What Matteo had called a back entrance to Palazzo Barozzi granted admittance only to those who were fortunate enough to be in on its secret. Taking the windowless staircase that wound itself up, up, and even further up made Giovanna feel like a thief sneaking into a world that wasn't hers, and only her fondness for the man in the lead made her willing to continue.
After finally ending their ascent, they crept down a long passageway, the darkness here still so deep that it didn't matter whether she kept her eyes open or closed. The lack of fresh air gave the exposed stone walls on either side a damp, musty smell, which was only second worst to the occasional spider's web that became entangled in her hair. By the time Matteo had stopped, Giovanna had truly had enough of the experience.
"Is this—"
"Ssh," he hushed her, tapping on the wall before pushing the right spot to open a hidden door.
Giovanna followed him inside, a blazing fire in the hearth welcoming their arrival.
"Yes, this is my bedchamber," he said once the door had been secured behind them, as if the large, canopied bed hadn't been a clear indication. "Please, make yourself at home."
Her father's entire loft—with areas for cooking, sleeping, and working all in a single space—could easily have fit into this one room alone, yet this was just part of the family's residence. The sitting room that Giovanna had visited as the plague doctor a few days earlier was on the other side of the door, and past that, numerous other such chambers stood on multiple levels. The fancy rugs and drapery, the imposing paintings and frescoes, and the sparkling chandeliers and candelabras were things more suited to a patrician's daughter like Ottavia, not her.
Trying not to laugh at the absurd notion that she could ever feel at home in the opulent surroundings, Giovanna untied her cloak. "Where can I . . .?" she asked, holding up the sopping wet garment.
"There." Matteo nodded toward a dressing screen with pictures of colorful birds and exotic flowers decorating its four panels and providing privacy to anyone behind it. "You can drape it on the corner. I would do it for you, but I'm having enough trouble with my own."
"Here, let me," she said, offering him assistance in slipping out of his own cloak after she'd hung hers. Leaving that one as well to dry, she returned to Matteo.
"I suppose I should check the extent of your injuries," she said, feeling a warmth creep into her cheeks while wondering whether he realized how hands-on such an examination needed to be.
Her reaction didn't go unnoticed.
"Are you blushing?" he asked, touching her face with the back of his fingers. They were cool, but gentle and she inadvertently gasped.
"Not at all." Giovanna shook her head. "I'm here in a purely professional capacity, which you should not forget," she lied, even though she strongly doubted that he believed her. Her attraction to Matteo must have been apparent even to a blind man.
"I will request nothing that I wouldn't want, nor will I do anything that you won't allow," he said with a mischievous smile, making her face burn even more. Thankfully, this time he didn't dwell on the reaction and instead began to unbutton his doublet. Made of a deep crimson satin and decorated with gold thread, it was a beautiful—and no doubt expensive—piece of craftsmanship.
She helped slip it off, but stopped him before he went further. "You may keep the shirt," Giovanna said, even as she imagined the rippling muscles hidden underneath the white cotton.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "I will work around it."
"Very well. Where do you want me?" he asked, looking around the room. "In that chair, perhaps? Or by the fire?"
Her heartbeat accelerated at the double meaning the words stirred inside her brain, and for a moment, Giovanna imagined herself in Matteo's arms as she straddled him in the gilded armchair. Surely she would be going to hell for such profane thoughts.
She cleared her throat. "Ahem. By the fire would be best," she said, balling her fist at her side. When he'd gotten situated, she continued, "You said it pained you to breathe. Can you be more specific? Is there a certain area that hurts more than elsewhere?"
Matteo took a deep breath. "Humph. It's the worst here," he said, moving his hand in a circular motion over his chest.
Giovanna smirked at his inexactness. Men.
"I see. And can you tell whether the source is on a particular side? Right or left? Front or back?" she asked, eyeing him with reservation.
He filled his lungs again with as much air as they allowed before grimacing. "I'm afraid not. It's just a general discomfort that intensifies into a sharp ache, but I cannot pinpoint its origin."
"I suppose I will have to check everything, then," Giovanna said, lifting the front of his shirt. "May I?"
Matteo smiled. "You may."
Without meeting his eyes lest they prove any more of a distraction, she used touch to find the first rib just under the collarbone and gently pressed the flesh around it. Working her way down one side, Giovanna repeated the process without causing Matteo any pain. The other side proved just as unexceptional, at least from a medical perspective. Her personal captivation by the task was another matter.
He should have been just like any other patient, but Giovanna didn't even try to fool herself into believing that was possible. The way her insides fluttered at his nearness, how she couldn't stop thinking about him when they were apart, or the manner in which she ignored all propriety while around him were all new to her. And as much as she tried to contain herself, being able to freely run her fingers across his flawless skin right now wasn't making it easy.
