We were all silent for a minute.
“A third,” Dad said to Marcello. “That means that two of just this group, here, will likely die, if not all of us.”
Marcello met his gaze, and I didn’t like the man-to-man look they were giving each other. My heart grew heavy, slowed to a dull thud, pa-thud, pa-thud…
“And in Normandy,” Marcello said. “Your physicians can treat this illness?”
Dad nodded. “It is an old disease. And new medicines seem effective at stopping it.”
“So she would be safe there. You all would be safe there.”
“Far safer than here.”
“No. Dad…Marcello,” I began.
Marcello turned toward me, misery in every line of his face. He took my arm with one hand and touched my cheek with the other. “I’ve long told you that I want nothing but for you to be well, to be safe. How could you not tell me of this threat?”
“Nay, nay,” I said, feeling him slipping from me emotionally and physically as he dropped his hands and stepped away—as if he were disappearing underwater, growing dim in the darkness even while he was right before me. “There are no guarantees, regardless of where one lives!” I strode over to my father and switched to English. “In our world a tractor can end a life in an instant! Car accidents…murderers, plane crashes, new viruses…” I glommed onto that. “Remember Dr. Jeffries?” I asked him, glancing at Mom, too. “Remember how he was on site, working with you, and then, boom, forty-eight hours later he was dead.” It had been some weird virus that struck his heart.
I looked at all of them, lapsing back into Italian. “We are attempting to play God, when maybe God put us here in the first place.” Father Tomas’s words by the stream came back to me. I could see his stick in the river, the water dividing on either side. “We can only move forward with what we have been given. Negotiate the river of life. Of time. And we’ve been given this,” I pleaded, waving at our circle. “Family. Love. Joy. Life. Can we not embrace it, for as long as we have it? Isn’t it what we all most dearly want, deep down?”
They all stared at me, thinking.
“We could always make the leap back,” Lia said, “if we did get sick. The tunnel appears to heal.”
I nodded. “Yes. Mom, you remember the blood on me?”
She nodded too, looking a little green at the memory.
“But what if a virus is—” Lia began.
I interrupted her. “I almost died that day. Marcello, Luca—they sent us home because they knew it was our last hope. Dad,” I said, going over to him and again switching to English, “Marcello put my hand on the print. He sent me away in order to try to save me. You have to trust him, Dad. Trust him, as I do. He’ll put my life ahead of his, every time. And if you keep pressing him like this, he’ll have no choice but to side with you. To send me away without even trying at all.”
“Nella nostra lingua, per favore,” Marcello said. In our language, please.
“He’s generous like that,” I said, ignoring his request. “Giving. He’ll give up on what he wants, for me.”
Dad stared back into my eyes, hesitating. Then, “As a husband ought.”
I froze. “Are you saying…?”
He turned away from me and walked over to the cold fireplace, staring at it again for a moment, and then turned to Marcello and reverted back to Italian. “It is clear to me, m’lord, that my daughter loves you, and you, her.” He glanced at Mom, and she nodded. Then he looked to Lia, and she did the same.
He reached a hand out to Marcello. “Gabriella has rightfully pointed out that life is a risk—that our lives are in God’s hands—no matter where you are. And if you two wish to take that risk together, we shall stand beside you. Together we shall face what comes.”
Marcello glanced at Dad’s hand, then up into his eyes. “And if I wish to send her away, for her own good?”
A slow smile spread across Dad’s face, and then he laughed. “You may send them away, but you cannot keep them from returning, can you?” He cocked his head and looked at me, Lia, and Mom with pride shining in his eyes. “The Ladies Betarrini…you have yet to see what they can accomplish. ’Tis best to pay attention to their wishes and give it good weight.” He stopped and clapped Marcello on the shoulder, like a father to a son. “Learn that quickly, m’lord, and you are destined for a long and happy union.”
