Eliza had the feeling they weren’t talking about the same thing. She stomped her foot. “Your letter, signore?”
“We shall exchange our letters.”
With reluctance, she pulled the parchment from a pocket sewn into her gown. She held out her hands, one giving her letter to him and the other taking his. She read with keen interest, disbelieving the identical wording, with the exception of their names.
“How can this be?” she asked the servant.
“I am certain the marchese had his reasons for summoning the both of you here. On the morrow, we shall gather with the solicitor for the reading of the will.”
That was it? No explanation? The other stranger, a thumb taller than Signor Da Mitri, wore a lopsided grin. His hair was sunshine blond and worn loose but away from his face. His playful green eyes held the mischief he’d likely cause.
“It appears the marchese wrote the letters in a diminished state of mind before his death,” the blond said.
The servant spoke up. “Never was his mind diminished. As I have said, you will learn more on the morrow when Marchese Calendri’s will is read. Until then, Signor Da Mitri, you and your friend may reside in the castle. I shall show you to your chambers.”
Eliza met the signore’s pale blue eyes, in them a light of interest. She’d not sleep well tonight. For certain, she’d bolt her chamber door.
Chapter 2
Leticia shook her head, clearly unhappy by Eliza’s actions. But Eliza hadn’t given in the night before when her maid brought out her night clothes. With that stranger—granted, a devilishly handsome stranger—she thought of her safety first, her virtue that he probably didn’t care if he stole away.
“Milady, I have laid out fresh clothes for you. You cannot wear yesterday’s gown. I know not how you slept in it.”
Eliza glanced at the silvery cotehardie and crimson undertunic on the bed. “I shall dress, but only if you summon Giorgie and Elrich to stand guard outside my door.”
“Milady, be reasonable. Giorgie slept outside your chamber door the whole night. I bade him to eat. The man you met yesterday did not try to enter your room and ravish you. Though I must admit, I feared he would.”
A drawn out shiver spiraled down Eliza’s back. Perhaps it might be delightful to be ravished by a fine-looking man, but on her terms and with her consent. Signor Da Mitri didn’t look the sort who asked a woman’s permission to share her bed.
“Lady Elizabella,” came Leticia’s sharp call.
Snapping out of her wayward thoughts, she wouldn’t dare confide in the woman about the lurid road her mind traveled. “Fine. I shall change my clothes. But you must stand with your back pressed against the door should the signore and his friend decide to have their way with me.”
Frowning, Leticia did as told, but she grumbled all the way. “How will I help you dress? Think you my arms can reach across the room to you?”
Eliza smiled faintly. “Do not be silly. Besides, there is naught you can help me do.”
“Think you unfastening the tiny buttons down your back is easy? They are tight even for my strong fingers.”
“Point well taken, Letty.” Eliza joined the maid at the door. Once her buttons were free, she ripped off the gown and donned her clothes as if she were dressing to flee. That very well may be should the two signori push past Letty who, at the moment, was Eliza’s only hope for keeping scoundrels out.
“I shall inform the cook that you are awake.”
Not long after, Eliza crept down the steps, making certain she did not miss her footing again and praying no others were in the hall below. The richness of Signor Da Mitri’s voice rose up the stairs, tickling the hairs on her neck. She froze mid-step. What was she to do now? Then the object of her avoidance appeared at the bottom of the staircase, alone.
“Ah, there you are, signorina. I was concerned over your well-being when you did not come down for the morning meal.” He leaped up the steps, two at a time.
Panic gripped her in its huge, powerful hands. She couldn’t turn to run. Neither could she scream. Her mouth opened in mute fear. When he stood before her, she slowed her heart’s heavy beating, but her nerves continued to tingle.
He bent his elbow and offered her his arm. “Signorina, allow me to escort you to the table.”
Declining his kindness would be rude and against her proper upbringing. Yet she didn’t know the man, and it was doubtful she’d ever see him again. As soon as the will was read and he learned there’d been a mistake, she’d send him on his way in a heartbeat. So she faked a smile that felt anything but happy and placed her gloved hand on his arm.
