For everyone except me. For everyone except Olivia and our child. He looked on as his father mounted and the two men rode down the lane and out the gates.
You have not won yet, Father. For as long as I draw breath in this world, I will find a way for Olivia and me to be together so that my son shall bear my name.
When they were no longer in sight, he turned and re-entered his villa.
Olivia stood in the entrance hall, her hands clasped before her. The sight of her never failed to astound him. The warm hues of her dark-colored widow’s gown deepened the cerise blush in her cheeks. Her swollen belly only added to her enchantment. Motherhood became her. He stood silent for a moment to absorb her beauty.
“Will your father be returning soon?” Olivia asked.
Luca shook his head. “Not right away, but soon.” He hated that he had been forced to keep her hidden away during his father’s visit, but there had been little choice, especially after his father’s strong reaction to her presence.
She assessed him with her piercing hazel eyes and frowned. “Your father comes to visit, and yet you look as if the walls of this villa have crumbled.”
He took a step toward her. “It is that obvious?”
Her mouth curled into a tender smile. “Yes, in the way you walk and in the misery of your eyes.”
Luca swallowed. He took her hand in his and led her to the cushioned bench against the wall of the entrance hall. “I have tried everything to be released from my betrothal, but –”
“I see,” Olivia interrupted, her voice stilted.
He pulled her to his chest for a consoling embrace. When they separated, he looked into her eyes. “My father wishes me to be wed much sooner than I thought.”
She glanced down and toyed with a tassel from her leather rope belt. “When?”
“In sixty days, but it will not happen, I assure you.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because it does not matter what law exists or what blood oath has been made. I will ignore them all to wed you.”
“Impossible.”
“It is not impossible. An error in the betrothal contract could release me from my obligation.”
“Has there been an error?”
Luca shook his head. “Not one that I have discovered yet. To make matters worse, if I don’t follow through with the marriage, I may face charges by my bride’s mother, but I would gladly face those consequences if it means we can spend our lives together.”
She glanced swiftly up at him and rested a finger against his lips. “I would never wish such trouble upon you. You must marry. There is no choice.”
“I disagree. I’ll take my chances.” He rubbed his forehead and pulled her to him, but she nudged him away.
“Luca, it is best to find a way to end this between us.”
“No, be patient. You must have faith. I will find a way out of this mess.”
“Please, do put false hope between us,” she said. “I cannot bear the disappointment.”
As she spoke, he saw her sorrow, could feel how her heart must be breaking.
“Luca, I will not be the cause of strife in your life. You must do what is right. You must marry Giustina.”
He raised her chin with his fingertips. “That is where you are wrong, bella. Victory is always within one’s reach if desire and effort are present. And I possess plenty of both.” He lowered his head to kiss her, for with Olivia in his arms, the world, so askew, would shift once again and feel right. He found comfort with her. God only knew how little of that was to be had.
She turned her head to the side to avoid the kiss, her body stiff, unyielding.
“Luca, I mean every word. You must marry Giustina.”
“You cannot mean that.”
“With all my heart, I mean it.” Olivia rose and walked slowly away, secretly wiping away her tears.
80
Olivia pulled the needle threaded with golden filament through the linen under-tunic she was repairing for Luca. She had decided to embroider his rampant lion crest on it. She paused to examine her work. Only a few more stitches and her project would be complete. Pleased with the results, she set it aside.
Just then, outside her window, she heard the clatter of horses’ hooves. With one hand on her lower back and the other gripping the armrest of her chair, she rose. In these final days of her confinement, constant discomfort assailed her. The sweltering summer heat did not help, making sleep an elusive pursuit. Olivia stood behind her bedroom curtains, watching Luca’s family and friends arrive in a procession of horses and conveyances for the wedding.
The baby kicked good and hard and she sucked in a sharp breath.
