His hair was past his shoulders, thick, neatly trimmed, not in the least unkempt or matted. His eyes were very blue; ice blue, a cool color that swept over her in a quick assessment.

“Are you all right?” he asked in English.

“Yes, fine?”

“You should look where you’re going.”

“Yes, of course, I am sorry?”

“Ragnor! Ciao!” Anna Maria said, interrupting.

“Anna Maria, ciao, bella,” the man replied, his Italian sounding, to Jordan’s untrained ear, as unaccented as his English. He broke into a rapid spate that left Jordan catching only a word or two as he kissed Anna Maria on both cheeks and she enthusiastically returned the greeting.

Lynn, in turn, greeted him, then indicated Jordan and suggested they switch to English.

“Ragnor, Miss Jordan Riley. Ragnor is a friend to all of us at the shop, and Venice. Jordan is new to Carnevale.”

“Welcome, then,” the man said. He greeted her in like fashion, taking her shoulders, stooping slightly to kiss both her cheeks. She had the strange feeling that he wasn’t really all that pleased to welcome her; the lips that touched her cheek seemed cold and brusque. She was almost tempted to pull away. She didn’t return the gesture.

She was American, after all; she wasn’t expected to kiss in the European fashion.

“How do you do, and again, excuse me,” she murmured.

Tall, very tall. As tall as the man with whom she had danced at the contessa’s ball. The wolf who had been so courteous?and who had swept her from the bloody “performance” to send her from the palace.

But this man didn’t seem to know her. Not so much as a flicker of recognition touched his eyes.

How many people in Venice were this tall? Come to think of it, how many people anywhere were this tall?

More than one, she reminded herself dryly. And though Italians were often stereotyped as being small and dark, she had met many tall people here, and many with light eyes and hair.

“Were you at the contessa’s ball last night?” she asked, deciding that a straightforward question might be the way to find out.

“No,” he replied.

Did the slightest flicker cross his eyes then? Or was she as paranoid as Jared seemed to think she was?

“Ragnor wouldn’t be at the contessa’s,” Lynn said, pleased. “He thinks she is obnoxious.”

“Lynn,” Anna Maria chastised wearily.

Ragnor was still staring at Jordan. With displeasure, she thought. Paranoia!?

“It is what you said, Ragnor, isn’t it, when we ran into her at the cafe?” Lynn persisted. She looked at Anna Maria. “I am not divulging secrets?I am trying to make Jordan feel better about not liking her.”

“I never said that I didn’t like her,” Jordan murmured.

“I would not be on the contessa’s guest list,” Ragnor said simply. “You were going somewhere; I should not keep you.”

“We’re going back to the shop,” Anna Maria said. “Our break has been too long. Were you coming to see me? You are going to the artist’s ball tonight?”

“Yes, yes, of course. And I will be by.” He again kissed Anna Maria and Lynn on both cheeks, and offered Jordan a hand?American style. “Nice to meet you, Miss Riley.”

“Thank you; you too,” she said. He hadn’t been glad at all to meet her.

“You should come soon. We are trying to talk Jordan into vinyl for the fun tonight. You could give her a new perspective,” Lynn said.

“Perhaps,” he said politely, then indicated with a polite sweep of the hand that they should go on. They did so, Anna Maria and Lynn already into a discussion of what would be right for the artist’s ball for a man of his height.

“Who is he?” Jordan asked as they walked, briskly now.

“Ragnor is ... a businessman,” Anna Maria explained.

“We have known him just a little time,” Lynn explained.

“You have known everyone here just a little time,” Anna Maria reminded her.

They had nearly reached the shop.

“He isn’t Italian, is he?” Jordan persisted.

“No,” Anna Maria said.

That should have been followed by, “He is German, Austrian, American, or so on.” But Anna Maria said no more.

“He reminds me of someone I met last night.”

“That’s quite impossible,” Lynn said. “He is right; he would not be on the contessa’s guest list. When what I call ‘the old guard’ are about, he is among them. That day, we were at the cafe . . . and the contessa arrived. They must have met elsewhere. When they were introduced, they were cordial, but you could see the hostility between them. He left. Do you know what I think?”

“I’m afraid we’ll find out,” Anna Maria said.

“I think that she is jealous of him. He has no title, no history here, but there is a rumor that he comes from an extraordinary family. He is not in the least showy or pretentious, but people want to be near him.

