Throughout the meal, Luca kept glancing at Olivia. She spoke graciously and courteously, but of trivial matters like the weather and the variety of plants growing in the abbey’s garden. All the while, he wondered if she remembered the night at the pond. He yearned to speak to her about it and apologize, but he could not, for too many eyes watched them and too many ears strained to hear their conversation. Luca bided his time. Near the end of the meal, he found his chance.
“The grounds here are so lovely. I especially like the very beautiful pond at the rear of the abbey.”
She put down the crust of bread in her hand and smiled. “It is lovely, and most convenient for us to wash our linens and garments on fair days.”
His eyebrows rose. “That is all? If it were me, I would be tempted to indulge in a quick submersion on a hot evening.”
She blinked her eyes and frowned. “Yes, I suppose it would be tempting, although I do not, I mean, I cannot recall…” Her eyes glazed over as if a memory eluded her.
Luca breathed out his relief. She no longer remembered! The knowledge that she harbored no embarrassment over the happenstance made him breathe a bit easier.
The remainder of the meal passed all too swiftly. When it was time for him to leave, he noted his own reluctance. He had been determined never to see her again, but when he rode away from the abbey, he was not so sure of himself. He had delighted in her company, her easy manner. Something in his gut gnawed at him, and he could not dispel his interest in her.
Why could he not cast her from his thoughts? Perhaps it was lust, born from their encounter in the pond. No, it was much more than that. He had experienced lust many a time, and it was always extinguished once the prize was won. When did liking a woman turn into something more?
He wanted to pursue her, but did not know how. The protective walls of an abbey and a blood oath stood in his path. Disobedience could disgrace his family and tear it apart.
By the time he arrived home, he knew he wanted to acquire her heart. Whether he would succeed was not in question, but what would happen if he did.
53
Luca finished his morning ablutions and dried himself, all the while submerged deep in thought. Last night he had dreamt of Olivia, and the visions still lingered in his mind. Several weeks had gone by and good fortune had smiled at him, for the nuns had permitted him to visit quite regularly. The stern abbess, he had learned, was a shrewd woman with an eye towards enriching her abbey’s holdings. That is why he decided that whenever he visited, he would always come bearing gifts.
His first had been a tapestry of the Virgin Mary to hang in their refectory. Next, he brought warm woolen blankets to cover each nun’s bed in winter. From a Pavian trader in relics he had purchased, for a hefty price, a silk veil more than two hundred years old, said to have adorned the head of Saint Adelaide, Empress of the Holy Roman Empire. Now he was negotiating the purchase of a small plot of land adjacent to the abbey as another gift that would allow the abbey to expand its holdings one day. Judging from the smiles he received from the abbess each time he visited, he believed he was starting to earn her trust.
A bond had formed between him and Olivia, despite the presence of nuns who strictly chaperoned each visit. By the looks of it, his efforts were succeeding. Olivia was responding to him like a flower thirsty for the morning’s sun.
Luca worked hard to pay for every gift. He raced with anybody who would take up his challenge. All summer long, he dared men wherever and whenever he could – in the midst of a meal, in the tavern, and even during mass. The priest's final benediction seldom found him kneeling to receive it. He never wagered; he simply raced for the winnings. His endurance and fervency was such that many bet on him. That summer he raced in towns and villages across Tuscany, and if he lost, he would return, badgering the victor to compete again until he came out victorious.
Apart from buying gifts for the abbey, he had also invested his winnings in a villa in Siena. Surrounded by a modest piece of land, it was large enough to begin a horse-breeding program of his own, horses he could race himself or sell to others.
Luca glanced at the bedside table on which stood a silver chalice, his most recent acquisition, and one he was certain would please the abbess when he presented it to her later that day. He held it up to the sunlight filtering into his room. The chalice was heavy, made of fine German silver with four rubies embedded into its sides at regular intervals between the filigree. He had purchased it from a market in nearby Siena. Pleased, he set the cup down so that he could don his hose and breeches.
Everything he did, he did because of Olivia. But what was he going to do about the betrothal? Soon he must act; he must find a way out of his obligations to Giustina and family. There was no longer any doubt in his mind. He wanted Olivia as wife, as mother to his children.
He finished dressing in a new white linen shirt and an over-tunic made of fine wool the color of a green meadow. He picked up the chalice, and after tucking it into a leather pouch, he flung his mantle over his shoulder and walked out of the room, his stride slower, burdened by his dilemma.
54
“You must stop fidgeting, Olivia. It is not good to let a man think you are anxious to see him.” Sister Vincenza pushed a needle threaded with crimson yarn through a piece of linen set in her embroidery hoop. They sat on a stone bench at the cloister’s center. “He should find you calmly reading your Psalter instead of glancing at the entrance gate every passing moment in anticipation of his arrival.”
“I cannot help it. I’ve come to look forward to Signore Ventura’s visits,” Olivia admitted.
“Read your Psalter,” Sister Vincenza warmly admonished before stabbing her needle into the cloth once more.
