In Bed With Lord Byron

courage to look into his eyes.
    Oh dear, I thought, it doesn’t seem as if he secretly guessed you were a woman after all. Actually, I’d say he probably didn’t have a clue.
    In terror, I ran back behind the screen.
    ‘Wait!’ Leonardo called. ‘Come back!’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Please.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because you’re quite obviously totally repulsed by me!’
    ‘I admit, it did come as a bit of a surprise, yes.’
    ‘You didn’t suspect I was really a woman?’
    ‘No.’
    I frowned.
    ‘Not even when I said that I had once loved a man called Anthony?’
    Silence.
    ‘Why did you lie to me?’ he asked.
    ‘Because it was the only way I could get close to you. Women aren’t allowed to do anything in this cen . . . in this place. Look at Cecilia.’
    ‘True,’ Leonardo sighed. ‘I sometimes wonder whether perhaps women are as intelligent as men and ought to be able to have the same rights as we do.’
    ‘Good theory,’ I muttered.
    Another silence.
    ‘So, must I leave?’
    ‘You can stay on one condition.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Come out from that screen now. And keep your clothes off.’
    I edged out, my hands fluttering over my body, my cheeks burning hotter than ever, my head bowed miserably. Then I slowly dragged my eyes up to his, and I saw the fondness in his gaze and the
smile tugging at his lips. In my relief I flew at him, and he gave me a huge hug, and I muttered, ‘Sorry,’ over and over again. Leonardo rubbed his cheek against mine and sighed that I
was forgiven.
    ‘But,’ he said, drawing back, ‘I’m afraid you can’t stay here. I can let you be here another night, but after that . . . it would be . . . Look, when I was in
Florence, I suffered something of a scandal. I don’t want to talk about it, but I don’t want another one here. I came to Milan to make my mark.’
    ‘I guess the Duke wouldn’t be too happy if he found out his astrologer was a woman,’ I muttered meekly.
    Leonardo looked deep into my eyes. ‘Knowing the Duke,’ he said, ‘he’d probably ask you to examine his stars in great depth in his bedchamber!’ and we both
laughed.
    And then looked at each other.
    And then I did something totally brazen. Time was running out, and I craved him so; craved the softness of his hair and skin, longed to feel it against mine. It would be different to Byron, I
told myself; Byron’s heart was cruel, but Leo’s was tender. I leaned up on tiptoe, moved in close. He stared down at me, his expression unreadable. His breath mingled with mine, warm
and inviting. I pressed my lips against his. I closed my eyes. His lips were cool and delicious. For a moment I felt him respond, and then—
    He pushed me away harshly.
    I felt utterly mortified. I was about to dive behind the screen again, but Leonardo grabbed my hand and pulled me down on to the pallet, next to him.
    Now what? I stared at his handsome profile, but he looked down at his knees, his face shadowed.
    ‘What’s your real name?’ he asked.
    ‘Lucy.’
    ‘Lucy,’ said Leonardo, rolling my name on his tongue. ‘Lucy, I want to tell you a story. When I was twenty-three years old, I was arrested.’
    ‘You were?’ I was perplexed; there had definitely been no mention of any arrest in
The Idiot’s Guide to da Vinci.
    ‘What happened was this: an anonymous person put a denunciation into one of the
tamburi
in Florence.
Tamburi
are the holes of truth, as you know. It declared that a
seventeen-year-old boy, Jacopo Saltarelli, had been sodomised by four different men. I was named as one of them. It was a terrible scandal; it was one of the reasons I ran from Florence. We all had
to attend court, and to my relief it was thrown out. But the fact of the matter is, Lucy, that the charge was true. Jacopo was my lover.’
    ‘Oh my God!’ It was sinking in slowly. ‘So you’re . . . you’re . . .’
    ‘
Omosessuale
,’ said Leonardo.
    ‘And women don’t do anything for you at all?’ I cried, my cheeks scarlet with humiliation.
    Leonardo ran his eyes over my body and shook his head.
    ‘I’m afraid even your beauty doesn’t make me feel I could—’
    ‘You’re just being charming!’ I cried, jumping to my feet.
    ‘No, Lucy, I’m not!’ he replied, jumping up too. ‘In fact, I’d still love to paint you.’
    ‘NO!’ I cried, folding my arms. I just wanted to yank on my clothes and run away.
    ‘Please – I’d like to have it as a memento of our time together, of everything we’ve