As England slides into Civil War, master-goldsmith and money-lender, Luciano Falcieri del Santi embarks on his own hidden agenda. A chance meeting one dark night results in an unlikely friendship with Member of Parliament, Richard Maxwell. Richard’s daughter, Kate – a spirited girl who vows to hold their home against both Cavalier and Roundhead – soon finds herself fighting an involuntary attraction to the clever, magnetic and diabolically beautiful Italian.
Hampered by the warring English, his quest growing daily more dangerous, Luciano begins to realise that his own life and that of everyone close to him rests on the knife-edge of success … for only success will permit him to reclaim the Black Madonna and offer his heart to the girl he loves.
From the machinations within Parliament to the last days of the King’s cause, The Black Madonna is an epic saga of passion and intrigue at a time when England was lost in a dark and bloody conflict.
As soon as they were alone, Kit slid an arm about her waist and said, ‘This is a privilege I’d not dared hope for. Have you really a letter for Venetia?’
‘Yes. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.’
‘Better and better.’
‘On the contrary.’ Kate eluded his arm to close the book-room door behind them and then faced him grimly. ‘It’s damnable.’
Quite slowly, the pleasure in his face turned to wariness. He said, ‘Something is wrong. What?’
She drew a long breath and gripped her hands together.
‘I don’t want to hurt you – but it’s become increasingly plain to me that the situation between us can’t go on. So I’d like you to release me from my promise.’
During the long silence that followed, her words hung unpleasantly on the air. Then he said abruptly, ‘Has someone been brow-beating you?’
‘No. Of course not. Though it is true that neither of my parents is particularly happy for me to remain neither formally contracted nor free. But --’
‘I don’t blame them. But that’s easily mended, isn’t it?’ His smile was tense. ‘I’ll have my father contact yours and we can be betrothed – perhaps even married – before Christmas.’
‘No,’ said Kate, annoyed with herself for stepping so neatly into a pit of her own making. ‘Kit, no. With things as they are, it would be a mistake.’
‘Ah.’ He rested his hands on the back of a chair and looked down at them. ‘The war.’
‘We can’t ignore it, can we? And I, for one, can see all too clearly what it’s doing to Celia and Eden to want to put you and me in the same position. Oh – I know it’s Celia’s nature to be discontented – but since she found herself trapped on what she considers to be the wrong side, she’s been ten times worse. And it’s tearing Eden in two. Do you want that?’
‘It wouldn’t be like that for us.’
‘How do you know?’ She paused to collect her thoughts, still determined to try and accomplish this without having to hurt him any more than necessary. ‘I won’t marry you while the war places us on opposite sides, Kit – and that is quite final. Neither do I see any point in continuing as we are. So I’ll ask you again. Will you release me from my promise?’
‘I don’t seem to have much choice, do I?’ Sighing, he let his hands fall to his sides and looked bleakly across at her. ‘What you’re really saying is that you don’t love me enough to take the risk … and I suppose that, deep down, I’ve always known it. I, on the other hand, have no such qualms – so you’ll have to forgive me if I can’t quite give up. I love you, Kate. Therefore, although I’ll do what you want now, I’ll be back when the war’s over to ask you again. You have my word on it.’
It was the very last thing she wanted but, because her throat already ached for him, she could not say so. And then, as she sought for some gentle way round it, the door swung open.
For an instant, sheer exasperation took Kate’s breath away and, when it came back, her first impulse was to scream with vexation.
‘God in heaven!’ she snapped. ‘Don’t you know how to knock?’
‘I beg your pardon.’ Luciano’s tone was courteously bland and there was nothing to indicate that he was drawing certain shrewd conclusions from the look on her face and on Mr Clifford’s. ‘In fact I’d forgotten that you were here and only came to collect a book your father was kind enough to say I might borrow.’
‘You’re leaving?’ asked Kate, sharply. And then, to cover herself, ‘What book?’
‘Machiavelli’s Prince. Richard tells me it’s recently been translated and I’ve yet to read in it English.’
It sounded reasonable enough. Kate didn’t believe a word of it. Before she could say so, however, Kit said quietly, ‘I, too, should be leaving. So while you find the signor his book, I’ll just go and see if Harry and Hugo are ready. Excuse me.’
Kate watched him walk across the hall towards the parlour and then looked back at Luciano. She said flatly, ‘Someone will murder you one day.’
