Lair of the Lion

by Christine Feehan

  A rush of heat consumed her, and her legs moved restlessly. Her arms circled his head to hold him to her. Nicolai suckled there, one hand sliding down her back to press her against his painful erection, holding her there. Then, as he pulled strongly at her breast, his hand slipped lower, dragging the hem of her gown up over her triangle of tight curls.

  Her body clenched tightly, the sweet ache becoming urgent and demanding. She moved her hips, but his hand pressed against her damp mound and held her still. "Just let it happen slowly, piccola. There's no need to rush. Let it happen." He circled her nipple with his tongue, and went back to suckling.

  Isabella was acutely conscious of his hand moving, sliding over her, into her, picking up the rhythm of his mouth. His fingers were clever, caressing her, disappearing deeply, stretching her, exploring, finding her thighs again. Her body shuddered with pleasure. It was almost more than she could bear.

  Nicolai abruptly lifted his head from the temptation of her breasts. Isabella heard the coughing grunt of a lion nearby. She watched him turn his head one way, then the other, as if listening. The silken fall of his long hair brushed her skin, sending flames licking along her nerve endings. She shivered beneath the onslaught. His fingers were deep inside her, stroking little caresses so that waves of fire seemed to wash over her, through her.

  Nicolai pressed his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry. I meant only to hold you, not make you ache. I swear to you, I'll be back." Reluctantly he withdrew his fingers from her. "Intruders are approaching the pass. I must go."

  Her body was begging for release, but she nodded at him, aware of the anguish in his eyes, aware he wanted to hold her and comfort her, aware he had meant to love her slowly and thoroughly. She hugged the knowledge to her and nodded again. "Go where you're needed, Nicolai." She needed him. Isabella curled her fists at her sides and kept her expression carefully blank.

  Nicolai kissed her again, then regretfully pulled on his clothes with swift, fluid ease. "I'll be back, Isabella." He hesitated for a moment, searching for something to say to ease his leaving her, but nothing came to mind. Thank the good Madonna she didn't weep or beg; he would have hated that. Yet she looked so alone and vulnerable, it ate at his insides. "Ti amo." The words slipped out before he could stop them, straight from his soul. He turned and left the room by way of the hidden passage, careful of her reputation even with the lions summoning him.

  With a groan, Isabella buried her face in the pillow and just breathed. Her body was on fire, her heart felt bruised, and confusion reigned in her mind. But he had said he loved her. She wrapped herself up in those words, in the sound of his voice, armor to shield her from her own fears.

  A small sound alerted her, and she glanced toward the passageway, frowning, certain he couldn't have returned so quickly.

  Francesca peeked around the doorway of the passage, one eyebrow raised, her impish grin engaging. "I thought he'd never leave. I've been shivering in the passage. It's freezing in there. I had to hide around the corner when he came out. I was waiting to speak with you." In the flickering of the fireplace, she looked a young, fey woman-child. She tiptoed into the center of the room. "So where did he go?"

  "I think he heard someone prowling around and went to inspect the premises," Isabella improvised, certain Nicolai wouldn't want her repeating the truth. She sat up, drawing the coverlet up over her, a smile on her face. "You disappear so fast, Francesca, and I can never find you."

  "You've had company," Francesca pointed out. "And I'll have to listen carefully from now on, or he'll catch me in here."

  "I've missed you. I went out today and had my very first snow fight. In the city. And yesterday I saw the horses being trained." She plucked at the quilts for a moment. "And a lion chased me."

  "What?" Francesca swung around, her dark eyes sparkling with unexpected fury. Isabella had never seen even a flash of temper in the young woman. "That isn't possible. All the lions know you are the one."

  "At least one of the lions doesn't want me to be the one," Isabella said wryly.

  An expression of anger crossed Francesca's face, but then it was gone, the fury melting away as if it had been merely an illusion. Francesca smiled at her. "You've lain with Nicolai, haven't you? What's it like? I've thought about seducing one of the visitors--a young, handsome one who would tell no one and would go away quickly--just to see what's its like, but the thought of someone touching me so intimately has always been too disconcerting. Does it hurt? Do you like having him touch you? Is it worth having a dictator take over your entire life?"

