Before she could answer, Marco took hold of her arm.
Kate shook free of his grip. “Why aren’t you out riding with the others?”
“I decided that I would rather enjoy the rare beauty of the flora… and fauna.”
She swore under her breath. “I don’t know what game you have in mind, Lord Ghiradelli. But be assured that I don’t intend to play it with you.”
“No?” A blade of sunlight cut across his face, accentuating the supremely sensuous shape of his mocking smile. “And here I was under the impression that you quite enjoyed the challenge of going mano a mano against a male opponent.”
Fear seized her throat.
“Come, don’t tell me the infamous, insolent Belladonna is at a loss for words. As I recall, you had quite an active mouth in Napoli.”
For an instant, she debated whether to deny the accusation, then dismissed the idea as pointless. Marco might be a wanton wastrel, but he was not stupid.
“I’m amazed you remember what country you were in that night, never mind what city,” she shot back.
His long, lithe fingers wrapped around her wrist. “You are very hard to forget, bella.” He leaned in closer, his long, dark hair dancing over his snowy white shirtpoints. A few drips of water spilled from the overhanging leaves, and as Kate watched them slide down the line of his freshly shaven jaw, she felt an insane urge to flick out her tongue and lick them away.
“Your eyes are remarkable. A man could drown in those ocean-blue depths,” he said in a sotto voce growl.
“Y-you were already submerged in a sea of brandy,” replied Kate, surprised that her voice sounded so unsteady.
“True. I was well in my cups, but certain details remain imprinted on my memory. Like the color of your gaze, the feel of your skin here…” He touched the hollow of her throat. “And here.” His hand slid over the ridge of her shoulder.
She shivered in spite of herself.
“But it’s your scent that truly marks you.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled slowly, filling his lungs with the humid air. He held it for a long moment, savoring it like a fine wine, then let it out with a whisper-soft whoosh.
Kate felt her toes curl as the breath caressed her face.
“I would know it—and you—anywhere.”
“Clearly, you have a knack for sniffing out trouble,” she said. “Yes, I was another person in another life. But if you dare make mention of it to anyone, I vow, I shall… I shall…”
“Shall what? Cut off my tongue with that dainty little dagger of yours?”
She clutched at her basket to keep her hands from trembling. “For once in your life, try to behave like a proper gentleman.”
“Why should I? You most certainly didn’t act like a proper lady.”
Jerking back, Kate tried to twist away, but Marco tightened his hold. The slap of the wet leaves was cold against her burning cheeks.
“You are a beast.”
“And you are the infamous Belladonna, the bold-as-brass cutpurse thief who eluded Naples harbor authorities for a month before disappearing into thin air.”
“You men make it laughably easy to avoid capture. With your brains pickled in wine and your trousers tangled around your ankles, you don’t react very quickly.” And yet, Kate was intimately aware of how easily his lean, muscled body moved to cut off her retreat. The stretch of his shoulders blocked the light, trapping her in a swirl of shadows.
“Si, you caught me off guard. Don’t count on it happening again, bella. I very rarely make the same mistake twice.”
She knew it was dangerous to taunt him, yet she couldn’t help herself. “And that fact pricks your pride?”
Despite the shade, his tawny eyes seemed to blaze with a molten fire. “You fucked me, Kate.”
“Actually I didn’t. I merely stole your purse.”
“And I intend to make you pay for it.”
Her mouth opened and shut several times in silent outrage before Kate could manage to speak. “It was a paltry amount,” she whispered. “But go ahead and name the price for your silence.”
“Oh, it’s not money I want from you.” Marco inched closer. His thighs were now touching hers.
“Th-then w-what?” To her chagrin, her voice broke. The air around them seemed to crackle with tension, and she could sense the power coiled in his hard, masculine body. “If you think I have jewels or South Sea pearls, you are sadly mistaken.”
“No? Then we’ll have to think of some other forfeit.”
“I cannot believe my ears. You would stoop to blackmail, sir?”