Maria Pia sighed heavily. "The very next morning Don Scarletti's grandmother was found dead in her own bed with fingerprints around her neck, the old man sleeping beside her. The palazzo, indeed the entire land, was grief-stricken with Donna Scarletti's death. She was much loved and rightly so. Yet no one would remember the death of a peasant, a poor, widowed domestica."
A surge of anger erupted in Nicoletta, shaking her body so that for a moment she could only cling to the bedpost and fight down the volcanic emotions swirling so strongly within her. It took a few minutes for her to realize that Maria Pia was weeping silently. At once Nicoletta pushed aside her own feelings and rushed to the older woman's side. She hugged her tightly. "I am sorry I made you relive it all again. It is no wonder you did not wish to speak of such an ill thing."
"She must have been so frightened. And she had gone to the Palazzo delta Morte certain the gossip was not true. I should have stopped your mother from seeking work at such a place, but we needed to get through the winter, and we had no man to help. I knew there was danger; I had seen the body of her sister, your zia, when they returned her home from the palazzo." Maria Pia buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. "Only a few months before, your zia, too, had met with an 'accident' while serving there. A statue made of heavy stone fell and crushed her, they said."
Nicoletta held the old woman to her. The air in the room seemed oppressive, and all at once Nicoletta didn't want Maria Pia to say anymore. The premonition of danger was acute, robbing her of breath, stealing her ability to think properly. "You cannot stay here, Maria Pia," she said decisively. "I do not want you in danger. If whoever killed the women still resides here, they must know you are aware that those deaths were not accidents."
Maria Pia patted Nicoletta's shoulder consolingly. "Your madre and zia died over twelve years ago, piccola. The aristocrazia would not remember the deaths of two domestice. And they cannot know I examined both bodies and found the truth. Don Scarletti's father is dead these last eight years. I spoke to no one else."
"Two other women from the surrounding villaggi have died here in strange accidents in the intervening time. And the young wife of Vincente Scarletti. This is indeed the
Palazzo della Morte." Nicoletta allowed the don's coat to fall from her shoulders to the coverlet. "I cannot take a chance with your life, Maria Pia. You must leave this place."
"Until you are married, I must stay with you," Maria Pia pointed out. "Get dressed, Nicoletta. We have much to do this day. Are we allowed out of the room?"
"The don did not say I was confined to my dungeon," Nicoletta said resentfully. "Only that the guards must accompany me wherever I go. At least I have the key to the room and can lock it from this side." She laughed ruefully. "Not that it will do much good when anyone can come in through the wall. We should push something heavy against it at night." As she spoke, she was performing her morning ablutions. The water was cold, but she washed thoroughly, taking her time to prepare for meeting the household.
"Perhaps I should make another appeal to the don." Maria Pia ran a gnarled hand over the fine material of the handsome coat. "Ask him to change his mind and choose another bride, although he seems very set on you."
"Do not bother, Maria Pia. I was quite eloquent in my appeals to him. The man has no sense at all, and he listens to no one." Nicoletta turned away to hide her expression. Her dreams were still very vivid in her mind, hot color running beneath her skin at the memories. She cleared her throat. "I feel as if eyes are watching my every movement. I do not know how I can stand such a thing."
"You must be careful," Maria Pia cautioned. "I believe you will always be watched. You must never forget that. If you make a mistake, the don will realize you are… different, and he will condemn you as a witch."
"I thought that, too, but now I do not believe that is not so. I do not comprehend why he has invoked the Bridal Covenant when he knows I am different. If he was going to condemn me to death, he would have done so last night." Nicoletta shivered. "Someone in the palazzo knows who murdered my famiglia, and I intend to find out who that person is."
Maria Pia gasped in alarm. "You cannot. They died so many years ago, and it is dangerous to stir up old wounds. You could be in terrible danger."
Nicoletta inserted the key in the lock and turned it. She glanced over her shoulder at Maria Pia, her dark eyes sober. "I am in great danger now. I know I am. I feel it. I will not be the rabbit cowering in wait for the wolf to take me." She lifted her chin in determination. "There is evil here, but I will go to meet it, not wait, shivering like a babe, in my room." She yanked open the door.
