****
The bay was no different from other ports Alessa had seen. There was the usual flurry of movement as goods were loaded onto various vessels lined up at the shore. While the sight always fascinated her, today her concentration waned.
Walking beside the tutor filled her with mixed emotions. He was terribly handsome and ofttimes kind and gentle. If only she could ignore her suspicion. There was more the Dante Santangelo than tutoring French and Latin. More to the man than interpreting for the French.
She gazed off at the half-moon bay. At the very tip of one side was an enormous castle. Beautiful palaces stood before it, resembling scattered soldiers standing guard. “Know you who lives there?” At his lengthy silence, she glanced up to find a compelling tick at his jaw. “How long must I await your reply?”
“Do not be sassy with me, Alessandra.” His warning fell on deaf ears. “That is Castel dell’Ovo. It has been an Anjevin hold for near to two hundred years.”
“You have been in that particular castle?”
He pressed his lips together, but she wouldn’t let the matter go.
“Queen Isabelle resides there, does she not?”
His jaw clenched, and he slid his tapered gaze to her. “It is no secret. Is there anything else about the queen you wish to know?”
There was, but she’d not accuse him of bedding the queen. Even she knew the scandal it would create. The separation between nobility and commoners was seldom crossed. But if she hadn’t witnessed how Queen Isabelle smiled fondly at the tutor, how she looked upon him as if she favored his companionship, Alessa wouldn’t question if more transpired between the two.
“You have appeased my curiosity.” She walked down to the shore using a well-traveled path. “Tell me, Signor Santangelo, what will I call you once we are wed?”
“Dante.”
“What? You do not cherish the title of my lord or signore? Or messere? It would be awfully disrespectful of me if I called you by your given name.”
“Do not mock the sanctity of marriage. Once you are my wife, we shall be civil and respectful to one another. Our Christian names will suffice between us. Now enough of the subject. I grow weary of it.”
“What of me?”
Confusion cast creases across his forehead.
“Will you grow weary of me?”
One corner of his mouth whispered upward in an uneven smile. “I fear you might grow weary of me first. You are much too adventurous for any man, Alessandra. Alas, once we are properly wed, I shall make certain you curtail your activities after dark.”
“I shall try.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her near. Stunned, Alessa gaped up at him, uncertain of his sudden display of affection where anyone could bear witness.
“I’ll not give you reason to wander the streets in search of excitement to write about.”
His husky whisper and jagged breaths escalated the hammering of her heart. She curved her hands over his shoulders. His eyes darted over her face, returning to her lips more than once. Then something odd encroached his features, and he released her. She had been so sure he desired to kiss her.
****
On a hill overlooking the bay, Benito glared down at the couple wrapped in an embrace. He had turned over every bench and stone in the city in search of the wench. He cared not if harm came to her, but his father did.
Fabroni joined him. “Have you found her?”
“There is the whore.”
The instant Fabroni saw Alessandra and the tutor, he ground his teeth together. “Mayhap I should seek Father Damiani and marry the two of them before nightfall.”
Benito’s eyes narrowed. “I have yet to understand the reason you invited that traitor Santangelo into our family.”
“You may be right about Signor Santangelo, but what better way to keep an eye on an enemy than to have him under your nose?” Benito started down the slope, but Fabroni held him back. “No, do not disturb them. We have more important matters to attend. I have just received word of another shipment coming in tonight.”
Benito nodded tersely. “I would see her married soon else she will ruin what we have worked hard for.”
“I think not. The girl has no idea what we are about. She will not expose us for honoring Alfonso. She knows naught about politics. Be patient. Soon Signor Santangelo will take possession of her.”
“Pray she rebels against her husband and turns to us, her family. Mayhap extolling information she gains from him that the French do not want known.”
Fabroni smiled. “You see, she will be useful after all. Now go. No word shall you speak of what you saw here. We must avail our kindness upon Alessandra. She will need us very soon, capisce?”
With a slow, cryptic smile, Benito replied. “Sì, I understand.”
