by Renee Rose
Pedro was too fine a servant to show any reaction to the unusual situation.
Though it was inappropriate, he entered the chamber meant for Celia and settled himself on a stool. The sisters moved as one to sit down on the edge of the bed, facing him. Lucia clasped Celia's hand in support.
"Tell me."
Celia's eyes jerked to his, clearly surprised as the directness, or perhaps it was the brevity of the command.
She swallowed. "I am ruined. Pregnant." Her candor was equally brief.
"Whose child?"
"The Duke of Tuscany."
Marco raised his eyebrows. The Duke of Tuscany was a notorious rake. Where Marco sought his pleasure with ladies of the night, the Duke, a married man, seemed to delight instead in being the ruination of reputable young ladies. Seeking redress from him for this child was not out of the question, but it would probably prove fruitless, despite the fact that his wife was a cousin of Marco's.
"Who did this to you?" He indicated her face with a wave of his hand.
Her jaw set. Her eyes went nearly vacant and fixed angrily on a spot on the floor between them. "The carriage driver. I had hoped to beg you for the fare when I arrived, but he preferred...a different sort of payment."
"He raped you?" His voice sounded sharp, and it jerked her out of her fixed stare. He didn't mean to say it so bluntly, but there wasn't a delicate way to ask.
She met his eye and nodded once, slowly.
He surged to his feet, pacing, his skin prickling with vengeance. "When? Just now?"
Celia opened and closed her mouth. Thinking his pacing was frightening her, he stood still and waited. "Yes. At the base of the hill, before the road that leads to your property."
"What sort of carriage? What does he look like?"
"He is skinny. Ugly. Ratty old carriage with mismatched horses—one brown, one white. His name is Tonio."
Marco stormed out, running down the stairs, calling to Pedro to bring his sword. This drew attention, and it took no effort to gather a large band of men eager to ride out and seek retribution for the dishonor of a lady. After all, everyone had seen or heard of Celia's state when she arrived, and Lucia had begun to win favor with most of his staff, so her sister would also be held in high regard.
As Marco mounted his steed, he considered how changed his life was. For the second time in the course of a month, he was willing to kill for a woman.
* * *
Celia's nose throbbed. Her sister placed her thumbs on either side of the bone and adjusted it with a sickening click.
"There. It will heal, and no one will ever know it was broken."
Her nose was the least of her worries at the moment, but her sister did know her well. She would hate to have her face ruined, too. Her reputation was bad enough.
Lucia and her serving maid, Ana, stripped the bloodied gown off her, and Lucia lent her a fresh chemise and dressing gown.
"Do you think he means it? That I can stay here?"
"I'm sure he would not make a promise he didn't intend to keep." Lucia chewed her lip, her brow furrowed.
"I'm sorry," she said miserably. "I know this is awkward for you."
Lucia wrapped her arms around her from behind and pressed her cheek against her shoulder. "Hush. It will all work out. Don't think of any of that now. You're here and you're safe. That's all that matters."
Tears burned her eyes, and she turned around and hugged her sister tight.
The sound of hoof beats came from the courtyard, and Lucia pulled away and dashed to the window to look down. "He's back." It wasn't until she heard the relief in her sister's voice that she realized how worried she'd been.
She moved to stand behind her and watched as the men dismounted and handed their reins to the stable boys who led the animals away. The count glanced up at the window, as if he sensed them watching, and Lucia's face lit up.
"You're mad about him, aren't you?"
Lucia turned around and nibbled her lip. "Yes. He's wonderful. And terrifying. I love him very much."
She wanted to ask more about the 'terrifying' part, but she didn't have a chance, because the door swung open and the count entered.
"I have dealt your justice."
It was gallant—so much more than she deserved. She walked to him and dropped to kneel at his feet. He caught her elbow and pulled her back to her feet, as he had with Lucia when she'd bent to beg him to allow her to stay.
"Thank you, my lord. I cannot thank you enough."
He released the hand at her elbow. "Get some rest, Celia. I'm sure you are exhausted."
