by C. De Melo
With a heavy heart, she removed the apron and set it on a chair. Bruno inevitably came to mind. He had accused her of being in love with La Castagna the other day. The irony of the situation was enough to make her laugh and cry at the same time. His jealousy had thrilled her to the core, however.
Leaning on the sun-warmed windowsill, she gazed at the terracotta roofs of Florence. The Arno glittered under the coppery light of the late afternoon sun as boats glided to and fro upon its placid surface. The city teemed with life, yet she’d been cooped up in the workshop, drowning in work.
Drowning in order to forget Bruno’s kiss…
Bruno would still be at the bottega this time of day. Overwhelmed with a desire to see him, she set out for the Mercato Nuovo. She knew it was unwise to go out alone, but after seeing Osvaldo’s body...
Life is fragile and short.
Pickpockets and cutthroats lurked in dark corners as she wove through the busy streets of the city center. The sun dipped toward the horizon, creating elongated shadows in her path. Allegra veered toward the Mercato Nuovo and hesitated before entering the bottega. Only two older apprentices were still working in the back room at that late hour, and they froze at the sight of her in the doorway.
“Buona sera,” she said. “I’m here to see Signore Bruno.”
One of the apprentices motioned to the office door, which was closed. “The master is…indisposed.”
Female laughter erupted from behind the door and the faces of the young men turned red. Sickened by the sound, Allegra forced herself to knock. Bruno opened the door, his face blanching at the sight of her.
“Forgive my intrusion,” she said, her eyes locked on Paolina Gori.
The widow stood by the desk wearing a mocking smile. Bruno stepped out of the office and shut the door behind him. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Allegra took in his untucked shirt and the smudge of lip paint on his jaw.
“You came here alone?” he inquired with a frown. “At this hour?”
“I…I…” she trailed off, feeling foolish, angry and hurt. Osvaldo’s death prompted her to mend the rift between them. Now, she regretted having acted so precipitously.
“Has your father returned?”
“Not yet,” she replied. When he continued to stare at her askance, she said, “I came because...I wanted to see you.”
Bruno’s expression softened in the light of her honest confession.
Paolina opened the door and stared at them. “Shall we invite Signorina Allegra into the office for a drink?”
“Thank you, no.” Allegra turned to leave. “I have to go.”
His hand clamped down on her arm. “Wait.”
“Let go of me,” she snapped. To her horror, tears welled up in her eyes.
“Allegra, please…”
Paolina chuckled softly as Allegra wrenched herself free of his grasp and ran out of the bottega. “What an unstable young woman.”
“She shouldn’t be out alone at this late hour,” he said, heading for the door. “I’m going to escort her home.”
“If you go, I won’t be here when you return.”
Bruno ignored her comment as he ran out into the crisp evening air. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to Allegra. “Wait.”
“What are you doing? Go away.”
Taking hold of her elbow, he replied, “I’m accompanying you home.”
“I don’t need your company,” she snapped, trying to free herself from his vice-like grip. “Let go of me.”
Bruno looked straight ahead, forcing her to keep pace. They turned down a narrow street, then he yanked her into a dark alley. When they receded far enough into the shadows, he pushed her back against the wall.
“Allegra—”
“You must not dally,” she interjected. “Paolina awaits your return.”
“I’ve already told you. She was my lover once. Not anymore.”
Allegra laughed bitterly. “I may not be as worldly as you are, Signore Bruno, but I’m not stupid.”
“I know how it must look,” he agreed softly. “But I assure you there’s nothing going on between us.”
“Is that why her lip paint is on your face?”
“Porca miseria.” Frowning, he wiped his face with the back of his hand. “She came to the bottega begging for me to take her back. When I said no, she threw herself at me.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Allegra felt his hand at the nape of her neck as he lifted the golden chain, revealing the chestnut charm. “Why should I believe you when you say you’re not in love with La Castagna?”
Touché.
Suddenly, he claimed her mouth. Shock, confusion, joy, and fear shot through her in that instant. She slid her arms around his neck when his insistent tongue slipped into her mouth and coiled against her own.
Bruno’s hand circled her waist as he pulled her against his strong, lean body. Allegra’s knees almost buckled when his manhood hardened against the joining of her thighs. Cupping the hair at the base of her neck, he pulled it back in order to expose her throat. As his mouth traveled from her lips to the smooth skin of her neck, she whimpered in pleasure. He marveled at his body’s response to Vittorio’s daughter. Not even the prostitute in Cape Verde—who had pleasured him in ways that no European woman ever had—was capable of coaxing such fire in his loins. He had never wanted a woman so badly in his life.
Not even Anabella.
“Your body does not lie, Allegra.” Tightening his hold around her waist and pulling her closer for emphasis, he demanded, “What prevents you from being mine?”
Allegra found it difficult to breathe, let alone think. His delicious scent, his power, his voice…Never before had she experienced such desire—such lust. She wanted nothing more than to offer him her maidenhead, right then and there, like a common trollop!
Oh God, what am I doing? “Please,” she pleaded. “Signore Bruno…”
He pulled away and, despite the dimness of the alley, she could see the fire in his eyes. “Bruno,” he corrected. “Say it.”
