Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (29 page)

Antonello stirred uneasily. She watched the shadows chase across his face.
He nodded, avoiding her eyes. Vincente shrugged casually. "I do not
believe he is in the labyrinth. We would have found him by now. Gino's men are
very thorough."

Nicoletta agreed with him. She nodded toward the soldiers on the balcony
high above them. "Has anyone told Margerita that Cristano is missing? She
was on the balcony yesterday; I saw her. Possibly she spotted something from up
high. She may have seen Cristano leave." She looked at Vincente. "She
might tell you if you ask her." She phrased her comment carefully so as
not to offend. Margerita would be spiteful if Nicoletta asked her for
information. Nicoletta had met other noblewomen like Margerita. They felt
entitled to say or do anything to those of lower birth.

Vincente's handsome features darkened visibly. His eyes glittered, for the
first time reminding Nicoletta of his oldest brother. "If she saw anything
and is withholding information to distress you, I will get it out of her,"
he promised.

Antonello looked more uncomfortable than ever. "I will talk to her,
Vincente," he said, his voice so low it was a mere thread of sound.
"Portia's daughter can be stubborn as her
madre."

"She will do as I command, and certainly Portia will insist she
cooperate," Vincente answered. "The young woman is far too
indulged."

"It is possible she saw nothing out of the ordinary, and perhaps she
has not even heard of Cristano's absence," Nicoletta offered, fearing she
had gotten the girl into trouble.

"She has heard," Vincente said, frowning at her. He looked even
more handsome with his frown. "Do not waste your pity on her, Nicoletta.
Margerita lives to plague others. I will deal with her."

Antonello sighed. "Do not distress yourself over Margerita, Nicoletta.
I must concur with my brother. She is quite capable of withholding information
just for spite. She does not want you here. She is young and spoiled and used
to being the center of attention." He rubbed his nose thoughtfully,
letting out his breath in a long sigh as if talking was a distressing business.

Vincente nodded his agreement. "We have all spoiled her abominably. I
am most careful with my daughter that she does not become like Margerita. At
times I fear I go too far the other way." He looked fondly at his little
girl, who was dancing in delight near an explosion of flowers. "I want her
to be as good as she is beautiful, like her
madre."
He choked on
the word, and looked away quickly, but Nicoletta caught the sheen of tears in
his eyes, and her heart went out to him.

Antonello rested his hand briefly on his younger brother's shoulder.
Vincente sighed and shook his head. "I rely on Portia's advice, but it is
most difficult to resist Sophie's tears when she wants something dearly."

Nicoletta bit down hard on her lower lip to prevent pointing out that Portia
had failed to do a wonderful job of raising her own daughter. "What
happened to Margerita's
padre?"
she asked to change the subject.

Antonello looked grief-stricken at the question. It was Vincente who
answered. "Portia was raised with us here in palazzo as
mio padre's,
ward. She is a distant cousin. Another cousin,
mio padre's
brother's
son, often lived here, too. He married Portia, and they had Margerita. He was
very close to us, but he became ill and slowly wasted away. Portia never left
his side, not for one moment. She nursed him herself, even fed him, but for all
her care, she could not save him…" Vincente's voice trailed off.

A chill seized Nicoletta, and she shivered violently. So much death in the
palazzo. Why hadn't the village healer been called when a man was slowly
wasting away? Her heart felt heavy, and she turned away from the Scarletti
brothers. They both seemed so open and caring, yet she trusted neither of them.
No one. A sense of danger was pressing down on her, the story not quite ringing
true. Each time she looked directly at Antonello, his gaze slid away from hers.
Vincente seemed just the opposite, meeting her gaze almost too boldly.

Nicoletta studied Antonello. He was of the same build as the other two
Scarletti brothers, tall and elegant, with sinewy muscles and eloquent black
eyes. He looked a bit more rugged, although this time his clothes were
immaculate. Her teeth bit down on her lip, and her eyes widened in sudden
memory. Antonello's clothes, too, had been stained with blood when he came out
of the labyrinth the day before! She remembered it clearly. He wore hunting
clothes covered in dark stains, much like when she had found him all those
months gone. She backed away from the two brothers, taking small, barely
noticeable steps, but her skin had gone pale beneath its golden tone.

