Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga

by Patzer, Mirella Sichirollo

  “I want you to.”

  “You must be certain,” he said, his voice husky.

  She looked into his eyes with conviction. “I want you.”

  He moved his hand lower, sliding it under the hem of her gown, and caressing her female parts. He strummed and teased her, his adept fingers at work against the small nub at the crest of her cave. She gasped with pleasure when he slid one finger inside her. There he found her maidenhood and gently worked in another finger. With his thumb, he teased her button of flesh.

  She cried out. His fingers did not relent; they teased and pressed and slid about, setting her body aflame, luring her into the unknown.

  He stopped and pulled her body towards him. “Amore, are you certain?”

  He had called her his love. “Yes!” she gasped. Her body screamed for more, for him.

  He looked into her eyes, his face etched with concern. “This may hurt you,” he cautioned.

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  He released his breeches and she felt the touch of his organ at her entrance.

  He rubbed himself there, the friction fueling her desire. Then he pressed himself against her wall, gently.

  She began to aid him, Luca tenderly thrusting, Olivia rocking forward. Their bodies settled into a united rhythm, the sensations nearly driving her mad with need. Some instinct made her pull him hard against her. She felt a small twinge, a rip, and then he was fully inside her.

  The pain subsided, replaced at first by a sense of satisfaction at the feel of him inside of her, and then by a new, more fulfilling arousal.

  “Ahh,” she cried, clasping him tighter as he began to move within her. Instead of the driving fire, now she fell into the sweetness of their comfortable movements. So this was lovemaking! Sweet, steady, profound. She fell into love’s warm embrace.

  But then he shuddered, and after a few moments, his manhood grew smaller and slipped out of her body.

  Puzzled, she frowned, but he gathered her into his arms, and slid his hand between her thighs. She lay there, as he probed and teased, stoking the flames in her body. At first, he moved delicately, and as she responded, he hastened and firmed his touches until the torment formed into an intense crescendo. She pressed against his hand, lifting her gown to allow him free access.

  He cajoled and plucked her toward some unknown resolution. Her body tightened; the tension nearly unbearable. It was as if she sat upon a cliff. One more swipe of his fingers and she stiffened. Then there came a plunge, a grasp of something, a quiver, and her body vibrated and shuddered in waves of relief.

  She moaned, long and hard, but he refused to relent. Once again, deeper sensations arose in her belly and she exploded in his arms.

  She clung to him until her passion subsided and then he held her close to his chest. He ran his hands over her hair, soothing, caressing. The world around her seemed crisper. The sounds sharper. The smells more intense.

  He turned her face towards him and kissed her. “I love you.”

  The very words she longed to hear! The words echoed in her mind as if he had shouted them from a mountaintop. He loved her and she knew she would be with him always.

  56

  Olivia secretly met Luca again the following night, and then many nights thereafter. She could no more stop herself than make the rain cease or command the sun. Like silk threads waiting to be sewn into a tapestry of perfection, each day dawned with the promise of another secret encounter. She knew without doubt that he would always be there waiting for her.

  Olivia spent her days cursing the sun for rising. She lived only for those few minutes when a purple and orange and pink sunset meant she would soon be with him. And until that magical instant when he enfolded her in his arms as she slid over the wall, and was no longer a vision in her mind, Olivia died a thousand deaths lest their clandestine trysts should somehow be discovered.

  She became proficient at recognizing his moods, as if she harbored an innate sense about him; one honed to absorb every nuance from his handsome face, from his powerful muscles, from each smile that rose and fell upon his lips. Olivia knew his hunger for her was as immense as hers was for him.

  She worried that someone within the confines of the austere abbey might notice that when she walked, her feet no longer seemed to touch the ground. She had learned the secrets of womanhood and basked in the beauty of intimate love. How could the vibrant happiness, which now filled her world with so much light, remain so secret?

  Sometimes, she sensed he was retreating into himself. It was as if a demon plagued him; as if there was more that he had yet to reveal to her. To make love outside the sacrament of marriage was a sin. Could that be what bothered him? It bothered her too. She knew he loved her, but when would he make her his wife and bring all this sinning to an end? She decided to give him a bit more time, and if he did not speak of it soon, then she would broach the subject. They could not go on this indefinitely.

  57

  “Olivia is looking well today,” the abbess remarked to Sister Vincenza as they returned from Mass one Sunday morning. “I’ve never seen her so happy during prayers.”

  Sister Vincenza smiled. “I believe it is the devotion of Signore Luca Ventura that has caused this transformation. Olivia has become very fond of him. I can’t help but hope he will ask for her hand in marriage soon.”

  The abbess stopped. “Impossible. He hasn’t visited the abbey for quite some time. And if he returns, I will not permit him to enter.”

  Sister Vincenza frowned. “But Reverend Mother, they are young and I believe they have come to love each other. He has brought many gifts to her and the abbey. Does it not warm your heart to see a young couple so happy together?”

  The abbess’s expression turned cool. “It can never be. I made some inquiries. Luca Ventura comes from a well-to-do family. He has been betrothed to a young woman since his birth, and the wedding is to occur very soon. For Olivia’s benefit, it is best she forget him altogether. And I implore you to do all that you can to help her do so. It is for her own good.”