She recognized Luca’s father, who dismounted from the same gelding he had ridden when he last came. He helped a woman step down from one of the carriages. She wore a russet-colored brocade gown and tucked her hair neatly into a crespine; although not beautiful, she was elegant in appearance. She charged toward Luca and flung herself into his arms with warm exuberance. His mother! Luca always spoke about her with deep affection. She kissed her son’s cheek.
Olivia brought both hands to her stomach and felt more hearty kicks and rolls from within. How different her life would have been if her mother had not abandoned her. That was why, more than anything, she wanted her child to enjoy and know both parents.
Beside Luca’s mother stood a young man of Luca’s height, but of different coloring. It must be Lorenzo, Luca’s twin, she decided. Equally as handsome, he carried himself less ruggedly. When the two exchanged hearty pats, she knew she had guessed correctly.
From a second carriage, a man with a limp helped a middle aged, darker-haired woman step down. Beauty still illuminated the woman’s round face. Her wine-colored silk gown shimmered in the sunlight. Luca greeted her with reserve. Olivia assumed her to be Giustina’s mother.
All heads then turned to the young woman who stepped from the carriage behind her. Luca, accompanied by his parents and brother, made his way over. She wore a deep blue brocade gown. Luca stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed it. Olivia sucked in a sharp breath and froze at the sight of the woman she knew must be his bride, Giustina!
What she had fought so hard to accept all these months suddenly became real, something she could now visualize. For all her mental preparation, the sight of Luca with his future wife cut through her like a splinter of metal. Never would she forget this vision of the beautiful young woman, surrounded by the love of family and friends, and Luca.
Giustina stood tall and slender, elegant in her rich gown, while Olivia felt as swollen as a pig’s bladder in her overly large household gown.
She watched Giustina’s reaction to Luca. She smiled, but it was brief, and she seemed reserved in his presence. Almost immediately, she craned her neck toward Lorenzo and said something, which made him laugh.
Olivia could tolerate no more of the painful sight and turned away. She took a seat in the padded chair beside her bed, her body aching and fatigued with carrying the extra weight, ankles and fingers swollen. The elation she had undergone these past few months alone with Luca evaporated like water on hot stone. She looked down at Luca’s over-tunic. It would be a wedding gift; it was all that she could give him. Tears blurred the sight of it, and she set it on a chair lest she stain it. She lay on her bed, curling up as best as she could. Only then did she allow her agony to surface, weeping until exhausted, until sleep covered her in a blanket of nothingness.
81
A gentle nudge on her shoulder roused Olivia from exhausted sleep.
“Olivia, your brother is here to see you.” The voice belonged to Rosina.
Olivia battled the fatigue that kept her in its grips and slowly opened her eyes.
“Your brother is here,” Rosina repeated.
Brother? She had no brother! Eyes wide open, Olivia beheld Nanino standing at the foot of her bed, his face puckered in a harrowed frown.
Rosina placed a tray on the nightstand and hovered over her.
“How wonderful to see you again, sister.” Nanino emphasized the word sister with a wink the housekeeper thankfully did not see.
“You never mentioned you had an elder brother,” Rosina said, her voice doubtful.
“That’s because my wayward sibling rarely comes to visit me,” Olivia chided in a sleepy, mocking tone.
“And a good soul he is, too,” Rosina added. “At first I didn’t believe him, but he was so persistent to see you, I knew he could only be kin.”
“And if I had known the villa was run by such a comely woman as you,” Nanino grinned at Rosina, “I would have brought you a pretty posy.”
“Basta! Basta! What a charmer he is, this brother of yours.” Rosina’s cheeks flushed and she batted her eyes.
Olivia suppressed the desire to roll her eyes. Over the years, whenever they had ventured forth from the abbey to market or church, she had noted the effect Nanino had on women. Beneath his gruff exterior, his innate ability to endear females to him was impressive. Like horses, he instinctively knew how to charm them, draw them, and instill trust.
