The Palace by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page B

go!"
    "Estasia…"
    Her fingers tightened. "I didn't mean it. I didn't. Francesco,
I didn't
mean it
!"
    Ragoczy stopped, neither resisting nor relenting. Then slowly he reached out
to touch her splendid flesh. "Tell me, bella Estasia: do I leave or stay?"
    Eagerly she guided his hand over her body. "Stay. Yes, stay." Already her
breath had quickened and she moved nearer to him. "Forgive me, Francesco. Show
me you forgive me."
    His appetite for her was already sated, but he felt her need rising again. He
leaned across her and kissed her deeply.
    "That's better," she said with a knowing smile as she looked up into the
handsome, irregular face above her. She touched his dark hair and tweaked one of
the loose short curls that clung to his head. "I like your hair, Francesco. You
scent it with sandalwood, don't you?"
    "Yes." His lips lingered over the delicious softness of her breasts. Estasia
sighed, but there was an air of discontent in her response. "What is it?" he
asked, interrupting his expert arousal.
    Estasia closed her mouth petulantly. "Oh, you will be angry if I tell you."
She pressed his head to her lovely body. "Do that some more."
    But Ragoczy held off. "Are you regretting our delights? Do you wish now that
I were like your other lovers, and would take you as they do?" There was no
accusation in his words, only a gentle inquiry. "You needn't be ashamed to say
that to me, Estasia. I know you have desires I cannot meet."
    Suddenly she was all contrition. "No, no. You are more than any of the
others. Truly, Francesco. No one has pleasured me as much as you do. But…"
    "But?" he prompted kindly.
    She gathered her courage and asked in a rush, "Francesco, are you a eunuch?"
    Ragoczy's laughter surprised her as much as the amusement that glowed in his
dark eyes. When he could speak he said, "No, Estasia, I am not a eunuch. As you
should realize."
    "But I
don't
realize it," she objected. "You've never… never…"
    "Filled you?" he suggested lightly as his small hands sought out her intimate
joys.
    "Filled me, pierced me. I have never had your body
in
me." She moved
her legs to accommodate his hand. "Oh. Oh, yes. There. There."
    A knowing wry smile curved Ragoczy's mouth as he explored Estasia's passion
to the limits. In the last moments she was transfigured as her spasms shook her,
and her face was the face of a saint in holiest ecstasy.
    When she was calmer he said, "Do you still think I'm a eunuch?"
    She answered slowly. "I don't know. I'd hate it if you had another woman whom
you loved as other men do."
    He pulled back her heavy chestnut hair. "Rest assured, I have not touched a
woman in that way since I was very young. And that was a long, long time ago."
    "You are not so old."
    "Am I not?" He reached to the foot of the bed and pulled her sheet up to
cover her.
    "No older than Laurenzo, certainly, and he is little more than forty." She
pulled her pillow nearer.
    "I am rather more than that," he said dryly.
    Estasia was drowsy now, and her hazel eyes were fuzzy with sleep. "Truly?"
she mused.
    He smiled in the golden gloom. "Sleep, Estasia. It is late. Already there are
birds singing in the fields and there is a faint glow in the sky the color of
silver." He rose and blew out the candles. A soft gray light hung beyond the
window and framed him, a darker shadow in the darkened room.
    "You will come again, Francesco? Say you will come again." Even half-asleep
there was urgency in her words.
    "If that is what you want," he said.
    "Yes. It's what I want." Her voice trailed off and in a moment the window was
empty and Ragoczy was gone.
***
    A letter from Laurenzo di Piero de' Medici to the Augustinian monk Fra
Mariano:
     
To the reverend brother of San Agostino, Fra Mariano, Laurentius Medicis
sends his grateful thanks on this, the feast day of the patron saints of his
house, Cosmo and Damiano.
    It is with a humble heart that I write, good Brother, for you have been of so
great worth to our