Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (48 page)

Hold on, bambina, I will get to you. Keep him talking.
Giovanni's
voice came to her. Gentle. Reassuring. Very calm.

Nicoletta dared not breathe a sigh of relief. Giovanni! He was alive, then.
And he had heard her as he always did when she was agitated, in trouble, when
she desperately needed him. Her heart sang and the terrible weight pressing on
her chest lifted. "Why would you do such a thing?" Nicoletta felt the
revival of her determination. She held the knowledge to her tightly,
protectively, that Giovanni lived.

"Mia nonna
saw me that evening. Your mother would not come to my
bed, and she threatened to go to
mio fratello.
Giovanni would have
protected her.
Mio padre
would have given her to me, and I think she
knew it, but she would have told Giovanni, not
mio padre.
I lured her
out to the ramparts." He pushed Nicoletta to the crumbling steps that led
down to the cove. Without the protection of the mountains or trees, the wind
was battering at them, the cold numbing.

"How?" Nicoletta tasted fear and anger in her mouth. "How did
you get her out there on such a terrible day?" Her foot slipped out from
under her, and she nearly fell to her death. Like her mother. Vincente yanked
her closer to him.

"It wasn't really all that difficult. I sent a maid to tell her
mia
nonna
needed her in the tower. It always worked for my father when he sent
for women. I used to hide and watch him. Sometimes I joined with him, or he
with me. Your
madre
was not the first woman I had led to the tower. Up
there we could take our time, do what we wished without fear of interference.
That day, everyone knew Nonno and Nonna were fighting, and they knew Nonna
often walked the ramparts or retreated to the tower when she was distressed. Of
course your mother went. Everyone loved
mia nonna.
Your
madre
believed she was summoned, and she would never turn Nonna down. I knew no one
would be up there on such a rainy day. The wind was howling, I doubt any could
have heard screaming. She fought me. I had no choice really; she would have
told Giovanni. I had to kill her. It was only bad luck that Portia and Nonna
came out in the rain onto the walkway. They saw me struggling with her. Nonna
tried to stop me. You can see I had no choice."

He sounded as if he expected her approval, as if he were making a
matter-of-fact statement without remorse of any kind. "Portia
understood." He sounded very reasonable.

Nicoletta felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Vincente cocked
his head to one side, regarding her gravely. "Portia knew I was destined
to rule. She acted at once." His smile didn't reach his flat, dead eyes.
"It helped that I knew she had killed her husband. She poisoned him, you
know. I told her I knew." The chilling smile was devoid of all emotion. He
began to drag her down the old steps, which were slippery with the salt spray
and mist from the sea. "I told her I knew, and it was a good thing,
because I wanted her to be mine. I wanted her to prove she was mine. Women are
so easy to control. They think they have power, but in truth they have
none."

Far below her she could see the waves crashing along the cliffs. "She
was in love with you," Nicoletta said softly, feeding his ego, searching
for anything to keep him talking. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. Portia
had made a bad bargain, believing she could control Vincente, but he had used
her, as he had used so many other women, in ugly ways.

"She would do anything for me." Vincente tightened his hold,
jerking her so close she could smell his perverted excitement. He was sweating,
aroused, his face flushed and his eyes large. It took every ounce of
self-discipline she had to keep from struggling against him. "I brought
whores to her." He shrugged casually. "I would tell her she could
join me or I would have my fun with them alone." There was contempt in his
voice. "She watched me with other women, I made her watch. And she slept
with men I told her to sleep with. I slept with her own daughter, and she still
kept coming to me, begging me to allow her to please me, as if she ever
could." His laughter was low and nasty. "Portia had her uses, though.
She kept your friend Cristano occupied with her charms while I talked with you
and my brothers in the courtyard."

Nicoletta paled. She stumbled several times as she pretended to try to keep
up with him. Her body felt stiff and awkward from the biting cold. The mist
swirled around them, the wind tugging at their clothes, so cold and piercing
that Nicoletta could feel it all the way to her soul. She used the numbing cold
to her advantage, shivering, slipping, dragging at his arm to slow him down.

