I woke when dawn was only a few hours off, when the sky was still pitch-black. The rain had stopped. Slipping from bed quietly, I picked up my clothes from the floor and pulled them on as best I could, tying my corset and gown loosely. As I dressed, I studied the small room around me. It was plain and nondescript, with just the large bed, a window with simple linen curtains that looked out onto the street, a wardrobe—though his clothes were strewn about rather haphazardly—and a wooden crucifix hanging on the wall opposite the window. Even in the dark, I fancied that the crucified Christ’s eyes watched me reproachfully. I turned my back on it.
I heard Vivaldi stir behind me. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that he had pulled himself into a sitting position and was watching me. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice raspy with sleep.
“Home,” I said, brushing my long, tousled hair away from my face. “I must get back before anyone discovers I am missing.” I shuddered. “If they have not already.”
“At this hour?” he asked. “You cannot simply go strolling through the streets of Venice alone. It is far too dangerous.”
“I arrived here safely,” I pointed out, scooping up my cloak—still damp—from the floor and settling it about my shoulders. “And it would be far more dangerous for me if it were to become known that I had left in the middle of the night.”
He sighed, and I could see that he was rubbing his forehead in consternation. “Oh, cara,” he said. “What have we done? We—”
I crossed to him and placed a finger on his lips. “No,” I whispered. “Please. I beg of you.” I paused and drew a deep, unsteady breath as I tried to get the words out. “These past few hours have been the most beautiful of my life. Please do not ruin them with regrets and fear of consequences. There will be time enough for all that, if need be. Just…” I trailed off and looked at him beseechingly. “Please.”
He sighed, then turned his head to kiss the palm of my hand. “Yes,” he said softly. “You are right.”
He got out of bed. “I will go with you,” he said. “Just to see you home.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “It is far too dangerous for you at this time of night, as I said.” He began to hunt about in the dark for his own discarded clothes.
“What if someone should see you with me?” I asked him, a near panic rising to claw at my throat. “What if—God and the Holy Virgin forbid—what if my father was to see you with me?”
“And if your father caught you returning to the house at this hour, would it matter much whether or not there was a man with you?”
I considered this as he dressed himself. “No,” I admitted. “But it is not myself for whom I am concerned.”
“Nor am I concerned for myself,” he said, looking for his shoes. “So we are perfectly matched.”
Once he was suitably attired against the night air, we left, with me leading him through the maze of streets and canals to my family’s palazzo. Fortunately, we met no one to impede us on our way. When we came within sight of the back entrance, I motioned for him to keep to the shadows, lest some vigilant servant should happen to be keeping watch.
I heard Vivaldi draw in his breath sharply as we drew nearer. “So this is Ca’ d’Amato,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I said, “and were it up to me, I would never set foot inside again.”
I turned to him in the shadows, only to find that he was moving to take me in his arms. Boldly, he bent his head to kiss me, pressing my back against the palazzo’s stone wall. I kissed him back, mindful of what would befall us should anyone see, yet unable to stop.
“When should I return to you?” I asked as we broke apart.
Even in the darkness, I saw the look of uncertainty and chagrin that flashed across his face, leaving me terrified, for a brief and vivid moment, that he would tell me I could not return. “Two nights hence,” he said, drawing back only a few inches, so that I could still feel the heat of his breath on my face as he spoke. “If you can get away.”
“I shall if it is the last thing I do,” I swore.
“And I will pray that it is not,” he said. He kissed me one last time. “Buona notte, cara. May you sleep well.”
I smiled, happily doubting that I would be able to do any such thing.