Olivia glanced down at the Psalter Luca had recently given her. Vivid blues, reds, and glittering gold inks illuminated its pages. She treasured the book as much as the brooch he had given her, or her golden ring and silk blanket. She tried her best to heed Sister Vincenza’s advice, and began reading, but could not concentrate.
Summer had turned to autumn, and because she was still convalescing, the abbess had not reassigned her to any chores. The burns on her arms and face had healed, but even so, she took care to stay out of the sun. Bits and pieces of her memory had begun to return, too. She remembered the moments leading up to the lightning strike when she had reached for the buckler that had attracted her attention. Another confusing memory remained – strong hands that reached for her in dark waters, hands she had feared at first, although by instinct knew would not harm her. The vision flitted in and out of her thoughts, never becoming clearer, yet stubbornly refusing to leave her.
She set the book aside. Lost in her thoughts, she stood and crossed the cloister, stopping before a rosebush to admire its perfect red blooms.
“Do the roses please you, Signorina?”
Her hand flew to her throat as she spun around. “Signore Ventura! You startled me. I never heard you arrive.”
“I apologize. I only wanted to surprise you.”
“You are as stealthy as a cat.” Despite trying to disguise her delight at his arrival, she could not keep herself from smiling. Luca Ventura had a way of appearing when she least expected him, and she could not deny she liked it.
“I’ve been known to surprise a racing opponent or two, but unfortunately, in your case, you looked like a startled doe at the edge of the forest. I beg your forgiveness.”
Olivia warmed at his sincerity. “I forgive you.”
He stared into her eyes. “It pleases me to see you smile.”
She felt herself blush and glanced around to see if Sister Vincenza had heard. Probably not, for she appeared absorbed in her embroidery. “You go to great lengths to surprise me.”
“It works well in competitions.”
She nodded. “Yes, but we are not in competition, are we?”
“You are certainly not. As for me, well, I have had to work hard to win the sisters’ trust and to convince them my intentions
are good.” With his hand on his heart, he gave her a slight bow. “I am no scoundrel, as they have learned, but it has not been easy gaining permission to see you in such a restricted house.”
“I enjoy your visits.”
“Come, let’s walk together.”
They strolled among the fragrant flowerbeds and herb garden, heady with the pungency of basil, rosemary, and mint. A comfortable silence befell them as they walked in the shade of the covered archway.
Olivia broke the silence first. “Tell me about your family.”
With hands clasped behind his back, Luca told her about his mother and father and their home, but Olivia noted all his answers were brief and emotionless.
She gathered the nerve to ask the one question that had vexed her from the moment she met him. “Is there a woman who possesses your heart?”
He came to a stop. “Only you.”
“And before you met me?”
He looked boldly into her eyes. “No one charms me as much as you. When I’m with you, time and the world around me cease to exist.”
The brief flash of affection in his eyes thrilled her. She accepted his remark as another of his gifts. They circled the garden, oblivious to anything other than these precious moments and of themselves. When it came time to part, Luca faced her. “May we see each other again?”
The anxiety she read in his face sent a rush of excitement through her. “Why do you ask me that every time you leave? Do you truly believe our friendship to be so short-lived?”
“If only it were true.” He shoved his hands behind his back as if he struggled against the need to touch her. “It would resolve our futures too easily.”
“What do you mean?” His comment hurt her more than she cared to admit. Olivia sensed his deliberate restraint and could almost feel the surge of emotion that darkened his features. She could not fathom the hidden meaning behind his words. “If our friendship is an impediment to you, then it need not be prolonged.”
He shook his head and glanced away. “But that is exactly the problem. Our friendship is extremely important to me. Truthfully, I wish there were more than just friendship between us.”
Olivia’s hopes soared. He did care for her, but why the hesitation and doubt? She did not wish to pry, fearful of pushing him for an answer he might not be ready to provide. She bridged the distance between them, touching his arm. “I feel the same way.”
He inhaled deeply and looked around.
Olivia followed his glance to Sister Vincenza, who seemed absorbed in her work.
“Olivia, I want to be alone with you, so we can speak more freely,” he said, glancing at Sister Vincenza, who averted her gaze the moment they both looked at her. “Away from here, away from watchful eyes.”
Olivia frowned. “It’s not possible. The abbey’s gates are locked after Compline.”
He hesitated, searching deep into her eyes as if to draw something from her memory. “Meet me tonight. I will wait for you at the rear of the abbey near the pond.”
A faded memory swirled in the recesses of her mind, one she could not force into clarity.
“Your request is bold, and improper.” Olivia glanced down at the ground so he could not see how her cheeks burned.
“And I will understand if you refuse me,” Luca said. “Please say you’ll at least consider it.” He watched her through guarded, anxious eyes.
The tree outside her room reached the abbey walls and she could jump down to the other side. Olivia had never been alone with Luca before, yet she yearned for it. Temptation had fallen into her path and for a moment, she hesitated. He aroused her senses; she ached for his touch, and did not wish to deny herself.
She nodded. “I will meet with you tonight.”