  Isabella supposed she should have been shocked. Francesca asked the most improper questions. "Nicolai isn't my dictator, Francesca. What a thing to say."

  "He will be. All husbands rule their wives. And once their wives lie with them, the woman becomes silly and jealous and simpers around her husband to keep all the other women away. Her husband can lie with many women, but if she does such a thing, he will beat her or behead her. So the woman becomes a ninny. Is lying with a man worth such a fate?"

  "You have a terrible view of marriage, and I doubt most women are that jealous."

  Francesca shrugged and grinned. "Violante is jealous of any woman who looks at Sergio, but in truth, she is not alone. I watch people, Isabella. You choose to see the good in people, and you ignore the bad. Most women don't like others looking at their man. Rolando never looks at other women, yet Theresa is very jealous. She is certain he has found another woman."

  Isabella looked up. "How do you know that?"

  "Her brothers were talking about it. They didn't see me. They stopped by the falls to eat, and I stayed hidden from them. I guess they found her crying a few days ago, and she admitted it to them. They told her it couldn't be so--they're often with him--but she seemed certain." Francesca shook her head, sending her long hair flying. "If I had a man, I would never worry about such a foolish thing. If he wanted another, then he could go to her, but I would never take him back to my bed." She studied her nails. "What is the point of being with a man and then never enjoying it because you're angry or hurt all the time? I think it's silly. Theresa Bartolmei is perfectly silly."

  "You don't believe Rolando has another woman."

  Francesca's expression was faintly haughty, aristocratic, superior. Isabella found herself smiling, recognizing the DeMarco features. Was she one of Nicolai's cousins, like Theresa? She was so fey and imaginative. There was something magical about her. Isabella felt warm in her presence. "I see and hear all kinds of things. I would know. She worries for nothing."

  "Sergio?" Isabella asked, curious, knowing she shouldn't persist in gossiping.

  Francesca shook her head. "He looks, but that's all. I think he'd kill for Violante. She's just too silly to see it. I'm telling you, women lose their minds once they're married. I wouldn't want to ever trade who I am for a man."

  "Not everyone has your confidence," Isabella pointed out. "You're frightening sometimes with your confidence. Why don't I ever see you during the day?"

  Francesca laughed merrily. "I don't want to be given duties or dress properly. I prefer to go where I want. People think I'm 'off,' you know." Her dark eyes danced. "Such a reputation allows me freedom."

  "Why do they consider you 'off'?" Isabella asked.

  The laughter died from Francesca's face, and she jumped to her feet to pace restlessly across the floor. "We're friends, aren't we?"

  "I like to think we're very good friends," Isabella agreed.

  Francesca stood a short distance from her, watching her closely. "I can talk with the others. I do it all the time."

  Isabella could see how nervous Francesca was, so she took her time, choosing her words carefully. "The 'others'? I'm not certain I understand."

  "You know." She twisted her fingers together. "The ones who make the noises at night. They're all trapped here in the valley and can't leave until you let them out."

  Isabella blinked. "Me? Come here, piccola. Come sit by me and explain." She patted the be
d. "I don't want you disappearing. You do it so quickly, and I'm not going to try chasing you through the secret passageway."

  Francesca laughed. "You'd never catch me."

  "I know that, and I've had enough misadventures for a lifetime, so please stay and talk with me. Who are the others?"

  "Spirits. They're trapped here until you free them. Those born here in the valley can't leave for too long a time without wasting away. Even then their spirits return to the valley and must remain until the loved one of a DeMarco releases all of us from the curse."

  Isabella could see that Francesca believed what she was saying. "So you believe the story Sarina told me, the story of Sophia and the curse she put upon the DeMarco famiglia, upon the valley?"

  Francesca looked at her steadily. "Don't you, Isabella? You see Nicolai as a man, but you know that most in this valley see him as a beast. And why is he able to communicate with the lions if the legend isn't true? You know it is. And you know you are to be the bride of DeMarco. Every single man, woman, and child in this valley knows of the curse and knows you are our only salvation. If you fail..." Francesca shivered.

  Isabella raked her hands through her hair and rubbed at her temples in agitation. "You told me that you could speak to the 'others.' Do you 'see' them, too, Francesca?"

