Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (11 page)

Maria Pia regarded her steadily with one eyebrow raised high. She looked
pointedly at the generous breasts and rounded hips Nicoletta had been endowed
with at an early age. "I do not think he will swallow such a tale,
Nicoletta."

Nicoletta made a face. "I will bind myself a bit with cloth. And I will
stay out of the way. We can spread the word that people think me half-witted
and that I am a year too young for marriage in any case, should anyone be
asked."

"Nicoletta!" Maria Pia was shocked at her and showed it. "The
villagers will remain silent on your behalf, but no one must tell an untruth.
The good Madonna cannot protect us from such a folly. What a thought!"

Nicoletta remained unrepentant. "And you must talk to Cristano, Maria
Pia. He is becoming a nuisance. Many of the girls would love to catch his eye,
but he looks only at me."

Maria Pia clucked her tongue. "Cristano will grow to be a fine man. You
are lucky he is looking your way. It is not good to know you are so beautiful,
Nicoletta. Beauty will not last forever and you could be caught in your
might-have-beens like that old fool Mirella."

"But Cristano would be one of those cocksure, handsome husbands who is
always making enormous demands on his wife while ever looking to greener
pastures, Maria Pia. I would not be a wife likely to smile with forgiveness and
pleasure when he returned to my bed." The very thought of sharing a bed
with him was repugnant to her, so much so that she shivered and rubbed her
arms. "I know Cristano will mean well, yet he will strike his wife if she
looks at another man and blame her for the attention of another man's smile. He
thinks much of himself; he will expect his wife to care for the children and
home all alone while he spends his time idly drinking and gaming with the men.
This is not a marriage to me." Nicoletta broke off another piece of cheese
and grinned at Maria Pia. "I shall remain with you."

Maria Pia made a show of rolling her eyes and crying to the heavens for
patience, but, all the same, she looked pleased. "You are probably right
about Cristano." With a reluctant sigh she gave up the dream of settling
Nicoletta down through marriage to the handsome youth. "Being a peacock
and having a quick temper, he should marry a woman who will not stand out quite
so much to other men."

Nicoletta raised her eyebrows but refrained from commenting. She had a
difficult time understanding how other women accepted the fate of becoming wife
and helpmeet so eagerly when she felt the loss of freedom would be intolerable.
Married, she would never be able to live the way she was expected to live. She
had always roamed free. Because of her differences, she did not have to adhere
to the many unspoken rules that bound other women. It hurt to see childhood
friends like Lissandra make disastrous matches, yet they really had no choice.
Nor did many of them appear to realize that their marriages could go wrong.
They seemed to harbor the illusion that matrimonial bliss would instantly ensue
upon their arranged unions, even to men who were uncaring or cruel. Lissandra
would be a brood mate and a workhorse for her husband, and she would die at an
early age without ever knowing true love.

Nicoletta pressed two fingers to her forehead, to the sudden painful
throbbing brought on by her thoughts. She glanced out the window at the
beckoning hills. At times like this, she wanted to disappear into nature's
embrace and be free of such continual battering at her emotions.

Maria Pia shook her head sharply. "Oh, no, you cannot go out there. If
you do, I will not see you again for days. You are no longer a
bambino
to run and hide when you do not want to face something." She waved a hand
at the window and the mountains beyond. "Once you find your way to the
hills, even I cannot call you back."

"You still call me a
bambina,"
Nicoletta pointed out with a
teasing smile, forcing a brightness she did not feel.

"I should not put up with your foolishness," the older women
reprimanded, but in truth, she could not bear to see Nicoletta unhappy. No one
in the
villaggio
could, not for long. When Nicoletta smiled, she brought
them the sunshine. Maria Pia's gaze traveled lovingly over the young woman. Not
even her worn and faded clothes could dim her natural beauty. "I do not
see how we can so disguise your womanly appearance, Nicoletta." Her gaze
fell on the small bare feet. "Where are your shoes?" she asked as she
so often had to.