“My good woman,” Nanino said as he gave her a bow. “I must speak to my sister alone, but when I am done, I will return to the kitchen where we can finish the wine and olives you set out for me earlier.”
Rosina smiled and turned to Olivia. “I’ve brought you some hot soup and this morning’s bread. I’ll come back for the tray later.” After casting one last lingering look at Nanino, Rosina swept from the room, her steps more buoyant than ever.
When the door closed, Nanino moved to her bedside. “Olivia, what is the matter? You look terrible.”
Those were words she least needed to hear. Olivia guessed that her eyes must be swollen from sleep and tears. Nevertheless, she was determined to put on a brave face. “Didn’t anyone tell you it is improper to be in the bedchamber of a lady who is not your wife?”
His mouth fell open at her retort; obviously, her words had stung him. She hastened to temper her response. “I am fine, just a little tired. I am told all women suffer discomfort in the days before they deliver their babies, so why should I be any different?”
His look softened and he took her by the hand. “You may be able to fool Luca and Rosina, but I have known you all your life and can see through your protective guises. You are suffering, and not only because of your condition. It is written on your face, in your pallor, in the melody of your voice.”
“It is that obvious?”
Nanino nodded.
“There is no need to worry for me, Nanino. The fatigue will pass and soon I’ll be overjoyed to hold my child.”
“While you live here?”
Olivia nodded.
“Luca is a good man, from a good family, raised to be honorable and true to his word. You will come to no intentional harm at his hands, but have you considered what it will be like to live under the same roof with his wife? Seeing them together at dinner, or walking in the garden? And what of his wife, who may take notice when her husband’s eyes wander to you or when she hears a whisper between you and her husband? It does not portend an easy time for any of you.”
“I know, but for now, it is best.”
“I suppose, but one always has choices. For now, I understand.”
“You do?”
“Believe it or not, I have known the power of love a time or two, myself. I want you to know that if you ever wish to return to the abbey or simply need somewhere to shelter, you have only to summon me, and I will be there to care for you and the child. As long as I live and breathe, you need never be alone. I may not be your brother by blood, but I am one in deed.” He patted her hand and then clenched it in his own as if to transfer his love into her flesh. “Promise me that you will seek me out at any time, for any reason.”
His words stirred an outpouring of warmth that pulsed through her body. In his presence, she had always felt safe and protected.
“I promise,” Olivia said.
Nanino gave her a smile. “Good. Now, I have brought you a gift.” He slid his hand into the pouch that hung from his waist and removed an exquisite silver rattle. “For your baby.” He bowed and placed it in her hand.
The rattle was mounted with a teething ring of bone at one end. The other end had a loop for a ribbon or string and terminated in a whistle. Nine silver bells hung from the circular end.
“The ring is made of bear bone, and will confer the strength of the animal to fight off the tenderness of teething, when that time comes.” Nanino paused. “Do you like it?”
“It is exquisite and I love it. It is a keepsake we shall always treasure, just as I have always treasured our friendship.”
Nanino’s face broke into a pleased grin. He went to the door and winked. It was a sign of conspiracy, one she trusted unreservedly.
82
Olivia pulled the needle through Luca’s under-tunic for the last time. Finally, her embroidery was complete. She tied and cut the thread, exactly as the threads that bound her to Luca were being severed, one by one, as his wedding day approached. In the fading afternoon sunlight, she raised the garment to admire her handiwork. Pleased with how the embroidered lion and crest had turned out, she ran her fingers over the fine stitches before carefully folding the garment and setting it aside. Certain it would please Luca she leaned back in her chair.
Despite her earlier conversation with Nanino, her melancholy persisted. Aches in her back and random pains elsewhere in her body had bothered her for most of the day.
From the dining hall on the main floor came laughter and conversation: a feast to welcome Luca’s bride and her family and celebrate the forthcoming nuptials. She had shed most of her tears earlier. Emotionally spent, exhaustion again set in. She glanced at the bed; it beckoned her with promising comfort. She waited patiently for all the guests to assemble downstairs so she could take Luca’s under-tunic to his room without anyone seeing her.
