Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse

by The Scarletti Curse (v1. 5)

  "Nicoletta!" Maria Pia hissed her name, crossing herself as she did so. "You forget yourself. You have no protection while your guards are outside. Do not go wandering around the palazzo by yourself."

  Nicoletta lifted her chin. "This is my home, and I will move about freely within it, or I will have no life at all." She hurried back up the stairs, determined to take a look once more into the room where Maria Pia and Sophie had been sleeping. Why were the scorpions placed in that room? If the soup had been meant for the don, was there another reason for the scorpions, other than a threat to young Sophie? Did someone want Sophie out of the room for different purpose? There was an entrance to the secret passageway in the nursery and in that particular room. Sophie had now been driven from both rooms. As she had been driven from the other room downstairs, the room where she had been so ill. Was there also an entrance to the passageway from that room? Nicoletta wanted to know.

  As she passed Margerita's room, she heard the young woman's voice raised in a shrill, nasty tone. "I will have you flogged for this. I know you took my jewelry! You are a thief and a soldier's whore. You deliberately tore my gown!"

  To Nicoletta's shock, she recognized the other voice.

  "I tell you, I took nothing from this room. I did not touch the gown." It was the maid, Beatrice, her voice low and quaking with fear. "I would never steal from you or destroy your clothes."

  The door was ajar, and Nicoletta pushed it open farther. "What is going on, Margerita?" She took in the scene: the maid cowering against the wall, Margerita shaking with anger. Items were strewn around the room as if they had been flung in all directions. Nicoletta could well imagine Margerita throwing things in a rage.

  "It is none of your business," Portia's daughter snapped. "She is my maid, and I will deal with the likes of her. Get out of my private bedchamber."

  "She is a worker in my household," Nicoletta corrected firmly. "If there is a problem, I should have been informed at once." She moved into the room to stand beside the maid. "You say she has stolen from you?" As hard as she tried, Nicoletta could not keep the disbelief from her voice.

  Nicoletta's tone only inflamed Margerita more. "Get out!" she growled. "You are nothing but a peasant yourself. What understanding could you possibly have? How could you know what we have to put up with from these ignorant people? They know nothing of being servants. Look at my gown! She tore my gown!"

  Beatrice shook her head. "I did not, Donna Scarletti, and I did not steal from her. I came in to help her dress, and she threw things at me because she could not find a piece of jewelry. I did not take it. The gown ripped when she stepped on the hem."

  Margerita shrieked and rushed at the woman, her face a mask of fury. She raised an arm, swinging wildly. Nicoletta stepped in front of the cowering maid, taking the blow, a hard slap that filled the air with a grotesque sound, full on her face. It seemed for a moment to Nicoletta as if it had all happened in slow motion, Margerita rushing forward, hand upraised, faint marks on her wrist, reminiscent of something, triggering a fleeting memory.

  A terrible roar spun the three women around to face the doorway. They all froze as they faced Giovanni Scarletti. His black eyes glittered with menace, his handsome face marked with dark cruelty. Behind him, Vincente and Antonello gaped at Margerita as if she had lost her mind. Giovanni was in such a rage, the room fairly crackled with it. He covered the short distance to Margerita in two gliding steps, like a stalking mountain lion.

  He caught her arm and flung her away from Nicoletta. "You will leave this house at once." He bit the words out between clenched teeth. "I do not care where you go or what you do, but you will never enter this house again."

  Margerita went so white, she looked a ghost. For the first time she looked young and vulnerable, a child who had overplayed her hand and now was at a loss as to how to remedy the situation.

  Nicoletta touched Giovanni's arm with gentle fingers. "We are all much too upset to make rash decisions. You, more than anyone, should know that. Margerita did not mean to strike me. She is little more than a child, Giovanni."

  When the don continued to glare at Margerita with slashing eyes, Nicoletta's hand slid up to his jaw, a soft, tender caress, turning him to face her. "Please, Giovanni, you cannot send her away. She and I have not had a chance to become friends. It would be such a terrible start to our marriage." She whispered the words to him softly, her dark eyes eloquent, pleading.

