About Masque
by Julia Talbot
164 pages
ISBN: 1-933389-67-2
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
When Massimo Rossi meets Piero at a renaissance Florentine masked ball, he finds instant attraction, and instant trouble. Piero is not all he seems, hiding secrets from Massimo even as he loves him.
Family intrigue abounds, from cousins who lurk in the shadows to protect their kin to mistresses who dally with their maids. With poisonings, swordfights, and love hot enough to set even a renaissance palazzo on fire, Masque is a can't miss, exciting ride.
Review
Review by James Buchanan, author of My Brother, Coyote
Renascence Italy, Machiavellian Plots and really hot guys; who could ask for more?
As usual Julia Talbot delivers with two pairs of sexy men and a plot full of more twists and turns than a Florentine labyrinth. We get good-wives and not-so-good wives. Good men, bad men and really sexy men scheming and loving in Italian villas. Murders, attempted murders, lies and passion… did I mention passion? Lots of it and hot as a Mediterranean summer. Masque is definitely a fun, steamy read.
Sample
'I think Giada and I will retire now, Massimo.''
Massimo di Rossi lifted his green and gold feathered mask and smiled at his brother, lifting his cheek for a kiss. He got one on both cheeks, Dante's rough hands snagging on the fine brocade of his doublet.
''You are far too fond of your wife, Dante,'' he replied. '''Tis unseemly.''
''So they tell me. Still, you know how I hate these things.''
Si. He knew very well how Dante felt about balls and masques and having to dress in finery. He preferred the wilds of Sicily to the hospitable bustle of Firenze. Still, he had come at Massimo's request for the family's midsummer ball without complaint.
Well, without too much, at any rate.
''You might do well were you more fond of your own wife.''
Massimo snorted. ''She is as easy to love as an eel.''
''Baked in pie she would be more to your taste then?''
He laughed aloud. ''You have the luxury of fondness with Giada. Remember that I married Serena for other reasons and be done with it.''
''Si, si. She has retired?'' There was that slightly pitying look of a man in love, and Massimo gritted his teeth on his smile.
''She has. And with you taking your provincial ways off to bed, I may begin to enjoy myself.''
Dante nodded, hand clasping Massimo's shoulder again, squeezing. ''Do that. But have a care. Your wife's family is about.''
He would not roll his eyes. In fact, he did not, for which he was most proud. Serena's family could go straight to Hell, and take all of their little political machinations with them for all he cared. Tonight was for debauchery.
''Buona sera, Dante,'' he said, cutting off further discussion in that vein. ''I will see you tomorrow. We will talk, hmm?''
Dante searched his face, then nodded, his usual stoic mask falling into place. ''Si. At breakfast, hmm? Giada and I will stay at least through Mass on the rest day. Buona sera, brother.''
After Dante left him, Massimo sipped his wine, staring at the crowd of people dancing a canarie. Such bright plumed birds they were, with their sparkling gold and silver fabrics, their glowing jewels and their elaborate masks of leather and feathers. It was not one of them he sought, however.
It was the one over in the corner, dressed in black as glossy as a raven's wing.
Normally Massimo would dally with a woman at such affairs. It was much more acceptable to his lady wife, after all, but his attentions focused too strongly on his prey, a member of the elite guards newly employed by the public to keep the peace.
Strong legs encased in indecently tight hose, along with a snowy white camicia under a still brocaded black doublet that showed off broad shoulders, proved that this was a man, not a boy, someone mature enough to be interesting.
His wife would heartily disapprove.
Perhaps that was why Massimo moved, slipping his mask back into place and making his way lazily through the crowd. Here a woman in red velvet with rolled sleeves and a prodigious bosom stopped him to compliment him on his cook, waving a trailing piece of tripe under his nose. There a Medici cousin stopped him to talk treason, and Massimo handed him off to another young firebrand, who might entertain him with ideas of poison and passion.
Finally though, he made his way to the side of his soldier, bowing rather formally to begin his assault.
''Buona sera.''
''Buona sera, signore.'' The guard bent formally as well, one muscled leg presented in a most pleasing manner.
''I could not help but notice your somber attire. Truly, it stands out against the crowd.''
''It befits my office, signore Rossi.''
Ah. So he was already at a disadvantage, despite the mask.
''And what is that?'' he asked, though he knew very well the black was an affectation of the Otto di guardia e balia, as the guards were called. ''And what is your name?''
A faint smile curved the mouth under the mask, and it occurred to Massimo to hope that the man was not pox scarred or ugly. ''Piero, signore. Piero di Miggliozzi.''
''And where do you come from, Piero?''
Like Massimo, the man was clearly not born and bred Florentine. The patterns of his speech said as much.
''My family comes from Ravenna, signore. But I left there when I was a child.''
Oh, the fellow became more intriguing with each citrus scented breath. Massimo turned to a nearby table and broke off a piece of a spun sugar representation of David and Goliath. It was unusual to meet a man like himself, who had seen other places, who had not been in Firenze his whole life. Interesting, as well, for if a man was desperate enough to leave the safety of friends and family in these
treacherous times, he was usually fleeing something.
''Your father. He was in trouble?''
Piero laughed, drawing rather shocked looks at the heartiness of the sound. ''No, signore. He was an artist. He went where the patrons commissioned him to go.''
''Was he any good?''
That earned him another laugh, and people began to mill about them, always drawn to something they might be missing. A single wave of his hand sent them scattering like pigeons, though.
''He did well enough. We did not want. And you, signore, your family is from Rome?''
Now came his own turn to laugh aloud, albeit wryly. ''My family are everywhere.''
He sighed, looking about them as two ladies of the Pitti family sidled up. ''Walk with me?''