly and sexy 18th-century Venetian romp, a game of mistaken identities played out during the confusion of Carnival.

In this scene the hero, a sea captain named Dante, has spent the entire day searching the streets of Venice for a woman he mistook for a whore in a hasty alley-way encounter the night before. He wants her again, and is prepared to go to any lengths to get her.

In the meanwhile, the lady in question, a widow named Serena, has sworn never to be as reckless as she was the previous night. However, she is haunted by the rough pleasures she experienced in that dark alley, and Dante is very persuasive.

The scene begins when he accosts her and her servant on the street:


*

By the time he found her, the blood pounded in his ears. How he could be so obsessed with a woman in a mask, he did not know. He took a broad stance in her path. When she found her way blocked, she jumped backward, skittish, and her companion stepped forward to shield her. Dante held his hands wide to show them he was harmless and bowed. Like them, he wore the bautta that night, for he reasoned she would recognize him better with it than without.

“My lady, I believe I made your acquaintance last night.” He offered her a self-deprecating smile. “All too briefly, I’m afraid. I have hoped for an opportunity to address you again. My name is—”

She slipped in front of her protector and put a hand up to stop his words. “Please, don’t.” She spoke in a husky whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth. If her man wanted to fight for her, he was more than ready, and he was bigger. “How else can I come to know you better?” he asked.

She cast a quick glance back at her companion, then edged closer to him. “Signore, please, this is not safe.”

“Is that your man?” he asked in a low voice, keeping hold of her hand. “Would you like to be free of him?”

“That is my servant,” she said.

Better and better. No bloodshed to start. “I could not sleep last night because of you, donna molto bella.”

He laid a long kiss on her knuckles, felt her hand jerk then relax. Encouraged, he slipped his thumb into her palm and caressed it as he spoke. “I fear I may have offended you by taking you for something you are not. I wish to make amends.”

“You’ve not offended me,” she whispered, almost too low to be heard. “I must go now.”

Afraid to lose her again, Dante gambled on frankness. It would either frighten her away or reel her in. Keeping hold of her hand, he stood as close to her as he could without touching her, and spoke into her ear. “Last night you came out seeking pleasure, did you not? You didn’t find as much of it as you could with me, and I regret that. If you would spend tonight with me, I will show you pleasure beyond imagining.”

“You think much of your abilities, sir,” she said, trying to reclaim her hand.

This show of coyness amused him, considering her manners the night before. “I am confident in my talents.”

“Tell me, does one need talent to lie with whores?”

Dante could not repress a smile. He rather liked women with claws. “Whores will teach you many things you cannot learn from ladies.”

She weighed his words, then asked in her sultry whisper, “Do you have the French disease?”

“What?” he exclaimed. Her white mask regarded him impassively in the torchlight. The brim of her hat cast a shadow over her eyes so he could not read their expression. Then her mouth, that damned mouth which drove him to this insanity, curled up at the corners, laughing at him. “I do not!”

She spun around and returned to her servant. They engaged in a conversation of urgent whispers that he could not catch. He rocked on his heels while he waited. She returned in a whirl of robes and asked, “How do I know that you are not lying?”

He drew up to his full, indignant height. “I am a gentleman. I would not lie about such a thing.”

“What if you are not a gentleman at all?”

“You didn’t care so much about that last night!” he snapped. She turned her back on him.

“Wait.” Dante leapt forward to block her path. “I apologize. Please, let me show you what a gentleman I am. I will pleasure you and take none for myself. I will not so much as loosen a button of my own clothing. I swear it. It’s the least I can do after being so selfish last night.”

Another long pause, and then the glorious question, “Where would we go?”

“To a gondola,” he answered, grabbing at the first of many fantasies he had already woven involving her. Back she went to the servant, and this time launched into a full blown argument with him. Most likely he was assigned to watch her movements for her keeper. Dante considered offering him something to smooth their way, but before he could, she ended the argument and returned to stand in front of him.

“I’ll give you half an hour.” He had to lean close to hear her. “I won’t remove my mask and neither will you. The gondola must come back to the same launching point. My servant will wait there to make sure I am returned safely.”

“Two hours.”

“One.”

“Done.”

