She was afraid, but she was by now so
thoroughly aroused that she could not stop herself from pushing
against his hand. If only he would give her the release she craved
and then stop. She knew instinctively that what she wished for
would not be satisfying to Vanni.
For Vanni desired more. He wanted everything
Bianca had to give him. She was a coward to be so squeamish. Bianca
looked down at the size and rigidity of her new husband. It struck
her that an engorgement so huge must be horribly painful, and she
realized that for Vanni’s sake, she had to do what he so
desperately needed of her.
“I love you.” Vanni removed his hand from
her, adjusted his position, and began to stroke smoothly into her.
“Say you love me, too.”
“I love you, Vanni.” Her heart swelled with
her love for him and with the fatal sweetness of the sacrifice she
was about to make in the name of that love. At that moment, she did
not care if Vanni’s passion tore her to pieces. Even if it were so,
she would give herself to him as he desired.
Vanni pressed more deeply into her body until
he met a barrier. Bianca winced, gasped, and felt herself
stretching until Vanni filled her completely. Amazingly, she was
unhurt. Her soft cry of surprise brought a question from him.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No, but it is an extremely tight fit,” she
answered.
“Wonderfully tight.” He withdrew a little,
then came into her again.
Bianca sighed and caught at his buttocks, to
pull him closer. All her innocent fear was gone, and in its place
came a renewed and intensified desire. Every movement Vanni made,
every kiss he bestowed on her filled Bianca with tenderness and a
growing warmth until she was simmering with longing, bubbling with
the need to have Vanni deeper, and deeper still inside her. She
moved, wriggling closer, opening herself to him. Vanni laughed in
triumph and stroked harder and faster. Bianca groaned with pleasure
and met Vanni thrust for thrust, forgetting everything but the
passion they were sharing.
An uncontrollable ecstasy burst upon Bianca
with such force that she was torn out of herself and hurled into a
new place, where she and Vanni were made one. Her heart overflowed
with joy when she heard his wild cry and knew he was in that same
place with her. Her happiness was complete when he held her against
his heart and tenderly caressed her, whispering words of love until
her breath ceased to come in strangled sobs and her heart no longer
pounded at her ribs.
“I was silly to be so afraid,” she said
later, when they lay at peace.
“Not silly,” Vanni told her, his lips on her
brow. “Only inexperienced.”
“I should have known you wouldn’t hurt
me.”
“Never.” He kissed her tenderly. “I would die
before causing you pain.”
“Vanni? How often can husbands and wives do
what we have done?”
“Why do you ask?” Vanni teased. “Would you
like to do it again?”
“If it would not be too much trouble for
you,” Bianca said, “I would very much like to do it again, now that
I know everything about the act and thus I am no longer frightened
at the thought of your great size filling me. Now I know you will
fit most delightfully, if very tightly.”
As she spoke, Bianca was pleased to note that
Vanni’ s size had increased suddenly and that it appeared to be
undiminished since his last effort at a husband’s duty. Happy to
know he was ready so promptly at her suggestion, she wondered if he
would object if she were to touch him there, to test with her own
fingers the strength and heat that had filled her body to their
mutual pleasure. But before she could ask, Vanni spoke.
“Ah, so you think you now know everything
about the act, do you?” His chuckle was a dark, dangerous sound
that made Bianca look away from his manly attributes and into his
eyes. The passion she saw burning there nearly stopped her heart
with excitement.
“You have just begun to savor the
possibilities,” Vanni whispered. “Come closer, love, and let me
show you a new way.”
* * * * *
Rosalinda was happy to have all the attention
directed to her sister and Vanni. She was not feeling well, perhaps
because she had been forced to lace herself too tightly into her
best gown in order to make it fit. Seeing her mother in close
conversation with Andrea and Francesco, Rosalinda seized the
opportunity to leave the dining room for the coolness of the
garden. Once there, she reached under her tabard to loosen the
laces of her gown. Taking a long, relieved breath, she moved to the
far end of the garden, away from the lights of the house and into
the shadows. It was some time later when she heard a footstep on
the gravel path. With a startled sound she turned, expecting to see
one of the men-at-arms heading for the stable.
