The Venetian's Midnight Mistress. Кэрол Мортимер
Читать онлайн книгу.
full skirt billowed out and over the gold slippers that matched the dress.
Yes, she was as ready as she was ever going to be to face all the other guests, who were already outside in the romantically lit garden.
Eleni had telephoned Dani yesterday so that she could tell her all about her plans for the masquerade party. The garden was to be lit only by lamps and strings of coloured lights in the trees and bushes, with a small orchestra hired to add to the romance of the evening. But even so Dani was totally unprepared for the magical appearance of everything and everyone when she stepped outside on her way to the rose garden where Jamieson had told her Brad and Eleni were greeting their guests.
The costumes of the two hundred or so guests were exquisite, and the masks even more so—a lot of them intricately decorated, especially those worn by Eleni’s Venetian relatives—giving Dani a feeling of unreality, as if she really had stepped back into another time.
It was easy to see how and why, with so many corners of the spacious garden left in darkness, those flirtations Eleni had spoken of took place!
Dani quickly made her way to the rose garden, keeping a wary eye out for Eleni’s obnoxious brother—a man she thankfully hadn’t seen in the eight months since Eleni and Brad’s wedding, an occasion when they had all but ignored each other.
‘Is that you, Dani?’ Eleni greeted her warmly as soon as she saw her, her own Georgian-style costume an elegant red, her mask silver and her dark hair unpowdered.
‘You aren’t supposed to know it’s me.’ Dani frowned behind her mask.
‘We discussed these dresses once—don’t you remember?’ her friend said as Dani moved to kiss a Duke-of-Wellington-costumed Brad.
As it happened, Dani did remember the time she and Eleni had lain under an oak tree in the school grounds, waxing lyrical about how romantic it must have been to live in the seventeen hundreds, with all those manly heroes from the historical novels they’d devoured. Until they had remembered that there had been no plumbing for instant hot baths in those times, nor the convenience of the telephone!
But like Eleni, Dani hadn’t been able to resist wearing a beautiful gown in the style of that century this evening.
‘You both look very beautiful,’ Brad told them gallantly.
He was nothing like those dark, almost satanic heroes Dani and Eleni had once drooled over, with his hair a golden blond and his eyes blue, but there was no doubting the happiness of Eleni and Brad’s marriage, Dani recognised almost wistfully, as Brad turned to give his wife a lingering kiss.
‘Just tell me what Niccolo is wearing so that I can once again avoid him!’ Dani begged of her friend as she realised she was holding up the receiving line.
‘He’s a p—’
‘Just think of the D’Alessandro ancestry and you’ll know him,’ Eleni cut smoothly across Brad. ‘And you see all those good-looking men gathered by the bar?’ She nodded towards five men laughing and talking together as they sipped champagne. ‘D’Alessandros every one,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘You met them all at the wedding last year, and I’m sure that any one of them would be pleased to oblige you, if you know what I mean…?’
‘Very funny.’ Dani shot her friend a silencing glare before moving off to join the rest of the guests strolling in the garden, knowing exactly what her friend was referring to even if Brad didn’t. In the eight months since she had spoken to Eleni about her grandfather’s will, Dani hadn’t even come close to finding a solution to that particular problem.
But Eleni was right about the D’Alessandro men all being good-looking, Dani acknowledged ruefully as she stood a short distance away from them. All of them were dark-haired, very tall, with athletically fit bodies. In fact any one of them could be Niccolo, she realised in dismay.
One was dressed as a nobleman. Another as a priest. The third as a gondolier. The fourth was a nineteenth-century Italian soldier. The fifth was in Regency-style clothes.
Exactly what had Eleni meant by her cryptic comment about the D’Alessandro ancestry in reference to Niccolo’s costume?
‘Champagne…?’
She turned to find a rakish-looking pirate standing at her side—another one of Eleni’s D’Alessandro cousins? This man’s dark hair was pulled back and tied with a black bow at his nape, and a black mask covered his face from brow to top lip. Tight black trousers were tucked into black boots, emphasising the long length of his legs, a black sash was about his waist, and a long black leather tunic was worn over the white billowy shirt that was de rigueur for any respectable pirate.
Except pirates weren’t respectable by definition, were they?
This one certainly didn’t look as if he was. Dark, dark eyes glittered through the slits in the mask as his gaze roamed boldly over Dani, from her toes to her powdered hair and then back to her face behind the gold mask.
‘Champagne…?’ he prompted again huskily, and he held out one of the two glasses he held in his hands.
Dani swallowed hard, not taking her gaze off the pirate for even a second. It was one thing to fantasise about meeting a man like this when you were an impressionable teenager. Another thing altogether, at the age of twenty-four, to find yourself face to face with a man who looked as if he were every bit as dangerous as the pirate he was dressed as.
Which meant he definitely had to be a D’Alessandro cousin!
Still, it was a masquerade party, where no names were exchanged and there would be no expectations after tonight. Eleni was right; it could be fun for Dani to just anonymously enjoy herself for one evening.
Until ten minutes ago Niccolo had been finding the evening tedious. Conversation became louder as bottles of champagne began to disappear, the laughter too shrill, the flirtations more obvious—and the culmination of those flirtations was obvious as couples began to disappear off into the darkness of the garden.
But Niccolo had never particularly enjoyed the Venetian Festival, and he certainly had no intention of being lured into the privacy of the surrounding trees by any of the women who had so far tried to tempt him.
As usual, he had kept a wary eye out for the sharp-tongued Daniella Bell as each of the female guests had arrived, but at ten o’clock he had assumed that she either wasn’t here at all or he had missed her in the crowd.
In fact, until he had seen the woman in the gold gown enter the garden, he had been considering taking a bottle of champagne and disappearing into the relative privacy of Eleni’s conservatory.
The woman’s hair was powdered white, and she had a heart-shaped beauty mark above her top lip. The creamy swell of her breasts was inviting above the low neckline of the gold gown, and her arms were white and slender, a gold fan held in one of her delicately graceful hands.
Her very stillness made her stand out from the rest of the guests as she looked slowly about her with an almost untouchable air of separation from those about her.
It was a feeling Niccolo easily recognised and related to. As head of the D’Alessandro family and banking consortium he had to keep himself apart out of necessity. The fact that he hadn’t yet found a woman suitable to become the D’Alessandro bride only added to his aloofness.
But he put on hold his plan to disappear the moment he saw the woman in the gold gown. Instead he collected two glasses of champagne and made his way determinedly towards her before any of the other men present sensed her air of detachment and saw it as the same challenge he did.
She was even more alluring close up, her skin as pale as milk. The colour of her eyes was not discernible behind the mask in the poorly illuminated garden, but somehow Niccolo thought they would be blue. Her perfect bow of a mouth was highly erotic, with that heart-shaped beauty mark above the fuller top lip, and Niccolo believed the hair beneath the powder would probably be a rich burnished gold.
Dani felt slightly flustered