Borgia Fever by Michelle Kelly

Marco seemed to quiet, his thrashing stopping, but he was sweating and panting, eyes closed, oblivious now to his surroundings. All she could do now was watch and wait.
    Bella stayed by his side all day, mopping his brow when the fever hit him, giving him the specially prepared herbal tincture when his parched throat cried for water. She thought he wasn’t aware of what was happening, until he clutched her hand, saying her name in a raspy voice.
    â€˜Bella.’
    â€˜I’m here,’ she said, clasping his hand in hers, hot tears stinging her eyes, ‘I’m here.’
    The cardinal came in and out, praying, and the physician hovered, more interested in Bella’s ‘cure’ than he was concerned whether Marco lived or died. A maid brought her food and drink, and the Pope himself briefly came by and said a blessing, his face white. Bella was hardly aware of any of them. She kept her eyes on Marco, her lips moving in silent prayer, willing him to live. Finally, when his breathing had slowed and his fever seemed to be cooling, she gave in to her exhaustion and fell asleep, leaning over him with her head on her chest. Just before sleep overtook her she felt his hand rest weakly on her hair.
    When she woke it was the next morning, the dawn light dim through the one tiny window. She sat up with a start, looking down at Marco, her heart leaping at the sight of him. He was breathing regularly, and when she pressed her hand to his forehead there was no sign of fever. His eyelids fluttered at her touch. He opened his eyes and smiled at her weakly. His face was deathly pale, but he was alive. He was alive. She grinned at him, feeling as if her heart would burst.
    â€˜Bella,’ he said, lifting his hand as if to touch her, then dropping it again as the effort proved too much. ‘God’s teeth, I feel rotten.’
    â€˜You need to rest. For at least a few days,’ she said softly, suppressing a smile at the look of horror on his face.
    â€˜I have things to do,’ he protested. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.
    â€˜Even you are not invincible,’ she pointed out as she sat back up. ‘Although that poison would have killed a lesser man.’
    â€˜It might, if you hadn’t been here. But you’ve put yourself in danger.’ He looked agitated and she stroked his face.
    â€˜We’ll find a way around it. My lady isn’t completely heartless. Have I not just saved the life of her brother’s favourite? That must count for something.’
    â€˜But now you will never get away from them.’ Marco looked haunted.
    Bella took a deep breath. ‘Then there is no reason for us to be parted. I can stay here, with you, if of course you want me to.’
    Marco closed his eyes briefly, and fear that he would still profess to not want her gripped her like a vise. But when he opened them they were soft.
    â€˜I would have pushed you away to keep you from this, Bella. I wanted you to go home, forget me.’
    â€˜I would never have forgotten you.’
    Marco looked deep into her eyes, his near brush with death making him want to be honest with her, to drop his mask. He had been given a second chance at life, and he intended to take it with both hands.
    â€˜Nor I you. I never thought to feel like this about a woman. In just one night, you have bewitched me.’
    â€˜It was quite a night,’ she agreed, a mischievous smile on her lips, and bent over to kiss him again. He responded weakly at first, then grew stronger, sucking on her lower lip in a way that made other parts of her throb. A small cough behind them made her straighten up in surprise.
    At the bottom of the bed stood Cesare Borgia, looking the picture of health and not at all as if he had just spent the last two days drinking and cavorting. He gazed at Marco with concern. Even so, Bella could sense the menace that hung around him, and she