The Scarletti Curse

by Christine Feehan

  As his mouth left hers, she let her head fall back, exposing the line of her throat to him. He blazed a fiery trail of kisses along her soft skin, over the creamy upper swell of her breasts until she ached for more. Needed more. There was only Giovanni in that moment, with his hard body and perfect mouth and the fire he was creating in her.

  He murmured something in a husky voice, an aching sound of hunger. Nicoletta cradled his head in her arms as he lowered his mouth to her breast, right through the thin material of her shift. It felt sinful, scandalous, and more erotic than anything she had ever imagined. His mouth was hot and moist, pulling strongly at her creamy flesh, his tongue dancing over the hard peak of her nipple, his teeth scraping gently until she cried out with the sheer pleasure of it.

  Giovanni pushed her shift down, exposing the perfection of her full breasts to his hungry gaze. The unexpected coolness of the air after the assault of his hot mouth only added to the erotic sensation. His hand cupped one breast possessively, his thumb teasing her sensitized nipple until her body screamed for more. "I want to see you," he whispered softly against her satin skin. "I need to look at you." He pushed her shift lower so that it fell in flowing folds to pool around her ankles.

  Nicoletta gasped as she stood before him, her body completely exposed to the raging hunger in his black eyes. She had never felt so wanton in all her life. Firelight danced over her skin so that it seemed to take on a golden glow, the shadows lovingly limning secret places, calling attention to her small waist and rounded hips. She ducked her head so that long waves of black tresses brushed over her body like a silken cloak. She stared steadily at the middle of his chest, unable to think or move.

  Cara mia. He breathed it into her mind. Intimately. Tenderly. "You cannot fear this night with me," he said aloud. Want me the way I want you.

  She watched his hands remove his inner shirt. Strong hands. Hands that moved over her skin possessively, a seductive caress that melted her insides and started a shiver of need sweeping relentlessly through her body. His chest was broad with heavy muscles and several deep scars, two quite recent. One seemed perilously close to his heart. Nicoletta felt her breath leave her body at the sight of it, at the vivid image of a sword piercing his heart. Involuntarily she found herself reaching for him, her fingertips tracing that thin, raised line.

  She felt his powerful body clench and tremble beneath her tentative touch. A rush of heat gave her the courage to look up at him. His eyes were so hungry, blazing with stark, raw need. It mattered not that he was enormously strong and she was his to do with as he wished. In mat moment Nicoletta realized he was nearly as vulnerable as she.

  Beneath her exploring fingers, his skin felt hot and firm, his muscles defined and sinewy. There was no soft give to his body, only a hard perfection that made her want to press herself against him. Her own body felt different, heavy and aching and wanting... something, something she did not yet know... almost desperately. She wished she had the courage to circle his neck with her arms and cling tightly, molding their bodies together.

  "Are you afraid of me?" he asked softly, his hands shaping her curves almost reverently. The husky note in his voice turned her heart over.

  She nodded, her wide eyes betraying her innocence. It only made him want her more, made him want to protect her and possess her, keep her forever in his care. His hands found the indentation of her back and dragged her close to him, so that the heat radiating from his body melted hers. His dark gaze held her mesmerized, so that she couldn't look away from him.

  Giovanni bent his head closer. "Give yourself to me, Nicoletta, and I swear you will never regret it." His voice whispered over her skin like warm silk, hypnotic, seductive. His lips moved slowly, gently over hers, coaxing her to open her mouth to him. And then he was taking her into his world of moist heat and fire, of pure feeling.

  She followed him willingly, more seduced by his stark desire than by the whirling, shifting colors exploding in her head. He was everywhere, everything, his hands moving over her body, his mouth welded to hers, her hair brushing their skin, sensitizing them even more. She couldn't think for wanting him. She had no idea the fire inside her could burn so bright, rage so out of control. He managed to lay her on the bed without her even knowing how she got there, and his mouth left hers to find her aching breast, even as his palm slid over her belly to rest on the tight dark curls where her moist heat beckoned to him.

