With a sudden movement he pulled her back to him for a hot, rough kiss that brought more out of her than he'd taken before. Her breath hitched and she kissed him back, caught up in the emotion, renewed desire pulling down through her belly. His hands were more insistent on her breasts…
And then something changed.
He slowed, caught back his breathing, gentled his kiss, let his warm hands settle at her waist. "Apparently I am not the opportunist I thought I was," he said ruefully, shifting and setting her off his lap.
Victoria stood there, suddenly chilled, her gown at her waist, her shift bunched up underneath her skirts, her breasts jiggling with the movement of her breath and his sudden release.
Sebastian rose, then, his billowing shirt brushing against her torso. He looked down at her as he refastened his trousers. "I can't decide if it's because you expect him to walk in on us at any moment, or because you're angry at him. Or both. Likely both."
The last vestiges of arousal fell away. "You are addled!" She yanked up her bodice to cover her breasts.
"Most likely I am," he replied, tucking his shirt in. "But I'd rather be addled than be manipulated."
"Thank you for your assistance with the Tutela," she said frostily. "I hope that you'll remember tonight with fondness, for there won't be a repetition of it anytime soon."
His lips twitched to one side as he grabbed up his coat, gloves, and cravat. "You are so very predictable, Victoria, donning the spurned-woman facade."
"Spurned woman?" She laughed in real delight. "I would say not. You left me with little to regret, and I wager I'll sleep better tonight than you." She raised a brow and looked at him meaningfully.
"If you keep that up, I'll be happy to rectify the situation." He turned to go, his hand on the parlor door, and slanted her a last look. "Or I'll call on the Tarruscelli twins."
Victoria regretted telling Sebastian about Max's appearance at the Regalado villa, not so much because of the way it inexplicably ended their intimacy, but because she still cringed inside when she thought about what it could mean.
She wanted to keep that information to herself so she could turn it over in her mind and somehow make sense of it. She felt as if once she told Aunt Eustacia, or anyone, it would be too late to take it back; it would be real. And it would worry her aunt needlessly, for Victoria just did not believe Max had turned from the Venators.
And she also believed—knew, deep inside—that Max would seek her out. If he was playing a role, which was what she had to believe, despite all evidence to the contrary, he wouldn't take any chance of their being overheard or seen. They could have been noticed in the hall beyond the ballroom; he was being overly discreet… which was nothing less than what she'd expect of Max.
Even though he infuriated her, Max didn't make mistakes. He was deliberate and careful and very, very dangerous.
As for Sebastian's odd accusations… Victoria put those off to the fact that she could never understand what made Sebastian tick at any time, let alone when he was in the throes of passion. There was no love lost between the two men for reasons she did not know, but which appeared to be part of a long history. Apparently the mere mention of Max's name was a douse of cold water to Sebastian.
So certain was Victoria that Max would call on her or send some kind of message now that he knew she was in Rome, she remained in the villa for the next two days, refusing even to leave to visit Aunt Eustacia at the Gardella villa. She didn't want to miss him if he came.
She did not explain to her great-aunt that she'd seen Max. Not yet. She wanted to make sure… she wanted to wait until they could speak again in private.
But he did not contact her.
She did, however, have to greet George Starcasset when he called on her the day after the party, bearing flowers and a glitter in his eyes. They sat and took tea in the cramped parlor, chatting inanely about London Society and their friends back home. It was thirty minutes before she could get rid of him.
The following day, when he called, she was "not at home."
The third morning after the party at the Regalado villa, the Tarruscelli sisters brought Sara Regalado to call on Victoria.
"We were certain you'd fallen ill," gushed Portiera. "We'd hoped you'd come to tea yesterday and were so disappointed when you did not attend."
"We missed you so very much at tea yesterday, we were quite convinced that you'd been stricken with some ache in the head or some other illness," said Placidia in her sister's wake.
"I was feeling rather under the weather," Victoria admitted, watching as Oliver and Verbena attempted to arrange the minuscule parlor for three guests plus their mistress. "I had such a lovely time at your father's party, too, Sara."
"I hope you are feeling quite the object today," Max's fiancee said in her imperfect English.
"I am feeling much more the thing, thank you very much." In truth, she was feeling worse every hour that went by that she hadn't heard from Max.
Unless… perhaps Sara was unwittingly to deliver the message.
Indeed, it seemed possible, when the young woman continued and said, "We were hoping you would join us in our box at the opera tomorrow evening. We four will be escorted by my father and Maximilian, as well as Barone Galliani, on whom you seem to have made quite an impression." She smiled without a bit of malice and continued, "My cousin appeared to be so smitten with you that he has threatened to change the name of the rose he created for me!"
"I'm certain your fiance was overjoyed," Victoria could not resist saying.
Sara looked at her quizzically. "Maximilian? Why, he has not a jealous bone in his body; he could not care if Silvio named twenty flowers after me. And if he should change the name for someone as lovely as you, my new dear friend, well, I should not be adirato at all. For I have my Maximilian to name flowers after me himself."
Victoria had to turn an unladylike snort into a fit of coughing. The vision of Max tending to a rosebush, let alone naming it for a chit of a girl, was ludicrous.
When her coughing subsided, amidst a flurry of "oohs" and "ohs!" (from the Tarruscelli twins, their mirror-image moles twitching accordingly) and clapping on the back (from the dainty Sara, who wielded quite a lusty clap), Victoria smiled through watery eyes and accepted the invitation. If nothing else, it would give her another opportunity to see Max and scrutinize what he was up to.
No sooner had her visitors left than Victoria, who had planned to steal away for some training practice, was called back to the parlor.
Aunt Eustacia had arrived.
Victoria kissed her aunt's soft, wrinkled cheek and settled her on the most comfortable chair in the sitting room. She was looking more fragile, she noticed; as though all of the traveling had taken a toll on her. It was odd, for Victoria had expected that returning to her homeland after so many years away from it would have brought a sparkle to her eyes. Instead, they bore a hint of sadness and worry.
"Have you news?" her aunt asked without preamble.
"Sebastian assisted me to attend an event at one of the Tutela leaders' homes," she replied, and explained about Regalado. "I am to attend the opera with him and his daughter and some others tomorrow night. I hope that will give me the opportunity to find out more about the Tutela. I have not been out to hunt for vampires since we arrived in Rome; I was planning to practice my training just now, and go out on a patrol tonight. I know it is important to stay ready and sharp. And I miss it."
Eustacia was looking at her with steely black eyes, as though she knew Victoria was equivocating. "You learned nothing at the villa when you were there?"