Della Tomasso nodded. "Stiff land breeze coming. Maybe a storm, later."
The row up the Guidecca canal against the wind was a stiff one. After a while, Kat decided that even the risks of rowing quietly through town were worth it. It would cut her distance in half and avoid rowing against the wind. There was definitely a storm coming.
* * *
Benito walked out of Barducci's. The place had been thin on company, and full of uneasy knots of people. Even the music that Valentina and Claudia chose tonight had been careful. Things were just too explosive in town. Rumors were circulating that a small galliot had arrived from down-gulf, bringing news of the blockading fleets. Rumor had everyone from the King of Sicily to the Ilkhan intervening.
"We should side with Milan." "We must call on Rome." "A pact with Emeric of Hungary." Ha. According to what Benito had been able to pick up at Casa Dorma, the Case Vecchie were in the same confused state. And the Doge wasn't doing a coherent job of leading.
Benito shimmied up an ornamental pillar, grabbed a cornice and headed for the rooftops. The streets weren't safe tonight; and why take a gondola, when he was short of exercise and liked the view from up here anyway? Mind you, it wouldn't be pleasant up here for too long. The wind was starting to blow.
He came down to canal level to cross a bridge over the Rio di Muti when he noticed a familiar gondola tied up there. A lousy mooring--a rotten old pole, half under the bridge shadows.
Maria? What was she doing here? This was way off her usual routes.
There was something in the bottom of the boat. Very cautiously, Benito pulled the mooring. The something in the bottom of the boat sat up, a bright sliver of steel in her hand.
"Maria Garavelli?" said Benito incredulously. "What are you doing here?"
"'Nito? Are . . . are you looking for me?" There was a curious pitiful hopefulness in her voice.
"No . . . I was just going past." Benito took a liberty. He climbed into Maria's boat. You didn't do that without permission. Benito knew then that something was seriously wrong. She didn't react. "What's up? What are you doing here, Maria?"
Scudding clouds cleared the moon-crescent, shining down on Maria's face. Those were tear tracks. Benito ignored the knife still in her hand, moved uneasily down the rocking boat and hugged her. She clung to him. This wasn't like Maria. He'd never seen her like this. She was always so tough. Even when she'd gotten away from the Dandelos . . .
"What are you doing out here, Maria?" he asked for the third time, gently.
"I . . ." She sniffed. "I've got nowhere else to go, Benito."
Benito had a sinking feeling in his gut. He knew the answer before he even asked. "Caesare . . . the apartment . . . ?"
She swallowed. "He threw me out. I came home this afternoon . . . he was making love to another woman."
Benito didn't know what to say, so he just held her. It was the right thing to do. "He said . . . he never loved me. He used me, Benito. He used me. And I loved him. I wanted him so badly. Am I so ugly?"
"Lord and Saints no! You're really . . . well, when I saw you in that outfit of Kat's I thought you were one of the most beautiful women in town."
"You're a smooth talker, Benito Valdosta." But she didn't let go of him.
"No, it's truth." A dash of the old Benito audacity returned. "You feel pretty good too."
This didn't get him the slap it would've normally earned him. She leaned against him instead. It made the gondola rock, dangerously. "I'm too thin and my feet are too big."
Benito clicked his tongue. "Now what man is going to look at your feet?"
"So what do you look at, Benito?"
Benito realized he was in dangerous and unfamiliar waters. "Um. I like your eyes." He was aware of curves pressed against him.
"And what do you like about my eyes?"
"Uh, the way they spit fire when I look any lower down. Um. Not too low." He hoped turning it into a joke would at least ease things.
She pushed him away. The moon was out again, and a small, sad smile trembled at her lips. She tugged at the cords of her bodice-lacing. His eyes almost popped out of his head as she spilled her breasts out of her bodice. The white curves were hypnotic. The nipples stood out sharply in the moonlight. "You mean these?"
"Uh. Y . . . yes," stammered Benito.
Maria's voice was still sad, questioning, doubtful. "Benito. I need someone to make love to me. To kiss my breasts. To tell me they're beautiful. To tell me he wants me . . ."
Benito Valdosta found himself suddenly very dry in the mouth. "They're really really beautiful. They're . . . they're . . ." His biblical lessons with the Dorma pastor came to his rescue. "They're like twin does, it's, it's . . . from the Song of Solomon," he said thickly.
She smiled a little. "Come and kiss them now, Benito." She lay back on the duckboards, and pulled him down with her.
Benito found himself exploring a nipple gently with his tongue, her belly with a fumbling hand. He was both more excited and more . . . awkward feeling . . . than he could ever remember. This was no young boy's eagerness. Even Benito understood that for the first time in his life he was seized by a man's passion. Not for any girl, but for a particular woman. Maria! He was almost desperate in his desire to please her.
Gently! he told himself. But Maria was having none of it. She was caught up in her own passion--and a more furious one even than his. Her hands were tugging at his breeches cord. The boat rocked wildly as he attempted to help.
"You'll have us over, you fool!"
That sounded so like the old Maria, that Benito paused. "We shouldn't be doing this. . . ." His body was betraying his mouth.
"I asked you to, Benito," she said, a hand guiding. "I need . . . aaha!"
And after that there was no more talking for some time. Nothing coherent, at any rate.
* * *
"I think there's more water in the boat than in the canal," Maria said, laughing softly. "Ooh. I am going to have bruises. Duckboard stripes on my behind." The arms that held him tight didn't seem perturbed.
Benito felt the trickle of water down his neck. "I think some of it is because it's raining."
"Oh, hell. These are my only clothes."
Benito stretched, feeling her underneath him, muscled yet soft. "Um. Well, I've got some ideas about that. You can't sleep out here."
"I haven't got anywhere else, Benito," said Maria. "I'm not going back to the Garavellis'. The cousins were very unhappy about my moving in with . . . with Caesare anyway. I'll sleep under bridges. Take me a few days to find my feet, get together money for a place to stay."
"What I was going to say is . . ." The next words came out in a rush: "There is our--Marco's and my old place--in Cannaregio. It's got no windows and it's pretty noisy, but well, it's a roof. Got some spare stuff there, too."
She was silent for a few moments. "I don't want to be beholden." There was a shutdown in that voice. Pure canaler pride.
Benito shifted position slightly, shivering. The wind and drifts of rain had taken the heat out of what had been a sultry summer evening.