  With those words, the abbess swept away, the clack of her wooden heels against the tiles the only sound.

  58

  Olivia awoke slowly after a satisfying sleep. Rays of sunlight escaped through minute cracks in the window shutters with the promise of another warm day. Outside, hens cackled for their feed and goats bleated to be milked. The tiles felt cool when she rose and swung open the shutters. With eyes closed, she breathed in fresh morning air mingled with the pungent musk of the beasts in the abbey’s stable and that of fresh bread emanating from their kitchen. The intensity of the aromas forced her to step back. Lately, she had grown sensitive to smells.

  Without warning, her stomach tossed about and white spots marred her vision. The world swirled about her. She turned and fell to her knees before the chamber pot at the foot of the bed and retched. In a cold sweat, she lay back against the tiles until the nausea passed. It was the third time she had vomited in the morning. She could no longer deny its meaning. She had seen the same symptoms in women who sought temporary shelter at the abbey.

  The reality of her condition struck her with horrendous force. Guilt and fear took hold, culminating in a gorge of tears. The stolen moments of love had ruined her life, bringing shame upon herself and the sisters. Yet she could not deny that she loved Luca with all her heart. Not for a moment did she regret being with him.

  Outside her cell, she could already hear the opening and closing of doors as the sisters made their way to morning prayers. If she did not hurry, someone would knock on her door. Limbs quivering, she rose and dressed for the day. She rinsed her mouth with water before chewing a sprig of mint to freshen her breath, and then rushed to the door.

  Olivia rested her hand on the latch, took a deep breath, and pulled it open. Thank goodness, the corridor was empty. She must make haste lest she be late. Fatigue accompanied her every step. Was it her condition that weighed her down, or guilt and sin?

  Cool
air wafted through her unbound hair when she entered the chapel. Prayer beads in hand and heads bowed, the sisters already knelt before the altar. Though prayers had not begun, she was disappointed because she was the last to arrive again. She had been late several mornings this week.

  As silently as possible, she made her way to her regular spot on the right side of the nave and knelt. Almost simultaneously, both the abbess and Sister Vincenza turned to look at her. Olivia glanced away to avoid their looks and bowed her head, praying for God’s forgiveness and a resolution to her predicament.

  She must tell Luca. All along, she had hoped he would marry her, but he had yet to make the offer. Soon, her belly would swell. With him lay her only hope. He must marry her in order to avoid disgracing the abbess and sisters who had shown her nothing but love all her life.

  The moment chapel ended, she made the sign of the cross and hurried away to the kitchen where it was her turn to help Sister Marta prepare the midday meal. She worked diligently at every request Sister Marta made of her. Engrossed with worry, Olivia chopped carrots and onions to add to the stew.

  Sister Vincenza’s sudden appearance startled her. Olivia put down the knife. “I did not hear you enter.”

  “You were late at chapel again this morning and you looked a little pale. Are you unwell?” Sister Vincenza laid her palm on Olivia’s forehead. “Hmm, you do not have a fever.”

  “It was cold the past few nights and I could not sleep, that’s all.”

  Vincenza scrutinized Olivia and then ran the back of her fingers lovingly down Olivia’s cheek. “I’ll speak to the abbess. Perhaps she might agree to let you miss afternoon prayers so you can get more rest.”

  Olivia swallowed back her panic. Already they had noticed something amiss. She must keep to her daily routine at all costs. “Please, there is no need to worry. I am well now.”

  At first, doubt clouded Sister Vincenza’s expression, but then she seemed to relax. “Very well. Why don’t you embroider with me this afternoon in the calefactory?”

  Olivia fought to smile convincingly. “I would like that very much.” It was the last thing she wanted for fear of letting something slip, but it seemed to satisfy Sister Vincenza. She turned and left the room.

  Olivia picked up the knife and returned to her task. It was folly to wait; she must tell Luca this very night. He loved her, and in her heart, she knew he wanted to marry her. There was no reason for her to worry.

  Later, in the calefactory, a fire already crackled in the hearth where Olivia sat with Sister Vincenza. Sunbeams from the open window danced around them. The fragrance of logs scented with herbs floated in the air, creating a calm ambiance.

  Despite the pleasant surroundings, Olivia’s spirit was anything but calm, although she did her best to disguise it from Sister Vincenza. After sewing a bezant onto the lid of a cloth-covered box in which to store the chapel’s Communion breads, Olivia set the delicate item on her lap and stretched her neck to relieve the tension. With every passing moment, her apprehension about telling Luca of her condition worsened. Please let the day end soon, she prayed.

  “You are unusually quiet today, Olivia. Are you certain there is nothing troubling you?”

  Olivia took a breath and forced a demure smile. “All is well. The day is so beautiful.”

  “It is a day like many others. You are certain there is nothing troubling you?”

  Olivia reached out and took Sister Vincenza’s hand. “Sometimes I am in awe of all the blessings in my life.” She picked up her work and thrust a needle through the eye of the bezant once more. May God forgive me for my lies.