Working hard not to jig, Dante offered her his arm, and the three of them walked with great dignity to the quay at the edge of the piazza. At the water’s edge, he hired a gondola with a cabin. Dante owned a gondola, but like all of his servants, his gondolier was out looking for her. While he assisted his hard won lady into the curtained cabin, her servant spoke with the gondolier and passed him some coin.

As the gondolier poled away from the moorings, Dante paid the man double to ignore whatever her servant had told him. “I don’t care where you go. Just keep your nose to yourself and don’t whistle.”

The only light in the cabin came from a small heating brazier. In that red gloom, he could see her pressed against the seat, tense as a cat. Intense negotiation, he had found, rarely led to romance. Wine often did. He wished he had thought to bring some. “Thank you for joining me,” he began, taking the seat beside her. “What shall I call you?”

“I have no name,” she whispered.

“Why do you speak in whispers? We’re alone.”

“I have no voice.”

“I see.” He rubbed his chin. This night he had made a point of shaving. “Then I will call you Bella, if you do not mind. May I ask who is this man of yours that keeps you so fearful?”

“You don’t want to know. You don’t want to know who I am, lest you recognize me. I don’t want to know who you are and be forced to acknowledge you later. Do you understand?”

“I will respect your wishes.” He understood that there were plenty of powerful men in this city who would not appreciate his tampering with their mistress, but she spoke as if this man was well known and dangerous. Dante wondered who he might be. Already he knew most of the powerful men in the city.
Even with that reassurance, she still pressed herself back in the corner. He wondered what had happened to the wanton adventuress from the night before.

“May I take your hat?” he asked. “Your hood?” As he unfastened the neck of her hood, he felt the fast rise and fall of her breast. “Are you afraid, Bella?”

“No,” she whispered. He did not believe her.

He set the hood aside. With these coverings gone, she became a woman instead of a cipher. A woman with a small, round head balanced on a swan’s neck. A woman with fair hair gathered at her nape, and pointed little ears. In the dim light, he could read her eyes just enough to know how intently she studied him. Their color was difficult to judge. Grey or blue perhaps. Not dark. The mask covered her nose and curved over her cheeks, but unless it hid something unexpected, he suspected she would be beautiful with it off.

Her small white hands fluttered into the air tentatively, as if she were making a decision. Suddenly resolute, she threw aside his hat and pushed off his hood. She stroked either side of his head, then sank her fingers into his hair.

Smiling, he pulled the ribbon at the back of his neck and freed his hair for her, thinking—hoping—that the man who kept her possessed a total of two or three strands combed over his pate.

Her delicate fingers ranged over his mask, his jaw, and then returned to his hair. Islanders who had never seen a European before had touched him in much the same way: innocent, unabashed, curious. She traced his lips with her fingertips. That feather-light touch shot down to his toes. He cupped his hand over hers and kissed her palm.

That familiar, peculiar scent he had noticed the night before was on her hand. It evoked memories of the excitement of leaving port with a clean, newly rigged ship and hold full of stores. A woman’s scent did not usually send his mind in that particular direction. Dante turned her hand over and kissed her knuckles, inhaling deeply. The answer came to him. Linseed oil. Shipboard it was used to waterproof wood and cloth, in mixing varnish and the like, but what would she be doing with it?

He realized that she was staring at him, wondering why he snuffled at her hand. Putting aside the question of linseed oil, he released her hand. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she forgot whatever fears governed her. The night before she had needed no coaxing whatsoever, but this night, for whatever reason, she was different. So he waited her to come to him.

This confused her. He could see it in the tilt of her head. She leaned closer. Her warm breath drifted across his cheek. Inside, he screamed for her touch, but he did not move. Another endless second passed, and then the smile appeared. His heart leapt to see it. She raised one hand to his cheek and kissed him as she had the night before. Once she decided to move forward, there was nothing modest, or even coy, about her kiss. Its honesty took his breath and set him afire.

Her mouth opened to his and he left off thinking altogether. That is, until their masks knocked together. They both had to remember to hold their heads just so or that would happen. It had not bothered him so much in the alley, but now Dante bridled at the awkwardness of it all.

“Surely we can take these things off now, Bella?”

“Already you question my rules?” Her smile curled against his lips.

