“If I were a man, I would,” I told him. I could tease him now without seeing resentment flare in his eyes. Marco might not have liked the way I’d thrust myself into his life, but in the end he was far too good-natured to hold a grudge for long. “You really should go now, Marco. Cardinal Borgia has the funeral rites to get through before he even starts thinking about the Conclave, and he’ll want a hot meal tonight.”

Marco rose, stretching. “Remember,” he said, taking my face between his hands and giving it a playful shake for emphasis. “Count all the spices twice or Madonna Adriana will dock your pay.”

“I don’t get paid.”

“She’ll dock mine, then.” He stood, still holding my face between his hands. “You know, Carmelina, I’m glad you’re not a man. I like you better this way. I should have paid more attention to you when you were running about underfoot in your father’s kitchens. Skinny little thing you were.”

“Still am,” I pointed out. “My sister used to say I looked like a basting needle.”

Marco wasn’t listening. “I should have . . .”

What? I thought. Married me when he was an apprentice; taken my skillful hands for a dowry? If he had, we might still be standing here in these kitchens—but we’d have babies, and I’d be so busy looking after the babies that I’d have no opportunity to cover for him when zara games lured him away from the banquets he was supposed to be preparing. No, it was better this way.

“Time to go,” I said again, and made a show of dusting off the table so I could turn away from his touch. Hopefully before he could feel my cheeks heat against his palms. My cousin was a fool, but he was a handsome one with his black hair lapping over his eyes. And I wasn’t immune to the touch of a handsome man—even if it was far more a sin for me to enjoy that kind of touch now than it had ever been when I was a girl, given what I had become.

No use dwelling on what I had become after girlhood.

“Shall I place a bet for you on the new Pope?” Marco was asking me as he shouldered into his doublet. “They’re running odds on Cardinal Sforza at three to one!”

The soft look in his eye, I saw with some amusement, had already gone.