Dominic's Nemesis (30 page)

He raised up then to look her straight in the
eye. “Hopefully no more than a few days…just so he can give me the
grand tour and take care of some legal matters.”

She nodded, trying to beat back the fear he
would never return from Italy…that death would take him from her
like it had so many others she loved.

“But you
’
ll visit again.”

“I
’
m…not sure.”

She withdrew from the apology she saw in his
eyes.

“
No,
cara, don’
t.” She tried to shift away from him, but he
wasn
’
t having it. He
simply grasped her despite the struggle and re-deposited her onto
his lap. “
Shhh. I
won
’
t go until
you fall asleep.”

Amid his soothing hands, soft whispers, and
butterfly kisses, Eden relaxed. He slipped back inside her and
showed her how to ride him …sweet and slow. Afterwards, she fell
asleep cocooned in his embrace, head pillowed on his shoulder.

* * *

She stirred, jarred by an arctic draft
grazing across her naked skin. The next thing she felt was the
pounding in her head…the pain refused to be ignored. Ugh! The
caressed of icy fingers at her breasts shocked her into full
consciousness. It wasn
’
t
Dominic
’
s gentle palm
molesting her nor was it his presence in bed with her. Her eyes
popped open, her splintered head snapped around, a familiar dread
setting in as she realized just whose hand had ahold of her.

“DOM!” She called for him even though her
rational mind knew that he was gone, far away in Italy and would
not be back for who knew how long.

Pure anguish poured forth from her lungs as
she snatched the sheet around her and stumbled from the bed. Blind,
grappling along the floor in the blackness that rivaled the darkest
pit, she screamed again. Where was Stephan
’
s fire? He promised to keep it burning all
night.

A maniacal sound crackled inside her head; a
frigid claw seethed around her body, the chill creeping into her
soul. The invasion bordered on a rape. A mental rape, where her own
consciousness was shoved aside. For one horrifying moment her world
shifted from one of participant to observer. Chill and ice replaced
her life
’
s blood. Death
filled her heart. Wild panic thoughts, alive with hatred and
distorted images overtook her mind.

“Eden!” Somewhere to her right a new fire
roared to life, dazzling and violent, licking out of the hearth
like arms trying to save a drowning man. The flames illuminated the
chamber to the intensity of midday.

The icy grip loosened, and burned away like
frost at sunrise. Her mind was hers again. “Stephan…” a collapsed
heap on the floor, she managed to croak out his name.

He brought with him a wall of heat, stopping
just short of where she lay. She thought his hesitation due to some
concern that he would inadvertently harm her, but his expression
reflected confusion and then a predatory menace when he shifted on
the balls of his feet. He eagle-eyed the room.

Could he sense it too? No, impossible…
Because if Stephan sensed the entity, that meant she
wasn
’
t a lunatic.
Dominic would have to believe her now.

“Eden?” He looked down at her then,
questioning, “What did that
thing
do to you?”

“Do? I…don’t know.” She stammered. The
growing queasiness in her stomach and pounding in her head made any
high level of thought difficult for her battle-scarred mind. She
wrapped the sheet more securely around herself.

He seemed to realize a proper answer was not
forthcoming, and shoveled her into his arms.

“Where are we going?” was all she could
manage.

“Anywhere but here.”

“Tell me good news.” Matthias willed under
his breath and beckoned Egan into his office. The dinky little
hovel was the only private space afforded him by the Reform Board.
Their sentry lurked up and down the halls, supervising the
procedural changes mandated by the Board as a condition of allowing
Ciaran Isis Asylum to remain open and operating. In the wake, half
the inmates were temporarily relocated to other facilities,
including the delectable morsel he
’
d slated to be his next conquest.

His new custodian, Egan, was a definite
trade-up from the traitorous Harry. Matthias had taken a different
approach in the acquisition process. With Harry, he
’
d prized obedience over
intelligence. The second go ‘round, he
’
d gone into the slums of Southwart seeking
reliability and cunning and found a god sent in Egan. An Irish lad,
pale as death with a panoramic gaze in perpetual tracking mode, and
lithe cheetah
’
s
grace
…a combination Matthias himself found a touch
unsettling.

