The Dark Heart of Florence by Tasha Alexander (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

when he did come into my head, it conjured no lingering fondness or desire. I despised him. For a while, at least. Eventually, I came to the place Alfia had promised I would eventually reach: a place where I felt nothing for him, no more sadness or grief or even a remnant of the slightest twinge of love. I’d come to terms with that awful part of my past and no longer let it haunt me.

Until he came to my house.

Agnolo’s death was so recent that my servants would not have let any other visitor in to see me except my family, but who would deny a priest the opportunity to console one of his former parishioners? A maid brought him to my favorite room in the house, one decorated with wall paintings of parrots and trees, a place that had always felt to me like a sanctuary from the world.

He looked very much as I remembered him, but with more lines around his eyes. Much though I hate to give him any compliment, they made him more handsome. His intrusion should have angered me, but instead it brought me the greatest pleasure I’d known since our final encounter in that little room off the cloisters in Santa Trinita. Not because I still loved him, but because as he stood there in front of me, close enough that I could have touched him, I realized that even his presence caused in me no stirring of emotion.

“I am most sorry for your loss, Signora Portinari.” His manner was formal, but he looked deep into my eyes as he spoke.

“I appreciate your condolences, Father Cambio,” I said. “Truly, though, there was no need for you to come. I have all the spiritual support I need.”

“I have missed you, Mina. You are as beautiful as ever. I don’t know how I let you slip away from me.”

“I had nothing to do with it. You pushed me away.”

“You must forgive me for that,” he said. “I was weak, so very weak.” He stepped closer; I backed away.

“There is nothing to forgive. What happened years ago no longer matters. You should not have come here.”

“I never dared hope there would be a time when I could come to you again. Your husband’s death, though tragic, shows how the Lord opens doors for us just as others are closed. When I heard the news, I was compelled to seek you out.”

“Why? Are you now willing to leave the priesthood? Is that what the Lord compels you to do? So that you can marry me? So that you can find the child—a son—I gave away?” As I said the words, I could hardly fathom that I’d ever hoped for any of it.

“A son, was it?” he asked, coming closer again. I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Fabbiana would not tell me. She was very cruel to me when it came to you.”

“She’s too good for you,” I said. “She told me everything. About the other girls, the other babies.”

“They were never like you, Mina.” He reached out and touched my hair. “Did you name him?”

If he had asked any other question I would have stormed out of the room, but he was the only other person on earth who shared my connection to the boy. I wanted to tell him our child’s name, wanted to speak it aloud. “Diotisalvi.”

“A beautiful name.”

I glared at him. “It means God save you. Having been abandoned to grow up in an orphanage, he will need all the help our Savior can provide.”

“Do not be hard on yourself, Mina. There was nothing else we could do.” Now he was touching my cheek. The sensation of his hand against my skin almost brought me to my knees. My body, betraying me, burned hotter than any fire. My breath came hard and ragged. “I knew you missed me, too,” he said.

“I don’t miss you.”

“You should not lie to a priest, Mina. I see how your cheeks color. I should hear your confession and then we can proceed as we used to.”

“No,” I said, and stepped away from him.

“There’s nothing to fear,” he said. “It’s safe for us now. Your husband has not long been dead, so even if I were to get you with child again, everyone would assume Agnolo was the father. We can take our pleasure for the next few weeks—a month, even—without having to worry.”

“Take our pleasure?” I spat the words. “You disgust me.”

He took no notice of my venom. He smiled that lazy half smile I used to love. “I know you want me.”

“You observe signs of the most primitive sort of attraction, a physical response beyond my control. But I am no longer the girl you seduced years ago. I remember the punishment Dante meted out to sinners damned for their lust. I will not be battered with endless winds like them. I don’t accept that desire is something we cannot control.”

“It’s obvious that you want me, Mina. You’re flushed. Your eyes are bright. Your lips are parted in that way that always told me exactly what to do. Attraction like that between us is something no one can control.”

I hated my body in that moment, for he was right. Partly, at least. I did want him. I ached for the pleasure we had shared, but I knew I could control my body. “God gave us free will. I am not bound to act upon a passing desire, no matter how strong it is. Before, I succumbed, unaware of my strength. Before, I loved you so much that I thought I was powerless in the face of such emotion. I could deny you nothing. Now, though, I see my actions for what they were: an abdication of the responsibility that comes with free will. Never again will I allow you to seduce and abuse me.”

“You don’t know what you say.” He stepped forward again. This time, I did, too. Stepped forward, raised my hand, and with a