Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (45 page)

Giovanni sighed, reluctantly lifting his head away from the temptation of
her body. His voice was a soft mixture of regret and sorrow. "What can I
tell you of
my famiglia?
My
nonno
loved his wife as no other.
They were always together, always smiling at one another from across the room.
She was a gentle and caring woman. Everyone loved her—how could we not? She
raised Antonello and me. She tried to raise Vincente, although
mio padre
kept Vincente close to him."

"You never mention your
madre,
Giovanni. Why is that?" A
sudden draft caused her to shiver. A shadow passed across the moon.

At once Giovanni dragged her closer, enclosing her in his arms, his body
sheltering hers from the wind. "Most of my memories of her are of her
moving through the palazzo, smiling. She would nod to us occasionally, but she
never talked to us. I do not remember her holding any of us, not even Vincente.
Mio padre
was always with her. He never took his eyes off her. He was so
jealous of anyone who was near her, even us." He buried his face in her
silky hair as if the memories he was conjuring up were too painful to bear.

There was such despair in his voice, Nicoletta circled his neck with her
arm, pressing her breasts against his chest, wanting to comfort him. "What
happened to her?" She wasn't certain she really wanted to know. There was
a stillness, a quiet shadow in her that heralded trouble.

"She… disappeared. We were mere boys. I will never forget that day, not
as long as I live." Giovanni stepped away from her, his arms dropping to
his sides. Nicoletta's heart went out to him. He looked all at once vulnerable.
He walked away from her, staring at the swirling mists, uncaring of his
nakedness. Nicoletta realized that no one ever talked about Giovanni's parents.
His father had been the
don
for only three short years, and no one spoke
of him. Not even Maria Pia ever talked of the man. Nicoletta didn't even know
how he had died, leaving the Scarletti legacy to his eldest son, Giovanni.

"I saw her with one of the soldiers. It was not the first time. They
would go up to the tower. Only this time
mio padre
followed her. I was
on the ramparts. I saw Father going up the stairs to the tower. I called out to
him, trying to warn my mother of his presence, but the wind was strong and
carried my voice away from the palazzo. It was the first time in my life I was
truly afraid. There was something in the way
Padre
was climbing those
stairs. I cannot explain it, but he did not look right. I remember I reached
out in our special way to Antonello, thinking childishly that the two of us
might be able to prevent the inevitable."

A terrible sadness pressed on him, and Nicoletta felt the weight of the
child's burden, a boy unable to save his mother from the wrath of his father.
At once she went to him, putting her arms around him, pressing her face against
his broad back.

Giovanni immediately responded, holding her hands against his flat belly.
"Mio
padre
had many other women. We all knew.
She
knew. But it did not
stop him from his rage. The wind could not carry her screams away fast enough.
I saw the body of the soldier afterward, and I never understood how one man could
hate another so much as to do the things to him that had been done." He
inhaled sharply and spun around to face her, his eyes so black with intensity,
she felt terror lodging deep within her heart. "He did these things in
front of her. Made her watch. I do not know what he did to
her,
but he
kept her alive for a long time, many months. Yet we never saw her again, and
one day he simply announced she was dead.

"Do you understand now the terrible legacy of violence and jealousy
that has passed to the three of us? Antonello and I each swore we would never
take a bride." His fingers dug into her arms. "I know I had no right
to take such a chance with your life, tangling you in the web of violence and
death that is my legacy. I want you to know I did try to fight it, but once you
touched me and I felt your healing warmth, it was the first time in my life I
felt I was home. I belonged." His hands framed her face. "I did not
have the strength to give you up. When a man wants something,
needs
something, he can rationalize anything." He looked dark and intense there
in the night. "And I wanted you, very badly. I looked at you and knew I
would have peace with you. You would give me peace."

The night wind whispered around them. The fog muffled the other night
sounds, its veils of white weaving in and out of the trees. Nicoletta's dark
eyes searched his face carefully. "Have I done that for you? Have I given
you peace, Giovanni?"