Nicoletta shrugged, unconcerned. "In truth, I do not know. Nor will I
be needing them. I think bare feet will add to the illusion of a child."
She laughed softly. "Ketsia has quite a task keeping track of the things.
Yet it keeps her occupied and out of trouble—and perhaps relieves your worries
at the same time."

"Donna Maria Pia!" Cristano's booming voice nearly shook the hut.
"I must speak with you."

Maria Pia wrapped her shawl around her shoulders as she shuffled to the
door.

Nicoletta made a face. "Do not let that vain peacock into our
home," she hissed.

"Behave yourself," Maria Pia demanded, and she opened the door.

Cristano rushed in, almost smashing Maria Pia flat. He knocked the breath
out of her and had to catch her to prevent her from falling. Maria Pia slapped
at his hands and pursed her lips, clucking with disapproval like an old hen.
"What are you about, Cristano?" she demanded.

Nicoletta burst out laughing as Cristano, mortified, turned bright red.
Maria Pia silenced Nicoletta with one eloquent look. Cristano shot Nicoletta a
withering glare and recovered his dignity sufficiently to face the older woman.
"I have come to ask for Nicoletta's hand in marriage. She cannot be
counted among the eligible women for the Bridal Covenant."

Maria Pia smiled sweetly and patted Cristano's arm. "What a thoughtful
boy, to consider such a thing, but you seem to have forgotten that she is a
year too young for marriage yet. She will not be included in the don's Bridal
Covenant." She was leading him to the door. "It was kind of you to
offer to sacrifice yourself," she added wryly, "but there is no need.
Nicoletta will remain unmarried at least another year." As she addressed
and patted him, she thrust him out the door and closed it firmly. Then, having
uttered an untruth, as she'd sworn she couldn't, she hastened to the shrine to
the Madonna to seek forgiveness and charity.

The air of the village fairly hummed with energy the next evening. Nicoletta
shook her head as she watched the festivities from behind a large tree. She
pressed herself tight against the trunk, hoping she looked like one of the
nameless, faceless children the
aristocrazia
never seemed to notice. She
had bound her generous breasts and wore a loose, shapeless dress, a bit worse
for wear but clean. Her feet were inevitably bare, but her skirts hid her
shapely legs. Her hair was bound and covered tightly with a scarf. Still, she
was taking no chances, determined to stay as far as she could from the don.

During the long hours of the day the adults had continued cleaning and
polishing the
villaggio
in hopes of making it more acceptable to the
don. All houses and stoops were now neat and tidy, and no wash hung on the
bushes or trees. The small boys were deployed as runners, stationed in the
neighboring
villaggi
to report on the don's progress. He was moving
slowly from the small towns and farms, inspecting the young women and evidently
finding none to his liking. He was steadily moving toward them.

Nicoletta was agog at the girls, her friends, all of marriageable age,
simpering in their finest clothes, scrubbed and powdered, forgetting every
tragic death, every sinister rumor. They stood together in groups, talking in
whispers, erupting every now and then into fits of nervous giggles. They
thought only of the riches, the prestige, and what a coup such a marriage would
be. Nicoletta's fingers twisted tightly into the material of her skirt, and her
heart thudded hard in her chest. He was coming. He had found no bride yet, and deep
in her heart she knew that he wouldn't. He was coming for her.

She was trembling, a fine shiver she couldn't quite control. Her hands were
icy cold, and her stomach was doing funny little somersaults. The fog had once
again rolled in, bands of it winding in eerie wisps around the trees and
houses. There was a terrible drumming in her head, like the sound of thunder
heralding a storm. He was coming for her. It sang in her head, a hideous
refrain. Self-preservation warred with her sense of duty. The don could not be
defeated. Strong men had tried, and they had died for their efforts. He was
coming for her.

Nicoletta felt goose bumps creep over her skin. Close. He was close now. Her
legs felt rubbery, her knees weak. It took all her willpower to stand her ground,
albeit as a shrinking violet propped up by a tree.

He came into sight riding a huge black horse with a flowing mane and tail.
The horse was restless, prancing sideways, tossing its head, but the powerful
figure astride the animal looked calm and in complete control. Many outriders
accompanied him, strong men every one, with an obvious pride in and complete
loyalty to their master. Nicoletta could see the emotions on their faces, and
it frightened her all the more. These would be the men who would burn her at
the stake if he commanded it. They would do anything he commanded.

