Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (23 page)

Below her the sea raged as her heart raged. Wildly. Passionately.
Inconsolably. She couldn't contain her fury or her anguish. It exploded out of
her like the turbulent waves crashing into high white plumes. She screamed her
hatred of Aljandro and all men like him. She shouted her defiance of the
deities that would allow a delicate, lonely young girl to die without a loving
husband. She cried until she was hoarse, her throat as raw and ragged and torn
as her heart.

Giovanni dismounted some distance from the small figure raging on the
bluffs. His heart was in his throat. She was so close to the edge of the cliff,
her grief so deep she couldn't bear it, and he was afraid for her. He didn't
dare take his horse to the edge of the crumbling bluffs, so he tethered the
animal to a tree and approached on foot, wary of startling her. She looked wild
and untamed, an elusive, mysterious creature of the night.

Nicoletta was, indeed, not the type of woman to cast herself into the sea,
but her grief ran deep, her passionate nature equal to the sea raging below
them. She seemed unaware of the peril she had placed herself in. Heedless.
Reckless. His heart ached for her. He fixed his black gaze on her, as if he
could hold her with his will alone, keep her safe from the ferocity of the
greedy waves reaching higher and higher toward her.

Giovanni slowly moved closer to her, silently stalking her, prepared to leap
forward should there be need. She looked so passionate, there on the very edge
of disaster with the foaming sea before her and the wind whipping her silken
hair and the fog around her like gossamer veils. He had her then, his arms curling
around her, dragging her back from the precipice.

She turned on him, fighting like a wildcat, blindly, instinctively, as if
she feared his intention was to hurtle her over the edge instead of to protect
her. She made no sound, and there was no recognition in her dark,
terror-stricken eyes. He pinned her wrists together with one hand and dragged
her into the shelter of his body. She was ice-cold, shivering uncontrollably
yet seemingly unaware of it.

"Nicoletta." Giovanni stilled her struggles with his superior
strength. "You are so cold. Allow me to warm you. No one can hurt you now.
No one. You are safe with me." He murmured the words in a gentle, almost
tender voice, holding her still to try to warm her with the heat of his own
body.

She slumped against him, the fight draining out of her, exhaustion winning
the battle. Finally she turned her face up to his. Tears ran down her skin,
swimming in her eyes, making them look luminous in the darkness. "You are
here." She said it softly, an accusation.
"You
can hurt me. I
can never be safe again. I would rather you throw me over the cliff now than
have me burned as a witch."

He muttered something beneath his breath, his hands framing her face.
"No one will ever burn you as a witch." He made the vow fervently,
his black eyes expressive with his need to protect her. Giovanni bent his head
and tasted her tears. Gently. Tenderly. He kissed her wet skin, followed the
trail of tears to the corner of her mouth. "You must not cry like this,
Nicoletta. You must not."

In his arms she was still ice-cold, shaking so hard her teeth were
chattering. "I do not think I can ever stop," she answered him sadly.

Giovanni swung her slight figure easily into his arms, carrying her to his
horse. He wrapped her in his own elegant shirt, settling her close in front of
him so that the heat from his body could provide as much warmth as possible on
the ride home. He rode swiftly over the rough terrain, urging his horse to
greater speed.

The palazzo's stable boy rushed out to collect Giovanni's mount as he swung
down with Nicoletta huddled in his arms. It mattered little to him that his
favorite mount was sweating profusely in the cold of the night, when ordinarily
he would have ensured the beast was provided with excellent care. His only thought
was getting Nicoletta out of the cold.

Antonello arrived at the palazzo door at the same moment, his long hair
disheveled, his clothes smudged with dark, wet stains. "Giovanni?" He
sounded tired, yet there was a note of accusation in his voice. "What has
happened to her?"

Giovanni, with Nicoletta in his arms, barely glanced at Antonello as he
pushed through the door his brother had opened. His eyes widened at the
condition of Antonello's clothing, but he refrained from commenting. "She
has had a shock," he replied tersely. He shouted for his manservant as he
strode down the long corridor, Nicoletta held tightly against him. "Did
you get a fire going in her room, man?" he demanded as the servant
scurried before him. "Are you heating the water?"