She curtsied. "Again, I thank you."
He held out his arm for Lucia, and she watched her sister's face light up as she came forward to take it. She didn't want her sister to leave her yet, but it was nice to see how she glowed in the presence of her husband.
She took the count's advice and went straight to bed, her face still throbbing from the bruises the driver had given her. It seemed like she was barely asleep before the pain in her abdomen woke her up. Cramps—dull, but quite painful—gripped her lower belly. Maybe this pregnancy wouldn't stick. The thought came as more bitter than sweet. If she were going to miscarry, why couldn't it have happened before her father had found out she was pregnant and thrown her out? Why now, when she was already disgraced and completely ruined?
She felt a dampness between her legs and got out of bed to verify it was blood. Indeed. The cramps worsened—a sharper more urgent pain now. She sat on the seat of the wooden privy and passed large, liver-like pieces of bloody tissue. When the pains eased, she curled up on the floor, not wishing to get the count's bed bloody.
She dozed off and then woke to the pains again, repeating the process on the privy. Curling back up on the floor, she tightened into a ball, the pain becoming so sharp now she groaned out loud. Lucia—dear Lucia—ever connected to her, appeared, kneeling beside her.
"What is it, Celia? The baby?"
She heard herself groan. "Yes. I'm losing it."
"Can you move? Why are you on the floor? Does it hurt?"
The panic in Lucia's voice made her own fears grow. "Too much. Blood. For the bed," she whispered.
Lucia passed her candle down her body and hissed when she saw the amount of blood. "I'll be right back," she said. "Everything will be all right. Don't worry."
The tone of her voice was all Celia needed to know she had good cause to worry. There were no secrets between twins.
She closed her eyes and then the count was there. "Dear God. Why is she on the floor?"
"She didn't want to get your bed bloody."
"You think I care about the damn bed? Go quickly and tell Pedro to send for a midwife."
The count knelt over her, and she heard a tearing sound that she couldn't identify at first. Then—oh God, it was her shift—he was tearing it off her. Her hands fluttered weakly as she tried to stop him.
"Shh. I'm just getting you out of this shift—it's soaked in blood."
Naked and bleeding, her humiliation was complete when he blew out his breath and ran his hand along her bottom and the back of one of her thighs, feeling the criss-cross of raised welts there. "Was this your father's work?" he asked grimly.
"Yes," she whispered.
"He used a horse whip?"
She nodded, turning her face toward the floor to hide it. He scooped her easily into his arms and carried her to the bed, settling her there and pulling the covers around her. He sat beside her and stroked her hair. Though it was wrong for her sister's husband to see her naked and touch her this way, there was something so comforting about it, that the embarrassment she'd felt moments before melted entirely. Why he was being so kind to her, she didn't know. But then, sometimes people had treated her and Lucia as if they were interchangeable—one person in two bodies. As if, because they knew one twin, they believed they knew them both. Maybe he felt close to her because she was so like Lucia.
"I'm sorry to cause you such trouble," she mumbled.
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"Shh. It's all right. We'll take care of you."
Lucia appeared and pulled a fresh shift over Celia's head. She climbed into the bed next to her and put an arm around her waist. The next thing she knew, a midwife had arrived who made her drink a horrible hot draught. She dozed a little, then woke to horrible cramps again. Lucia and the midwife were still there, helping her to the privy seat, tucking her back into the bed. The night continued that way until finally the cramps stopped, and she just felt weak.
She woke in the morning with Lucia's arm wrapped around her waist. The count spooned Lucia's other side on the edge of the bed, his arm draped over her waist. Lucia opened her eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment, acknowledging what they had just been through. Then she flicked hers to the count. "He's handsome."
Lucia smiled a little and nodded. "Yes."
"He's good to you." It was an acknowledgment, rather than a question. It seemed to her he wouldn't have taken the trouble over her if he didn't love Lucia very much.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry to put you in this—"
"Don't."