Her heart galloped in an instant, and she snatched her hand away.
“Is something amiss?” he inquired, worry trespassing his eyes.
“No…no, there is not.” The hardness beneath her fingers likely were his muscles. He didn’t appear to have many. Perhaps it was the padding inside the doublet.
His arm came up again. Eliza ignored it and continued on. To her irritation, he grabbed her hand and held her to the next step. “Allow me.”
She inhaled to temper her patience, which was fast unraveling. He placed her hand on his arm, this time pinning it there so she couldn’t escape. At the bottom of the staircase, she gazed across the hall. The blond sat on a stool, cradling a mug. His smile disarmed her, but not for long. Suspicion trailed her thoughts. What were the two up to?
At the table, Signor Da Mitri held her hand as she sat. He bowed, his actions and everything about him polite. Eliza wouldn’t fall prey to what she was certain was his plan. Did he think to charm the castle away from her?
“Eduardo says you are from England.”
Staring into his eyes, she tried to gain insight to his game. She nodded and said naught. She couldn’t. His clear blue eyes mesmerized any rational thought.
Shaking the strange feeling, Eliza came to the point. “How is it a letter from the marchese fell into your hands?”
The flames in the hearth gilded the sun-blond strands of hair intermingled with his earth-brown locks. “I wondered the same about you. Know you the marchese?”
Although the answer was simple, she didn’t want to give too much away. “And you, signore?”
He glanced at his friend before he spoke. “It seems neither of us were acquainted with Marchese Calendri.”
His smile disarmed the sarcastic remark ready to come forth. The man was presumptuous. Allowing herself a peek at the blond, she was certain now. They were up to something. “If that is true, why are we here?”
The blond rose from the bench. “Eduardo begged our patience, for we shall learn the truth this eve.”
Signor Da Mitri’s continued smile disturbed Eliza. To her annoyance, it captured a sigh in her heart.
“By the by, this old man,” he slapped his friend’s arm, “is Santo Ambrosini, my trusted brother, though not by blood.”
Still focused on the signore’s mouth, she missed the playful shine in his eyes…until she tore her gaze away and chided herself for her scandalous behavior. “Do you find our situation humorous, signore?”
“On the contrary. Our situation is most unusual. No, signorina, my amusement is from gazing upon your beautiful pale skin and the way your eyes change many hues of blue with your thoughts, mayhap even emotions.”
Eliza pounced to her feet, blustery and quite speechless. Her mouth sputtered open without a single sound. She balled her hands into her hips.
“See there, Santo. Her eyes are a different blue. Did I not judge correctly?”
“Really, Signor Da Mitri. Have you no decorum in the presence of a lady? Is this how men in Italy behave?” Damn him, he grinned.
“I know not, for I rarely give a man a first look. I prefer to fill my sight with women…tall, short, thin, overlarge, comely…or not.”
She stomped her foot. “Oh, you are aggravating!”
Shuffling footsteps arrested their conversation. When Eduardo joined them at the hearth, Eliza pres
sed her lips together.
“You are getting acquainted, I see.”
His subdued smile piqued her interest. “If you would like to think so.” Her matter-of-fact tone had no bearing on the servant.
Making more noise than he rightfully should, Santo ended with a sigh, drawing Eliza’s notice. “It is best I leave you to discuss your pending inheritance,” he said, behaving as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Leo, I shall await you in town.”
Signor Da Mitri nodded then held his hand out toward the table. “It has been left up until you ate your first meal. Do sit.”
“The table has been set up since I arrived.” Couldn’t he see she wasn’t easy to sweet talk or sway? “I shall accept your offer, for I am ravenous.”
His eyes twinkled. “Sì, I too am ravenous.”
Eliza wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what he was hungry for. More pointedly who. She sat on the bench with grace and slid close to the end, away from the Italian. “Did you not partake of the morning meal?”
“My appetite has suddenly returned.”