Antonello hesitated as if undecided whether to follow, then turned and moved
along the hall toward the far wing where his quarters were.

"Has Vincente returned with Signorina Sigmora?" Giovanni continued
walking very fast, the manservant nearly running to keep pace with him.

"The guards returned Signorina Sigmora to the palazzo along with your
instructions to us. Your brother remained behind at the farm to see to it that
your orders were carried out there."

Giovanni spared the man a glance.
"Grazie,
Gostanz." The words were clipped and abrupt,
but the older man blinked rapidly as if bestowed a great reward.

He hurried faster to get ahead of the don to open the door to Nicoletta's
room. Maria Pia stood in front of the crackling flames, wringing her hands. She
gave a glad cry when she saw Nicoletta cradled in Don Scarletti's arms.

"Presto
Signorina. Her clothes are damp, and she is in
shock," Giovanni said, placing Nicoletta in a deeply cushioned chair
beside the roaring fire. He began to pull her blouse over her head in his haste
to warm her.

Maria Pia, shocked at his utter lack of convention, hastily intervened.
"Scusa,
Don Scarletti, you are not married to her as of yet.
I
shall undress
her." She tried to sound firm even in defiance his hard authority.

Impatience ran across his face. He yanked the damp blouse off of Nicoletta
and tossed it aside with controlled fury. Her full breasts and satin skin
gleamed golden in the dancing firelight, and his breath abruptly caught in his
throat while his pulse pounded uncomfortably. He felt the answering fire in his
blood, flames leaping when he wanted only to comfort. He dragged the coverlet
from the bed and hastily wrapped Nicoletta in its folds. "Dio, Donna, do
you think that matters? Nicoletta is freezing and must be warmed. Gostanz is
just outside. Have him bring the tub and fill it with hot water to bathe her.
She cannot stop crying." For a moment, for all his authority and rank, the
don looked like a helpless lost boy. "She cannot stop."

Maria Pia, stiff with outrage at the don's scandalous behavior, obediently
opened the door and gave the orders to the manservant. "Perhaps if you
give her a good slap, it will startle her out of the hysteria," she
offered as she turned back to the don disapprovingly. Her sharp eyes had
noticed his hot gaze moving over Nicoletta's very feminine body.

His black eyes blazed at her with controlled fury. "We will do no such
thing!" His arms tightened protectively around Nicoletta, his hands
vigorously rubbing her arms through the coverlet. Much to Maria Pia's horror,
he pulled Nicoletta onto his lap and began to rock her gently, murmuring
softly. Eventually, while Gostanz had the tub brought in and filled, the don
stopped speaking and lay his head over Nicoletta's in a strangely protective and
tender gesture. He continued to rock her, but the room was silent except for
Nicoletta's sobs.

Giovanni changed tactics in his attempt to soothe her. He reached for her
with his mind.
Hush,
piccola.
You are breaking my heart, and I cannot
stand much more of this. You are not responsible for the death of your friend.
You did nothing wrong. You cannot save everyone. Come back to us. You are
frightening Maria Pia. You must stop.

With the tub filled and the servants gone, Maria Pia drew herself up to her
full height. "
I
will warm her in the bath, signore. There is no
need for you to stay."

Don Scarletti lifted his head then, a ruthless, almost cruel stamp to his
hard features. "I will not leave her alone in this state. You will not
strike her."

Maria Pia shivered under the whip of menace in his tone. Nicoletta stirred
in Giovanni's arms, the first movement she had made since ceasing to fight him.
She tilted her head up to look at him. Her large, dark eyes studied his face
for a long time. Then a faint smile touched her trembling mouth. "Maria
Pia would never really strike me, Don Scarletti. She is my
famiglia.
She
likes to frighten us into decency with her threats, but I did not think a grown
man would believe her." Even as she attempted humor, her voice wobbled
alarmingly, and her eyes filled with more tears. He could feel the desperate
struggle in her to regain her self-control.

At once he bent his head to brush the tears from her eyes with his mouth,
his lips lingering against her skin in an intensely intimate gesture. "She
thinks it unseemly of me to see to your bath. She does not realize that people
already gossip about me all the time. It matters not what I do; they make up
stories to frighten their children. It is your reputation alone that concerns
me."