Chapter Fifteen
A noise below awoke Alessa from a deep sleep. She lay still, listening for it again. But in the quiet, the only sound she heard was the rustle of leaves on the olive tree outside her window. The chill from the breeze blowing against the shutters seeped through the cracks. She rolled to her other side and huddled beneath the many blankets.
Then she heard it again.
Bracing for the cold, she tossed back the covers and shivered. She yanked a blanket from the bed, wrapped it around her shoulders, and slipped her feet into shoes. She’d search the grounds outside her window if Benito hadn’t nailed the shutters in place. He also fixed a lock out of her reach on the door leading to Fabroni’s shop.
The rest of the floor remained dark as she followed the odd sound to the hall. Voices filtered up from below. She listened intently but couldn’t understand the muffled words or identify the people speaking. When she entered the main room, the voices carried up stronger, and she realized they came from the shop directly below. Dropping to her knees, she pressed her ear to the cold floor. After adjusting her position more than once, she finally recognized Fabroni and Benito. What were they doing in the shop in the middle of the night?
No matter how hard she strained to hear, their conversation never cleared. Alessa scrambled to her feet to peer out the main room’s window onto the street at the shop entrance. With her cousins in the shop, she’d not take the chance and attempt to leave through the unlocked window.
Grasping the blanket tight at her chest, Alessa hurried to the kitchen. The window there opened over the alley separating the homes. But the instant she pulled the shutters open, she cursed. She saw naught to help her down. Yet hope was not lost. She hastened to her chamber, tossed on a gown made of heavy brocade, and gathered bedding. After tying the corners together in knots, she tested each for durability. Satisfied they would hold her weight, she hefted the bundle over her shoulder. Her knees started to buckle under the heap.
In the kitchen, she secured one end of the makeshift rope around the leg of a massive cabinet used as a store for pottery and cookware. After tossing the line out the window, she climbed up onto the curved window sill and made the sign of the cross.
“Dio, forgive me for what I am about to do. But keep me safe nonetheless.”
With the rope tight in her grip, she used her feet to help her connect with the pillar of wool and cloth. The bite of night air seeped through her clothes to her flesh. By the time her feet touched the ground, her fingers were numb.
Tilting her head back to look up at the kitchen window, she hoped she’d be able to ascend as easily as going down. At the end of the alley, she paused to search the street. With no one in sight, she slipped around the corner and crouched beneath the shop’s window.
“Only two chests on this trip,” Benito sneered.
“Two more to add to the coffers,” Fabroni pointed out. “How many are stored?”
“Eighteen.”
“More than enough to pay an army of soldiers, no?”
“Not nearly enough to assemble the army needed for the job.”
“Pazienza, Benito. Patience will serve us well now. Once we send word to our
king, he will know what to do. We have collected more than we had hoped.”
Alessa peeked through the slim cracks in the shutters. Only Fabroni stood in view. What exactly did their coffers hold? Where were they stored? Her cousins made clear their malice toward Rene. And now they were plotting something she feared might cause harm to many, Signor Santangelo included.
Amalia’s excited voice startled Alessa. “She is gone! She climbed out the kitchen window on a rope of blankets.”
“The whore!” Benito spat. “If you cannot control the wench,” he told his father, “then I will.”
“No, Benito!” Fabroni shouted after his son, but he was already at the door.
Stunned, Alessa wasted valuable time. The instant Benito rushed out of the shop, she sprang to her feet and dashed across the street. A heavy hand fell upon her shoulder and pulled her up with a painful squeeze. She yelped, knowing no safe refuge from his anger existed. She doubted Fabroni would be able to calm his son’s violent temper any longer.
He secured her with an unforgiving arm around her waist and lifted her off the cobblestone. Her breath whooshed from her lungs, the pain in her chest frightful. As he carried her into the shop, she clawed his arm for all she was worth. His hold tightened like iron bands around a barrel.