  "Not the way I see you. Mainly, I talk with them." Francesca sounded faintly defiant, as though she expected Isabella to try to talk her out of her fanciful notions.

  "Have you ever spoken with Sophia?"

  Francesca looked startled. "You can't be thinking of trying to get her to speak with you, are you? No one has ever dared. She knows things others don't. Isabella, she's a powerful woman."

  "Spirit, Francesca," Isabella pointed out. "She no longer belongs here, and she must want to rest. Don't you ever think about how terrible it must be for her to watch history repeat itself over and over and know she's helpless to stop it? From what Sarina told me, Sophia was a good woman who loved her husband and her people. This can't be easy for her."

  Francesca backed away from the bed, shaking her head and wringing her hands. "You can't be thinking of talking to her. I've never even tried."

  "Has she frightened you in some way?" Isabella asked gently.

  Francesca lowered her voice to a whisper. "The others are frightened of her. They don't go near her, and they don't speak of her. They hate her for what she did."

  "Well, I don't think there's any harm in asking. Will you try? Will you at least ask her to speak with me through you?" Isabella threw off the coverlet and quickly reached for her robe to cover her scandalous attire. "For me, Francesca. It might be the one thing that saves my life."

  Francesca hesitated for a long, strained moment, then nodded. "I'll try, Isabella, for you. But she may not answer. They aren't like we are, and time seems different for them. But I'll try tonight."

  "Since I'm asking favors, I need one more. Mio fratello means everything to me I know you know things others don't, things maybe even the healer doesn't know. Lucca will be arriving soon, and I'll need someone to help me care for him. I won't be able to be with him all the time, and Sarina has so many duties. I don't really know very many others. Please say you'll do it. And if anything should happen to me, promise me that you'll look after him for me."

  Francesca nibbled thoughtfully at her lower lip, revising Isabella's opinion that she was wildly impetuous. Francesca was not about to give her word lightly. "I suppose being in charge of a man might actually be fun. I do know a few things that would help him...if I like him."

  Isabella leveled her gaze at the other girl. Francesca rolled her eyes and shrugged. "All right, I'll help you take care of him, Isabella. But I hope you realize Sarina and Nicolai won't agree with your decision."

  "It's my decision to make, not theirs." Isabella tilted her chin with a distinctly haughty air.

  Francesca laughed aloud. "They think I've been touched by madness, and yet you're willing to put tuo fratello's life in my hands. How perfectly extraordinary."

  Isabella put her hands out toward the dying fire to ward off the sudden chill that crept down her back. "Why would they think you're mad? You and I can't be the only ones who hear the wails at night."

  "Everyone hears them wailing. The 'others' want them to hear. It was a joke at first, something to do when they were bored, but I think they want everyone to remember they're still here in the valley, locked in it like the rest of us."

  Something indefinable in Francesca's face, in her far too intelligent eyes, something about her mouth and chin, mesmerized Isabella. In the gathering darkness she tried to grasp what was eluding her.

  "What are you doing here?" The demand was harsh, accusatory, the voice purring with menace.

  Both women whirled around to face Nicolai as he emerged in his usual silent manner from the hidden passageway. He stalked across the room, inserting himself protectively between Francesca and Isabella. There was something frightening in his posture, in the line of his mouth.

  Francesca backed away from him, clearly appeasing. "We were just talking, Nicolai, that's all."

  Isabella started to walk around Nicolai, a sudden urge to comfort Francesca welling up in her, but Nicolai's long fingers wrapped around her wrist, locking her to him. "Just talking, Francesca?" His tone held disbelief.

  Immediately Francesca drew herself up. "It's obvious you don't believe me, Nicolai, so I will take my leave. Good night, Isabella." She started toward the passageway. "As for tyrants and dictators, I give you my brother and thus prove my point."

  "I did not dismiss you, Francesca," Nicolai bit out between clenched teeth. "Come back here immediately."

  Isabella stared from one face to the other, shocked that, although she'd noticed a resemblance, she hadn't guessed the relationship immediately.

  Francesca turned back slowly, her face sulky. "I don't much care for interrogations, Nicolai."