She didn't go on. She and Lucia knew each other's thoughts without having to speak them. "What do you think he'll do with me?"
Lucia propped her head up on her elbow, her brows knit. "I don't know. If he allows you to stay here openly, it will end his relationship with Papa, and I don't think he'd be willing to do that. Not to mention the social calamity you would cause."
"Perhaps I could stay here secretly."
Lucia nodded. "Perhaps." She didn't sound too hopeful.
"I don't care, Lucia. I could stay as a servant. I'll work in the kitchens."
"Yes, and no one will ever guess you're my sister," she said drily.
"Indeed." She sighed. "If only I'd lost the baby a month ago."
"I know. I'm so sorry, Celia."
"I have no one to blame but myself. And wishing won't change my fate. Do you think he'll send me to a nunnery?"
Lucia stared at her with wide eyes, knowing it would be a fate worse than death for her. "Would you go if he did?"
Completely discouraged with the conversation, Celia's eyes filled with tears. "What choice do I have, Lucia?"
Lucia just stared at her, unruffled by the snappish tone she'd used. From behind her sister's head, Celia saw another pair of eyes studying her.
"He's awake," she hissed and ducked her eyes, immediately feeling foolish for speaking as if he couldn't hear her. What a coward.
Lucia looked over her shoulder, then took the hand draped over her waist and pulled it higher, so it cupped her breast with her fingers intertwined over his. It was as if her breast were the handle that he was supposed to be holding if he were awake. She found herself flushing at witnessing the intimacy of it. Remembering how much he'd seen of her the night before made her flush even deeper.
Forcing herself out of cowardice, Celia lifted her eyes to meet those of her sister's handsome husband. "I'm sorry for—"
"Forget it," he cut her off.
"Did you hear all of that?" Lucia asked him.
"Yes."
Celia felt herself blush again.
"You may stay here, Celia. I don't give a damn about your father. I don't give a damn about you tarnishing my reputation, either. But Lucia's will surely suffer, and I'm not sure that's fair to her."
Lucia's eyes had filled with tears of love or gratitude. She rolled over to face her husband. "I don't care. Will you really let her stay here? With me?"
The count nodded and smoothed a strand of hair away from Lucia's face. "Of course," he said gently.
"Thank you," Lucia breathed. "I love you." The count kissed her sister on the forehead. He didn't say he loved her back, a fact which Celia couldn't help but note. She wondered if that was the first time Lucia had spoken those words to him.
* * *
"My lord, I think you should appoint Celia to the position of steward here." Lucia gave him a coquettish look, because she knew it was a very bold request and she wanted to soften it to sound like she was jesting, in case he took offense.
Marco raised one eyebrow at her and looked from her to Celia for a moment. It had been two weeks since Celia's miscarriage, and she seemed like she was back to her old self, albeit her normal verve was somewhat subdued. Lucia had recruited Celia's help with the grapevines, which had kept them both occupied. She loved having Celia there to help her experiment with solutions to the mildew, adjustments to the irrigation and ideas about the new plantings.
She loved having Celia there, period. All the things that used to annoy her about her sister now seemed endearing after being apart for so many months. She and Celia were beyond grateful to Marco for taking her in and accepting her, despite her folly. They had determined that helping make his dreams of a fine winery a reality was the best way they knew to repay him. Hence, the offer.
"Well, you still need a steward. And Celia wishes to earn her keep. She is completely qualified!" That last part came out a might defensively, and she peered a little anxiously at her husband's handsome face. He was giving her a strange look.
"Of course she's completely qualified," he said soothingly. "But she's also a lady. I don't want her puttering about here like a working man."
Lucia drew a breath to retort, but Marco held up his hand. "Don't worry, I promise I will get someone who will take direction from a woman this time." He peered at her.
She stopped, arrested. "Did you know Arturo would not listen to me?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Did you ever tell me such a thing?"
She flushed, irritated he was able to make that point with her again. "I asked you first," she insisted, stubbornly.