The horror owning Amalia’s face heightened Alessa’s fear. Only Benito could extract that emotion from her, for he was as unpredictable as the battering rains that came in off the bay. He hauled her to the stairs, grabbing chains off the wall peg on the way.
“You cannot beat me with those.” She huffed between short gasps of breath. “You will kill me!”
“Benito!” Fear entered Fabroni’s voice.
“She must learn,” Benito said above Alessa’s loud protests. Bracing her against his hip, he lugged her up the stairs, straight to her chamber.
Thrown onto her bed, Alessa grabbed whatever she could to keep from bouncing off. Momentarily disoriented, she lost sight of Benito. Her uncertainty mounted when he roughly grasped her hands, slamming her wrists together. Her bones clashed painfully. Cold, merciless steel circled her wrists, and the click of a lock echoed in her head. When he yanked her arms upward, she realized he meant to chain her to the bed.
“You cannot do this to me! Think you my father will stand idle when he learns you secured me to the bedposts like an animal just to beat me?”
At last he stepped away, his feral glare causing her to tremble. “I would beat you soundly were you my daughter. Your loose tongue and impious ways are a disgrace. You may take comfort from knowing I’ll not mar your tender flesh else your betrothed might refuse the marriage.”
Fabroni and Amalia crowded the door. Alessa implored them to intercede.
Benito’s upper lip curled with belligerence. “Come first light and the gates are opened, you will be wed.”
****
Livid, Dante stood stiffly before Father Damiani at the altar in San Giovanni. Awakened at dawn by the heavy pounding of a church messenger at his quarters in the French camp, he had wanted to throttle the youth for the nonsense he’d spoken. The boy’s persistence eventually cleared Dante’s head, and he cursed Alessandra. What the devil had the wench done now to warrant an immediate wedding?
Next to him, his soon-to-be wife held her chin up, her eyes focused somewhere behind the priest. She clasped her hands demurely in front of her skirt. The tight expression she wore bespoke of her displeasure. Both knew this day would come, but neither desired to be forced into speaking their vows at the command of Fabroni Valente, who hung back with Benito to ensure the ceremony took place.
Dante bit back an oath. He had yet to prepare for this day. Whether married for love or convenience, he desired to gift his bride with a wedding fit for a nobleman’s wife. Now here he was, no ring for Alessandra, no feast awaiting them, and no personal maidservant to attend her once she made his home her own.
He swept a thorough gaze up her length. With her head adorned in a crown of grape leaves and wildflowers, and her hair flowing down her back, she was every bit the portrait of a virginal bride. A tinge of pink heightened her cheeks with the natural tendency pervading a blushing bride. She wore a rich gown of the palest blue velvet and brocade over a satin tunic a slight shade darker, drawing the truest color from her eyes.
A twinge plagued Dante’s groin. Annoyed with the keen sense of lust imbuing his body, he shifted his stance and turned his attention to Father Damiani. The brief ceremony seemed to last into eternity. Perhaps because Dante sensed his life was about to change…for better or worse, he could not say.
With the final vows spoken, Dante sealed their non-existent love with a kiss not intended to be more than a token to finalize the ceremony. But the wench moved her lips in earnest, searing his with the heat of a desire he should have kept in check. Unable to stop himself, he enfolded her in his arms and seized her mouth in an ardent kiss, causing the priest to squirm and clear his throat.
Dante pulled away first. The warm glow in Alessandra’s eyes and the heat spread across her lovely face constricted his heart, reminding him of the only reason she was now his wife. He hadn’t expected the fierce battle ripping him apart inside. Torn between serving Rene and easing the ache in his loins for his new bride, how the devil was he supposed to maintain a vow he made when she wasn’t legally his?
As he inhaled, he collected his thoughts. He’d see to it his willpower remained intact. He’d not let Alessandra stand in his way of protecting the future of Naples.
They faced her cousins together. Fabroni appeared relieved it was finally over. Benito, however, continued to wear the hostility he’d brought with him into the church. Fabroni broke rank and rushed forward to clap Dante on the back.