Eliza couldn’t help the frown turning down the corners of her mouth. When he had the audacity to sit beside her, she wanted to scream. “There is plenty of bench for you to move to the opposite end.”
“How will we converse? I fear I am in no mood to shout.”
And in no mood to be truthful either, she might have chastised, had he not given her a stunning smile. Her frown deepened, and she held herself back. Having no other recourse—except taking her meal in her bedchamber—Eliza turned away from him and tried to concentrate on the hearth. She might have succeeded if the signore hadn’t brushed against her arm. She scooted to the very end of the bench. Any farther, she’d land on the floor. She’d had more than enough of that particular humiliation.
The servant chuckled, rattling Eliza’s forbearance. Why did men find annoying a lady amusing?
“Your food will be out shortly,” the servant said with a bow of his head.
He walked away, his upper body slightly bent forward. Eliza upheld her silence and reinforced the protective wall she’d erected. She hoped Signor Da Mitri understood that she wanted no part of his menial conversation. The cretin didn’t take the hint.
“Where in England do you live?”
She searched his face to decide if he was serious or being playful. “I would rather not say.” A modest smile drew her attention to his lips. “Where in Italy do you live?”
“Here,” came his quick response, along with a wide grin.
“Padua?”
“Sì, carina.”
“What did you just say?”
“Yes—”
“I know that,” she spit out. He really did think she was stupid. “Carina. What does that mean?”
He answered with another smile. His head drew nearer. His mouth moved closer. His lips floated, she was sure of it. Eliza held her breath, afraid to speak without stuttering from apprehension. The moment his smooth lips dusted hers, she shivered. Never mind the indecency of what he was doing. Her heart raced, and heat bloomed over her entire body. She had no control, it seemed, because her own lips accepted his in an explosion of unfamiliar sensations. She gripped the bench with one hand and the table with the other. He rested his hand on her waist. Eliza squirmed, but naught she did stopped her from losing her senses to Signor Da Mitri’s kiss. It was heavenly, and she pouted when he lifted his head away.
“Ah, signorina,” he whispered. “A kiss beyond all others.”
Beyond all others? She’d best retain a sharp mind, else the rogue would steel her inheritance away. She crossed her arms. “I am sure you have tasted the lips of many ladies, but you are lying, signore. That was my first kiss, and doubtless it is to be above all the other women you have kissed.”
“I beg to differ. I spoke the truth.”
Entranced by the huskiness in his voice, Eliza gasped when he kissed her again, this one bolder, more forceful. His hands framed her face as if to make certain she didn’t end the kiss prematurely. Slapping him crossed her mind…until he folded her into his embrace, tilting her head back and bracing it with his hand. The heat she’d felt before was mild compared to the fire consuming her from head to leather-bottomed shoes. She gripped his waist, afraid the flames were real and she’d perish. Never had she experienced such wonderful shivers marching up and down her back. Gooseflesh attacked her arms. Her head spun out of control.
The tip of his tongue slipped out and traced her lips. It was wrong. Yet it was right. A voice of decency spoke up and filled her head with the reasons she shouldn’t allow the signore to kiss her, to caress her body.
“He is molesting milady,” Leticia shouted from across the hall.
Their kiss ended abruptly. Both turned to find the maidservant running toward them, a broom raised in her hands. Eliza had no time to cool her body’s unwanted desire. She jumped to her feet, but with Signor Da Mitri’s weight, the bench didn’t budge. She tipped backward, desperately grasping for the table. He reached out to save her, instead closing his fingers over her breasts.
“You dishonorable beast,” Leticia screeched.
The last thing Eliza remembered was her maidservant whacking the signore with her broom.
****
Leonardo crept up the staircase, praying the woman’s maidservant didn’t catch him. She’d left a few lumps on his head from her vicious attack. He touched the biggest one and winced. That woman was a menace.