  Nicoletta felt the coolness of the coverlet beneath her hot skin, the weight of his palm as he pushed between her legs.

  She gasped in shock as her entire body clenched and throbbed in response to his touch. His teeth scraped against her tender skin, his tongue gently following to ease any ache. His hands found the curve of her hips, holding her still as his mouth burned across her stomach to lap at the inside of her thigh. Her fingers twisted convulsively in his hair. "What are you doing?" She managed to gasp the words aloud to him, suddenly terrified of the overwhelming need for something beyond her reach.

  Trust me, cara mia. I want you to need me the same way I need you. I burn for you night and day. I cannot sleep or eat or concentrate. I have traced this path so many times in my mind. His words were heat and fire, the feeling in her mind more his than hers. She was as necessary to him as breathing. And he wanted her to feel the same way about him. Alarm bells were trying to ring in her head, self-preservation rising in the wake of his talented hands stroking her body exactly where she wanted--no, needed--him to touch her. And then there was nothing but a firestorm raging through her as his fingers brushed against her testing her response.

  Her body arched more fully against his hand, and a small moan escaped her. Her fingers tightened in his hair, an anchor as waves of fire washed through her. "Stop." She said the word aloud, terrified she might be lost forever. Her blood surged hotly, her breasts ached for him, her body wanted his. She couldn't think for wanting him.

  Still, it was not enough for him. He was taking no chances with her innocence. He wanted her slick and hot and beyond thinking. He moved lower to taste her. Hot honey, her scent beckoning. Her body rippled with desire. Giovanni slid the confining cloth from himself even as he moved over her, blanketing her body with his own.

  He watched her face, the look of need and confusion in her eyes. There was fear of him, of his strength, his power, his dominion over her. He was aching and full, his own need beyond anything he had ever experienced. He pressed against her, hard and thick, pulsing with an urgent demand. He moved his body gently to ease into her entrance. She was hot and tight, her folds a velvet fire surrounding his tip. She caught at his arms, her eyes wide with shock.

  Feel me in you, cara mia. We are one as we are meant to be. He pushed in farther until he encountered the thin barrier of her chastity. Her fingers were digging into his skin, and she suddenly stiffened in panic. At once he subsided, holding onto his self-control with supreme effort. "The pain lasts but a moment, piccola. It is unavoidable." Lines of strain etched his sculpted face.

  Nicoletta looked up at him, her eyes searching his features for what seemed an eternity. He made no effort to hide his terrible need from her, the effort he was making to control himself. At last she relaxed trustingly beneath him.

  Giovanni bent his head to take possession of her soft, trembling lips as he surged forward, taking her innocence. Nicoletta gasped as he filled her. There was unexpected pain in the midst of such pleasure. I know, cara mia. I know it hurt. But give yourself a moment, and it will be much better. There was such intimacy in the way his voice brushed seductively at the walls of her mind. His mouth was devouring hers, hot with excitement, with the answers to the mystery of what transpired between a husband and wife.

  He began to move, slowly at first, with long, sure strokes, watching her face carefully for signs of discomfort. She looked bemused, sexy, her innocent gaze on his. She was hot and slick, a fiery sheath gripping him tightly. He was careful with her when he needed to bury himself deep and hard, wanting to crawl inside her a
nd weld them together for all time.

  His hands cradled her rounded buttocks, pulling her into him as he deepened his strokes. She moved with him, reaching for him now, reaching for more of everything he was willing to give her. The small pain was forgotten as the pressure built beyond anything she had ever imagined. She clung to him, her eyes open, watching him closely, watching the shadows play on his face, the lines etched so deeply. He was surging into her with harder, deeper strokes. Her body seemed to ripple with a life of its own, even as his hands tightened on her and she felt him swell, hard and full, driving even deeper so that for a moment she felt on the edge of a great precipice, so close to perfect ecstasy. She reached for it, wanted it, even as he called her name softly, his seed pouring hotly into her. Whatever it was eluded her, leaving her frustrated and slightly ashamed.