The guard there, a different man from the night before, nodded politely to her and stepped aside so that she was free to enter the wide hall. Sunlight was beginning to stream through a series of high, arched, stained-glass windows, casting colorful rays dancing across the spacious corridor. The second guard was stationed a few paces down, standing at a window, but his attention clearly centered on Nicoletta as she started toward him. She kept her chin held high and her hand clasped tightly with Maria Pia's.
"Would one of you be so kind as to instruct me where the kitchen is?" She was proud of the fact that her voice didn't shake in the least.
"Follow me, Signorina," the man by the window said, and he turned to lead the way.
Nicoletta was acutely conscious of the other guard behind them and the servants stopping their work to stare curiously at the little procession they made as they walked down the twisting staircase and through the many turns of the palazzo toward the kitchen. She looked around her, inspecting everything, determined, in the light of day, to uncover some of the palazzo's secrets. Without the dancing candlelight, its vaulted ceilings gave off a cathedral-like, rather than gloomy, effect. The rows of windows provided sunlight and spectacular views. The servants were industrious, the palazzo spotless.
As they approached the cook's domain, Nicoletta was expecting a dark, dank room with scorched walls, sinister carving knives, and heads on platters, but, in truth, the enormous, airy kitchen was as clean and neat as the rest of the rooms she had seen. The pleasant-looking cook, Bernado, was working diligently beside an older woman. Sophie was seated at the smallest of three tables and let out a glad cry of welcome.
Nicoletta caught the child as she leapt into her arms. "I knew you would come! I told Bernado you would come. I told him to fix you something special." She wrapped her arms around Nicoletta's neck and squeezed hard.
Nicoletta laughed as she pried the child's off her. "Thank you for the invitation, Sophie. Bernado, I am Nicoletta. I have invaded your domain at young Sophie's invitation. Do you mind?"
Bernado was already aware of the gossip flying about the palazzo. The don had chosen a bride from the neighboring villaggio, and he knew this young woman guarded by his elite personal soldiers had to be the intended wife. He bowed low and indicated a chair. "Always a pleasure to entertain such beautiful women, signorinas."
Maria Pia beamed at him, grateful someone was being kind to her young charge. Bernado and Celeste, his assistant, fixed enough food for the guards, too, and the meal was quite good. Nicoletta complimented Bernado and with a few smiles and jests soon had the small group grinning and laughing. Sophie sat close, and after the meal Nicoletta leaned against the counter to talk with Bernado, absently playing with the child's hair.
Don Scarletti heard the echo of laughter spilling through the cavernous corridor as he made his way to his study. It stopped him in his tracks. He could not remember the last time he had heard laughter in the palazzo. Real, honest laughter, not the affected, silly nonsense Portia's daughter, Margerita, used so coquettishly around every male aristocratico she came near. The sound was like sunshine, dispelling the gloom of the halls, and he found himself turning and following the melodious notes beckoning him.
He stood in the kitchen doorway, one hip leaning lazily against the wall as he watched her. Nicoletta was dressed in a simple skirt and blouse, her hair on top
of her head in some intricate knot. A few tendrils had escaped, falling in silky waves around her face. Her eyes were large and dark and filled with dancing mischief as she teased the cook and one of the guards. Her small feet were bare, and her mouth was lush and inviting.
The moment they saw him, a hush fell on the group, and Bernado turned quickly back to his work. Sophie moved a little behind Nicoletta as if for protection, and the two guards came to immediate attention. Nicoletta smiled at the don with the innocence of a child. "You truly have a treasure here in the kitchen," she greeted him happily.
"Yes, I do," Don Scarletti agreed enigmatically, his eyes on her small, delicate face. Something in his voice and the intent way he watched her made Nicoletta blush. His smile widened so that his strong white teeth were very much in evidence. "I see you have forgotten your shoes again. I must remember to put a pair in each room so that when you kick them off, it will be of no consequence." His voice was low and gentle, a brush of velvet heat over her skin.