“Bruno.”
He released his possessive grip but continued to hold her in his arms. “My precious girl,” he said, his lips against her temple. “You drive me to the point of madness.”
The sound of footsteps startled them.
Allegra noticed a moving shadow over Bruno’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of a twisted mouth with missing teeth. “Watch out!”
Bruno unsheathed the dagger at his side with lightning speed and placed the blade to the pickpocket’s throat. As he shuffled back against the wall with his captive, his head turned left and right to make sure there were no other ruffians in the vicinity. Allegra found his stealth intimidating.
“I’m unarmed,” the man cried. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your—”
“Shut your mouth,” Bruno snapped. Giving the man a hard shove, he added, “Be on your way.”
The man shuffled off but his eyes were still glued to the glittering gemstones at Allegra’s throat. Bruno clasped her wrist and urged her out into the fading sunlight of a busy street. They didn’t speak until they arrived at the gate of the Palazzo Castagno.
Finally, he said, “I apologize for my lack of restraint.”
“I shouldn’t have gone to the bottega.”
“Your father will marry soon enough,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I am a patient man.”
***
Lavinia had an extended family and Vittorio did not, which meant that their marriage would take place in Asti. Vittorio, Allegra, and Gianna traveled to the Piedmont region in April 1573 for the celebration. Domenico and Bruno had planned on accompanying them, but the old man became ill again, and his son was obliged to remain in Florence to care of him. Allegra worried constantly about Domenico, whose bouts of illness were becoming alarmingly frequent.
The bride wore a splendid gown of satin encrusted with pearls, and the couple’s faces glowed with contentment throughout t
he church ceremony. A great banquet followed at Lavinia’s villa in Asti.
While dancing with her father, Allegra said, “I haven’t seen you smile this much since mother was alive.”
His eyes misted at the thought of Stefania. “Do you think she’s looking down on me from Heaven with resentment?”
“On the contrary,” she assured him. “Mother loved you. She wouldn’t want you to remain alone.”
Vittorio’s eyes slid to where the attractive countess stood chatting with a group of ladies. “She’s a good woman and I love her.”
“I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”
“If only I could gift some of it to you.”
Allegra shook her head. “I’m content with my life.”
“Bruno pines for you, and I know you love him, too.” Gauging her reaction, he added, “He would make a fine husband.”
“I’ll never sacrifice La Castagna for the mediocrity of marriage.”
“Allegra—”
“Never.”
“I won’t force your hand.” The music stopped and Vittorio led his daughter to a quiet corner. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Papa, your expression frightens me.”
“Actually, you may like the idea. Lavinia wants to remain here.”
“I thought your intention was to live in Florence.”
“That was the original plan, but we came to a new agreement yesterday. Lavinia and I will spend the spring and summer in Asti, the autumn and winter in Florence. This is a fair arrangement for both of us. Now, I must decide what to do with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t leave you alone in Florence for six months.”
“I have Gianna and a houseful of servants to keep me company.”
“It would be unseemly.”
“You would have me live in Asti half the year?” she demanded, horrified by the thought. “What about my commissions? The bottega?”
“You can work on them when you’re in Florence.”
“But not in Asti?” When her father remained silent, she added, “Lavinia doesn’t know yet, does she?”
“No. I intend to tell her soon, however.”
“I can’t agree to this arrangement, Papa.”
“Allegra, I have indulged you for many years—”
“If I refuse to give up my craft for Bruno, the man I love, what makes you think I’ll denounce La Castagna for the countess?”
Vittorio stared at his daughter incredulously. “What will people say if I simply abandon my daughter and go away for half a year?”
“Your daughter is a grown woman; a spinster, in fact.”
“That’s not the point.” He glanced at the guests. “No father in his right mind would leave his unmarried daughter alone and unprotected for months at a time. It’s neither safe nor proper.”
“If I was a man, you’d have no issue with it,” she retorted bitterly.
“That’s true, but irrelevant.”
“Have you forgotten that my godfather is the Duke of Florence?”
Vittorio shook his head dismissively. “Cosimo is a lost cause.”
“If it makes you feel better, Domenico can act as my legal guardian.”
“He’s too old. Until I find a viable solution to this problem, you’ll stay here in Asti with us.”
“For how long? When are you going back to Tuscany?”
“September.”
Fuming inwardly, Allegra said nothing more. Assuming she had given into his wishes, Vittorio went off in search of his wife. The wedding celebration continued well into the night. When the majority of guests were inebriated, Allegra crept into the bedchamber Lavinia had assigned to her and locked the door. There, she finally gave into tears.
Gianna, who occupied the small antechamber, went to sit by Allegra. “Why are you crying on this joyous day?”
Allegra repeated the conversation she’d had with her father earlier.
Gianna nodded in understanding, her face serious. “This is indeed an unpleasant predicament. Give it some time. He may change his mind.”
“If I stay, you must remain here until September, too.”
“I suppose I must.”
“How do you feel about that?”