Santo remained in the great hall to warn Leo if the maidservant headed for the stairs. It was the first time she’d gone away from her charge’s bedside. Since Elizabella’s mishap this morn, he’d wanted to go up to see for himself if she was all right. The witch-hearted maid posted the signorina’s menservants at the bottom of the stairs. He could easily overtake the old man. The younger one might have been more of a challenge.
He slipped into the bedchamber and closed the door behind him without a sound. His gaze went directly to the figure lying on the bed. Leaning back against the door, he watched the woman’s chest rise and fall gently, drawing him into her serene slumber.
Leo stepped quietly toward the bed, careful not to disturb her blissful dreams, if that was what caused her eyelashes to flutter. He couldn’t help glancing at her breasts, the very ones he’d gripped in his hands. It was an accident, to be sure. And now, he wished he could caress them, play with them until her nipples stood erect from her growing excitement.
Bedside, he stared at her lips. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her the kiss was beyond all others. She didn’t have to tell him he’d given her her first kiss. Her timid and uncertain response had told him so. But then she began to kiss him back, perhaps without knowing, raising the temperature in his blood and giving him a tingle in his hose.
Leo sat on the edge of the bed, thankful he didn’t disturb her. Truth be told, he enjoyed gazing upon her rippling blond hair and the lashes shadowing her cheeks. And those enticing lips. Would she chastise him if he kissed her again?
Considering his lifestyle and the ghosts of his past, he had no right desiring a lady. Was it the thrill of illicit danger? Or the poor catching the eye of a woman of means? Granted, he knew not her background or the extent of her noble family’s wealth. He cared not for the privileges of the nobility. Even if he fancied himself enamored of this particular woman, naught would come of it. He gingerly rubbed the lumps on his head. The lady’s maidservant wouldn’t let him get close enough to steel another kiss. Ah…it was well worth the pain.
A moan slapped him out of his dangerous thoughts. The woman lifted her hand then hesitated before she touched the back of her head. Another moan floated past her sweet lips.
“The headache will not last long.”
Her eyes popped open wide, followed by a wince.
“Speaking may hurt as well.”
Her expression divided between apprehension and panic.
“You stumbled over the bench, and hit your head on the floor.”
&nbs
p; A neat row of lines etched into her forehead. She flinched, the simple reaction causing her pain he well knew.
Her eyelashes fluttered downward. No doubt she was tired. Then her eyes spread as wide as a goblet, and she snapped her gaze up to him.
“You kissed me!” Her tone bordered on belligerence.
She struggled to sit up. He offered his hand to aid her, but she slapped it away.
“I am merely trying to assist you as I am quite aware of how badly you are suffering at the moment.” He expected her sudden confusion. “I fear your maidservant tried to relieve me of my head with a broom.” His head had yet to cease throbbing. Nevertheless, he grinned. “I know not how many lumps she caused.”
“I would say she had good reason. You were taking advantage of my innocence.”
“You did not object.”
“I have no knowledge of kissing. Or of men.” She flinched then lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “You were alone with me, and that makes kissing me more disgraceful.”
As she scooted back, she pulled the cover up to shield her breasts. His fingers twitched to close around them. He could feel their softness and, to his surprise, their generous size. She hid her assets well, for he had figured she was not well-endowed at all. His breath staggered inward as his fingers danced in desperation to fill them with every precious bit of those tempting spheres.
“Signor Da Mitri, you must leave at once. Must I remind you of the impropriety of our being alone?”
On cue, the door opened. He swore it was planned. The maidservant entered with purpose but stopped abruptly when her caustic gaze rested on him. The expanse of her expressions and uncontained fiery red hair left him in fear for his life. Perhaps now was the right time to take his leave.
Leo rose and bid the signorina good day. A loud screech disturbed the tiny hairs behind his neck, chilling him to the bone. The servant rushed to the hearth, grabbed a poker and came at him as if she held a mighty sword in her two-fisted grip. She managed to strike his shoulder before he escaped her madness.
From the top of the stairs, he heard the Englishwoman say, “Leticia, that was naughty of you.” He cursed the delight in her voice.
Mine to Keep Page 2