Chapter Twenty-four
We rejoined the others, thereafter properly ready to celebrate and dance and toast, to both Fortino’s memory and to my future as Marcello’s bride. I met up with the men that I had first met in Il Campo—Signores Salvatori, Bastiani, and Bonaduce—there to pay their respects. As I finished my fifth dance with them—a raucous peasant dance that left me breathless—I smiled at Father Tomas and joined him in the outer ring to accept his warm congratulations. We stood side by side, watching the others as they laughed and danced, Lia and Luca and Mom and Dad now at the center, coming together in a skip, hands raised.
Dad’s here, dancing. I couldn’t help it. Time and again, it struck me…that he was alive, that we were together. Maybe it was in visiting Fortino’s grave that Dad’s resurrection hit me anew.
“’Tis as Fortino wished, this,” Tomas said.
I looked over at him, quickly, trying to focus in on his words. “Fortino spoke of…this?”
“He neared death several times during his imprisonment in Firenze, when I was attending Lord Greco. Time and again, Lord Greco intervened, and Fortino renewed his hope to return here. To come home. But he talked of you, and of Lord Marcello…He often mused that if he didn’t live to return, that he had great hope for the two of you. That you would return to Siena from afar. And that Marcello would take you as his bride. He had such dreams for the house of Forelli.”
It made me want to cry, thinking of Fortino dreaming of, hoping for us. Me and Marcello. “I miss him,” I said simply.
“He was a fine man.”
I nodded and forced a smile as Lord Rabellino—one of the Nine I’d met in Siena—came up to us and kissed both my cheeks as he held my hand in his. “M’lady, this night you have not only made Lord Forelli proud, but all of Siena. A wedding between one of the Nine and a She-Wolf? Siena will have never seen what is to come.”
“Thank you, m’lord,” I murmured. I smiled, but I was thinking about my barefoot-on-the-beach dreams. Simplicity. Intimacy. Quiet. Guess that’ll be impossible.
Mom and Dad came over then and asked if we could talk. I glanced at Marcello, and he silently nodded, as if to say, I see you. Go, if you must.
Father Tomas and Lord Rabellino were already walking away, deep in conversation. I stared after them, curious what one of the Nine would want with the humble priest. I hoped he wasn’t going to offer him a job. Or a position. Whatever they called it. I wanted Tomas to stay here, with us.
Mom, Dad, and I climbed the turret, and we exited through the short, rounded door at the top. I knew that this night, with so many of Siena’s faithful celebrating, just outside the castle walls, that the guards would overlook my presence. Any approach on Firenze’s part would sound an alarm with plenty of time for us to take shelter. And I wanted them to see it, the view from the top.
We walked along the edge, toward the back of the castle, looking down at the people. I glimpsed Father Tomas’s face as he talked to Rabellino, and I hesitated, seeing alarm in his expression. I’ll have to find out about that later, I thought. Right now Mom and Dad needed me fully Present and Accounted For. They deserved that much. After all, they’d just given their permission for me to marry a fourteenth-century nobleman. How often was a parent asked to do that?
We paused in the center of the back wall and stared out over the valley beyond. We could see three massive bonfires and dark figures dancing past them. I had seen mountains of food exiting the castello over the last couple of days—Marcello’s nod to his people. Now I knew why. There had been no way to bring them all inside the castle gates.
“I feel as if I’ve reen
tered a dream,” Mom said, wrapping her arm around my waist as I leaned against the far wall. Dad came around to my other side, and I stood there a moment, just absorbing the sensation of both of them being present with me, shoulder to shoulder.
“I don’t know how to begin,” I said. “How to thank you both for trusting us with this decision. I know it’s a leap.”
Dad laughed. “When you jump nearly seven hundred years in time,” he said lowly, putting his hand on my shoulder, “it’s not a whole lot further to do this. It’s all a form of madness, really.”
“Or ultimate reality,” Mom returned with a smile.
We stared into the night for a time. Then Dad said, “We want to be sure we’re clear with you, Gabi. It is our understanding that if we are here when the plague descends, and either one of you become ill, we shall take you and Lia home.”
