He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. Still, his suspicions were so strong, that he ordered Mendez to remain on guard near the spot all night, and, by the promise of a large reward induced two other men to keep him company. “I will go,” he said. It was an easy one to smell early on, Sebastian had taught her: anything reproductive. Spurling, squeezing Jack's arm, and pushing him towards the door, "and, don't come here again.
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