by Speer, Flora
“Oh, no.” Bianca’s face was aglow, and her blue eyes were shining. She looked at Vanni as if she wanted to throw her arms around him. Instead, she made a graceful curtsy to him. “Thank you for your consideration of me, my lord.”
“Bianca, I will always consider your wishes,” Vanni told her. “If you and Rosalinda will leave us now, your mother and I will settle the terms of our marriage contract. Then we will meet to start our lives together when the new day begins.”
* * * * *
“Rosalinda, I must speak with you.”
“Not now, Andrea. Bianca needs me.” Rosalinda shook off Andrea’s restraining hand on her arm and started across the hall. On the stairs, Bianca looked down at them, nodded, and continued on her way to her room.
“Rosalinda,” Andrea said again, “you must know that I—”
“Rosalinda, what are you doing, dawdling here?” Valeria cried, coming out of the sitting room in a rush. “We have so much to do that I am quite distracted. Andrea, I believe your brother would be glad of your presence while the terms of the marriage contract are decided.”
“Francesco is there to back Vanni if he needs support,” Andrea said, his eyes on Rosalinda, who seemed determined not to look directly at him.
“Andrea?” Vanni appeared in the sitting room doorway. “Would you mind joining us?”
“In a moment, Vanni.” Andrea sounded distinctly frustrated. “Rosalinda, please.”
From the sitting room came the sound of Eleonora’s raised voice, followed by Francesco’s deeper, but still agitated tones, and then Bartolomeo’s more measured words.
“Rosalinda, your mother is a hard woman,” Vanni said, running a hand through his dark, curly hair. “And Francesco is just as difficult. I am caught between them.”
“Andrea,” Rosalinda said, “your brother needs you, as my sister needs me. Whatever you have to say to me must wait.” She headed for the stairs with Valeria at her side.
“Damnation.” Andrea scowled and raked his hand through his hair in a gesture remarkably like the one his brother had just used. “What am I to do, Vanni? I cannot get a moment alone with her. I am beginning to believe she is avoiding me.”
“Surely, she cannot doubt your affection for her,” Vanni said.
“I don’t know.” Andrea looked up at Rosalinda, who had reached the top of the stairs. “She has changed. She has withdrawn from me and I don’t know why. And the fates are conspiring against us. Every time I try to talk to her, we are interrupted.”
“Wait until after the wedding,” Vanni suggested. “Then all the attention will be on Bianca and me and no one will notice if you take Rosalinda aside for a private conversation.”
“I suppose you are right. There is nothing I can do now, while she is with her sister and Valeria.”
“What you can do,” said Vanni, “is come and help me. I tell you, Andrea, I will not live with my mother-in-law! She will try to rule Monteferro for herself! Some other provision for Eleonora will have to be made, but anything I can think of will only antagonize her and make Bianca unhappy.”
“I have an idea that might work,” Andrea said, and led the way back into the sitting room.
Chapter 23
For a ceremony prepared in such haste and conducted an hour after midnight, the wedding of Bianca and Vanni was surprisingly elegant. This was in large part thanks to Valeria’s efforts. At her order, the small chapel on the second level of the villa was bedecked with late summer flowers from Eleonora’s garden, and the tall gold candlesticks on either side of the altar bore the finest beeswax candles. Father Tomaso wore a set of white-and-gold vestments that Valeria had brought out of storage for the occasion.
Nor had the various participants slighted the occasion by their personal garb. Eleonora was resplendent in deep wine-colored brocade threaded with silver, and Valeria had taken time from her harried schedule of last-minute arrangements to change into her best gold silk gown. Bartolomeo was clothed in a rather old-fashioned long green robe.
Rosalinda wore a rose silk gown. Hoping to conceal her rounded figure she had drawn over the dress a loose, deep green brocade tabard that was open down the front and trimmed with gold embroidery.
The twins and Francesco were simply clothed, each of them having brought only a single change of garments along on their hasty journey, but all were freshly bathed and brushed. Vanni was in blue wool doublet and hose, Andrea in red, and Francesco in russet brown. In the glow of candlelight, they all made a fine showing.