He smirked at her impudence, appearing amused rather than offended. He looked at Celia. "Do you see what I must endure?"
Celia giggled. Lucia smiled reluctantly. "So you did know?"
He nodded. "I noticed. I was trying to rectify it. This time I will be sure it's understood as a requirement for the position. If a man can't admit a woman might know more than he, he's too damned big of a fool to work for me."
Lucia and Celia both beamed at him, and he sat back in his chair and smiled affectionately back. "It's nice to have the two of you," he said. "Not that one wasn't perfect," he added hastily, glancing at Lucia. She smiled and shook her head to show she wasn't offended. "It's just that I love that smile and having it doubled is a treat." Lucia felt herself flush with pleasure at that.
Growing up as a twin, she never felt altogether separate from Celia. She didn't have jealousies, really. They shared so much—and now, introducing her to her new life, she wanted Celia and Marco to love each other as much as she loved each of them.
So she felt no sense of possessiveness when that night in her chamber Celia said, "So...he said he liked you doubled...do you think that means in bed, too?" She was posing alluringly in her dressing gown, waggling her eyebrows with a wicked grin.
"Celia!" She felt herself blush at the idea, but had to admit it appealed to her.
"Come, sister. It would be fun, don't you think?"
A slow grin spread across her face. "Well...there's only one way to find out what he likes, isn't there?"
"Do you think he'll be pleased?"
"He'll either be thrilled, or he'll spank us both."
"No!"
"Maybe. I've found sometimes he bites before he barks. But don't worry, I don't think we'll offend."
Giggling and whispering, they agreed to enter his chamber dressed only in their dressing gowns and to drop them at the same time for full effect. They arranged themselves, and she took Celia's hand and knocked at the door between her chamber and Marco's.
"Come in, cara."
She opened the door, and they both came in together. "We have a surprise for you," she said softly.
He raised his eyebrows in question and then raised them even higher when they simultaneously dropped their robes. They walked slowly to where he was reclining on his bed and cra
wled up on either side of him.
If she had any doubt of his interest, it erased when she saw his erection straining at his pants. She put her hand on it, while Celia stood on her knees, rubbing her breasts in his face.
Marco groaned. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" His voice sounded deeper than usual.
Celia snaked her tongue in his ear and pulled his shirt over his head as Lucia crawled around in front of him and with his cooperation, peeled his pants off.
"Just showing our appreciation." Lucia let the last word sprawl out slowly in a low, breathy voice. She placed her mouth over his sex, sucking on the outward stroke, caressing with her tongue on the inward.
Marco's eyes rolled back in his head as he groaned in pleasure.
Celia continued treating him to the full pleasure of her breasts as she offered first one, then the other of her nipples for suckling.
Marco put one hand on the back of her head and one hand on the curve of her sister's bottom and moaned, "I'm in heaven."
"Yes," murmured Celia in his ear.
"Mmm," Lucia hummed into his cock, which made it stiffen and jump even more. When her jaw grew achy, she released him, coming up for a break.
"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I just don't want it to end."
Celia crawled around and took her place. "It doesn't have to, my lord," she purred, taking over where Lucia had left off.
Lucia moved to the side of her husband to offer her breasts up and he took one nipple into his mouth while curling a finger inside her. It was her turn to gasp.
Marco pulled away from Celia after a while and urged her up next to Lucia. "Lucia, lie on your back and spread your legs. Celia, lie beside her."
Lucia complied, and when Marco climbed over her, she gripped his cock and guided it into her sopping entrance.
Marco slipped two fingers between Celia's legs, pleasuring them both at once. Lucia found her enjoyment was amplified lying next to Celia, hearing her moans at the same time. She came quickly and Marco paused as she shuddered, then pulled out and rolled her to her belly, to enter from behind. She arched back at him, clawing the bedspread with her fingers, groaning with a pleasure so hot and intense, she felt like she'd burst into flames. She heard Celia orgasm, then Marco did, pulling out, then she climaxed again with a cry, using her own fingers to finish. It was incredible.