"Your ribs on the front don't feel damaged, but that's not much of a surprise," she said, dropping the shirt after a quick peek at Matteo's smooth stomach before moving behind him. "Falling on your back would more readily result in an injury to that part of the body."
Continuing the examination by running two fingers over the length of each bone from shoulder blade to kidney to feel for abnormalities, she finally found two unusually sore spots.
"The ninth and tenth ribs on the left side are likely cracked," she said, facing Matteo again. "The good news is that won't kill you, and they'll heal on their own with proper inactivity and time."
"And the bad news?" he asked, adjusting his shirt as it loosely hung on his torso.
"The bad news is that there isn't much more I can do. Peppermint oil applied to the skin would help with the pain and perhaps binding your upper body to stabilize the rib cage would ward off aches from sudden movements, but I have neither tonics or wrapping supplies here at my disposal."
Matteo put his hand against his chest and scowled, clearly uncomfortable. "What then?"
"Then," she said, stepping closer. "You should rest. Here, let me help you to your bed."
Surprisingly, he didn't object. After tucking Matteo under the covers, Giovanna was about to retreat when he called after her.
"There is room on the other side," he said.
She turned, unsure why he'd be sending her into the chamber on the other side of the door. "What?"
"There is plenty of space on the opposite side of the bed. You may sleep there, undisturbed. I promise I will tell no one."
"Oh." The offer caught her off-guard. And while spending the rest of the night on a proper mattress under thick, woolen blankets sounded divine, there was no way she could accept. "I believe you. But the chair by the fire is quite adequate for me. Sleep well."
Dragging the gilded armchair by the hearth while petulantly coveting what she had just refused, Giovanna pulled her feet under her and rested her head against the frame. All was still once more as the logs crackled and rain pattered against the windows. Soon, Matteo's breathing fell into a pattern, and she also allowed herself to finally relax.
* * *
The room was dark and cold when Giovanna woke with a start.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Coming from outside, the thundering knocks broke the silence as they echoed off the surrounding buildings. Giovanna kept her ears open, but the man in the bed on the other side of the room didn't stir from his slumber. As she stretched her stiff limbs, she smiled.
Only the dead—and apparently, Matteo—could ignore such ruckus. Half the city around the piazza was probably already awake, while the other half surely would be soon. And if they were anything like her, they would be giving in to their curiosity. She didn't need to wait for him to investigate.
After stumbling out of the armchair, Giovanna slowly regained her bearings as she slogged to the window. Pulling the heavy curtain back, she peeked out.
Boom. Boom.
Although she had to wrap her arms around herself to ward off the chill, she saw nothing unusual below. The moon was high in the sky, its position indicating that sunrise was still some time away. The rain had stopped, but puddles on the pavers reflected the moon and torch light. Many of the windows on the palazzos were dark, but a few curious residents had lit candles as they similarly searched for the source of the commotion.
Movement in the shadows caught her eye. A figure paced sluggishly in front of the adjacent San Marco's church before raising both hands in the air and throwing himself at the entrance.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The man pounded on the door of the basilica, but surely there had to be more to explain his intentions. Trying to get a better look, Giovanna tilted her head and pushed her face closer to the glass until her nose touched the cool pane.
Two hands touched her shoulders.
"What do you see?" Matteo whispered in her ear.
Giovanna jumped away from the window, her breathing ragged. "Don't do that," she scolded, her heart racing at his unexpected appearance.
Matteo dropped his hold, but stayed close, his chest pressed against her back. "My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you. I thought you had heard the bed creak," he said, the remorse evident in his tone. "Is it a drunkard, you think?"
She glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of his tousled hair as he stood behind her. She suddenly had an urge to run her fingers through the dark, silky mess. "Uhm, what? Oh, the man knocking on San Marco's?" she stammered. "Perhaps. Unless you think he could be one of them?"
Giovanna hadn't previously made the connection between what they had witnessed earlier, but now that she'd voiced it, those horrors flooded her mind once more. The look of absolute despair in the faces of the wretched creatures in that warehouse loft would never leave her, but the possibility that they had escaped the flames and had made it into the heart of Venice terrified her to her core.
"That's absurd. Whatever we encountered in the Arsenale had a logical explanation, one that does not include the urge to break down a basilica's doors in the middle of the night. I will speak with my father in the morning about the situation, but I'm sure he'll tell me that he has come across similar reports of ill citizens acting strangely who've had to be locked away for their own safety. And look, this man here is being dealt with already," he said, pointing to four guards running out of the doge's palace toward the basilica even as Giovanna's shivers intensified. "But you're chilled to the bone. Come away from the window—"
"I'll stoke the fire," she said, afraid that another invitation to his bed was coming and that this time, she wouldn't have the willpower to refuse.