  Giovanni was breathing hard, his arms hard bands around her as he gathered her to him. Nicoletta unexpectedly felt close to tears. Her body was still on fire with need, slightly sore but very aroused. His hands framed her face. "It is only your first time, cara mia. It was my failure--my wanting you too much--not yours. We are far from finished here."

  Her teeth bit nervously at her lower lip. "I do not know what to do."

  "It will be a pleasure to teach you," he said softly, bending his head to brush a kiss at the corner of her mouth. Her heart somersaulted at the tenderness in his voice.

  "How is it you know so much?" she dared to ask. He had brought her to the brink of losing herself, of becoming a willing slave in his arms. Yet it didn't matter. She couldn't think of anything but Giovanni and his hard body, the way he made her feel.

  He turned his face away from her. "That is not something you would want to know, Nicoletta." He was still buried deep inside her, strangely intimate, giving her the courage she needed to be insistent.

  "I asked you." She sensed she was on the brink of some truth about him, a piece of himself he did not share with others.

  Giovanni sighed softly, reluctantly separating their bodies as he rolled his weight off her, his arms still wrapping her closely to him. "I am a Scarletti, piccola. Much was demanded of us. Many heirs expected of us. Our education in such matters was required at a very early age. Mio padre sent women to us to teach us these things. The women reported our progress to him. If we were not as successful as he thought we should have been, we were severely punished." Bitterness and distaste were like ashes in his mouth.

  Nicoletta frowned, turning her head to look at him. "How terrible. I have never heard of such a thing. Are all the aristocrazia treated in such a manner?"

  "It was solely the wish of mio padre. His demands were always excessive. Later he sent young girls to us, to be certain we would know what to do with an innocent. He insisted his sons had to excel in every area. The things he wanted done to the women and girls often made me sick, and I would refuse. He would beat me, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of concurring with his wishes or of crying out at his blows. Some things done under the guise of lovemaking are abnormal and deviant, piccola, and not for your ears."

  Nicoletta heard the distaste in his voice. She had no idea what he was implying, but something in his tone twisted her stomach. She laid a hand on his arm. "I think it is a strange thing the way we have false ideas of how others live. I am happy I am no aristocratico." His hands were moving over her body, seeking shadows, soft curves, and hidden hollows. She watched the firelight play over his face as he indulged his ability to memorize every inch of her body. He looked relaxed, even happy, and it occurred to her that she had never seen him this way before. He was always so remote or serious.

  He bent his head to find her throat, and his hair brushed her sensitive skin like the tickling flames. "I have a surprise for you," he murmured, his mouth drifting lower so that the dark shadow on his jaw rubbed along the swell of her breast, sending fire racing through her blood. "Something to keep you out of the hills."

  "I was born to run in the hills," she cautioned, her chin lifting in a subtle challenge.

  He smiled, his warm breath teasing her nipple erect.

  "Ah, but your running days are over, piccola.'" His mouth closed over her breast, and she cried out with the exquisite pleasure of it, arching into him, seeking relief from the burning in her body. She still throbbed with need. His hand traced the indentation of her waist, then glided down over her belly to find the nest of damp curls. His mouth was hot and demanding even as his fingers moved inside her.

  For one moment Nicoletta thought to pull away from him, aware he was an expert at arousing a woman, any woman, but the fire was already burning out of control. She moved against him frantically, the pressure building almost to the point of pain. And then she cried out, clinging to him for support as her entire body seemed to fragment and waves of pleasure washed through her, over her, inside her.

  Giovanni found her mouth with his, tasting her passion. It is not the same with other women. It was never like this. And he couldn't explain it to her. How could he? The palazzo was his home, and he was the guardian of his people. The duty was his; it rested squarely on his shoulders, and he would never shirk it. But the curse on the famiglia Scarletti was very real. The palazzo was aptly named by those who whispered--Palazzo delta Morte. Palace of Death. It was a dark, monstrous place to live, to grow. A shroud of evil encased it, one he could not hope to lift. There was no laughter or love there, only emptiness and fear and envy. Something evil lurked there, poisoning all that was good.

