The Raven (The Florentine #1)(59)

“Now is not the time for theological questions.”

William paced to her left and back again. “Faced as I was with a dying woman, I had to make a decision. I could let her die, I could hasten her death, or I could save her.

“I thought about ending her suffering.” He paused his pacing. “I couldn’t do it. She hadn’t done anything to deserve the attack. Her death would have been a tragedy.

“I brought her here, to my home. She nearly died in my arms. There wasn’t time to fetch a doctor, and in any case I doubted one could help her. So I did what I could.”

Raven shuddered. “And what was that?”

William turned to face the illustrations and she was treated to the sight of his back, his wide shoulders and narrow waist. He was quiet, as if he were reading the answer to her question in the drawings of Dante and Beatrice.

“I used—alchemy.”

Raven stared at his back. “Like turning metal into gold?”

“Not quite. It took time and care, but she recovered. She was now my guest. I’d taken care of her. I’d washed her, clothed her, fed her.” William turned toward Raven. “Do you understand guest friendship? The rules of hospitality?”

She looked down at her lap.

“Um, I think Homer describes it. Guest friendship is supposed to govern how a host treats the people in his house.” She clutched the sides of the chair, her knuckles whitening. “Since you’re my host, you’re supposed to protect me and keep me safe.”

William’s eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as they fixed on hers.

“Precisely.”

He ran his fingers through his blond hair, pushing the strands back from his forehead.

“What happened to your other guest?” Raven fidgeted in her chair.

William put his hands back in his pockets. “I returned her to her life. Because of her head injury, her memory was affected. I was confident she wouldn’t remember me or the attack and I thought that was for the best. Her body healed and her amnesia would allow her soul to heal.”

“There’s no such thing as souls.”

“Call it a mind, then,” he growled. “In any case, I hoped that, having been restored by my good deed, she’d live her life and that would be the end.”

“But it wasn’t,” Raven prompted, still gripping the armrests of the chair.

“No. The woman began to draw attention to herself—attention that would lead to me. I tried to put a stop to it, but she persisted.”

Raven blinked. “What kind of attention?”

“Going to the Palazzo Riccardi and asking for me by name.”

“But that was a coincidence! I learned your name from Professor Emerson. If I hadn’t been missing for a week, the police wouldn’t have questioned me. And I wouldn’t have gone looking for you, thinking you had something to do with the robbery.”

William’s eyes glinted angrily, but Raven ignored his look. “You robbed the Uffizi Gallery and stole priceless pieces of art. That’s what caused this mess. Not me.”

William lifted his gaze to the ceiling and proceeded to address it. “A perfect example of the young woman’s absolute intractability. She will not listen; she will not heed advice.”

He lifted his arms in frustration. “What shall I do? Tell me. Shall I kill her and violate the principle of guest friendship? Or shall I try to reason with her? Again.”

Raven’s breath caught in her chest.

He strode toward her, his face a mask of fury.

“I told you to leave the city. You refused.”

“You broke into my apartment. You wouldn’t tell me who you were. It would have been irrational for me to listen to you.”

He leaned over her, his gray eyes piercing hers.

“I gave you something to protect you, but you called it ‘shit.’ Tonight you came to the attention of two people who saw me with you after you were attacked. It’s only a matter of time before they realize I didn’t let you die. My good deed will be exposed, along with my weakness.”

“What weakness?” Raven whispered, unable to look away.

“You.” He lifted his hand and brought it to her cheek.

Raven ignored the feel of his touch and glanced in the direction of the door. She felt panicked, as if she stood on the edge of a precipice. At any moment, her host could push her over.

And she was unable to run.

Her mind raced, wondering what would happen if she reached over to grab the candle. Could she risk maiming him in order to make her escape? Would she have the nerve to throw the candlestick at one of the paintings, and destroy a priceless work of art?

William’s eyes took in her reaction and he dropped his hand.

“What shall I do with you, Jane?”

Her eyes met his again.

He was staring at her with a conflicted expression. “Shall I prove myself devoid of honor by killing a guest in my home?”

“You said I was your weakness.” Her voice broke on the last word, her body shaking.

“You are.”

She cleared her throat. “If you kill me, all your striving was for nothing.”

William’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

Raven lifted a finger and touched the scar on her forehead.

“You said you didn’t mean for this to happen.” She gave him a searching look. “You wiped away the blood with your handkerchief.”