"Portia helped you with Cristano? Why? Why did you kill him? He would
have left, and you never would have seen him again." Even her voice
trembled, though not from the cold. Vincente terrified her with his calm
reasoning. He was utterly insane. His father had perverted him, teaching him to
utterly loathe women.

"He heard us talking, planning our move on Giovanni. Portia and I were
walking together; we didn't know the boy was still in the maze, after Giovanni
confronted him. He didn't see us, but if he had gone to Giovanni, my brother
would have figured it out. I am not a heartless killer, Nicoletta." He
pressed his cold lips against her skin. "I only do what is necessary to
protect my plans, my heritage. Don't you see that? Portia charmed Cristano,
luring him with her considerable assets. I knew she would keep him occupied. I
went back later to dispose of him. Believe me, he was so preoccupied with
Portia, he never felt a thing."

Nicoletta couldn't prevent the shudder running through her at the
implication. Portia was certainly capable of seducing Cristano. Cristano's
manhood had been affronted. He would have leapt at the chance of seducing an
aristocratico.
She now realized she had felt his death; he had been murdered there in the
maze, but Nicoletta had attributed the terrible foreboding to little Ricardo's
sudden alarum about Lissandra. Lissandra didn't die until after Nicoletta
arrived at the farm. From the ramparts Margerita must have seen her mother with
Cristano in the labyrinth and hastened downstairs and along the corridor upset
that her mother had been consorting with a peasant. She had run into Nicoletta
and Giovanni but had no chance to reveal why she was upset because, at that
very moment, Nicoletta was feeling so strongly the violence taking place in the
maze without comprehending the true source.

Vincente ran a finger down her cheek, jerking her back to her own peril.
"Your skin is even softer than it looks," He shrugged. "I have
no idea why the body was not in the labyrinth. I left it there for you to find,
so you would believe Gino had killed your friend and so you would not gaze with
such heat at
mio fratello."
His smile was a sickly parody of
anticipation. "You will not miss Giovanni. I will see to that."

Nicoletta's stomach clenched and rolled. Vincente sounded perfectly rational
as he talked. Anyone watching him would think they were having a normal
conversation. That frightened Nicoletta more than all his threats ever could.
He believed he was entitled to any woman he desired. He believed he was
entitled to kill anyone in his path. Giovanni, more than any other, stood in
his way.

Her dark gaze jumped away from his. He terrified her with his cold-blooded
calculating. She nodded as if she found what he was saying reasonable.
"And Margerita? Why did you hurt her?"

His handsome face twisted into scowling contempt. "She was like
Angelita, my wife. Sniveling and fawning. Just the sound of her voice made me
ill! You pointed out to Antonello and me that she might have seen what had
happened from above. You were partially correct. I went to her immediately,
and, like all women, she wanted to be taken to bed. It was quite easy getting
the information out of her. She had seen Portia seducing Cristano, and she saw
me entering the maze. She told me everything, and she stayed quiet when I told
her to." Again the contempt he felt was evident in his voice and manner.
Young Margerita had been easy prey for a man like Vincente.

They were on the beach now, the ocean lapping at the shoreline, darkening
the white sand so it looked almost black and slick with blood. Vincente
continued to drag Nicoletta toward the water's edge. Salt spray misted her face
and arms; the sand clung to her bare, bloodied feet. The wind tugged at her
thick hair, blowing the strands around her face. Nicoletta was feeling
desperate. She searched for something to keep him talking. "What of your
wife? Angelita? Why did you marry her, and however did you get Portia to agree
to stay silent?"

Vincente's teeth flashed at her. "I had no money. The lands and title
belonged to Giovanni. By agreeing to marry that dull but wealthy cow, I thought
I would be rich. Portia wanted the money, too. But it was not to be. I tired of
Angelita's whining. She was fun at first, a virginal little thing, but quite
tiresome, begging me not to hurt her in our bed. It was amusing to shock her,
but she took the fun out of it with her endless sniveling. I could not allow
her out of the room after a time." Again he ran his fingers over her skin,
making Nicoletta shiver with revulsion. His hand settled around her throat so
she was forced to look into his mad eyes. "It was difficult to hide the
bruises, and I could not allow Giovanni to see them. I helped her end it. I
watched her. It took her a long time to die." His white teeth flashed
again. "If you do not tell me what I want to know, you will take a long
time to die, too."