55
After the hour of Compline, when she was certain all the nuns slept, Olivia cast her bedcovers off. Still in her clothes, she reached for her shoes and mantle, and swung open the window shutters. Beneath a quarter moon, the pond shimmered, ruffled by a gentle breeze. Her heart thumped a rapid cadence as she climbed up onto the windowsill and breathed deeply of the fresh night air. Carefully, she positioned her foot on the nearest limb. A memory stirred in the recesses of her mind. As if the branch had scorched her foot, she stepped back onto the windowsill.
Vaguely, she remembered making this same descent before. Then the vision dissolved as suddenly as it had appeared. A disconcerting feeling took hold of her, a caution that if she stepped onto the tree branch, her life would forever change. Yet, the thought of being alone with Luca excited her, beckoned her. With every pulse of her heart, she knew she loved him. The lightning strike had changed her outlook on life. It had birthed a need in her to reach out and touch life at every opportunity, and this was definitely such an opportunity. Sequestration behind the abbey’s walls no longer appealed to her. Rather, she wanted to savor all the world could offer, especially the love of a good man like Luca. With her past mired in secrecy and misfortune, she must look to the future. Luca awaited her.
Olivia clutched her slippers in her hand and stepped onto the branch again. As she began her descent, some innate knowledge aided her in choosing which branch would carry her weight and which would not. Soon, she dropped onto the wall. From her perch, despite the darkness, and only a short distance away, she saw his silhouette. He came to where she waited above the boulder on the other side of the wall. Olivia held her breath. He lowered his hood. Luca smiled and held out his arms to catch her. Trusting him implicitly, she swung her legs over the wall and slid onto the giant rock. Then she slipped into his strong arms and he eased her down to the ground.
A tender smile came to Luca’s mouth and he grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. The touch of his hand felt right.
She could not tear herself from the warm look in his eyes.
He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.
The kiss set her body ablaze.
“I have wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you that night in the pond.”
The second he spoke the words, she saw his expression turn to regret. Memories swirled in her mind, visions of water, the rock, a man’s presence, flesh against flesh, as she fought to get away. Full remembrance flooded back. She had met him like this once before. Tension gripped her, but soon faded as she recalled how he had saved her life and the many kindnesses he had shown her and the nuns. This man would never harm her. “I remember now. It was you in the water, wasn’t it?”
His face softened and he stared down to his feet, the toe of his boot pushing a small rock. “Were I to repeat that night, I would have been more polite. I regret causing you distress.”
Olivia’s cheeks heated at the memory of her nakedness. His sincerity, and all the good that had transpired between them since that night, reassured her. “Your apology is gladly accepted.”
“It is?” He looked up. His brows rose in surprise.
She smiled. “It is.”
He pulled her closer to him, lifted her chin, and whispered, “Olivia.”
Powerful feelings engulfed her. The sound of his voice enflamed her, and the kiss deepened, sending waves of heat through her. Her body yearned for his touch, and as if understanding this, he swept her up in his arms and carried her off into the field beyond. Beneath a large persimmon tree, he tightened his arms about her and laid her gently down on the sweet grass.
He looked down at her with a tender gaze. Luca, so incredibly handsome. Oh, how she desired him. His arms surrounded her and he lowered his head once more.
She closed her eyes just as his lips brushed against hers and she seemed to melt. For weeks, she had dreamed of being alone with him like this, but her nocturnal visions had come nowhere near to the reality of this moment. His presence was like an elixir, a slow moving honey coating her flesh, warmth so pleasing she could not get enough, his kiss gentle, as soft as rose petals.
She let out a tiny gasp of desire, cognizant of an insistent pulse between her legs. Wrapping her arms around him, she
pressed her body against him. They lay entwined, embracing, and kissing. A mounting pressure in her womanhood fueled her passion, removing any inhibition. The longer he kissed her, the more she wanted to experience.
His hands pressed and rubbed her back, sending an ardent radiance through her. He glided his hand to the small of her back and pressed her hard against him. A surge of ardor raced through her entire body.
At long last he paused. She heaved a long sigh and rested her head against his chest. He raised himself, leaning his back against the tree, and pulling her onto his knee.
Every movement thrilled her, an adventure into the unknown. With both hands on either side of her face, he drew her to him and kissed her anew. This kiss lingered, more fiery than the previous. His maleness against her inside thigh sent a shudder of exciting through her. A gentle but insistent hand slid to her breast.
Olivia tensed and tried to pull his hand away, but as he rubbed his palm back and forth against it, she succumbed to the new sensation, tightening her arms around his neck. She let out a small gasp of exhilaration, conscious of the hot dampness at the crest of her legs, and curved towards him. He explored her chastely, but Olivia, now immodest and lost in fervor, pressed her womanhood against him, reacting to his every touch, leaning against him, stirring him.
He nudged her off him and lay beside her. “Olivia, we must stop before we are unable to,” he murmured between kisses.
“No,” she whispered. “I do not want to.”
“I want you, Olivia. From the moment I set eyes upon you, I wanted to make you mine.”
This time, she pulled him close for a kiss. She reveled in the feel of his warm body as he planted kisses on her face and neck and then her breast. He ravished her until she moaned, fire flooding her molten core.
Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga Page 19