  Don Scarletti stood quite still, his body rigid. Neither of the other brothers spoke. No one dared to breathe. At last he nodded abruptly.

  Nicoletta relaxed slightly, careful not to touch her stinging cheek. "Thank you, Margerita, for enlightening me to the fact that you would prefer not to have a personal maid. As we are short of staff at the moment, that will free Beatrice to help Maria Pia and Sophie. Beatrice, please tell Gostanz that it is my wish that you take a few days off—with pay, of course—and when you return, you will attend Maria Pia and young Sophie personally."

  Beatrice curtsied several times, carefully skirting around the don, slinking past his two brothers without looking at either of them, and rushing away.

  Giovanni took Nicoletta's hand in his, his black eyes as cold as ice as he stared at Margerita. "Had you been a man, you would be dead right now." He tugged Nicoletta beneath the protection of his shoulder and pushed past his brothers.

  "It does not hurt," Nicoletta offered softly as she walked with him down the hall.

  "I should not say that I wanted to strangle her with my bare hands, as that seems to be the Scarletti way, but I did," he admitted. "I wanted to choke the life out of her for striking you. Dio, Nicoletta, why can't you stay out of trouble?"

  Nicoletta flashed him a quick smile. "I told you it is a knack I have. Did you find Aljandro? Because I am certain he came here to kill you, not me."

  One dark eyebrow shot up. "How did you come to that conclusion? Did he speak to you?" His body was brushing against hers, warm and hard and solid. A comfort to her.

  Nicoletta winced at the question. She should have known he was going to ask. She sighed when he continued to look down at her, silently demanding an answer. "He said he was not the only one who wanted me dead."

  A muscle jerked along Giovanni's jaw; his eyes blazed with menace. Nicoletta hastily tightened her hold on his hand. "But that is not the point. I know things—you know I do. I think someone is trying to kill you. I think that whoever it is helped Aljandro to escape all those men searching for him. Someone poisoned the soup meant for you the night little Sophie ate it. And you and I both know that your cousin, Damian, was involved in a conspiracy against you. And now Aljandro."

  "It is not safe to pursue this, Nicoletta," he said sternly. "Forget that you ever saw Damian. Do not ask anymore questions. I know others are conspiring against me, but I do not know who. Already you are in danger."

  "I want to go up to the ramparts. Do you remember when Margerita was running toward us in the corridor the day little Ricardo summoned me to Lissandra's deathbed?" Margerita rushing toward the maid had triggered the memory in Nicoletta's mind. More than that, there had been something else, something about Margerita that eluded Nicoletta, but she knew it was important.

  Deep inside her, the shadow was creeping into her heart, her soul. Something was wrong, and her dread was growing. She glanced out the window and saw the raven circling in the long trails of white fog. It looked deceptively lazy, even serene, as it soared just outside the window. But Nicoletta saw it, and she knew. There was trouble somewhere. Instinctively she inhaled deeply in an attempt to draw cooling air into her lungs and read the signs.

  "You are not going near that upper walkway. I forbid it," Giovanni said sternly. "The guards have been given their orders, and they will follow them to the letter."

  "You can go up with me," Nicoletta pointed out, distracted from his absolute authority by the deepening shadow within her. "It is important. I want to see what the maze looks like from above, how much a person can see when the
y look down into it."

  "A good portion is covered over by bushes trained to form a canopy," Giovanni said tersely. "You will not go up there for any reason, with me or without me. Knowing you, you would slip and fall, and I would find you hanging by a fingernail. You will obey me in this, Nicoletta." He stopped walking to catch her arms, halting her so that he could examine her face for bruises.

  For no reason at all, other than the hot look in his eyes, Nicoletta found herself blushing. "Stop staring at me. I told you, she did not hurt me. And I really do need to go up to that walkway." There she would be able to sense the trouble.

  "Well, you are not going," he said. "You are not going anywhere for the next twenty years. I am in the middle of something I cannot share with you. I dare not. You will have to trust me and do as I say."