Nicoletta heard what no one else ever could. Or maybe she
felt
it—the
note of hurt in his voice, as if, for all his hard authority and ruthless ways,
it did matter that others feared him. He was stroking her long, damp hair away
from her face, and it fell in waves around her body. His hand followed the
strands down her back to brush against her rounded bottom, and his black eyes
were suddenly so hotly intense that Nicoletta could feel an answering flame
smoldering deep within her. She became aware that she was in his anus, cradled
in his lap, that his body was hot and hard and thick with need. She could hear
his heart beating beneath her ear. She wore nothing above her waist but a
coverlet that seemed to have slipped precariously to display a generous view of
her breasts. His shirt lay on the floor in a sodden heap beside hers.

Her eyes widened as she took in the ropes of muscle along his arms and
chest, clearly visible beneath his thin undergarment. She could feel the play
of his muscles against her own skin. Faintly shocked, she clutched the coverlet
more closely around her. "I… I think it best if Maria Pia attends my
bath," she said.

His chin rubbed the top of her head. "I do not know,
piccola.
One more
incidente,
and my heart will be unable to stand up under the
strain." He was beginning to relax, sensing that the intensity of the
storm raging within her had subsided. Very gently, almost reluctantly, he eased
his hold on her. "I trust you will call me the moment you are
dressed?" His hand slid to her neck beneath the coverlet to caress her
bare skin.

Nicoletta rose quickly and nearly lost the blanket as she scurried away from
him, her heart pounding in sudden alarm. Her skin was freezing, but inside,
something hot and liquid was becoming an aching need.

"We will call you at once," Maria Pia announced, deliberately
walking to the door.

Don Scarletti looked totally unrepentant. He arose with his usual fluid
grace, reached casually for his shirt, and gave both women a slight bow before
strolling out. Maria Pia closed the door firmly after him and turned the key in
the lock.

Nicoletta and Maria Pia stared at one another across the room. Nicoletta's
eyes filled with tears all over again. At once the older woman went to her,
holding her close. "I am sorry I was not there," Maria Pia whispered.
"Do not cry aloud,
bambino.
The don will break down the door if he
hears you. That man is a law unto himself." She patted Nicoletta, moving
her toward the steaming tub. "You must get in before the water
cools," she added.

Nicoletta allowed the coverlet to drop to the floor, tossed her skirt aside,
and stepped into the hot water. It seemed scalding against the icy coldness of
her skin, but she sank gratefully into the tub. It seemed a sinful luxury to
bathe this way, in an elegant bedchamber with others carrying the water to her.
She ducked her head under the water so that her hair floated like sea help.

Maria Pia waited until Nicoletta had come back up, the water running off her
face along with her tears. "Don Scarletti banished Aljandro, stripped him
of his farm. He told him to leave his lands or the soldiers would hunt him
down. Laurena took the babe to raise. The don would not give Aljandro
Lissandra's
bambino."

Nicoletta shivered violently. "Aljandro killed Lissandra," she
said in a low voice. "He knew she was supposed to stay in bed, that she
could bleed to death, but it did not matter to him. He would not pick up the
babe while Laurena went home to attend her
famiglia.
It was too much
trouble for him. He dragged Lissandra out of bed and beat her because she was
too weak to attend the
bambino."
She pushed back her hair, looking
at Maria Pia with anguish in her eyes.

"I am sorry,
bambina,"
Maria Pia murmured again, her hands
soothing as she cleansed Nicoletta's blue-black hair.

"He hated me so much, he left her to die. He would not let them call
me. He walked out and left her lying on the floor all alone. He just left
her."

"Laurena told me," the older woman admitted. "She found her
and sent Ricardo for you. Aljandro tried to stop him and even struck the boy,
but he was able to get away and come here. Nicoletta, you could not possibly
have saved her. It was already too late when Laurena found her. You know
that," she said gently.

"She was so afraid. I just sat there, offering her nothing. I simply
sat with her and watched her die." Nicoletta swept a hand across her
forehead, pain beating there so fiercely that she could barely breathe.