I let it sit a moment. I guess I’d heard it as a possibility, not a plan. “And what of Marcello?”
“He is one of the Nine,” Dad said. “He’ll be difficult to keep from Siena—”
“Which shall be vital,” Mom put in. “The cities suffered the greatest fatalities by far during the plague.”
“And if Siena is suffering,” Dad said, “he shall consider it his place to stay, will he not?”
I thought about that. “Yes. You’re right.”
“So we want you to consider it, Gabi,” Dad said. “Consider it fully. You may not be saying good-bye to Marcello now, but you may well be saying good-bye to him in the future.”
I swallowed, hard, glancing toward the dark silhouette of the hill where Fortino was buried. Where the eerie carved tomb of Marcello’s great-grandparents stood, beneath the scrub oak. Death and disease seemed to loom.
“I think the trick to living fully,” I said, thinking through each word, “is to appreciate what we have, day by day, regardless of what we know might come our way.” I took a breath and slowly looked from one of my parents to the other. “If I live in fear of what might be, how can I truly live my life to the full in the present? And if I do not give myself to the day, to hope, to life, what do I miss?” I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. “Life itself, I think. At least the way I wanna live it.”
I glanced at Mom, then Dad.
He looked past me, at Mom. “She’s ready, Adri. God help me, I think she’s actually ready to do this.”
Mom smiled at me as she stroked my hair. “They have to grow up fast, here. Gabi has seen far more than I ever would have imagined. And yet…I think it’s somehow made her exactly who she was meant to be. We’ve raised a lady, Ben. The future Lady Forelli d’ Toscana.”
Dad’s arm slipped from my shoulder, and he leaned his forearms against the wall. “So…I’ve heard that you are more safe as Marcello’s wife than you are as his intended.”
I frowned. “Who told you that?”
He shrugged. “Tomas, on the way back from Roma. And more than one person has told me so tonight,” he said, turning his head to gaze at the celebrants below. “We were wondering…” he started. “What we thought…”
“We wondered if you should marry sooner than later,” Mom put in, rescuing him as he tried to find the right words.
“Oh,” I said, trying to cover my surprise. “Siena…I think the republic will expect a William-and-Kate kinda thing.”
Dad sighed. “But what if…if you were married here, and then later the republic got their fairy tale wedding gig?”
I grinned and clasped my hands together. “Seriously? That would be perfect! I’ve been dreaming of something small—”
“Intimate,” Mom said, understanding right off.
“Right,” I said with a grin.
“Then later Siena can have her turn,” Dad said.
“But legally,” Mom said, “in the eyes of the Church—”
“And should anyone try,” Dad said, “to nab you again—”
“I’d be Marcello’s alone. Already claimed.”
“Right,” Mom said. “No more kidnappings with political intent. No more threats. We’ve had our fill of that.”
“Well then,” Dad said. “It’s done. I’ll speak to Marcello.”
When we returned to the courtyard, Dad moved off directly with Marcello, and I hurried over to Lia to fill her in. She gasped, and her eyes widened with surprise. “No. Way. They did not say that.”
“Way.” I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.
“How…how soon?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Dad’s talking to Marcello now. Tomorrow? The next day? Soon. Siena will be insane, once word spreads. And I assume Mom and Dad are right—that news of our engagement will just up the ante for people like Lord Barbato to raise their ugly pointy heads…”
Lia blinked. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Neither can I. And yet, Lia, I know I don’t want anything but this to happen.” My eyes trailed across the courtyard, searching for him among the waning crowds. I found him and stared at his handsome profile, the awe in his face as he absorbed what my dad was telling him at that very moment.
He looked quickly across the remaining guests, searching for me, and found me at last.
We smiled at each other, grinning like idiots. Not only were we to be married—we were to be married soon. It felt like I was floating. Like those cartoon characters bobbing from one cloud to the next? Totally me at that moment. Over-the-moon-dorky-in-love.
“Whoa,” Lia said. “You are history.”
“Ancient history,” I murmured dreamily, staring at my knight.