Vincente turned to regard his brother steadily, obviously reading
Nicoletta's transparent face. "You looked ill-used on coming home
yesterday, Anton. What happened?"

Antonello looked more uncomfortable than ever. He shrugged, again avoiding
Nicoletta's eyes. "Gino sent me out on business, which took longer than
expected. On the way home I hunted."

Vincente quirked an eyebrow at his brother. "Up to your usual nonsense,
secretly donating meat to the village widows and orphans. Antonello sees
himself as the great savior of the oppressed." His voice was good-natured
rather than sneering, but Nicoletta found herself blushing deep red.

Nicoletta had been the recipient of fresh meat by an anonymous donor.
Antonello certainly had been the one providing for her and Maria Pia.

He frowned at his brother. "Sometimes it is in payment for services
rendered, Vincente. The people give much to us. You do not appreciate all that
they do."

Vincente held up his hands in laughing surrender. "We have heard this
dissertation on more than one occasion. I shall pass on another lecture."
He bowed low toward Nicoletta, a teasing grin on his face. "I see Gino has
been bitten by the famous Scarletti curse. Jealousy runs deep within our
blood." He nodded toward the study and the man looking down from its
windows upon the courtyard.

Giovanni stood very still, his arms behind his back, watching everything
with his dark, hawklike gaze. He remained motionless, although she could see
beyond him into the shadows of the room that he was not alone. His visitor was
gesturing as he talked, uselessly gesturing, as Giovanni was not looking at
him. No doubt he was listening intently, though; Nicoletta couldn't imagine
anything else.

"It is a terrible curse upon us," Vincente explained. "You
cannot blame him; our blood runs hot when it comes to our women. It is no small
thing to capture and hold the attention of a Scarletti, but we love only once
and suffer no other man near the beloved." The way he uttered the words,
almost with menace, made her shiver.

Nicoletta rubbed her bare arms. Antonello exclaimed softly and reached out
to touch her upper arms. "You are bruised!" He looked up at his older
brother standing motionless at the window. There was a gleam of something
frightening in Antonello's eyes, something reminiscent of Giovanni himself.

Vincente turned back from watching his daughter circling the largest
fountain in the courtyard, skipping and singing happily. "Bruised? Who has
marked your skin?" He, too, glanced up at his eldest brother.
"Dio!
I do not believe it of him. I will not believe it of him, no matter what the
gossips whisper. He would not mistreat a woman. But you cannot play with his
feelings," he cautioned Nicoletta sternly. "You must stay away from
other men. Marks like that betray passion. Good or evil, but passion
nonetheless."

Nicoletta turned a vivid red, the color sweeping up her neck and into her
face. Her eyes flashed at him. "How dare you accuse me of wanton
behavior!" She gestured toward the guards. "I would not have a chance
even should I be so inclined." Her chin rose haughtily. "I take my
leave of you, sirs." She dropped a cursory curtsey toward the two brothers
and marched away, her back ramrod straight. Anger smoldered deep within her.
That Vincente would accuse of her of such a thing and imply, like most men,
that any flirtation was her fault! Marks of passion! Who would call bruises
marks of passion?

She stormed toward Maria Pia, her anger rising with every step. She wasn't
satisfied with Antonello's explanation of the blood on his clothes; he had
seemed far too evasive for her liking. And Vincente! He was arrogant and a true
aristocratico
in his attitude toward the people living on Scarletti
lands. More than that, she couldn't forgive the fact that he had brought up the
one subject she didn't want to think about. The one fear that was hovering on
the edge of her consciousness.

The Scarletti family curse. She had grown up hearing the whispered rumors of
madness and jealousy. It was widely believed that Giovanni's grandfather had
strangled his wife in a fit of jealous rage. Vincente had sounded very ominous,
almost as if he were warning her, much in the same manner his grandfather had.
A riddle for her to solve. And she needed to solve it. If she didn't, it could
very well mean her life.

"Little sister." Vincente bounded after her. "I ask
forgiveness if you think I was charging you with ill behavior. No such thing. I
wanted to counsel you in your behavior simply because you do not know the
strange heat swirling in our Scarletti blood. I am only looking out for you and
my brother."