  "Francesca," Isabella said softly, hurt in her eyes, "why didn't you tell me you were Nicolai's sister?"

  Nicolai swept Isabella under the shelter of his broad shoulder, his hand finding her so. "What game are you playing now, Francesca? Why did you follow Isabella and frighten her this evening in the city?"

  Isabella gasped and would have protested, but his fingers tightened in warning around hers.

  Francesca looked bored, tapping her foot and heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Pray tell, why would I bother with such nonsense? You manage to frighten her enough for both of us." She steadfastly refused to look at Isabella.

  "You dare to deny it, then?" A growl rumbled deep in his throat, a distinct threat. "You think I can't smell DeMarco blood? You stalked her through the streets and scared her for your own amusement. Did you think you could get away with such a thing?"

  The blood drained from Isabella's face as she stared at the young woman she had come to feel affection for, the woman she called friend. It was a painful betrayal, unexpected and frighteningly sinister.

  Francesca finally shifted her gaze from her brother to Isabella. "I adamantly deny your idiotic charge, Nicolai. Look elsewhere for your enemies. I've sought only to protect Isabella. You seem far too busy planning your battles to watch over her properly." There was accusation in her voice. "Sophia might protect her here in this room from the entity that mars our valley. Isabella awakened it--don't tell me you haven't felt it--and she should be protected at all times. Yet you leave her alone."

  "No one but you would dare defy me, Francesca."

  Francesca narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. "That's sheer arrogance talking. You won't look at our history, won't acknowledge the old ones, because you want to think you control everything here in the valley, but you and I both know it isn't so."

  "I scented our blood in the city, Francesca."

  Isabella found Nicolai's softly spoken accusation, the coldness of his tone, far more intimidating than his hot temper.

  "You can become the beast, Francesca?" Isabella was struggling to take it in, also remem
bering the feminine voice leading her up the palazzo stairs to the balcony, remembering she had nearly died.

  "Of course. I'm a DeMarco. Why shouldn't I be able to become the lion? It is my birthright as well as my curse. Don't let him fool you, Isabella. He embraces his legacy just as I have. What do you think keeps our valley and our people safe from outsiders?" She tipped her head to one side and leveled a cool gaze on Isabella's pale face. "Tell me, what is one life, the life of a woman, an outsider, in comparison to ruling all of this?" She swept her arms wide to encompass the entire valley.

  "That's enough, Francesca. Leave us now. I will expect to see you this afternoon in my rooms." Nicolai's voice was a whip of command.

  "What?" Defiant to the last, Francesca lifted an eyebrow. "No tower for your mad sister, Nicolai? How very kind of you." She glanced back at Isabella. "Know your enemies, Isabella. That's my advice to you. You're surrounded by them." Francesca spun around and was gone, using the passageway to make her escape.

  Isabella moaned softly and covered her face with her hands. "Go, Nicolai. You go, too. I don't want to see you either."

  "Not this time, cara mia," he said tenderly. "You're not sending me away." He pulled her resisting body into his arms and held her close, stroking her hair, pressing her face into his chest as she wept.

  She didn't even know why she was weeping or for whom. She simply wept. How could she find solace in Nicolai's arms when he was the biggest threat of all to her? Francesca had hit home with her poisoned arrow. What is one life, the life of a woman, an outsider, in comparison to ruling all of this? The words echoed over and over in her mind. Isabella had offered her life in exchange for her brother's life...and Nicolai needed an heir.

  Nicolai lifted Isabella into his arms and cradled her against his chest. His ridiculous plan of keeping her out of harm's way by making her his mistress was flawed. The lions knew she was his true bride. He knew she was his true bride. The curse was already at work. The entity had awoken at her arrival, just as it had upon his mother's arrival.

  He sighed softly, sat in a chair, and rubbed his blue-shadowed chin over the top of her head. "It isn't true, you know. What Francesca said to you. I didn't make a bargain with you expecting to trade your life for Lucca's. I tried to keep you out of the valley. I'd heard of you many times, of your courage and your passion for life. I knew what you would be." His fingers stroked her skin, traced her mouth. "Francesca is not quite sane, Isabella. She runs wild, has always done so, and none of us have had the heart to force her to heel."