‘That is not at all unlikely.’ He began scanning the book-shelves. ‘But I don’t somehow think it will be you, Caterina.’
‘If you’re going to start all that again, it almost certainly will be me! And please stop calling me that!’ She stormed over to the window-seat and snatched up a leather-bound volume. ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
‘Yes … and no.’ He took it from her and placed it on the desk. Then, closing in to lay his hands on either side of her face, ‘I’m considering something which I believe occurred to both of us at a singularly inopportune moment earlier on.’
Paralysed by shock, Kate stared unwinkingly back at him. And when no more clues appeared to be forthcoming, she said unevenly, ‘I don’t understand. What are you doing?’
He said nothing but his smile melted her bones and his eyes suspended her in liquid darkness. Entirely without haste, one hand moved down over shoulder and arm to her waist and drew her closer, while the fingertips of the other explored her cheek and jaw with tantalising lightness. She knew she ought to move or say something to break the spell but everything about him combined to mesmerise her; the curve of his mouth, the touch of his fingers, the faint scent of his skin. So she remained in his hold, letting the unfamiliar tide continue to flow tingling along her veins and ceased caring what motive – if any – possessed him. All that mattered was the warmth of his body against hers … and her own growing need to hold him.
Yielding to it, she slid her arms up around his neck and buried her hands in the long, crisply curling hair. He smiled again and, as if it was the signal he had been waiting for, finally bent his head to hers.
His lips were cool and firm yet lazily unhurried and the first touch of them made her breath hitch. The arm around her waist held her closer still and his other hand drifted enticingly up her nape to cradle her skull. Slowly, willingly, Kate’s mouth opened under his – and the world outside his arms promptly disappeared. The floor dissolved beneath her feet, flames licked her skin and suddenly she was drowning in fathom upon fathom of unimaginable sweetness.
It was more than she had ever dreamed of … yet still not enough.
She wanted to know the texture of his skin, the imperfect line of his shoulders, the flat plane of his back. She wanted more. She wanted him.
All the sensible denials and sterling resolves of the last two years fell away in as many seconds, leaving only one shining truth behind. She loved him.
The kiss stretched out into infinity … and ended too soon. Slowly releasing her mouth but still holding her close, Luciano looked first into the dilated green eyes and then, almost reluctantly, towards the doorway. And presently, coming back to earth sufficiently to be aware of his unnatural stillness, Kate stirred herself to follow his gaze.
Kit Clifford stood there, his face white with shock.
Luciano’s hands fell from Kate and he took a small step away from her … while heavy, airless and unpleasant, the seconds ticked by in silence.
Then finally, in a tone like splintering glass, Kit spoke.
‘I see now why you were so anxious to be free, Kate. It’s a pity you couldn’t bring yourself to be honest with me … but in the circumstances, I don’t suppose I should find it all that surprising.’ And with one last, bitter glance, he was gone.
The silence lingered. Kate discovered that she was shivering. Or shaking. She wasn’t sure which. She looked at Luciano. He was a trifle pale but otherwise seemingly composed. She had no idea what to say so she waited for him to speak.
Then, with a faint, crooked smile, he did. And the world tilted.
‘Forgive me, Caterina. Dirty tactics – but effective. And someone had to do it.’
She stared at him and he watched the significance of his words reach her by degrees; saw her eyes widen, first with disbelief and then with hurt; saw her realise, as he’d intended, that the kiss in itself meant nothing.
And because, in truth, he was angry with himself, he said a little roughly, ‘As I said, I’m sorry. But if Clifford loves you – if he really loves you – he’d never let you go without a very good reason. And now he has one.’
Winner of three gold medals for historical romance (Readers’ Favourite in 2019, Book Excellence Awards in 2020, Global Book Awards in 2022) and fourteen B.R.A.G. Medallions, Stella Riley lives in the beautiful medieval town of Sandwich in Kent.
She is fascinated by the English Civil Wars and has written six books set in that period. These, like the seven-book Rockliffe series (recommended in The Times newspaper!) and the Brandon Brothers trilogy, are all available in audio, narrated by Alex Wyndham.
Stella enjoys travel, reading, theatre, Baroque music and playing the harpsichord. She also has a fondness for men with long hair – hence her 17th and 18th century heroes.
Thank you so much for hosting Stella Riley today. xx
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