Outside, a sudden gust of wind arose, banging her shutters against the outer walls, blowing in leaves and debris. The air smelled of an impending rainstorm. She rose with difficulty, one hand on her back to ease the growing discomfort. Ominous black clouds darkened the sky and the entire world beneath it. From the stable came the whinny of nervous horses. She struggled to pull the shutters closed against the harsh wind. Finally, she managed to snap down the latch.
Pausing to catch her breath, she replaced tendrils of hair the wind had shaken loose. A cramp in her back, sharper than the ones before, seized her. She grimaced until it passed. Picking up Luca’s under-tunic, she left her bedchamber. The sooner she delivered it, the sooner she could retire for the night. Perhaps after a good night’s sleep, she would feel better.
Awkwardly, she made her way down the corridor to the circular stairs at the far end. Step by step, her hand on the wall to keep her balance, she descended to the second storey. At the bottom, she glanced about and breathed with relief to see the corridor was deserted. Rosina and the other servants were likely busy with the guests gathered in the dining hall.
She let herself into Luca’s room. One shutter had swung open. The wind hurled it against the wall with each new gust. Fear took hold as the memory of the lightning strike she had survived returned. It haunted her each time a strong wind howled. She tossed the under-tunic on his bed and rushed to close the shutters. The first drops of rain pelted her face. A flash of lightning, followed by a crack of thunder, cleaved the air as she latched closed the shutter.
She paused to catch her breath. The baby kicked hard and shifted. With her hand resting on her belly, she returned to Luca’s bed. The ache in her back was unrelenting, and suddenly unbearable. A cramp seized her belly and she leaned against the bed to steady herself until it passed.
As she reached down to refold the garment, a sudden gush of water jetted from between her legs. It pooled on the floor at her feet. For a moment, uncertain, she stood still. Then she stepped back and stared down at the puddle, her body so wracked with agony, she could bare
ly move.
The door whipped open and Rosina entered. She came to a sudden stop. Her eyes widened with surprise, her gaze halting at the pool at Olivia’s feet. Her puzzled countenance blossomed in understanding. “Madre de Dio! The baby is coming! Thank goodness I came in here to shut the window.” She rushed to Olivia’s side and put her arm around her waist to support her. “I’ll help you back to your room, and then I will send someone to fetch the midwife.”
Another contraction, a stronger one that lasted longer, seized her. When it finally ended, she paused to catch her breath. “I can’t, the pain is too much.”
“You must try. You cannot have the baby here in the master’s room.” Rosina tried to guide her toward the door, but Olivia could scarcely move or breathe.
“Please, I cannot,” she gasped.
Reluctantly, Rosina helped her lie on Luca’s bed. “I’ll fetch someone to carry you back to your room. Will you be all right if I leave for a short while?”
Olivia nodded, too scared to argue. “Please hurry back! Please!”
83
In the dining hall, Luca sat at the head of the trestle. Giustina sat to his left with their family members lining both sides. He glanced at his bride-to-be. She had barely spoken throughout the meal. They had known each other their entire lives and yet they struggled to find a word with which to strike up a conversation. She had eyes only for Lorenzo, who reciprocated with yearning looks of his own. Luca cared deeply for them both, and longed for a way to bring them together.
He raised his goblet to his lips and studied his father, who sat opposite him at the far end of the table. He was deep in conversation with Carlo, Giustina’s father. He envied them their lifelong bond. His mother sat opposite Prudenza. Neither woman looked at the other, the distant rumble of discord ever-present between them. Years of animosity lingered, yet in social situations such as this, they managed to treat each other cordially. He would not call their conversation warm, but in a stilted way, they discussed trivialities such as fashion and the blooms in his mother’s flower beds.
Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga Page 27