After returning to the hearth, she picked up a log, and threw it into the dying embers. "Ow," she said, jerking her hand back before sucking on her middle finger.
"What's the matter?" Matteo asked, as he hobbled to her side, carrying a blanket.
She removed her hand from her lips and showed him. "Only a splinter," she said, eyeing the dark speck at the tip of her finger in the orange glow of the growing flames.
"I can help with that," Matteo said, dropping the blanket in favor of rummaging through a nearby desk drawer.
Using her thumb, Giovanna poked on the skin with the hopes that she could dislodge the fragment, but it only made the pain worse. "It's not necessary—"
"I have a needle," Matteo said, holding up the object like a precious prize in one hand, while in the other, he gripped a piece of fabric with meandering vines and colorful flowers.
She smiled. "Is that your embroidery?"
He shrugged, throwing the cloth on a chair as his smile disappeared. "As a matter of fact, it is. The deliberate motions of the craft help me to think. Now give me your hand."
"I didn't mean to offend," she said, seeing his changed demeanor. He'd gone from open to withdrawn in a matter of seconds. "It's quite admirable you'd pursue such a hobby."
He glanced up. "A womanly one, you mean?"
"Oh, not at all," she said, shaking her head. Perhaps it would have been better if she'd just stayed quiet. She was making the situation worse, as it was. "I meant something so intricate. I myself have no patience for it."
That, of course, was a lie. It wasn't Giovanna's lack of patience that prevented her from pursuing the delicate art of needlework, rather her insistence on the outcome being perfect. And because perfection had eluded her, she gave up the endeavor before she could truly become better. That was why she preferred brewing elixirs. There was no such measure of perfection. If the patient's condition improved, the potion had done its job.
"We can't all be perfect," he said with a chuckle before tightening his hold on her hand. "Now this may hurt a moment . . .."
Giovanna hissed through her clenched teeth as the sharp tip of the needle bore under her skin. But just as quickly as it came, the pain subsided when Matteo lifted his gaze.
"There," he said with self satisfaction. "All done."
For some reason, Giovanna was overcome with an immense feeling of gratitude, the emotion bubbling through her body in a welcome wave of warmth. The reaction couldn't simply have been to the favor that Matteo had just provided; she could have easily soaked the small fragment out of her finger once she'd gotten home. It also wasn't due to his impressive hosting—the crick in her neck from spending the last few hours in the armchair attested to that even if it was through her own choice. But as he stood in front of her with that wholesome smirk on his handsome face, his words from just hours earlier rang in her ear.
You'll be safe as long as you're with me.
That was it. They had met merely days ago, yet that promise had proven true the entire time. Matteo Barozzi—whether by his actions or only through his presence—had somehow shielded Giovanna from both physical or emotional harm every time she was with him. His nearness gave her much needed comfort, and suddenly, she didn't want to let that go.
Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him.
The heat inside her intensified, making her doubt how she could have ever felt cold in his proximity. Her nostrils breathed in his scent—a mix of pleasant familiarity and intense desire—as her lips crushed against his. Afraid of his adverse reaction at her boldness, she dared not take further initiative, but neither did Matteo, letting his mouth gently linger on hers without making a move to pull her in nor push her away.
How odd. Men—even in her limited experience—were usually more aggressive when it came to physical contact with a woman. Was Matteo merely being gentleman? Did he consider her a fool for the immodest behavior and just unsure of how to politely refuse her advances? Or was he still mourning the one he was to marry? Of course Giovanna could never compete with the memory of a maiden of noble birth.
She drew back, self-consciously touching her lips with her fingertips. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"More," he whispered, unmoving from his spot.
"What?"
Matteo brushed her hand from her face. "Do it again," he whispered. "If it pleases you."
Giovanna's breathing hitched at the unexpected request—nay, command. She bit her bottom lip where his had just been, already fantasizing about repeating the act. "Would it please you?" she whispered back, her gaze slipping from his bewitching eyes to his sensual mouth.
Instead of answering, Matteo reached behind her head, dug his fingers into her hair and pulled her to him. As their lips met once more, Giovanna gave herself over wholeheartedly, opening her mouth just enough to welcome his warm tongue inside. His body tensed as she threw her arms over his shoulders and wrapped them around his neck, but the pain he felt was not enough for Matteo to loosen his grip. For the longest time, they became one—breathing, moving, and experiencing carnal pleasure in unison, forgetting about the evils in the world around them.
If only that evil could have extended them the same courtesy.