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her body begin to loosen, adapting to his, and she caught the rhythm, moving in answer to his thrusts. He made a guttural sound, deeper still, and she felt a shudder run across her body.
    â€œMore,” she whispered, and he moved faster, harder, and he took her hands and wrapped his own around them, his mouth on hers.
    Strange feelings were rippling through her body, and she fought it, afraid. “Let go,” he whispered in her ear, arching over her, staring down at her as his hips pumped, his thick, hard penis sliding deeper and deeper. “Just…let…go.”
    She shook her head, distressed, unable to speak as something dark and terrifying seemed ready to sweep over her. She didn’t want it, she wanted safety, she wanted…
    â€œLet…go…” he said. “Don’t fight it. Let…go.”
    â€œDon’t…want…” she gasped, and then it was too late. She seemed to explode, as her body went rigid and darkness shut down around her. Wave after wave shook her, and as each one died another took its place. Then he slid his hand between their joined bodies, touching her, and she cried out, as she felt him fill her with his seed. When she fell back, weeping, he collapsed on top of her, panting, unable to catch his breath.
    Reality came back, slowly. He pulled away from her, getting up, and she was afraid he was leaving her, but he was back in a moment, a wet cloth in his hand, and he lay back down beside her and began to clean her, with gentle, loving hands.
    And then he gathered her into his arms, holding her against him. His heart was still racing, his hold on her tight and protective. “I think,” he said after a few minutes, “that we should get the hell out of here. Marblethorpe is not a pretty sight when he’s thwarted, and I really don’t feel like killing him.”
    She rubbed her face against his chest like a kitten. “Aren’t we locked in?” she murmured sleepily. “I don’t know if I can climb across the balconies like you did.”
    â€œOh, you saw that, did you? I should have known you weren’t really asleep. The thing is, I’m a very resourceful man. Marcello may have taken possession of the household keys, but I have one tucked away in here just in case I wanted to keep people out. I never thought anyone would be trying to keep me in.” He sat up, reaching for his discarded clothes. “Simpson has already packed and taken enough of my clothes with him to tide us over until we reach England, and if I know my valet he’ll have been able to provide something suitable for you as well. Simpson’s a most excellent valet.”
    She sat up in the bed, her hair covering her, and watched him. “Am I going to leave in my underwear then?” she asked, pulling on her shift as he tossed it to her.
    He glanced at her. “I think you’re going to need to be totally indecent and wear some of my clothes.”
    â€œI’m not going to look like a boy—my hair is too long.”
    â€œThis is Venice, my love. No one will care.”
    My love. It was a casual endearment—surely he didn’t mean it. “And what about your organization of degenerates? What will happen to them?”
    â€œClearly there’ll be no midnight ritual deflowering of a virgin, unless Marblethorpe can find another. In Venice it’s unlikely,” he said with a grin. “As for the Heavenly Host, I bequeath them to Wesley and his friends. Whether I like the idea or not, I expect to be quite busy enough with you.” He tossed her a pair of blue satin breeches and a loose white shirt.
    She looked at him. “You don’t like the idea? You certainly don’t need to feel obligated….”
    He moved back to her and pulled her off the bed, into his arms. “The only obligation I ever listen to are my own desires. I realized something when I was deep inside you.”
    His words