But it was Bianca who drew every eye when she stepped into the chapel on Bartolomeo’s arm. Gowned in palest blue silk, she wore as her only jewelry the pearl earrings that had once belonged to her mother. She had given Vanni’s gold-and-sapphire ring back to him temporarily, so he could use it as her wedding band. Bianca’s straight blond hair cascaded down her back, unconfined by net or pins. Her face was lit by an intense inner joy. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkled with happiness, and her lips curved in a sweet smile as soon as she saw Vanni waiting for her.
It was not customary for brides to carry flowers, but Rosalinda had slipped out to the terrace to pluck a few blossoms from the white rosebush. There were not many roses blooming so late in the season, so only three perfect, five-petaled flowers were wrapped with silver ribbon into a simple bouquet.
“One for you, one for Vanni, one for your love,” Rosalinda had whispered, putting the flowers into Bianca’s hands just before she started down the aisle.
The chapel was packed with the men-at-arms and their families, for Bianca was well loved. Several of the older women wiped their eyes at the sight of her, remembering when Bianca had been a little girl.
When Bianca stood before the altar holding Vanni’s hand, the contract was read by Bartolomeo, who was acting as Eleonora’s representative. Afterward, all the interested parties signed it as witnesses to its legality. Then Father Tomaso said the first mass of the day and blessed the marriage of the Duke and new Duchess of Monteferro.
In the dining room after the ceremony, Valeria produced a simple feast of cold meats, bread and cheese, wine, fruit, and small, sweet cakes drenched in honey and cinnamon syrup.
The bride and groom did not linger long after receiving the good wishes of family and friends. While Eleonora was engrossed in conversation with Andrea and Francesco, Vanni drew Bianca out of the dining room and into the hall.
“Do you think anyone will follow us to your bedchamber?” Vanni asked, glancing back into the room they had just left.
“I hope not,” Bianca whispered. Vanni bent to kiss her, and she could feel herself blushing. She knew what she and Vanni would soon do together. She wanted him to make love to her. The memory of what he had done beside the waterfall earlier in the summer sent a flood of warmth coursing through her veins. There was more to be learned about lovemaking than she had experienced on that day, and she trusted Vanni to give her pleasure again, this time without guilt on her part.
But the reversal of her mother’s opinion about Vanni and her agreement to the marriage had been so abrupt that Bianca’s thoughts were spinning. She was still trying to comprehend the wonderful fact that she and Vanni were actually married when Bartolomeo joined them.
“Be happy always.” Bartolomeo kissed Bianca on each cheek. “You and Rosalinda have been like the children Valeria and I never had.”
“Oh, Bartolomeo.” Bianca’s throat tightened. “How can anyone say thank-you for loyalty such as yours? There are no adequate words.” She threw her arms around Bartolomeo and kissed him.
“Treat her kindly, Vanni.” Bartolomeo’s voice was rough as he handed Bianca back to her new husband.
“I will,” Vanni promised, his arm about Bianca’s shoulders.
“I will remain here to prevent anyone from intruding on your privacy, as merrymakers sometimes do when the wine flows too freely.” Bartolomeo planted himself firmly at the foot of the stairs. “Go to your bridal bed, and I wish you joy. Go quickly, before someone come
s.”
With more whispered thanks, they fled up the stairs and along the corridor to Bianca’s room.
“As if we were culprits,” Vanni whispered. “I feel slightly wicked, running away like this.”
“So do I,” Bianca agreed, smothering a giggle.
While Vanni bolted the bedchamber door, Bianca went to the open window, to stand there in the cool breeze with both hands pressed to her burning cheeks. There were candles lit in a triple-branched holder. That was Valeria’s doing. Bianca had seen her leave the dining room just a short time before and return with a smiling glance at the newlyweds. Bianca saw that the bedcovers had been turned back in an inviting way. She stared at the clean white sheets and began to tremble.
“My sweet Bianca, you look absolutely terrified.” Vanni approached her with a smile.
