Page 84 of Thus with a Kiss I Die

Cal seemed to be returning to a less excitable state. “Not if it doesn’t exist!”

Point taken. “Lugrezia?”

He dismissed her. “She’s a woman.”

“And you’re a fool.”

He looked fully into my face.

Yes, I was a fool, too, for what I’d done, and for my continued provocation, regardless how inadvertent, but I plowed ahead with my argument. “She’s ambitious, wife to a man whom you previously described as, er, limp. The events that have unfolded—Elder’s assassination, the attack on Nonna Ursula, the flash fire of violence and unrest in the city—all could have been hired and encouraged by one person. One woman. She is a power, is she not?” I asked.

“A power, yes. Unlikeable, but a power.”

“And never a suspect, because she’s a woman.”

He nodded, conceding the point.

“Friar Camillo,” I suggested.

Cal sputtered, which was kind of fun. “A monk? What reason have you for such an accusation?”

I had to think how to phrase my answer. “He is young, handsome, clean, helpful.”

“Suspicious!” Ah. Under the right provocation, Calcouldindulge in sarcasm.

“He plucked the herbs and flowers for Nonna Ursula. He assisted Friar Laurence with your wounded. He prayed at the shrine of the Blessed Virgin in your garden. My point is, Friar Laurence is always hurrying to and fro, busy at all times. Friar Camillo seems to linger in the palace.”

Cal moved to allow the light full into my chamber. “It’s not unknown for a monk to be lazy.”

“Or for a monk to have ambitions to be valuable to the prince’s household.”

“Or for a monk to fall in love with a beautiful woman,” Cal observed darkly.

“Me?” I touched my bruised face. “If that’s the case, he’s in for a rude surprise.”

Cal paced toward me. “A temporary bruise and, so I tell all my warriors, a badge of courage.”

I liked knowing Cal considered me warrior enough to claim a badge of courage. I smiled at him. “Actually, men have fallen in love with me before. I recognize the symptoms.”

“Do you?” He had that neutral tone in his voice again.

“Yes, and I don’t believe that’s the case with Friar Camillo.” Articulating my uneasiness made this sound foolish to me. “I’m not really sure why he bothers me, Friar Laurence has borne witness to his excellence, yet . . . Friar Camillo feels artificial. As if he’s hiding something.”

“I hold great respect for your instincts—”

A comfort to a woman who knew what it was to have her words undervalued based on her gender.

“—and I’ll suggest to my head footman that Friar Camillo be kept in sight while visiting the palace.” His suggestion satisfied me and apparently him, for he moved on. “You haven’t mentioned the other possibility for, at least, the attack on Nonna Ursula. My bodyguards.”

From previous conversations and a knowledge of the Acquasasso rebellion, I know the history of his men. “Holofernes is your longtime friend and suffered with you in the dungeon.”

“That’s true.” Slowly he returned to my bedside and seated himself, drank the whole goblet of wine, filled it again, and held it out for me to take.

I reached for it and realized my fingers trembled from the impact of his voice, his presence, his seduction. I didn’t attempt to drink, but held the goblet close to my chest. “As with you, the Acquasasso tortured Holofernes, and you said when your father released you, you were fourteen and still overcome by pain and darkness. I assume Holofernes was the same age and had like issues, therefore would be unlikely to be able to act as your father’s assassin.”

“The Acquasasso demanded a ransom from Holofernes’s family. They had little to give, and other sons to take his place, so he had been treated with more cruelty than me.”

“He has a handsome and joyous spirit.”