“I congratulate you on a wise choice. She is from good stock. I assure you, you’ll not be disappointed.”
Good stock? Was she an animal he had just purchased? Dante frowned and waved aside Fabroni’s comments else he would have chastised the man for treating Alessandra like a piece of goods sold at market. He ushered her out of the church and into his personal carriage. It was the only thing he’d been able to arrange before he met the Valentes at San Giovanni.
After he helped her up, he forced a smile. “I beg your patience, Alessandra. I need a moment with your cousin.”
Dante walked past Fabroni and stopped a hand’s length away from Benito.
“Alessandra is now under my protection. You touch her again, and I will run my dagger through your black heart.”
The bruised and chafed skin around her wrists hadn’t gone without notice. She tried to hide them by playing with the hem of her sleeves, but he recognized the marks left by iron cuffs. By God’s will alone he had kept himself from attacking Benito the instant he saw them. No other Valente except that bastard could have cruelly shackled her.
Benito glared up at him. “Take care, tutor, for she will break you before you tame her.”
Dante smiled eerily and refrained from a retort. Instead, he set his hand on the gem-encrusted handle of the dagger at his hip. Benito glanced down.
“I am a man of my word,” came Dante’s final warning.
****
People afoot parted as the carriage crawled through the gate. Dante rested back against the richly padded seat and observed Alessandra. She worried the threads of the purse hanging off the belt around her waist. It was unlike her to be fearful, and he realized how much it bothered him to see her humbled and quiet.
“What did you do?”
She kept her gaze lowered. “I know not what you mean.”
He peeked low, but she hid her eyes from him. “The sudden marriage?”
“Sì, that.” She pulled the folds of her tunic over her hands. “I climbed out the window again.” She fidgeted. “I heard voices coming from Fabroni’s shop in the early hours of the morn. I joined my bedding together and fashioned a rope so I could climb out the kitchen window.”
Dante turned his head aside to hide a grin. Never had he imagined
a woman as precocious as Alessandra existed. “There is more?”
She nodded. “I crouched beneath the shop window and listened to Fabroni and Benito.”
“Was their conversation interesting?” he questioned casually. He’d not cast suspicion over himself with urgent inquiries.
When her head came up, her eyes said sì, but her mouth uttered, “No.” She averted her gaze again. “Amalia discovered I was gone and alerted them. I tried to escape, but Benito caught me and—”
Dante sat forward and held one of her hands. A tremor raced through her fingers, startling him. Did she fear his retribution, though he gave her no reason to think he was angry over her latest escapade? He lifted the hem of her sleeve, exposing the red ring around her wrist. He barely contained his renewed rage. “Benito did this?”
“Sì,” she whispered and took back her hand.
“Did he do anything else?”
“No.”
Dante curled his fingers into a ball as tight as his constricting gut. No matter what she said, the telling would come tonight when she prepared for bed. He knew not what he’d do if her skin had been marred at the hands of her cousin. One thing was certain. He’d make her feel safe, make her understand no man should raise a hand to a woman.
He stared out the window at the passing scenery. While he gained her trust, how would she gain his? Was Benito’s cruel treatment part of their plan to draw his sympathies? A ploy to get him to reveal the secrets of the French while they lay abed together?
No, he’d not be fooled that easily. He must be careful not to rest his guard else he’d find himself at the mercy of this woman—his wife.
Chapter Sixteen
The Santangelo castle looked different now that Alessa was not sneaking into it. She perused the great hall in her search for something she might have missed the first time she’d been there. The long trestle table was left up, and rushes had been laid anew, the scent of fresh herbs mixed with dried plants inviting.
Bold iron sconces lined the walls all around, and a massive iron chandelier hung down the center of the hall, though she couldn’t figure out how anyone attached it to the enormously high ceiling. The many candles were lit, illuminating the great room with the brilliance of a mid-day sun. Her new home could be much worse, she pondered. At least her husband wasn’t a pauper.
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