Snakes in the Garden

ALSO AVAILABLE BY VICTORIA ROBERTS:

Bad Boys of the Highlands series

Temptation in a Kilt—Book One

X Marks the Scot—Book Two

To Wed a Wicked Highlander—Book Three

Highland Spies series

My Highland Spy—Book One

Kilts and Daggers—Book Two

Kill or Be Kilt—Book Three

Kilts and Kisses series

Kilts and Kisses—Novella One

Tartans and Trysts—Novella Two

(Enchanting the Highlander anthology)

Plaids and Promises—Novella Three (Coming soon)

DEDICATION

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To our readers, for your love and support and encouraging the madness.

The Fang within the Rose

by Cass Wright

His home stands in stone ʼneath a Pictish sun, and he rides for the Stuart king.

Though London mocks his bearing rough in the halls where trumpets ring,

The flags there snap with splendor; in silken glory they proclaim

Lions and lilies and fields of snow with that bloody cross of shame.

I glide past rows of roses red, so fragrant in their bloom;

Though swan-like in my satins, I walk the secret ways of doom.

The midday sun shines warmly, but the breeze is cold upon the nape,

As one might dread a hidden thorn within the borrowed cape.

At court they swear the tongue to be the herald of their hearts,

But when the dance becomes a game, alas, the lie becomes an art.

Wishes, wine, and whispers flow when shadows walk by day;

And where the serpent coils the tree, the Reaper stalks his prey.

PROLOGUE

Venice, Italy, 1602

It was a simple question that I asked of you, Annella. How can you not remember your name?

I’m sorry, Father. I can’t recall. Is it Catherine?

Annella’s father sighed with exasperation and walked over to the window. As he gazed at the people ambling along the cobblestone street below, he spoke in a solemn tone. Your name is Philippa. Catherine was your name in France. I know how difficult this is for you, but you cannot hesitate if someone asks your name. You have to be ready—always.

My apologies, Father. I know that I should be more attentive. Although she was only twelve years old, Annella wanted to make her father proud.

Robert Poley was her sire’s real name, a fact he didn’t share with others. Only she and Uncle George knew her father’s true identity, and Uncle George wasn’t even her uncle. He was her father’s best friend, and for as long as she could remember, she’d always referred to the man as uncle. But at the moment, Annella was grateful she didn’t have to recall all the false names her father had used in the past on their travels. She had enough trouble trying to recollect her own name, for heaven’s sake.

Her father wore a doublet, slashed leather jerkin, and short, full breeches. A muscle currently ticked at his strong, square jaw, and his brown hair was graying at the temples. She moved to his side, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Of all the places they’d journeyed, she’d enjoyed the past year they’d spent in France the most. But here she was in yet another country, this time on a sandy island in the Adriatic. The sea protected them from any potential enemies on the mainland, and Annella and her father had a boat that could take them to the river mouths that led to the inland cities, which provided a quick means of escape. She supposed that’s why her father had chosen this remote location after they fled from France.

The sound of laughter drew her attention to the street below their town house. Three girls, who were not much older than Annella, giggled uncontrollably. All of them had long, dark hair as black as the night. Two of the girls wore blue day dresses with long ribbons that tied at the waist, and the other wore a lovely shade of green. Annella glanced down at her red curls and simple brown day dress and wondered if she’d ever feel like she had a place in the world where she belonged.

She stepped out of her father’s arms and pressed her hand against the frame of the window, longing for companionship she could never have. Warm fingers rested over hers and interrupted her woolgathering.

I sometimes wonder if this was a mistake. You should be with girls your own age.

The work you do is important. Annella wasn’t sure what her sire did for Queen Elizabeth, but she knew enough to recognize his assignments were essential to the success of the Crown. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters. You’re my family, and we shouldn’t be apart. I don’t think Mother would’ve wanted that for us.

Her father briefly closed his eyes as if he was thinking of a time long ago. You remind me of her more and more every day. Nevertheless, this is not the life I would have chosen for you. He rubbed her shoulder in a tender gesture, and his green eyes twinkled. My purpose as your father is to see you safe, in good health, and happy. There’s going to be—

I know you’ll always keep me safe and healthy, and as long as I’m with you, I couldn’t be happier.

A warm smile crossed his face. There’s going to be a masquerade this evening with dazzling fireworks. This will be your first time witnessing such an event. They’ll fill the night sky with every color you can imagine. There will be plenty of dancing and laughter, too. And did I mention there will be dresses? You know the kind of which I speak. Silk dresses that all the ladies wear, embroidered with lace and those fancy baubles. When Annella’s face lit up, her father asked, "Philippa, would you do me the great honor of allowing me to be your escort?"

She threw herself into her father’s strong arms. Yes! I’d be delighted. Then she pulled back with a look of concern. But I don’t have anything proper to wear.

That does present quite a quandary, doesn’t it? Perhaps there’s something on your bed that you’ll find to your liking.

Annella spun on her heel and ran down the hall to her bedchamber. Her eyes darted across the room, eager to find the present her father had left for her. Lying across the foot of the bed was an emerald dress that had tie-on sleeves adorned with green ribbons. The gown had a stiffened bodice, square neck, and full skirt. She traced her hands along the top and then down to the long embroidered skirt, letting out a sigh of contentment. Her father’s gift was the finest garment she’d ever seen.

Do you like the dress?

She glanced over her shoulder. No. When her father’s eyes lit up in surprise, she blurted out, I love it! Embracing him, she squeezed the poor man with all her might. Thank you!

He gestured for her to sit on the bed, and then he knelt before her. I was waiting to give this to you when you were older, but I can’t think of a more perfect time. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a necklace. This was your mother’s, and I know she’d want you to have it. He brushed Annella’s hair to the side and stood to place the pearls around her neck.

She glanced down, studying the charm that hung on the center strand of white beads. A thistle?

Her father’s eyes held a touch of sadness. That’s Scottish thistle from your mother’s home.

I wish I had known her.

She would’ve been very proud of the young woman you’ve become.

Annella looked at him hopefully. Do you think so?

I know so. His eyes welled with tears. The necklace looks very becoming on you, as it did your mother. I love you, Anne.

Her heart pounded fiercely when she heard him speak her mother’s name. Annella was named after her mother, Anne, who had died in childbirth. Sometimes her father called her by that simple term of affection, and it brought a smile to her face every time. She didn’t hear it as often as she wanted since her name was always changing, but she was thankful to have a remembrance of her mother.

Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll change my attire for this evening and have the carriage readied shortly.

When the door closed, she donned the gown and found the matching silk slippers that her father had hidden under the dress. The material fit her body as if it had been tailored for her. She walked over to the window, and the extraordinary sight of the city spread below her. Feeling as if she were a speck of sand in a vast ocean, she took a deep breath, grasping her mother’s necklace for the courage to survive her newest adventure.

The cobblestone streets were wet from a brief rain that had passed through only moments ago, and now they glistened from the amber hues of the setting sun. Each structure in Venice had its own precise details and held its unique quality among the buildings in the city landscape. But what Annella favored the most was the slow drift of the gondolas that navigated the canals as if they rolled through wispy clouds.

Needing to clear the clouds from her own head, she made her way belowstairs to meet her father. Opening the door to the town house, she found him waiting next to the carriage and speaking with the coachman. As she approached, her father’s eyes beamed with