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winced. "I can just see you back in the Renaissance presiding over a Medici court salon. You'd have the courtiers falling all over themselves trying to please you. They'd call you their flame-haired lady tyrant."

    Verity thought about that for a moment. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't most Renaissance court salons run by professional courtesans?"

    Jonas chuckled. "You did pick up a well-rounded education, didn't you?"

    "My father didn't believe in the formal educational process but he insisted I do one hell of a lot of reading," Verity said reminiscently.

    "You're right about some of the ladies who ran the salons.

    Think you'd like the life of a courtesan?" His eyes glittered teasingly between narrowed lids.

    "That career path has lost some of its luster these days, but it would certainly have been a viable option for a woman back in the sixteenth century. It was either that or the convent. Either avenue gave a smart, savvy woman a path to power, and either choice sounds better than the only other job available."

    "I take it you're referring to marriage?"

    "Uh-huh. Marriage doesn't have a whole lot to offer a woman now, but back then it offered even less. Just the chance to die in childbirth and the opportunity to be some man's personal, unpaid slave." Verity paused thoughtfully. "I think, on the whole, I would have chosen the career of courtesan. Sounds like more fun than running a convent. I think I might have enjoyed presiding over glitzy soirees full of intelligent, refined men and women. They used to sit around in gorgeous clothes and discuss politics and philosophy and poetry, didn't they?"

    "Among other things. The definition of social refinement was a little different back in those days. It was considered the height of sophisticated elegance if a man remembered not to scratch his crotch in public. Besides philosophy and poetry, the salon groups spent a lot of time talking about how to conduct love affairs. They thrived on romantic intrigue. The Renaissance was big on intrigue, remember. Any kind of intrigue. Political, social, or sexual."

    Verity sighed blissfully as the images danced through her mind. "Sounds fascinating. I'll assume the courtiers in my salons were sophisticated enough to remember not to scratch their privates in public. I can just see me now wearing a satin gown with huge, slashed sleeves. I would have worn a ring that had a secret chamber for poison, of course, just like Lucrezia Borgia."

    Jonas groaned. "Figures. I've got news for you: Lucrezia wasn't the witch that legend labeled her, just a lady who had a lot of bad luck when it came to marriage. And Renaissance poisons weren't nearly as reliable or as deadly as history implies, either. People worked hard on creating and testing them, but they lacked our twentieth-century knowledge of chemistry. Poisoning was a chancy business. When it came to killing, serious men usually opted for a dagger or a rapier."

    "Ah hah. I can see it now," Verity said with relish. "Duels in the street over a woman's honor. Men fighting to the death to defend their lady's good name." Jonas's hand stilled on her foot. Verity lifted her lashes halfway and found him studying her with an expression that was far too intent. His amusement had faded. In its place was something far more dangerous.

    "Would you enjoy seeing two men draw blood over the issue of which one got to take you to bed?" Jonas asked in an unreadable voice.

    Verity was horrified. "Don't be ridiculous. I was just joking. I'm not likely to have to worry about that sort of thing in this day and age. And I probably wouldn't have had to worry about it back then, either. I'm not the type men duel over. It's fun to think about being a glamorous courtesan, but the truth is, I'd probably have wound up in a convent. The women who ran the convents were good businesswomen, weren't they?"

    Jonas nodded absently. "Sure. Running a convent was like running any large business. There was a lot of