He trailed his fingers down her soft skin, over the creamy swell of her
breasts. "More than enough to last a lifetime. I thought your body would
give me solace—a selfish thought, really—but you also light up my home, so my
people smile now. I have heard singing and laughter where there was once only
silence." He bent to kiss her lips, gently, tenderly. "You have
changed my life,
piccola,
and I long to feel
mio bambino
growing
in your belly." His fingers spread wide as if already holding the child
beneath his palm. "The day cannot pass fast enough so that I can get to
our bedchamber where you are waiting for me." His hand slipped lower to
the tangle of dark, moist curls, pressing to feel the hot dampness. Giovanni's
breath escaped in a long sigh of contentment. "I look into the coming
years and know it will always be this way. The instant I see you, feel your
body, touch you, I will want you again and again. It will never matter that we
have just made love. I will grow hard and thick and heavy with my need."

He slid two fingers into her tight channel and felt the instant rush of damp
heat that welcomed him. He bent his head to the waiting tip of her breast, his
mouth suckling, his fingers gliding in and out of her until her muscles
clenched with fiery need. Catching up his shirt, he placed it on the fallen log
and then lifted her easily, backing her up until her bottom rested on the
shirt. He took her feet, carefully placing them near the log so she was open
and vulnerable to his invasion.

"Again?" Nicoletta's breath was coming in gasps. "You want me
again?" She had to brace herself with her arms.

"So much that I am going up in flames,
cara."
He caught her
to him, pinning her hips so he could thrust forward, bury himself deep.

This time she could see his face, the lines etched deep, the hot intensity
in his eyes, their bodies coming together in a dance of passion and heat. She
moved with him, finding his rhythm, urging him to longer, deeper strokes,
wanting to take him so deep he would find shelter in her soul. She wrapped her
legs around his waist, pressing tightly against him, so he was rocking into her,
so they were one.

Nicoletta watched his face, his every expression, the shadows, the joy, each
nuance. She wanted his pleasure to be every bit as intense as her own. He was
very giving, ensuring her fulfillment before his own, taking care, no matter
how strongly he surged into her, no matter how violent his passion, that his
hands were gentle and she suffered no discomfort other than the torment of the
building fire within. Of the coiling heat winding tighter and tighter until she
exploded with it, taking him with her.

Nicoletta stared up at him, astonished by the magnitude of their joining. He
was a man of great power, of enormous strength, and yet he was always so tender
with her. His expertise never made her feel inadequate. She found herself
smiling up at him. "I think I need to sleep, Giovanni. Right here, right
now. You've worn me out."

He gathered her to him, and her feet touched the ground, something real and
solid. His strong body was still trembling, his heart beating loud and strong
beneath her ear. "You want to sleep out here? Under the stars? I would not
want you to take ill." The fog brought with it the salt mist from the
ocean.

She nestled against him. "I am with you. Nothing can harm me."

Nicoletta looked around her, searching for her clothes. The fine sea spray
was clinging to her hair, curling it into long spirals around her shoulders.
"Do you ever get tired of being the don?" she asked. "So many
petitioners coming to you with their problems, expecting you to solve everything
to their satisfaction?" She tilted her head to one side, her hair sliding
over her breasts. "And how is it you became the don at so young an age?
What happened to your
padre?"
She preferred he tell her everything
here in the open, with the sound of the waves crashing to shore and the wind
carrying his words out to sea.