He has a charisma, you know? Something compelling about him.” Anna Maria sighed. “He is a handsome man with a powerful appearance. And he is intelligent and interested in art and history?and Venice.”

Lynn grinned. “And he’s built like?as we say in America?a brick shithouse.” Anna Maria rolled her eyes. “Lynn speaks with such class in her expressions.”

“I’m trying to teach you real English,” Lynn said with a sigh. “I want you safe on the streets of Brooklyn, should you choose to go there on a trip to America.”

“Oh, really?” Anna Maria said. She paused directly in front of the door to the shop. “What Lynn is trying to say is that she has the hots for this man big time, and that she would give an arm and a leg to get it up with him.”

“To get it on with him,” Lynn said with a mock sigh. Her eyes flashed as she giggled. “He is the one who gets it up.”

Anna Maria gave a deep sigh. “Come, Jordan, and try your vinyl outfit on again. Raphael is going to insist that you wear it, and you should. It’s terrific on you.” Despite the many people in the shop, Raphael saw her instantly and moved through the many groups of people looking at art pieces, masks, and costumes, to reach her. “Vinyl, yes! We’ll dress you up one more time!”

“Sure, vinyl, why not?” she agreed. “And a really good mask, Raphael, so no one knows me!” She lowered her voice and smiled. “They’ll still be whispering about me enough!”

“Let them whisper?be outrageous!” he said. “Come, come.”

CHAPTER 3

Nari was tired, bored, hungry and restless. Last night, with the disaster at the party, she’d not been able to enjoy a thing.

She should be resting, and she should not be wandering through the streets so casually, even in a mask.

She had a certain position to maintain. But she couldn’t sleep, or even relax, and so she donned a mask and went out into the streets.

Um . .. she was definitely ...

Hungry.

She needed to find someone with whom to dine.

Not to mention the fact that she didn’t want to be home.

She didn’t want to be caught resting by uninvited visitors. Because he would come. Of course. He’d been watching her, waiting. He thought that he’d come in, make demands, and force her to change her ways.

Ah, but he didn’t know the half of it.

He didn’t know who was in Venice now and with whom she had been keeping company.

Still... she had such a headache! She had no intention of coping with him today.

She was startled to feel a sudden sense of nostalgia, of loss. Of pain. It had been seeing him again.

Remembering what had been. Wanting. . .

Once upon a time ...

Once upon a time was over and gone.

And still ...

How she hated Americans!

With a mental shake, she forced it all from her mind. The pain she was feeling was simply hunger.

She wandered around St. Mark’s Square, listening to the band that was playing, watching for someone

... alone, someone who might want to share some time with her.

She tapped her foot impatiently to the music. Such silly people came to Carnevale. Those with money who might spend an entire year planning a costume. Elegant costumes to be sure. Ridiculously uncomfortable. A group dressed as the moon and the stars walked by, and all with clothing that required tremendous wiring for the streaks of white and silver and gold that streamed from the stars. They couldn’t possibly sit; they were entirely showpieces.

Many couples passed in traditional masks that covered the entire face of the wearer. Others passed without costumes. Many of these people had taken tour buses in from the poorer, often war-torn towns of eastern Europe. They were not so finely dressed. They came to gawk. Often, they had nowhere to stay except for their buses. They had little to eat. It was actually a kindness to befriend such a person.

Their lives were so pathetic.

All men were born to live, suffer through life and then die. That was the way of it. With these poor people . . .

She watched, then noticed the American woman, Tiff Henley. She was not in costume. She was attractive?older, but attractive. She was a woman who moved, who saw, who took all that she wanted.

If the way to acquire what she desired happened to be unpleasant, so be it. Nari had heard that the woman’s last husband had been close to ninety?but had taken longer to die than Tiff had anticipated.

Tiff must be making up for it. She was staring into the window of one of the most expensive jewelry shops in the Square.

Nari smiled and started for her. Tiff would love to be invited to lunch.

But then, a stout man with graying hair came up behind Tiff, joined by two younger men in capes and bizarre masks. They all stared into the window, pointing, talking, arguing the qualities of the items displayed.

Another woman came up and joined them.

Nari sighed and shook her head.

There were too many people with Tiff Henley. Nari didn’t mind charming a few of those beneath her status in her quest for company, but...