“I didn’t know you were here,” Andrea said.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“If you wish to walk in the garden, I will
leave.” Keeping her face averted from him, Rosalinda brushed tears
off her cheeks. When she would have returned to the house, Andrea
blocked her way.
“I am glad I found you. Rosalinda, you have
been avoiding me since I returned to Villa Serenita.” Andrea’s
voice was bleak with accusation.
“I? Avoiding you?” Rosalinda cried. “It’s you
who left me, to take Niccolo Stregone’s body home and to fetch
Father Tomaso.”
“At your mother’s command.”
“You could have refused.”
“How often have you refused to obey your
mother when she ordered you to do something?” Andrea demanded. “And
now she is sending me away again, in early morning.”
“Is she, indeed?” Rosalinda tried to speak
coldly, to convince herself as well as Andrea that she did not care
whether he left Villa Serenita or stayed. She told herself it was
feminine weakness on her part to long for his arms around her and
his mouth on hers.
“I am to ride to Monteferro,” Andrea said,
“to meet there with Luca Nardi. Together we are to make the
arrangements for the formal entrance of Vanni and Bianca into
Monteferro.”
“Bianca and Vanni,” she corrected. “Bianca is
the rightful duchess; therefore, her name should come first.”
“You sound just like your mother,” Andrea
said, adding, “Two months ago, when she sent me away from Villa
Serenita with Vanni and Francesco, you agreed with your mother and
rejected my proposal. I told you then that I would come back for
you. Here I am, Rosalinda.”
“To collect your booty?” she asked.
“There is no further obstacle to our
marriage,” Andrea said in a perfectly reasonable tone.
“No obstacle whatsoever,” Rosalinda said,
speaking with as much sarcasm as she could manage when she felt
like bursting into tears over Andrea’s lack of romantic fervor,
“except your prospective bride’s distaste for a coldly arranged
marriage made for political motives.”
“Are you refusing me?” he asked.
She could hear the injured manly pride in his
voice. But what of her own pride? If Andrea loved her, why didn’t
he take her into his arms and kiss her and tell her so? Why didn’t
he put all of her questions and doubts to rest with words of love
instead of citing logical, masculine reasons why they should
marry?
She wondered if she had been mistaken in him
from the beginning. He had known all along who she was, for he had
recognized her father’s portrait in the sitting room almost as soon
as he arrived at Villa Serenita. He had not hesitated to take her
virginity when she had gone to his room late at night. And he had
admitted to her mother during that infamous dinner party on the
terrace that he had taken advantage of Eleonora’s plan for
Monteferro for his own reasons, to put himself into power in
Aullia. These were the acts of an accomplished schemer, not a
lover.
Rosalinda decided she could not tell Andrea
she was carrying his child, not until she was certain what his true
motives were. If, as she was beginning to suspect from his cool
manner toward her, he did not feel any tenderness for her, then she
could never tell him and she must continue to reject his proposal.
She could imagine no sadder fate than to marry a man whom she loved
deeply and passionately, who did not love her. Such men took
mistresses and their wives were miserably unhappy. Rosalinda knew
as much from her mother’s descriptions of court life, and she also
knew that she could never learn to live with such deception.
Rosalinda’s unhappy ruminations were
interrupted by a flood of candlelight onto the terrace. The sitting
room door was wide open, and Eleonora stood silhouetted on the
terrace.
“Andrea, I suggest that you begin
preparations for your ride to Monteferro,” Eleonora called.
“Rosalinda, is that you? What are you doing outside at this hour?
It is almost dawn. Come inside at once.”
“You haven’t answered me, Rosalinda,” Andrea
said.
“Rosalinda!”
Eleonora exclaimed.
“
Rosalinda, wait, please!”
Andrea reached for her hand, but Rosalinda eluded
him and started toward the terrace.
“Answer me, Rosalinda,” Andrea demanded. His
handsome face showed hard and set in the light streaming from the
sitting room door, and his eyes held a fiery gleam that could only
be the anger of a man thwarted in what he wanted.