"You seem to be very concerned with shoes," Nicoletta observed, her dark eyes laughing openly at him.
He held out a hand to her. "Come walk with me, piccola. I am sure Signorina Sigmora and the others will ensure I do not take a bite out of you, although you look very inviting this morning."
Faint color crept up her neck under her sun-gilded skin. She stared at his hand for a moment as if he might really be capable of biting her. Very slowly, almost reluctantly, she extended her own. At once his fingers enveloped hers, curling around them firmly. He drew her to his side so that she fit beneath his broad shoulder. Behind them, Sophie giggled nervously. Giovanni didn't turn around but rather walked Nicoletta toward the entrance to the courtyard. "Did you sleep well?" His body brushed against her, hard and muscular, very different from her own, making her all too aware of her own soft, feminine contours.
"You mean after all the commotion?" Nicoletta glanced sideways at him. He was tall and powerful, and every time she looked at him her heart seemed to cease beating and then begin to pound. She couldn't look at him without remembering her wicked, erotic dreams, still very vivid in her memory. "Is it always like that around here at night?"
His thumb feathered along the inside of her wrist. Once. Twice. Her heart did a funny little somersault. Color was creeping slowly under her skin again. All at once the drafty hall wasn't nearly cool enough. The pad of his thumb lingered over her frantically beating pulse. "I confess, you seem to cause quite a stir," he answered, his mind clearly on other matters. His fingers were moving over her skin as if of their own volition, stroking caresses along her forearm, sending heat waves throughout her body.
Nicoletta knew she should pull away, but his touch was mesmerizing. He dropped her hand, abruptly halting so that he trapped her close to the wall, his large frame blocking her view of the courtyard. She felt the heat of his body through the thin barrier of her clothes. His fingers curled around her throat. His dark eyes stared down into hers. "When you laugh, you light up the world. That is a very dangerous thing."
It should have been a compliment, but he said it in a brooding, almost disapproving voice. There was no laughter in him, no hint of gentleness. His black gaze was intense as it roamed over her face. His fingers tightened on hers, making her gasp.
Her lips parted, a tempting invitation. With what sounded like an oath, he lowered his head and fastened his mouth to hers. At once Nicoletta's world changed. The ground shifted, a subtle, rippling movement beneath her feet, making it seem natural to take shelter next to his heart. He was enormously strong, his arms sweeping her soft body against his hard, muscular one as his mouth took possession of hers. He was fiercely hungry, a dark, dangerous need he didn't bother to hide. She melted, her body becoming boneless, pliant, flames dancing along her skin with a need she couldn't define. A wildness began to rise from somewhere deep inside her, needing, demanding.
"Don Scarletti! Nicoletta!" Maria Pia's horrified voice lashed at them both. "This is scandalous behavior!"
The don took his time, his mouth moving gently over Nicoletta's. Where before there was fiery hunger, he was now gentle, lingering for a moment, kissing her thoroughly until her legs threatened to give way and she was clinging to him. Only then did he slowly lift his head, his black gaze hypnotic, making her stare up at him helplessly, caught in his dark sorcerer's spell. His fingertips traced the delicate curves of her face as if committing them to memory for all time.
"Don Scarletti, I must protest this behavior!" Maria Pia was insistent, tugging at Nicoletta's arm to free her from between the don's hard body and the palazzo wall.
Giovanni didn't relinquish possession immediately, but continued to stare intently into Nicoletta's upturned face as if he were the one under a spell of enchantment, totally bemused by her. "Then it is good that we marry immediately," he said, completely unrepentant, his voice as steady and soft as ever. He was speaking to Maria Pia, but his mouth was close to Nicoletta's ear, his warm breath stirring the tendrils of hair there and pouring heat into her bloodstream. He bent his head still lower, so that his lips moved against her ear. "I cannot wait." He whispered the words against her bare skin, and she felt them all the way down to her toes.
Maria Pia let out an outraged squawk. The don straightened slowly, bowed slightly to the women, and sauntered back into the palazzo. Nicoletta stared after him, unable to move, unable to think, one hand pressed to her mouth in shock. He looked so calm and unruffled, his body moving with the same casual ripple of power, while Nicoletta wanted to slide down the wall into a little heap.
