if he had seized her and dragged her tight against his body. She could almost feel the heat of him prickling her skin. And yet they still sat half a yard apart!
‘Sir?’ She was hoarse all over again.
‘Madame Pietre, I must tell you how ardently I admire you. Your voice, your beauty.’ He allowed his gaze to roam slowly over Sophie’s face and figure. ‘You are exquisite. Incomparable.’ He sighed rather theatrically. Then he nodded dismissively in the direction of Verdicchio, who was talking too loudly to one of the Emperor’s entourage at the far end of the room. ‘I understand that you already have a protector. But I beg you to consider my earnest desire to know you more nearly.’
Sophie was incapable of speech. Hot anger was starting to boil in her breast. But she remained motionless, except for a single raised eyebrow.
He seemed to take it as an invitation to continue with his proposition. ‘I am fixed in Vienna for some time, madame. I would deem it an honour to be allowed to enjoy your company, and to serve you while I am here. Vienna has become something of a city of pleasure, has it not?’
There was now so much relaxed confidence in his face that she itched to slap him. It was clear in his eyes. They had become dark and limpid, full of desire. Not the slightest hint of wariness, or of doubt. He knew he was a personable man, and he expected Sophie to accept him as her new protector.
She swallowed and hardened her feelings against him. He was just like all the others. Worse, even. He had been prepared to consider her a lady, and to treat her as one, until the moment he learned that she was a mere opera singer. One song, one recital, and the last vestige of his respect for her had vanished. All he could think of was how to persuade this fallen woman into his bed.
Well, aristocrat or no, he was wrong, and Sophie Pietre was going to make him smart for his insolence. ‘Pleasure, Lord Leo, comes only at a price,’ she murmured silkily, looking up at him through her lashes.
‘Of course, madame. I had expected nothing less.’ He edged a little closer to Sophie. She could truly feel the heat of him now.
She retrieved her glass of water and took a tiny sip, holding his gaze all the while. ‘I am relieved to hear we are of one mind on this, Lord Leo. But you would not expect me to accept such a nebulous offer, I am sure. Even from you.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Did you have something more specific to propose, perhaps?’
This time he really did look uncomfortable, but he was equal to her challenge. He raised his chin a little, and named the price he was prepared to pay. ‘In addition,’ he continued smoothly, ‘I would of course provide you with all the luxuries such a beautiful lady could desire.’
She had expected him to suggest at least as much as the Baron von Beck. But this was not even a quarter of the Baron’s offer. In that instant, Sophie almost felt sorry for Lord Leo. He had made things so easy for her.
But then she looked into his eyes once more, and saw there the desire for possession that had inflamed so many of her suitors, not one of whom had cared for more than her body and an opportunity to slake his lust. She hardened her heart. Lord Leo was no different from all the rest. Just meaner, when it came to money.
She rose swiftly to her feet and gazed down at him, lifting a stern hand to prevent him from moving from his seat. She wanted him to remain there, below her, gazing up like a suppliant. She wanted this arrogant aristocrat to learn how it felt to be humiliated. ‘I thank you for your offer, Lord Leo. I do not stoop to call it insulting. That would demean both of us. Suffice it to say that, having heard the paltry value you set upon my company, I prefer to remain as I am. I was indebted to you before, I freely admit. But now, sir, I fancy that we are even. Goodnight to you.’ She dipped him a tiny, impudent curtsy and walked serenely away before he had time to utter a word.
Chapter Four
Leo marched straight out into the garden. The moment he was alone, he let fly with a volley of oaths that would not have disgraced the meanest soldier in the British army. He desperately wanted to hit something, or someone. Preferably Jack. If he had not had to mortgage The Larches and most of his annual income to pay off Jack’s debts, Leo would have been able to offer the Venetian Nightingale whatever she desired. As it was, he had insulted her by offering her a pittance. And, in revenge, she had made him feel like a worm, to be trodden into the mud under the heel of her shoe.
That did not lessen his unquenchable passion for her, though. If anything, it made his desire even stronger. He could not understand it. He had had many mistresses over the years, all of them quick-witted and a delight to the eye, but he had always remained in control of the relationship. Never before had his body reacted as if he were a green boy, lusting after his first woman.
What was it about Madame Pietre? He closed his eyes and pictured her. She had a dark, luscious beauty that made him want to put his lips to her skin as he would to a ripe, sun-warmed peach before biting into its sweet flesh. She was only an opera singer, yet there was a kind of nobility in the way she carried her head and in the way she spoke. She was intriguing, exotic, mysterious. And under that polite exterior, a passionate Latin woman lay concealed. He was sure that, as a lover, she would surpass any woman he had ever known. He had to have her!
He began to pace the rose-covered walk where his wandering steps had led him. There must be a way to reach her. Perhaps he could borrow money from—
‘Leo! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
Jack! It would be Jack. Just when Leo was ready to plant him a facer!
‘I can’t imagine what you’re doing out here on your own,’ Jack continued equably, apparently oblivious to Leo’s black frown. ‘I thought you’d be in the salon, toadeating the Emperor’s retainers.’
Leo did not dare to speak, lest he ring a peal over Jack’s head. The boy had apologised, more than once, for the straits they were in. It would be dishonourable to blame Jack for Leo’s unaccountable passion for the Venetian singer.
‘Ben has arrived at last. I thought you’d want to know at once.’
Leo took a long breath and sighed it out, forcing his mind back to their mission. Action would drive out his demons. ‘Where is he?’
‘At the embassy. They told him where to find us. His messenger arrived here not five minutes ago.’
‘Excellent. We can certainly use his help, though we shall be even more cramped with three of us, plus the servants, in those poor rooms.’
‘He can share mine. And he has brought two servants, so he must be more flush in the pocket than we are.’ Jack grinned sheepishly. ‘His grandfather must have franked him for the trip. Otherwise he’d have been walking all the way.’
Leo smiled back. Poor Ben was kept on a very tight leash, even though he was heir to his grandfather’s title. Perhaps he had dropped a hint or two about the importance of his journey to Vienna? Old Viscount Hoarwithy might have been willing to fund a discreet mission on behalf of the British government. Leo sincerely hoped that was the case. If Ben had arrived in Vienna without any blunt, the Aikenhead Honours really would be in the suds.
‘I suggest you go back to the embassy and look after Ben. Buy him a decent supper. I’ll join you both later. There is one more person I need to see.’
Jack grinned, delighted to be let off the leash. He wasn’t yet very practised at extracting information in social gatherings, so he should really stay to learn, but that was the last thing Leo wanted. He was desperate for one more sight of his lovely Nightingale. And, if he was going to be following her like a stallion after a mare in heat, he certainly didn’t want his sharp-tongued younger brother to know of it.
Verdicchio smiled smugly. ‘Major Zass, the Russian Emperor’s aide-de-camp, has asked that I arrange a private recital for his Imperial Majesty. I have accepted, of course. The fee is very generous.’
Sophie said nothing. The