  Gostanz appeared behind them, clearing his throat to draw attention to himself.

  Giovanni spun around, his black eyes gleaming with displeasure. "What is it?" he snapped impatiently.

  "Scusa, signore, the healer is needed."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Don Scarletti made a sound deep within his throat much like that of a drowning man. "No, Nicoletta." He shook his head somewhere between bitter laughter and total frustration. "I seem to have lost any semblance of control in my own home."

  "Tell them I will come at once, Gostanz, grazie," Nicoletta said firmly.

  "No." The Don shook his head again. "You have been through quite enough today, and there is still the danger of this madman loose. I will not have it, Nicoletta."

  "These are our people. I cannot imagine you shirking your duties and hiding in your bedchamber because there was danger. I am a healer, and if our people need me, then there is no other choice but to go." She rose up onto her toes and placed her lips against his ear. "You know it is inevitable that I go, Giovanni, so do not waste time arguing that could better be used finding a way to keep me safe."

  Giovanni heaved an exasperated sigh and glanced up at his waiting manservant. "Gostanz, you are unmarried, no?"

  A hint of a smile crept into Gostanz's eyes. "That is so, Don Scarletti. And for good reason. I will tell those waiting that the healer will be with them immediately."

  "Tell the stableman to prepare my horse. I will take Donna Nicoletta myself." Giovanni's hand tugged at her knotted hair. "We should gather whatever you will need."

  "Grazie, Giovanni," Nicoletta said softly, her heart in her eyes, unknowingly giving him more of a reward than she could have imagined.

  Nicoletta gathered her satchel and cloak hastily, taking time only to make certain she had all her herbs with her. "I know you are busy, Giovanni. You really needn't come with me," she ventured cautiously as they hurried through the palazzo toward the entrance closest to the stables. "Truly, Francesco and Dominic guard me closely. I know you were frightened earlier when you snapped at them, but you did not mean it."

  "I am not about to allow you out of my sight. And do not talk to me about Francesco or Dominic right now. They were supposed to stay with you at all times, not allow you to flit away from them at any opportunity." Giovanni politely held the door open for her. "They cannot protect you if they do not know where you are."

  It was a small thing, Giovanni's opening the door for her, but that courtly gesture made Nicoletta feel cared for. No one had performed the little niceties for her before, and Giovanni did it as if she had every right to such respect. She smiled at him, refraining from arguing further. It was enough that he was letting her go against his better judgment.

  Once outside she inhaled deeply to allow the wind and sea spray to carry their tales to her. Overhead the raven circled once, twice, while Nicoletta settled in front of the don on his horse. Then the bird turned inland, away from the sea, flying as straight as an arrow.

  "Hurry, Giovanni. The injuries are severe, but it is not too late." she said. It was the first time she had uttered such words to him without fear. The don might carry madness in his blood, but he watched over his wife with a fierce desire to protect her.

  His arms were tight around her as he held the reins, the wall of his chest a support for her back so that her head could rest on his shoulder. "I have complete faith in you, cara mia." His words were soft in her ear, in her mind, settling in her heart.

  Nicoletta smiled as the horse swallowed up the miles with its long strides. Giovanni had gotten the directions from the waiting runner, and as night began to fall, he pressed the animal to greater speeds. The encampment was small, up amidst the boulders jutting above the tree line, an area Nicoletta had never seen. She was certain they were on the border of Giovanni's lands, and as he reined in the horse and called out to someone unseen, she was more certain than ever.

  "Are we at war?" she asked in a low tone, looking around her at the hastily erected camp. There was a secrecy about the encampment she couldn't otherwise explain away.

  When Giovanni announced their presence, several men slowly emerged from the shadows into plain view. Many had various wounds, and all looked exhausted. Nicoletta slid from the horse onto the ground, swaying slightly as she tried to find her legs after the long ride. She forgot her question as she looked around her at the men's bloodstained clothing. Giovanni tossed the reins to one of the soldiers, yanked her satchel free, and took her arm to help her over the uneven ground. His fingers tightened like a band around her upper arm, and he leaned into her. "Dio! Nicoletta, you have forgotten your shoes again."