The water was racing toward them, a solid, foaming wall. She stared at it
helplessly. Did he mean to drown them both? It crashed through the rocks and up
the shore to explode in the air and fizz along the bank until her ankles and
the hem of her skirt were soaked. His hands tightened around her throat,
squeezing slowly. "I suggest you learn that I mean what I say, unlike
Giovanni. If you expect him to come charging to your rescue, do not. He is
dead. Your good friend Aljandro was easy enough to persuade to join with me,
and a few others I bought. They took care of your husband. After all, if I wish
to ease the suffering widow's pain for a time before she dies by her own hand,
she must first be a widow." Deliberately his hand slipped from her throat
to squeeze her breast forcefully. His sick laughter was in her ear as he
twisted the delicate flesh.

The force of the waves nearly knocked her over, wrenching her loose from
Vincente's grip. She shoved him hard and that combined with the force of the
water toppled him over. He swore furiously. Nicoletta whirled and ran for her
life, heading for the dark interior of a large cave. The water was inching its
way in, then retreating just as fast, leaving behind a carpet of sea kelp. If
only she had Giovanni's gift, to be able to call to him, touch him, get
reassurance that he was still alive.

The cave branched out, leading in two different directions.
Take the
left.
The voice brushed at the walls of her mind. Calm. Loving.

Nicoletta heard the pounding of Vincente's boots on the sand, spurring her
to action. She rushed into the left tunnel as fast as she could. The farther
she went from the sea, the darker the interior became. She was forced to slow
down, walking carefully in the wet sand, unable to judge where to put her feet.
Her heart was pounding, her lungs exploding. She was exhausted, even with the
fresh surge of inspiration from Giovanni.

Behind her, Nicoletta heard Vincente as he came after her. He was no longer
running, but taking his time as he stalked her, making certain she could not
escape him. She could hear him humming softly to himself, and it made her blood
run cold. He was insane. Utterly, totally, insane. And she was trapped in a
dark, damp cave with no way out, nowhere to go.

She forced herself to press close to the cave wall. It felt damp and slimy
to the touch, but it gave her a sense of stability as she pushed forward in the
darkness. She nearly panicked when she ran into a dead end. She would have
bumped her head if she hadn't blindly, instinctively thrown out her hands in
front of her. It seemed solid rock. Her heart stilled. Had it been Giovanni's
voice in her head? Or Vincente's? She tried to replay the words, terrified
there in the dark with her heart pounding so loudly it sounded like thunder in
her ears.

Reach down low, and run your finger along the surface of the rock slowly
until you feel a slight depression. It is very low and to your right.
The
instructions were a whisper this time, the voice husky and strange.

Nicoletta hesitated for a moment, but what could she do? She was trapped,
and Vincente was coming up behind her; she could hear his horrible humming. She
didn't ever want to feel his hands on her again. She slid her fingers
obediently along the face of the rock, slowly, back and forth, to cover it inch
by inch. It seemed forever before she felt the faint depression. Her entire
palm fit in the groove, and she pressed it there.

Just as in the palazzo room, a crack began to open in the cave wall, growing
wider and wider until there was a gap large enough for her to fit through. The
secret passageway did lead to the sea—an escape, just as Giovanni had explained
to her. When under attack and needing to retreat, the Scarletti family
disappeared inside their palazzo walls with the family fortune. They would go
into the passage that led to the cove, where boats were waiting to take them
away to safety. Nicoletta understood now the carvings in the two
"map" rooms, the stained-glass windows, and the golden boats. The
reliefs and paintings looked as if serpents were carrying the hapless
aristocratici
into the sea, but when the morning light shone on the mural, the winged creatures
were carrying them safely
out
to sea and the waiting boats, the
soldiers—their attackers—drowning as their ships crashed onto the hidden rocks.
It was there for all to see, yet no one but the reigning don would understand
the significance of it.