“You are a cruel woman, cara mia.” To hold her was to want her, but he had given up that claim for this night. This night was about penance. So he prepared to suffer.

Her stays pushed her breasts into perfect half-circles above the neck of her gown. He kissed the crest of each one while he loosened the ties at her back. Bella sat at the edge of the seat, her breath coming in shallow pants. The stays gave and he peeled down the fine linen of her shift to cup his hand over one warm breast. She softened and leaned into his hand, openly sensual. Dante began to suspect she would not be hard to please.

“Your breasts are beautiful, Bella, like white doves.” Pressing her back against the seat, he first stroked her entire breast using only the tips of his fingers, then caressed deeply with his palms. Like her, her breasts were not large, but they were creamy white, high set, virginal. As he teased their tips to hardness, her breath caught over and over. Taking the weight of first one in his hand, then the other, he dipped his head down and laved the nipples, soothing them in turn, then sucking them deep into his mouth. Under his attentions she made a wonderful noise, very like purring. Running his tongue along the underside of her breast, he reveled in the elemental pleasure of her satin skin against his cheek, her salty taste, the purely female scent rising from her bodice.

They had nothing but time, so he decided to draw out every moment. Leaving one hand on her breast, he began to lay slow kisses along her collarbones, dipping his tongue in the hollow between them. He lingered over her pulse. Only a little of her skin was exposed to his attentions. He did not plan to miss an inch of it. With slow deliberation, he kissed his way up the long line of her throat, sucking, nipping until she moaned.

One of her hands flexed in his hair, the other slid down to the back of his neck. Her breathing had slowed. She was right where he wanted her––very pleased, but not too warm. He nuzzled beneath her chin and behind her ear. Under his hands and mouth, he felt her limbs grow soft and loose. He could do anything with her now. Several appealing options occurred to him, none of which were legal that night.

“Bella, sit in my lap,” he whispered, reluctant to disturb her dream. She quirked one corner of her mouth up as if she knew his plans and conspired with him. He could not help but kiss her for it, kiss her rather more than he intended. Then she slipped her sweet tongue into his mouth and he lost track of all his resolutions.

She slid down the seat to lie on her back and pulled him over her decisively. Madonna Santisimma! He felt a lurch, thought it was the gondola at first, then realized it was his heart, his stomach, his cock. Blind, burning, he crushed her against the seat and pillaged her mouth, while she urged him on flagrantly, parting her legs for him, pressing her hips against his. Without any conscious intention, his hands began to bunch her skirts higher and higher and skimmed up her supple, bare thighs. All his blood screamed for possession, honor be damned.

***

Please visit the Excerpt Monday homepage to learn more about this program, and to see a complete listing of participating authors. I think I have most of this month's links below. The rating refers to entire contents of the website on which the excerpt rests:
Excerpt Monday Hosts:

Mel Berthier, Urban Fantasy (PG 13)
Bria Quinlan, Rom Com (PG)

Participants:

Christina DeLorenzo, YA (PG 13)
Bryn Donovan, Paranormal (PG)
MG Braden, Contemporary Romance (PG 13)
Babette James, Fantasy Romance (PG 13)
Cynthia Justlin, Contemporary Romance (PG 13)
Kaige, Historical Romance (PG 13)
Adelle Laundan, Contemporary Romance (PG 13)
Jeannie Lin, Historical Romance (PG 13)
RF Long, Paranormal (PG 13)
Crista McHugh, Paranormal (PG 13)
Dara Sorensen, Paranormal (PG)

Grace Draven, Fantasy Romance (R)
Cate Hart, YA- Paranormal (R)
Aithne Jarretta, Paranormal (R)

Kim Knox, Erotic- Sci-fi Suspense (R)
Inez Kelley, Contemporary Romantic Comedy (R)
Aislinn Kerry, Paranormal (R)
Cherrie Lynn, Erotic- Contemporary Romance (R)
Alina Morgan, Urban Fantasy (R)

Stephanie Adkins, Erotic- Supsense (NC 17)
Ella Drake, Sci-Fi Romance (NC 17)
Annie Nicholas, Sci-Fi Romance (NC 17)
Kirsten Saell, Erotic – Fantasy (NC 17)