Gianna shrugged. “At my advanced age, my only concern is to be well fed and comfortable while making myself useful. It’s lovely here and, to be honest, it’s thrilling to see new faces and eat new foods. Lavinia is pleasant and so are her servants. I have no complaint.”
“Perhaps I should try to be as compliant as you are.”
“It can’t hurt, my dear. Life is easier when you simply go along with its current. Now, get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
As the days passed, Allegra was forced to spend time with other ladies who did little more than gossip and needlepoint. Her only consolation was the villa’s library which, although limited in size, contained decent tomes. Despite feeling melancholic, she did her best to appear cheerful for the sake of her father and his new wife.
She missed being alone in her workshop doing what she loved best, but most of all, she missed Bruno. In Florence, there were opportunities to see him. In Asti, there were none.
By the end of the second week, Allegra approached her father and said, “Please let me return to Florence, Papa.”
Vittorio frowned. “Are you not happy here?”
“My fingers itch to make jewelry again.”
“Let me think on it.”
Allegra waited three days before broaching the subject again.
Irritated, Vittorio snapped, “You will remain here for the time being.”
Allegra spun on her heel and walked away.
During supper that evening, she smiled and chatted with Lavinia’s relatives. When it grew dark, she wrote a letter of apology to her father, donned a plain black cloak, and exited the villa with a purse full of coins. She selected a young mare from the stables and headed south to Genova, where she spent the night.
After an entire day of riding, she spent the night at an inn, and continued her journey toward Tuscany the following day. Exhausted and in desperate need of a bath, she arrived in Florence well past curfew. The city’s gates were locked, and two armed guards stood watch outside the massive studded door while another held a crossbow in the lookout tower.
Three men. One woman. Darkness…
Seeing the cloaked figure on horseback, one of the soldiers cried, “You’ll have to find shelter outside the gates.”
Allegra pushed back the hood of her cloak and her hair spilled over her shoulders in waves of gold. As the men stared in admiration of her face, she said in an authoritative tone, “Open the gate.”
The soldier in the tower made a lewd comment. The one below chuckled and said, “Well, my pretty, perhaps we could let you through for a price.”
The man in the tower shouted, “She wouldn’t deprive us of some fun.”
“I am Signorina Allegra Castagno, godchild of Cosimo de’ Medici.” She tilted her chin. “Open the gates.”
“A noblewoman riding alone at this hour of night?”
“I’m under no obligation to explain the nature of my business to anyone except His Grace.”
The two men on the ground mumbled to each other, then pushed open the heavy door. One of them mounted his horse and silently escorted her to the Palazzo Castagno. Allegra had never seen the streets of Florence so dark and silent. It was a great relief when she finally entered the courtyard of her home. She handed a few coins to the soldier, then dragged her sore body upstairs, fell upon the bed fully clothed, and slept.
The sun shone feebly through wooly clouds the next day. Allegra stirred at the sound of someone knocking on the door. She covered her ears at first, but whoever it was refused to go away.
She got out of bed and glanced in the mirror. Her clothes were dusty and crumpled, her hair a mass of tangles, and two dark smudges sat beneath her eyes. The pounding continued, dra
wing her attention away from the mirror’s reflection. It was no doubt a messenger, sent by her father.
He must be livid. Allegra descended the stairs. “Calm yourself,” she said, running across the courtyard to unlock the gate. “Stop banging on my—”
She froze at the sight of Bruno wearing a scowl. He held up a letter for her inspection, and she instantly recognized her father’s handwriting.
“You traveled from Asti to Florence alone?” When she refused to answer, he bellowed, “Have you lost your wits?”
She recoiled at his tone. “When did you get this?”
“A messenger delivered it to the bottega less than an hour ago. Your father must be sick with worry, not to mention furious.” His face settled into a mask of disapproval. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you on the way here?” When his eyes swept over her, she felt terribly self-conscious. “When did you arrive?”
“Last night. I was so exhausted that I simply fell upon my bed.”
“I’ll dispatch a messenger to Asti at once.” He paused. “Vittorio is a good man and he doesn’t deserve to suffer such anguish so soon after his wedding day. You behaved selfishly, Allegra.”
Shocked by his chastisement, she conceded, “I’ll send him an apology.”
As he turned to go, Allegra grabbed his arm. “Wait.” He stopped and stared down at her hand. “Please don’t be upset with me.”
“Your father’s message made me sick,” he retorted angrily. “A young lady traveling alone on horseback…The road from Tuscany to Asti is littered with vagrants and bandits. You could have been ravaged or killed. Why in heaven’s name would you take such a risk?”
“My father wanted me to stay in Asti until September and I wanted to return to Florence. There was no reasoning with him, so I took matters into my own hands.”
“You could have at least made decent travel arrangements rather than sneaking off in the middle of the night, unchaperoned and unprotected.
Her lip quivered. “I didn’t think…”
His expression softened at the sight of her tears. Gathering her to his chest, he held her tightly. “No, you did not think, did you? The dangers that could have befallen you are enough to make me tremble with fear.”
Allegra felt safe in the circle of his arms and winced inwardly when he let her go. “I didn’t mean to cause you or my father any alarm.”