  The women who had come and gone in his life had been mere duty, a thing that shamed him. He was well aware of the curse, well aware of the savage beast that crouched within his body, of the hot blood that ran in his veins. He had seen the results when watching his father. Giovanni kissed Nicoletta again, gently, tenderly. How could he tell her he should never have been so selfish as to force her to accept him? That her life was in constant danger, that death stalked her every moment she was in the palazzo.

  He kissed her again because he had to, because he couldn't possibly do anything else in that moment. She lay in his bed, her body soft and inviting, her eyes luminous, enormous, shy, an angel trapped in the devil's realm. "I wanted to find the perfect wedding gift for you," he said softly, kissing the corner of her mouth, drifting lower to her chin. "I was told you have an uncommon interest in cleanliness, in hot water."

  At once her eyes became shadowed, haunted, her young face mirroring her fear. Giovanni bent once more to kiss her lush mouth. "You do have strange habits, piccola. You cannot deny it." He sounded amused.

  Nicoletta shifted in an attempt to gain freedom. Was this some cruelty? A veiled threat that, should she not please him, he would name her witch? The word had been twice used, a frightening thing should the don wish to rid himself of her. She knew she was different, and she was intelligent enough to know the payment that had been demanded of her villaggio for those differences. The Scarletti who had bargained with the ancestors of the village elders had wanted to introduce those rare abilities into his bloodline. He had allowed them to establish their villaggio under the don's protection in return for the Bridal Covenant.

  Cara mia. His voice was a drawling caress, a gentle chastisement. "You look at me with such fear in your beautiful eyes." It was becoming far easier to connect with her; when her emotions were intense, he could reach out to her, his voice strong in her mind. Giovanni moved then, a swift, fluid flowing of his muscles. Her heart nearly stopped as he gathered her up as if she weighed no more than a child. He could be very deceptive in that when he was still, he was completely still, and when he moved it was fast and unexpected. She knew why he was reputed to be a dangerous adversary.

  "What do you plan to do with me?" She was completely naked, the evidence of her innocence trickling along her leg. "This is unseemly, Don Scarletti." It was humiliating to be so helpless, not to understand the demands of one's own body and to know she was completely at the mercy of her husband.

  Giovanni moved straight to one of the closed
doors, thrusting it open with one quick motion and took her into a huge, elaborate marble chamber. Nicoletta gasped, clutching his neck with her slender arms. She had never seen anything remotely like it. She had heard of such sinful luxuries, of course; the Roman emperors were reputed to have such things.

  Watching her face closely, Giovanni lowered her feet to the marbled tiles. Nicoletta was so awed, she forgot she was naked. The bath was built almost as large as the community baths and sunken deep, with stairs leading down into it. The hot water lapped at the edges, beckoning, steam clouding the room, lending the illusion of clouds. Beneath the deep water mosaic tiles wove colors like a tapestry. Large columns at the perimeter held lifelike sculptures of fearsome lions. The beasts faced outward from the bath, as if standing guard.

  "My ancestors believed in their creature comforts."

  Nicoletta abruptly remembered Giovanni was there and immediately hid herself behind one of the lions. "Do you worship in the Holy Church?" she asked, suspicious. In their small villaggio, it was rumored that in the outside world things like kissing and bathing could lead to sinful, wicked things, even between husband and wife, who rightly mate but solely to produce children. Nicoletta was rather afraid that what she and Giovanni had already done came under the heading of sinful and wicked. She had liked his ministrations far too much to consider herself a decent woman. The thought was frightening, yet exciting at the same time.

  He arched one black eyebrow at her, standing tall and naked, looking every inch a Greek god. We have not even begun to be sinful and wicked. The words brushed at the inside of her mind, spreading heat through her body until the very core of her burned. "There is so much more to what is between a man and a woman," he said aloud, watching the breath rush out of her lungs, watching the way her breasts beckoned him, swelling with aching desire.