Giovanni raked a hand through his black hair, his gaze all at once wary.
"Nonno became quite ill, a terrible fever. We did not expect him to
recover. The mantle of leadership fell to
mio padre.
Even though Nonno
was ill and near death, there were things he refused to tell
mio padre
about the running of our lands. I think he knew Padre was…" He searched
for the right words. "Not up to the demands of such a position. Nonno had
a difficult and long recovery, and he remained quite weak. But it soon became
clear that my father could not continue leading our people. There were…
incidents. He made enemies and neglected his duties in his constant pursuit of
women. Our people and estates, the lands, were being ruined at a shameful rate.
It could not continue. There was also talk that he was selling out our
allies." He glanced down at his hands.
"Mio padre
was
assassinated. I never found out who ordered it, though I tried. I know other
dons were concerned that my father was aiding our enemies, and I know Nonno
feared such a thing would happen.
Mio padre
was buried quietly, and as
Nonno had never sufficiently recovered, I assumed leadership." He left it
unspoken that most of their people believed his grandfather had murdered his
own wife.

Nicoletta found her blouse and held it to her for a moment, thankful she had
grown up in the
villaggio,
free from so much deadly intrigue. "I am
most happy that you chose me to be your bride, Giovanni. I hope I always take
the shadows from your eyes."

He went to her immediately, his arms dragging her close, his mouth finding
hers. His hands moved over her bare back, shaping her narrow ribcage, then
gliding upward to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples, already hard
peaks in the cold night air. "I am most happy I looked upon you and
recognized you immediately. You were meant for me. I knew you were. I feel it
in my heart."

Nicoletta nearly dropped her blouse, holding him to her, cradling his head
to her, her fingers in his hair. "I feel it, too." She held him
close, offering comfort until he reached to kiss her gently before reluctantly
letting her go.

She pulled her blouse over her head, sliding her arms into the sleeves, determined
to bring a smile back to his face. "Look at how perfect it is out here,
quiet, lots of space to run free." She stepped into her skirt, tilting her
head back, looking like a wild siren. "I love it up here."

Giovanni dressed slowly, watching her as she danced around the trees, her
soft laughter a whisper of invitation.

Nicoletta looked at him over her shoulder, provocative, sexy. She saw he was
smiling. He looked younger, more carefree than she had ever seen him.

"My barefoot wife," he said softly, and he went to his horse to
pull a ground sheet from his pack. "If you want to spend a little more
time alone here with me, who am I to say no to you? We can rest for a short
time. We are not far from the palazzo."

"Not here, Giovanni,"
Nicoletta said. "Up on the cliffs above the sea. It is so beautiful
there at night. We can watch the waves and look for the sea lights that
sometimes shine deep under the water. They look like silver nets below the
surface. Have you ever seen them?"

Don Scarletti nodded as he followed her up the narrow path toward the cliffs
overlooking the sandy cove where his cousin and associate had attacked him. It
had been a long while since he had shirked his duties and taken a few hours for
himself. He had a new bride; it seemed little enough to ask to sit with her,
just the two of them, watching the sea. He spread the cover on the ground and
took her hand, helping her to settle. He sat close to her, pulling her into his
arms.

Nicoletta snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest. She was
drowsy, her body sated and deliciously sore. She curled her fingers in his.
"I had a happy childhood, Giovanni. I lost
mio padre
before I knew
him, so I was not sad. The time I had with
mia madre
was wonderful. She
made life an adventure. She was always laughing and singing, and other children
flocked to her. I was devastated when she and my
zia,
her sister, died,
but Maria Pia was there, and she allowed me my freedom, and she loved me with all
her heart. She never made me feel different. She made me feel special. She said
I had gifts from God."

His hand found her hair and tangled there. "Now you make young Sophie
and Ketsia feel special, as you will make our children feel special." His
arm tightened possessively around her. "Why do you fear me so much,
Nicoletta?" The words slipped out of him before he could stop them.

Nicoletta felt the way his heart jumped. She was silent a moment. It was not
in her nature to tell an untruth. She turned her gaze so she could meet the
dark intensity of his. "Because you fear yourself. It is in everything you
say and do. This dark curse you and your brothers live under. You believe in
it, and that gives it life."

"You do not believe in it?" he asked quietly, the words barely
audible. He turned away from her to stare out at the foaming sea. "You
cannot see it?"