Don Giovanni Scarletti, with his great height and broad shoulders and thick
chest tapering into narrow hips, had the hard stamp of authority on his
handsome, angular face. He was no youth but a full-fledged man. His mouth had a
merciless touch to it; his eyes were frankly sensual, glittering black
obsidian, heavy-lidded with thick black lashes. He looked intimidating, a man
born to command.

He robbed Nicoletta of her breath. He was handsome and frightening and so
powerful looking, he seemed completely invincible. She didn't look directly at
him, terrified of drawing his gaze. One of his men took the reins of his horse,
and Don Scarletti dismounted in one fluid motion. He appeared patient and
gracious as the elders of the
villaggio
greeted him with several
long-winded speeches and presented him with gifts. The village musicians did
their best to entertain, loud and enthusiastic rather than on key. The sound
grated on Nicoletta's already raw nerves.

She was mesmerized by the don, by his graceful movements, the play of his
muscles beneath the fine material of his shirt, the way power clung to him. He
looked strong and capable, utterly confident, invincible. A dark sorcerer
casting his spell. Nicoletta wanted to look away, terrified of drawing his
attention but unable to tear herself out of the web he seemed to weave around
her.

"He is very handsome," Ketsia confided, tugging at Nicoletta's
skirt.

"You think every man is handsome," Nicoletta answered, keeping her
voice low, although they were some distance from the main festivities.

Ketsia giggled. "But he is old, Nicoletta. I am glad you are not with
the other girls, or he would surely choose you."

Nicoletta stiffened, but she did not dare let the don out of her sight even
for an instant. She didn't altogether trust the situation. Her heart was
pounding louder than ever.

"Why would you say that, Ketsia?" Her mouth was so dry, she could
barely speak.

"I just know he would. Anyone would pick you, Nicoletta," Ketsia
said confidently. "You are so beautiful and good." She studied the
don. "I think he is not having a good time. He looks bored. Do you think
he should look bored when he is choosing his bride?" She wrinkled her
nose. "He is not even looking at the girls. He walked right past Rosia,
and she is wearing her best dress."

The strange shivering was becoming worse. Nicoletta's teeth were chattering
so hard, she clenched them tightly, afraid the sound would attract the don's
attention. Ketsia was right; Don Scarletti was giving the young women only the
most cursory of inspections. He was barely avoiding being rude, but she could
see it didn't matter to him what anyone thought. His face was darkening like a
thundercloud. She saw him turn his head to examine the crowd, his glittering
gaze sharp like that of a hawk. He was hunting prey, and Nicoletta
instinctively knew that she was the prey he was seeking. Her hand went
protectively to her throat, and she tried to make herself even smaller. He scanned
the faces in the crowd with thoughtful eyes and then suddenly went very still.

Nicoletta followed the direction of his eyes and gasped when she saw that
his gaze had settled on Maria Pia. He leaned and spoke softly to the man
nearest him. At once the man pushed his way through the crowd and went straight
to the older woman. Head down, she obediently followed him back to the don.

Nicoletta squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to shut out the inevitable. She
could not allow Maria Pia to take the brunt of the powerful don's anger. Ketsia
seemed to sense something was wrong, for she moved closer and clutched at
Nicoletta's skirt. "Why is he asking Maria Pia questions?" Ketsia
asked plaintively. "He looks scary."

"Hush,
bambina,"
Nicoletta pleaded, wanting to hear. Again
Ketsia was right; the don looked very intimidating.

His voice was softer than ever, but there was no mistaking that he had every
intention of getting his way. "Where is the young woman who accompanied
you to the palazzo? Make no mistake, old woman, I deal harshly with anyone who
attempts to defy my orders. The Bridal Covenant was invoked, and all women were
to be brought forward."

Maria Pia nodded several times. "We understood, Don Scarletti, that you
wanted to see only the young women eligible for marriage."

The don stiffened visibly. "Your apprentice was unmarried, was she
not?" He made it a statement.