Sophie broke the spell, wrapping her arms around Nicoletta's legs and hugging her tightly. "Is Zio Gino really going to marry you?"
Nicoletta glanced at the two guards, who were doing their best to hide their smiles. Color flooded her face, and she hastily walked past them into the huge courtyard. It was a riot of color, the plants well tended by several groundsmen. A huge fountain dominated the area, a marble structure nearly a story high. A chariot with six racing horses sending up sprays of white-foamed water from their flying hooves loomed in its center. It was enormous, an ornate, incredibly beautiful sculpture.
"Nicoletta." Sophie tugged at her skirt. "Are you really going to marry Zio Gino?" Her young voice was insistent, containing none of the hesitation she frequently seemed to exhibit.
Nicoletta took her hand. "Well, your Zio Gino has said I will, so I suppose I must. What do you think?"
Sophie immediately looked impressed at being asked her opinion. "I think if Zio Gino marries you, then you can stay here always." She smiled up at Nicoletta.
Nicoletta picked up the child and swung her in a circle until the little girl squealed with delight. They raced across the courtyard together, their laughter floating back to bring smiles to the faces of the guards and even Maria Pia.
Nicoletta stopped on the far side of the courtyard, kneeling to examine a rare flower that opened only in the early hours of morning. The petals were covered in dew, and she exclaimed over it, beckoning to Sophie. In truth, she was trembling inside, shocked at the wild, wanton side of her nature she hadn't known existed. She couldn't deny to herself that she was just as much to blame for that scandalous kiss as was Don Giovanni Scarletti. He could have seduced her right there and then, and she would have let him, so mesmerized by him was she that she couldn't see straight.
She didn't want to think about being alone with him in the bedchamber. He was a dark sorcerer weaving a black-magic spell, and Nicoletta was flitting closer and closer to disaster, drawn inexorably toward his hot flame. She couldn't seem to resist him, the intensity in his black gaze, a dark hunger she couldn't ignore. Nicoletta pushed at her hair with a trembling hand, grateful Maria Pia was across the courtyard and not lecturing her on being a "good" girl.
"So, you are the chosen bride." Vincente appeared out of the maze of hedges, his tall, handsome frame immaculate in his fashionable attire. His dark eyes were laughing as they took in Nicoletta's peasant skirt and blouse and her sm
all, bare feet.
Nicoletta scrambled to stand. Sophie stared up at her father in a kind of painful, hopeful silence, her hand catching at Nicoletta's skirt for support. Nicoletta reached down and stroked the child's hair in comfort. "Good morn to you, sir," she said brightly. "Sophie has been wonderful, showing me around the grounds. I do not know what I would do without her."
Vincente raised a skeptical eyebrow. "She is not pestering you?"
Nicoletta's fingers slipped down the little girl's arm to take her hand. "Not at all. I am asking her so many questions, she probably wishes herself away from me."
Sophie laughed nervously. "She is fun, Papa."
"Fun, eh? I can believe that." The man reached down and ruffled his daughter's hair. "I must apologize for cousin Portia's behavior last night. I hope you were not thinking I agreed with her demands. She is rather spoiled and used to getting her way. The thought of a new mistress here is frightening to her. In truth, no one thought Giovanni would take a bride. My brother, Antonello, and I thought it our duty to provide heirs as Giovanni had declared no interest in the subject. Antonello has not yet wed, and my being widowed," he said sadly, "left Portia the woman of the house. But now Giovanni has chosen… you." There was a faint questioning note in Vincente's voice, as if he half expected Nicoletta to admit she had cast a spell over his eldest brother.
"And choose he did. I had not thought to take a husband," Nicoletta responded.
Vincente threw back his head and laughed aloud. "Good answer. I am Vincente Scarletti. We have met, of course, on more than one occasion, but not yet formally." He reached for her fingertips and drew them to his mouth for a kiss while his dark eyes flirted outrageously with her. He bowed low. "Even had we not met before, you look very familiar to me. Perhaps I know your famiglia?"
Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse Page 13