“It is one thing to kiss and caress each other spontaneously, in a forest glade,” Bianca said. “It is quite another matter to lock ourselves into a bedroom with all the world knowing what we are going to do.” Her glance slid nervously away from the waiting bed.
“Would it help if we spread your cloak on the floor and made love upon it?” Vanni asked. Deliberately, he laid one hand on her shoulder and let a fingertip slip beneath the edge of her gown. The neckline dipped low into a wide angle that was so deep it almost met the high waistband. Within that tantalizing angle only an inch or so of the thin linen of Bianca’s chemise hid the gently swelling curves of her breasts.
“On the floor?” she gasped. “No. We – I –Vanni!”
His fingertip had traveled along the neckline of her dress to the top of her chemise. While she gazed down at his hand, Vanni tested the softness of Bianca’s swelling flesh, the pressure eliciting a soft cry from her. Daring more, he reached under the linen. There he found her nipple already taut and puckered and began to stroke it.
“Oh, Vanni.” Bianca bit off a moan of disappointment when he removed his hand. His nimble fingers were at the laces of her dress, loosening them. Then he was pushing dress and chemise off her shoulders, baring her to the waist. She resisted the maidenly urge to cover herself, instead allowing him to gaze at her for as long as he wanted. She saw that his cheeks were flushed, and she wondered if he knew how exciting she found it to be standing in her bedchamber, half undressed, alone with a man who looked at her as if she were the very embodiment of perfection. She cried out with pleasure when Vanni lowered his head to take her breast into his mouth. By the time he released her and began to tear away the rest of her clothing, Bianca could scarcely think.
He lifted her into his arms, the blue wool of his doublet scratching her tender skin. Bianca wrapped her arms around him and kissed him while Vanni carried her to the bed, pushed aside the rose hangings, and laid her upon the sheets.
“How beautiful you are. Lovelier than I dreamed, and I have dreamed of you beside me like this on many a lonely night since first we met.” Vanni’s hands caressed her shoulders, lingered on her breasts, moved slowly downward to hips and thighs. He lowered his head to kiss her inner thigh. Bianca gasped, writhing at his heated touch.
Vanni smiled and began to remove his doublet. Bianca watched him with avid eyes. His linen shirt was next, Bianca following his every movement, taking in his firmly muscled chest and strong arms as they were revealed.
“You have two scars.” She stared at his left forearm.
“This one is from the wound Stregone inflicted, more than a year ago,” he told her, touching the raised line of skin that crossed his upper arm. His fingers moved to the second scar. “This one is older. It is the souvenir of a youthful tavern brawl. My days of drinking, wenching, and brawling are over now. And not regretted. Not for an instant.” He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, as if gauging her emotional state, before he turned his back and quickly stripped off his hose.
He was beautifully made, his back rippling with muscles, his buttocks tight and rounded. His legs were long and straight. It was all Bianca could do to keep herself from reaching out to run her hands up his legs from ankle to buttock and along his back to his shoulders. It was what she wanted to do, so she could feel his skin, with its contrasting textures of youthful smoothness, manly hardness, and crisp, curling hair and well-trained muscle. She saw his shoulders lift as he took a deep breath. He turned around to face her, letting her see his heavy arousal.
Bianca stared. Her jaw dropped. Vanni was the most intimidating sight she had ever encountered. And yet, even so, she was fully aware of the flaring warmth in her lower limbs that rushed upward as she continued to gaze at him. That heat melted her bones and touched the very core of her body. She still wanted to caress him, but she did not dare, for she could see the problem that faced them, and she felt like crying with the frustration of her romantic hopes.
“Vanni, I do not think we can possibly fit together,” she said in a sad little voice. “You are a giant, and I am a small person. Oh, I am so sorry to disappoint you.”
But Vanni did not appear to be at all disappointed, nor did he seem to recognize any problem. He lay down beside Bianca and gathered her into his embrace. The sensation of his bare skin against hers was enthralling. But that huge part of him prodded at her thigh when he drew her nearer, and Bianca shuddered at the heat and the stiffness of his manhood.