Nicoletta glanced over her shoulder at Antonello, who had remained very
still. He was looking up at his older brother, still watching them so solemnly.
"Don Scarletti did not bruise me in anger or in any other way. I think he
would be insulted that you thought he might, as I am insulted that you thought
another man had put those marks on me for the reason you implied. It was
ungentlemanly and most unseemly of you, signore."

"I meant only to serve you," Vincente replied, his dark eyes
reproving as he bowed again. "Let us not quarrel, sister."

She supposed it wasn't Vincente's fault that he had contributed to the one real
fear she had of her marriage to the don. She had seen Giovanni's flashes of
jealousy, felt the dark fury in her mind when he saw her with other men, even
his own brothers.

It was entirely possible that a madness ran deep within the blood of the
Scarlettis, just as Vincente and old Signore Scarletti had warned. One caution
she might ignore, but she would be foolish to ignore both. She raised her chin
and turned to look up at the windows where Giovanni stood.

Across the distance their eyes met, hers troubled and filled with
trepidation, his fathomless, impossible to read. On the morrow her life would
be tied to his for all time. She would live in the palazzo amid the sinister
artwork and the watching eyes, surrounded by enemies and never knowing who they
were or why they hated her.

Nicoletta turned and looked at the great maze with its twists and turns. It
reminded her of the path she had been set on, with dead ends at every turn and
no safe way out. She needed the comfort of Maria Pia and Sophie. She walked the
remaining distance to the older woman and put her arms around her.

Maria Pia knew immediately what she needed and hugged her tightly without
saying a word. Sophie, too, sensed she needed comfort and stopped playing to
run over and wrap her arms securely around Nicoletta's legs.

Nicoletta returned to her
villaggio
early on the morning of her
wedding. Several guards, rugged men with hard faces, escorted her, determined
to do as their don commanded. Sophie had cried great, rolling tears at being separated
from Nicoletta, even temporarily but she was refused permission to accompany
Nicoletta to the village. The child had slept securely in Nicoletta's room,
undisturbed by any whispering voices that might have been murmuring in her old
bedchamber.

Nicoletta inhaled the wind, the fresh air flowing off the mountains. The
feeling of freedom was tremendous. "I feel as if I can breathe
again," she confided to Maria Pia.

"I know what you mean," the older woman agreed. Her expression was
grave. "Once you are wed to the don, I will not be able to stay in the
palazzo. This night will be my last night to attend you as chaperone, but then
I will be useless and forced to leave."

Nicoletta put her arms around the other woman. "You are my
famiglia.
I do not want you in danger. I want to be with you, too, but I do not want you
where evil stalks the halls and haunts the bedchambers. Something is not right
at the
palazzo,
and until I am able to ascertain what is going on, I do
not want your life at risk." She was very firm.

Maria Pia shrugged her thin shoulders. "There is safety in numbers. I
would prefer that I remain in the palazzo." She ducked her head to hide
the sudden sheen of tears in her eyes. "I will be very lonely without
you."

"I have been trying to think of a solution for Sophie's fears,"
Nicoletta answered thoughtfully. She waved at the girls in the
villaggio
who were awaiting their arrival. "I will have my own bedchamber, of
course, and I expect Sophie will sneak in often, but I would prefer that
someone sleep in her room with her on a nightly basis. She has heard ominous
whispers in her room…"

"That is nonsense." Maria Pia tried to shush her. "There is
talk among the servants that the child is hearing voices as her
madre
did before her. It is in her blood." She hesitated for a moment.
"Some say it is the Scarletti curse that the women go insane and must be
locked in the tower, or that the Scarletti men become furiously jealous and
murder their wives." She repeated the ominous rumors in a voice of doom.

"I am not insane, Maria Pia, and I heard the whispers in young Sophie's
chamber the night the chandelier fell. You were asleep, but I heard them with
her. Those voices are real, not her imagination. I think the child is in
danger, but I do not know why. No one will believe her." Nicoletta turned
the full power of her solemn eyes on the older woman. "She has great need
of us, if you are willing to risk the danger."