Venice Vampyr (Venice Vampyr #1)

Isabella’s house to be a public place, but rather a place where his secret was safe. Or had he simply been absentminded?
    Had fate just handed him the key to dealing with the threat the Guardians represented? Was this why he’d been given a second chance and been thrust into this house and this woman’s arms? So he could discover who they were?
    A sob behind him made him turn. Isabella sat at her dressing table, trying to comb her hair, a look of anguish on her face. The woman who’d given him such pleasure only hours ago was a bundle of nerves.
    When he met her eyes in the mirror, she looked away. “You should leave. There’s nothing more to do for you. By tonight, all of Venice will know what a whore I am.”
    Her lips trembled as she spoke, and Raphael couldn’t help himself.  He walked to her and lifted her into his arms.
    “No,” she protested, “it’s no use. You’d better go.”
    He tipped her chin up with his hand and made her look at him. Unshed tears stood in wait around the rim of her eyes. He wouldn’t let her cry them. “There is something I can do.”
    A flicker of hope appeared in her irises.
    “Do you have a servant you trust implicitly?”
    She gave him a curious look, then nodded. “Adolfo, my gondolier. He’s loyal to me.”
    “Good. Send him for a priest.”
    “A priest?” She tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t allow it. Her eyes widened, and he knew then that she understood. Her breath rushed out of her lungs. “No. You can’t do that. I won’t allow it.”
    He hadn’t pegged her to be this stubborn, but no matter, she would not win this fight. “You have no choice. Only if we can prove that we’re married can a scandal be averted. You know it as well as I do.”
    She shook her head. “But you can’t just offer for me and sacrifice yourself. All you wanted was a tumble. It’s not fair to you.”
    “Fair? Isabella, I put you in this position. I ruined you. I would be a cad if I didn’t take you as my wife now that our affair has been exposed. Surely you can’t want a scandal?”
    She was backed into a corner, and he could kill two birds with one stone. By marrying her, he could insinuate himself into her family.  He would be able to get close to her despicable cousin, and, with some luck, find out who the other members of the Guardians were. Nobody would suspect him. However, he would have to be careful.
    “Of course I don’t want a scandal, but I’m not going to ruin your life in addition to mine.”
    “Ruin my life?” He pulled her closer to his chest, crushing her bosom against him and sliding his hand onto her ass. “My sweet angel, if I get to spend every night with you in the way we spent the last one, I can see how my life would indeed be ruined.” Yes, his second reason for marrying her was right there: he didn’t yet want to let go of the passionate woman in his arms.
    Raphael smirked and ground his cock against her. It was still semi-hard, and the way her barely-covered ass felt under his palm made sure all available blood was flowing to it now to bring him to another raging hard-on. “So, here’s your choice: marry me so we can spend every night of our future giving each other pleasure, or ...” He paused and stroked her intimately, knowing he had no second suggestion.
    “Do you mean it?”
    “Yes. Now get dressed before I drag you back to bed. The next time I ravish you, it’ll be as your husband.” His chest swelled as he said the words, words which should have scared him and made him run the other way. But to know she would be his wife in a few short hours filled him with unknown pride.
    ***
    Isabella spent most of the day in a trance. Raphael had done the honorable thing and married her. She hadn’t expected it. There was no reason why he should. He had nothing to lose—only she did. But she wasn’t brave enough to reject his kind offer, despite the fact that she feared his kindness would wear off soon when he was stuck with the reality of marriage. For a brief moment, she wondered whether he would have married her if she weren’t a wealthy woman, but she pushed away that thought. Everything about his appearance and manners told her that he didn’t need her money.
    She allowed Elisabetta to fuss over her hair as she piled it high on her head. She’d chosen a dress made of red silk for the ball. It had been made for her only weeks before Giovanni’s death, and she’d never before worn it. But when Raphael had