“
Well?
”

“Target has some interest in a recluse.
Foreign noble. The name Ambrosi mean anything to you?”

Matthias’ ear peaked like a pointer on the
trail of downed game. “The blind Conte.”

“Aye, that
’
s him but he ain
’
t blind, lest not in the regular way. Target sent a
message requesting an audience. Request was denied. Target
exhibited frustration.”

This was too good to be true. He already had
a line on the reticent Conte. He hadn
’
t heard from the client since his initial visit,
and given his precarious circumstances, he
’
d decided to put the investigation on
hold. Perhaps now was the time to re-open his dig into the Ambrosi
closet of secrets. If nothing else his involvement would irritate
Greyson and probably jeopardize any ambitions he had of gaining
Ambrosi
’
s cooperation in
whatever it was he wanted from the Conte.

Always suspicious of any good fortune that
was not hard won, Matthias narrowed his focus to the lad before
him. “How did ya come by dis information?”

“Tumbled one of the maids a couple of
times.”

“Any chance you can plow’er for more
information?”

His cruel twist of a mouth turned up in a
smile. “Anything in particular you want to know?”

Therein lay his weakness. He was stumbling
around in the dark when he came to specifics. “Anything on
Greyson.” In the mean time, he
’
d just have to work with what he had. “An’ whose
tha blonde livin’ at Ambrosi
’
s. Bony, middling height, genteel. I wanna know her
purpose there.”

Daybreak found Dominic in the most unlikely
place…the dungeons beneath the heart of Castello di Ambrosi.
Flickering candelabrum in hand, he paced towards the edge of the
granite pit, the very one from his tormented childhood. He had
expected to be paralyzed by memories, dread his constant companion,
reliving the nightmare with each panting breath. When first he
stepped off the astral into his ancestral home he was prepared to
be laid low by aftershocks of past wounds he
’
d bandaged over but never healed from. But
his breathing remained even, as it was now. He came to the lip of
the pit. The memories of the torture he
’
d endure in this place did not overwhelm him.
Instead, they seemed muted, so far removed that even when he made a
concentrated effort to call forth the horror only faded images
appeared to him. Where pain should have surfaced, a dulling ache
pricked at his heart.

He squatted, setting the brass candelabrum on
the stone floor. Where the pit had once been, lay a slab of
grey-green limestone.

“My first official business as the acting
Conte Ambrosi was to fill in this pit. I had plans to wall off the
whole of the dungeons and lower tombs but that was before Gabriel…”
The words hung.

Dominic straightened to find his brother
Gideon walking up behind him.

“I knew I
’
d find you here.”

Nonplused, he gestured to the limestone.
“Returning isn
’
t as I
thought it would be. The past does not affect me overmuch. I am
finally free of
Her
.”

The taller man inclined his shadowed brow at
Dom
’
s upper torso, pensive.
“There is a school
of thought that says: two women cannot occupy the same house.
Perhaps the saying is also true for the same heart.”

Dominic looked down at himself to find a hand
rubbed at the place over his heart. “
Perhaps.
” He dropped the hand and shed his thoughts
of the past. The time had come for him to come out of hiding.
“Gideon. I would prefer not to think on your death, but I will
admit that I can no longer shirk my familial responsibilities. If
this trip to Italy has taught me one lesson it is that I am not
that wounded little boy anymore. It
’
s time I conduct myself appropriately. If you
would, please re-acquaint me with the Ambrosi estates. In the event
of…for when I take my place as the reigning Conte Ambrosi.”

His brother nodded, slate grey eyes
twinkling. “Certainly. I shall have Valentina to sit with Gabriel
in our absence.”

Dominic bent to retrieve the candelabrum,
then straightened to meet his brother’s gaze in the gentle candle
glow.

“It
’
s good to have you back, Dominic.”