  Nicoletta barely noticed. She had run barefoot for so many years, it seemed natural to her, but her husband sounded so exasperated, she flashed him a quick grin. For one timeless moment his eyes met hers. There was pride there, respect, and something far deeper and richer that turned her heart over. They had time for one shared smile, one moment of complete understanding, and then she was led to the most injured patient.

  Giovanni watched her perform her tasks, never taking his eyes from her small, slender figure as she worked quickly and efficiently with far more experience than one of her age should have. She was totally focused on her patient, a young soldier with several stab wounds in his shoulder, chest, and leg. The don was amazed at her power. Her presence alone commanded respect. Others leapt to obey her quietly spoken orders, not looking to him to verify them at all. He, too, found himself leaping to get the things she needed, amazed at the amount of hot water she insisted upon. But he soon became a complete believer. Giovanni would have sworn no one could save the young man, but she inspired such confidence, commanded such obedience, no one in the camp thought she would fail. He was beginning to think Nicoletta willed the wounds to heal.

  She worked until the darkness descended and the wind howled through the camp, causing the men to shiver. Tucking blankets around the wounded man, Nicoletta straightened up, looking around her at the faces of the others. "Who else is injured here? This man will live with good care. You must see to it he is taken to shelter as soon as possible and given plenty of liquids. Perhaps he can be brought to the palazzo, where I will be able to attend to him daily." She glanced at Giovanni, who nodded in approval. She was swaying with weariness.

  Giovanni swept an arm around her, gathering her close. His mind sought hers. Her incredible gift of healing took a tremendous amount of energy, draining her strength. He felt it in her, yet she was still looking over the soldiers, determined to give aid to any other in need. "Rest for a time," he suggested softly.

  She smiled up at him. "These men have suffered much in their battle. I will do what I can to make them more comfortable." They had seen combat, but not in the type of battle she had first imagined. The injuries they had sustained were from knives, not from swords or arrows. These men had been very close to their assailants.

  Giovanni moved a distance away, still keeping his eye on her while he consulted with the captain in low tones. She moved among the men, attending wounds, smiling, even laughing softly with them, very much at ease, yet she managed to look regal in her bare feet and peasant clothing, managed to look be
autiful and every inch a lady. Giovanni tried not to notice the way his men looked at her, the way their eyes followed her. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest and the surge of hot blood swirling beneath the thin surface of his civilized veneer.

  Nicoletta knew she wasn't supposed to see too much. These men were members of the don's elite guard. Trusted soldiers, every one of them. Men who had proven their loyalty to the don many times over. Don Scarletti seemed to know each one personally. The captain and the don spoke in hushed tones, going over a map much like the ones she had seen in the elderly Scarletti's private study. For one brief moment it occurred to Nicoletta that Giovanni had rifled through his nonno's maps and stolen those he needed. But that made no sense. Giovanni was the don, and owned everything in the palazzo and in the surrounding lands. More likely his nonno quietly made his grandson fresh maps to aid him.

  When Nicoletta was finished attending her last patient, Giovanni gathered the soldiers together. "There is a continued need for secrecy. You unmarried men volunteered, and none of you have families that might insist on knowing where you are. You must continue to be silent, rest, and be ready for the next call. Transport young Goeboli to the palazzo."

  Nicoletta's head went up, and she immediately turned to stare at the young soldier whose injuries were so severe. She knew the name well, the history of the house of Goeboli. The elder Signore Goeboli had owned the vast lands to the north of the Scarlettis. He had the reputation of being a good don. Long before Nicoletta's birth, when the King of Spain had looked greedily upon the land, his family had taken in high-ranking members of the Holy Church and hidden them. At the same time he had tried to make a peace treaty with Spain. But he had been slain, his lands gobbled up, his people scattered, and it was rumored that his sons were long dead along with their father. This young man had to be a grandson. All had not been lost.