“So it’s really happening. We’re here for good.”
I looked at her quickly, trying to read her expression. Was she having second thoughts? “This will be it, Lia. Are you ready for that? To stay here, forever?”
She turned toward me and took my hands in hers. “Gabi, if you’re here, I am too. And not just because I can’t get back without you or we might lose Dad somehow on the way. Because I wouldn’t want to go back without you.”
I squeezed her hands. “Thank you, Sis.”
“Uh, I’m thinking it’s me that oughta thank you.”
I followed the direction of her gaze and saw Luca walking toward the Great Hall. Then I looked back to my man as Lia and I grinned and hugged.
Marcello turned to Dad then, shook his hand, and strode over to me. It was like a scene from a dream, watching him edge past strumming musicians and three men who had had way too much wine, past women who reached for him, mouthing, “Congratulations, m’lord,” and men who patted him on the back. All the while he kept his eyes on me. As if I were the only one in the entire castle.
“Gabriella. May I see you to your quarters?” he asked huskily, as he finally reached us.
“G’night, sis,” Lia whispered, edging away.
“I’d like that,” I said, barely able to breathe. I wanted to kiss him so bad.
Regally he took my arm, and we paraded toward the back of the castle and to the turret stairs. He opened the door and gestured for me to enter before him. I did so and waited for him under the flickering light of the torch. I glanced upward. No one else was within the tower.
And then he was there, crushing me to him, pushing me backward, into the wall, kissing me as hard and with as much passion as I had for him. He raised me up, his hands on my back, at my side, on my neck, his fingers crawling through my hair, as we kissed, as hard as I’d ever kissed anyone in my life. I wanted to be with him. One with him, always and forever.
He paused, even as I went on kissing him.
He stepped away from me at last, uttering a low groan, and put both his hands on my shoulders. “Enough,” he groaned in a pant. “I cannot take another moment.”
“Let us not wait,” I said. “Let us fetch Father Tomas and take our vows this night.”
He laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Do not tempt me. God help me, Gabriella, do not tempt me.” He took an end-of-his-rope hold of my head in his hands and smi
led into my eyes. “Your parents…we have asked much of them this night, and they have offered so much more in return. Let us do this as they see fit.”
“And what is that?” I asked flirtatiously, reaching up to touch his face and kiss his lips. “How long until I become yours, forever?”
He looked down at me with such intensity, I knew he totally wanted to kiss me again. “On the morrow,” he said.
I smiled. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Then I think I can wait one more night.”
He looked to the side, as if he was really wondering if he could wait too.
“But,” I dared in a whisper, “who would know if we didn’t?”
He stilled, but his eyes betrayed the weight of struggle that I felt inside. “God. And if it is He who has brought us together, should we not honor Him in this way?”
I considered him. The heat of him. The strength of him. The raw power of him, so close and yet so deliciously forbidden… “We should, m’lord.” But I couldn’t help it. I lifted my chin again, hoping he’d give in to at least one more kiss.
His mouth was so close to mine, I could feel every cool intake of breath and every hot exhale. He caved then, to my silent begging, kissing me, pulling me as close as he could—before he growled, stepped away, and took my hand, racing me up the stairs and down the hallway to my room.
He set me, dazed, in my doorway, my lips feeling swollen, my head fuzzy. Then he stepped away, hands up as if to fend me off. “On the morrow,” he said, almost angrily, as if I were disagreeing with him, “you shall be mine.”
I laughed under my breath. “You shall get no arguments from me, m’lord,” I said. It took everything in me not to step toward him, to entice him over the edge. I knew it wouldn’t be hard. It would only take one small, quiet, gentle kiss, right between his ear and jawline.…
I struggled against it. Against the pull of the power I now knew I wielded over him. Against the desire I felt within me.
But I couldn’t do that to him. To either of us. To our future.
We’d made a promise, and I didn’t want anything, anything to get in the way of that promise. I didn’t want our union to be less-than, tarnished, shadowed, robbed of its potential power.
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