* * *

“
This
is the Chateau Ambrosia?” The
infamous Chateau ‘Aphrodisia
’
, where their mother had conducted numerous illicit
relationships. Dominic did not bother to disguise his
bemusement.

“What is left of it, yes. The front façade
hinges at the cliff’s edge overlooking the vineyard proper and
adjoining winery. Ambrosia has somehow managed a modest profit even
under Lucca
’
s neglect
but nothing resembling the golden days when Nonno was Conte
Ambrosi. The Ambrosia label graced every aristocrat
’
s table here and abroad…”

Dom scarcely heard Gideon
’
s financial report. Being denied the
chance to own and presumably restore
this
crumbling ruin had
sparked his uncle Fausto
’
s wrath and subsequent swath of mischief.
Impossible. Nonna must have exaggerated her younger son
’
s motives. No noble in his right
mind would want the hassle and expense of owning such a worthless
monstrosity…which according to Gideon was only marginally
profitable.

Perhaps, if one were a business-minded person
and had an interest in the vinification process, there would be
some personal satisfaction in rebuilding the adjoining winery to
its former magnificence. But he knew Fausto well enough to rule out
that possibility. His uncle was not an intellectual nor was he a
man of business. His forethought did not extend beyond immediate
self-indulgence and the bolstering of his own image. Neither of
which were boosted by inheriting a rotting heap villa and mediocre
winery.

Gideon continued his status report as they
strolled along the grounds of the skeletal masonry remains.
Glass-less windows abounded, as did crumbling spires and turrets of
eroded sandstone. The sight put Dom in mind of a beggar
’
s smile filled with shattered
teeth, tooth-shaped gaps and blacken gums.

“Lucca let it sink to ruin, but the
foundation is surprisingly strong. Gabriel and I have…
had
plans drawn up to restore it.” He waxed eloquent and
matter-of-factly, flourishing a hand in the chateau
’
s direction. “…Perhaps, as a
second residence, a dowry for a future niece or if Stephan should
ever wish to become an active part of the legacy I think he would
enjoy the business aspects of the Chateau.”

“Enough, Gideon.” Dominic halted him with a
sharp gesture when they reached the cliff
’
s face. “Why do you think Uncle Fausto
would be in such a lather to preside over these ruins?”

Grandiose did not come close to an adequate
description of the vineyard below. The lush green patchwork of
alternating crop squares started halfway down the face of the cliff
and extended onto the valley floor. A fat ribbon of blue zigzagged
through the valley cutting Ambrosia in half. The vines of the
opposite bank continued, running up the face of the next hillside
and ended just short of its crest. The winery proper nestled into
the hill
’
s base.

“It
’
s a beautiful property to be sure, but the annual
income from the Castello and adjacent lands is worth a multitude
both in monies and prestige. Even some of the lesser holdings,
Ambrosi Shipping or Ambrose Manor with it
’
s sizable trade wealth and I believe a
hereditary seat as the local magistrate should present more of a
lure than this place.”

“The nearest Gabriel and I could figure is
that he had or rather
has
some hope of searching for the
legacy
’
s origin and
finding the famed Ambrosia treasure.”

“That
’
s a myth. Nothing more.”

“Uncle does not concur.”

“Do you?” He tore his gaze from the splendor
below and pinned the man beside him.

“Truthfully, Dominic…” After an age, his
brother returned a resigned expression. “The rumors have endured
too long to be completely baseless. I believe there is a mystery to
be solved. Whether or not the answer to the fourth century riddle
is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is arguable.”

Her head throbbed to the rhythm of a waltz.
Her throat felt like someone had shoved a wad of mildewed cotton
into her mouth and forced her to swallow. Eden stretched a hand for
the vat of ice chips positioned on the nightstand. When Nell had
first banged on the chamber door and then promptly dropped the tray
upon nearing the bed, she
’
d wanted to strangle the mousey nuisance. But now
cursed with dry mouth, thirst,
and
nausea, she could kiss
her for her thoughtfulness.