“Will you trust me?” he whispered, nibbling at her ear as he spoke. His breath was warm on her neck, and his lips traced a moist trail from her ear to the base of her throat.
“I do trust you,” she responded, torn between heartbroken tears and the renewed longing that surged through her when he continued to caress her as if nothing was wrong. “But the problem must be as obvious to you as it is to me.”
“Bianca, please believe that I will do no serious harm to you,” Vanni said.
“I believe you will try not to hurt me,” she replied. “But how can you help it if you persist in what you are supposed to do?”
“I’ll show you how.” He raised himself a little to look into her eyes, catching and holding her gaze. “You know I love you. If you love me, Bianca, then give yourself into my care.”
She could not take her eyes from his. Her lips parted on a sigh of regret for what could not be, just as Vanni’s mouth descended. On his lips she tasted wine and the honey and spices from the sweet cakes he had eaten. She tasted his tongue, hot and smooth as velvet against her own tongue. His chest rubbed against her breasts, and the motion of rough hair on her sensitive nipples sent ripples of pleasure curling downward through her being to the place that was becoming uncomfortably warm despite her trepidation. So intense were these sensations that it was a moment or two before Bianca realized where Vanni’s hand was, or felt the distinct tightness as her body closed around his probing finger.
He had touched her there before, the first time they had lain together, in the forest. The result of Vanni’s intimate caresses then had been an amazing, unexpected pleasure. Perhaps he would be content merely to repeat what they had done then. With an eager cry, Bianca lifted her hips, pushing against Vanni’s hand, pressing toward a repetition of that earlier release.
Through the blissful sensations that pulled her inevitably toward the end she so desired, Bianca became aware of Vanni separating her legs and of the texture of his hard masculine thighs between her own.
“Vanni?” Her eyes widened, her body tensed, and her fingers clenched around his upper arms as she realized what he was about to do.
She was afraid, but she was by now so thoroughly aroused that she could not stop herself from pushing against his hand. If only he would give her the release she craved and then stop. She knew instinctively that what she wished for would not be satisfying to Vanni.
For Vanni desired more. He wanted everything Bianca had to give him. She was a coward to be so squeamish. Bianca looked down at the size and rigidity of her new husband. It struck her that an engorgement so huge must be horribly painful, and she realized that for Vanni’s sake, she had to do what he so desperately needed of her.
“I love you.” Vanni removed his hand from her, adjusted his position, and began to stroke smoothly into her. “Say you love me, too.”
“I love you, Vanni.” Her heart swelled with her love for him and with the fatal sweetness of the sacrifice she was about to make in the name of that love. At that moment, she did not care if Vanni’s passion tore her to pieces. Even if it were so, she would give herself to him as he desired.
Vanni pressed more deeply into her body until he met a barrier. Bianca winced, gasped, and felt herself stretching until Vanni filled her completely. Amazingly, she was unhurt. Her soft cry of surprise brought a question from him.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No, but it is an extremely tight fit,” she answered.
“Wonderfully tight.” He withdrew a little, then came into her again.
Bianca sighed and caught at his buttocks, to pull him closer. All her innocent fear was gone, and in its place came a renewed and intensified desire. Every movement Vanni made, every kiss he bestowed on her filled Bianca with tenderness and a growing warmth until she was simmering with longing, bubbling with the need to have Vanni deeper, and deeper still inside her. She moved, wriggling closer, opening herself to him. Vanni laughed in triumph and stroked harder and faster. Bianca groaned with pleasure and met Vanni thrust for thrust, forgetting everything but the passion they were sharing.
An uncontrollable ecstasy burst upon Bianca with such force that she was torn out of herself and hurled into a new place, where she and Vanni were made one. Her heart overflowed with joy when she heard his wild cry and knew he was in that same place with her. Her happiness was complete when he held her against his heart and tenderly caressed her, whispering words of love until her breath ceased to come in strangled sobs and her heart no longer pounded at her ribs.
“I was silly to be so afraid,” she said later, when they lay at peace.
“Not silly,” Vanni told her, his lips on her brow. “Only inexperienced.”