“You cannot command me, Andrea,” Rosalinda
said, pausing in her flight from him. “I have not agreed to become
your possession. If you want something of me, you must ask
politely.” With that, she ran up the steps to the terrace, where
Eleonora awaited her.
When the group of fifteen or so travelers
from Villa Serenita was a short distance away from Monteferro,
Andrea appeared, riding from the city with Luca Nardi. They were
accompanied by a single retainer, who held aloft the banner of the
Duke of Aullia, three gold stars arranged in a triangle on a red
ground. Seeing Andrea, Rosalinda pulled hard on the reins of her
horse, bringing the animal to a halt, while the rest of the party
continued to move forward around her as if she were a rock in the
middle of a steadily flowing stream.
Andrea was garbed in deep red doublet and
hose. His matching, flat-brimmed hat sported a bright blue feather
tucked into the band at the crown. Luca Nardi was more soberly
clothed in his usual dark blue banker’s robe.
Still concealed among her companions, who by
now had also stopped, Rosalinda watched Andrea and Vanni laughing
together. How handsome the brothers were, and how similar their
features. Yet their personalities were clearly imprinted on their
faces, and anyone who knew them could easily tell them apart. Vanni
was the more lighthearted twin, while Andrea’s serious nature
showed not only in his face, but in the way he carried himself.
Loving him, longing for him to declare that he loved her in return,
Rosalinda waited, praying that Andrea would acknowledge her
presence, hoping he would come to her.
Having greeted his brother and kissed Bianca,
Andrea moved on to Eleonora and to Bartolomeo and Valeria, all of
whom accepted his courtly salutations with a grave courtesy to
match Andrea’s own. Then it was on to Francesco for a warmer, more
comradely handclasp. Turning from his old friend, Andrea looked
around until his eyes met Rosalinda’s. She held her breath. There
were words he could say that would tell her what she wanted to hear
without revealing to others what emotions lay within his heart.
“Madonna.” With a cool politeness that
bordered on complete indifference, Andrea inclined his head in
lordly acceptance of her presence. “You look well.”
“Thank you, my lord duke. I am in excellent
health. As you also appear to be.” Was this to be the extent of
their conversation? After the way they had parted, Rosalinda did
not expect him to pull her off her horse and into his embrace, but
she had hoped for some sign of emotion in his first words to her.
How could she love him so dearly, and he be unaware of what she was
feeling? But was he really unaware of her? Impulsively, she decided
to do something to reach him, to make him respond to her.
“Andrea.” She put out her gloved hand to
catch at his sleeve. “I am sorry for the quarrel we had at our last
meeting. I wish you would listen to my explanation of why I was so
difficult.”
“I would be happy to hear anything you wish
to say to me, Madonna Rosalinda, but at the moment my first duty is
to my brother, and to your sister. This is their day, after all,
and other concerns must wait. Perhaps later.” The smile he gave her
was, to Rosalinda’s eyes, blatantly false.
“Of course, my lord.” Aware of the way in
which the others in their group were watching and listening to this
exchange of words, Rosalinda tried to keep the disappointment out
of her voice, tried to sound as calm and icy cold as she possibly
could, to show all of them, as well as Andrea, that she did not
care if he chose to be rude to her.
“I do understand. Don’t let me detain you
from your very important duties. Ah, Luca, how wonderful to see you
again.” Rosalinda extended her hand to Luca Nardi. Though she
bestowed her brightest smile upon the banker and appeared to be
giving him her full attention, she was aware of the long, hard
stare Andrea sent her way before he turned his horse and rode back
to the head of the procession.
“Here come the others. Andrea and I
outdistanced them,” Luca said to Rosalinda. He pointed along the
road in the direction of Monteferro, to a troop of horsemen that
was galloping toward Vanni’s company.
“That,” explained Luca, “is a delegation of
city officials, coming to extend their formal greetings to Vanni
and Bianca. The festivities are about to begin. Earlier today I
feared it would rain, but it appears that heaven is blessing your
family’s return to Monteferro.” Luca glanced upward, to the bright
and cloudless sky.