  59

  The night was unusually warm. Above her, a partial moon lit a star-filled sky. Olivia climbed down the tree outside her bedchamber and hurried to the abbey wall. Tonight was different from all the others. Each footstep seemed laborious. Dread somersaulted in her stomach. Above all, she worried over Luca’s reaction to the news of her pregnancy. Would he abandon her or embrace her with utter delight? She prayed for the latter. One moment she was certain of his love for her and that he would indeed marry her, and then moments later, she doubted it.

  She found him sitting beneath a tree. He rose to his feet at her approach and pulled her into his arms.

  “I thought you’d never come.” He kissed her lovingly.

  Thoughts raced through her mind as she sought words with which to tell him, but they turned to sawdust in her mouth.

  “What is the matter, Olivia? You are trembling.” Luca raised her hand to his lips. “Your hands are like ice. Come and sit.” He led her to his mantle, which he had spread over winter’s dry, brittle grass and put his arm around her.

  “Luca, I –” Olivia heard the warble in her own voice and paused. She did not want emotion to lace her speech, for fear of influencing his reaction to the news of their child. His face would speak to her of what was in his heart before his words would. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I am with child.”

  A dead silence ensued, as if all living things in the night waited for his reaction. Luca looked up into the heavens.

  Olivia’s heart pounded as she rubbed her sweated hands against her gown.

  Then with utmost gentleness, he pulled her to him and kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “A child born from our love – do you know how happy you’ve made me?”

  His words surrounded her like a shield of warmth. They were exactly what she had longed to hear, but she kept her hope from rising. More talk would tell her what her destiny would be. She waited.

  Luca’s face grew serious and he put his hand on her stomach, a look of sadness on his face. “Have you told anyone yet?”

  Olivia shook her head. “No. I wanted to tell you first. The abbess will be most distressed to learn I had become pregnant while in her care. I do not wish to hurt her. She and the sisters are the only family I have, and I cannot bear to see the look of disappointment in their eyes when I tell them.”

  “Then you must come away with me.”

  Ecstasy soared in her heart. He would not abandon her. He wanted her for a wife. She let out a pent up breath. “Truly? Oh, Luca, I cannot wait to become your wife.” She threw her arms about him and kissed his cheek.

  Luca took hold of her arms, gently pushing her away from him. Anguish glazed his eyes. “May God forgive me, but I am not able to marry you.”

  Confusion marred her thoughts. “But I don’t understand.”

  “You are the only woman I love. More than anything in this world, I want you for my wife, to share my life with, to make children with you. But I have been betrothed since childhood. A blood oath was sworn upon the union. In the eyes of the Church, I am already considered married.”

  The painful knowledge that he could not marry her tore into her like a knife. Already the tears threatened to spill, but she fought them back. She looked away.

  He took her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. “It is you who I love more than life itself and I will provide for you and the child. Come away with me. I’ll never fail you.”

  “To live as your mistress?” The words repulsed her.

  “No, to live with me, near me, as my one and only true love to my dying days. No one can dictate whom I give my heart to. That will always belong to you. I’m as certain of it as those stars in the sky and the air we breathe. Fate may endeavor to come between us, but my heart will always be yours to command. I will find a way to get out of my betrothal so that you and I can marry.”

  Olivia contemplated his words. In the eyes of the Church, a betrothal could not be broken. It was as near impossible as acquiring a divorce. If she went away with him, they would have to live in sin, and she would leave behind a trail of scandal. She could not bear hurting the sisters. Yet, she had always known the day would come when she must either leave the abbey to marry or take the veil. Luca could not wed her. The best he could offer was his love; and that was something, but she would never live as his mistress. That would bring shame
to the nuns, but if they did not learn of her situation, the shame would be hers alone to bear.

  “Carissima,” he said, “Come with me. Do not be afraid to leave the abbey. I vow to provide for you and our child.”

  “All my life I dreamed of a great love and God has seen fit to grant it to me, but I didn’t think I would never be a wife.”

  “Is that why you hesitate?”

  “Yes, I wanted to be more than a mistress, secreted away somewhere. It is not the life I dreamed of.”

  “I will not secret you away. There is a small cottage on my estate in Siena. You and the child can live there.”

  Olivia’s mouth fell open.

  “And what of your future wife? I do not want to be the cause of her humiliation.” To be near him was her sole desire. She could not envision a life without him, but what he was suggesting sounded preposterous.

  He pondered for a moment. “I will find a way to marry you. In the meantime, we will tell everyone that you are the widow of a good friend and fellow racer. We could say he was thrown from his horse and as he lay dying in my arms, asked me to care for his wife and the child she carried. Will that help make things easier?”

  Her mind raced to make sense of what he was saying. If she lived alone in a small house on his estate, it would be easy to convince everyone she was a widow. Her child could grow under the watchful eye of both a father and mother. “Very well, I will come and live with you, but I shall not be your mistress. From this day forward, we can never lie together again. These are my conditions.”

  His eyes flashed with loss. “You wish to deny the power of our love? I love you in every way. Why sacrifice our carnal love for each other when it is so beautiful, so meaningful between us? I am not happy with such terms, and if you search your heart, you will realize that neither are you.”