Chapter 3
The solicitor promised to come to the castle in the late afternoon while there was light. Eduardo had related to Eliza that the man feared riding alone at night and took care of all his business before dusk. While she anxiously awaited his arrival, she sat in the solar on a velvet upholstered chair almost as luxurious as the ones in her father’s manor. There was another velvet chair like she sat upon just an arm’s distance away, as well as a dark wood desk with a chair behind it. The room was sparse. The marchese must have fallen on hard times and sold many of his furnishings to pay his debts. She hadn’t determined yet if the castle had been occupied by a household of servants before the marchese’s demise, or if he retained the present few to see to his needs as he lay dying.
Eliza tapped her foot on the floor. The rushes barely moved. Upon closer inspection, they were days old, perhaps even months. The marchese couldn’t have employed a household of servants during his last days.
She pleated the fabric of her leaf-green surcoat, anxious to end the suspense. With all the thinking she’d done, she still couldn’t figure out why she inherited this castle…and in Italy, where she’d never traveled to her entire life.
The door slipped open. Eliza twisted and frowned. Signor Da Mitri entered, looking smug and confident, as if he had cheated the devil. He seemed pleased with himself. She set her features in a stern, do-not-trifle-with-me façade, all the while wondering why he smiled and appeared to be in a jovial mood. He certainly hadn’t left her bedchamber in good graces with Leticia last eve.
He nodded his head at the chair beside her. “May I join you?”
“You may.” Light brightened his eyes, clear and sparkling with humor. He wore the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. In fact, he hadn’t changed into anything else since he arrived. Perhaps he owned no other clothing. Damn his infernal smile.
“I cannot decide what type of woman you are.” He spoke casually.
She lifted her chin at an angle. “It matters not.”
“I believe it does. What if you inherit this castle? Do you have the fortitude and wealth to maintain its inner and outer workings? That is if you inherit everything.”
Eliza bristled at his arrogant question. He didn’t think she was capable of running a castle. She’d prove him wrong. After all, she had traveled the farthest. So it must be true that the castle was hers. Otherwise, why would a noble leave his home and property to a…a… She swiped a look at him and snickered in silence. A pauper?
Footsteps outside the solar interrupted her thoughts. Both of them turned just as Eduardo shuffled in, followed by the portly solicitor. Eliza met Signor Da Mitri’s gaze, wishing she knew if her own mirrored the expectation in his.
“My dear girl, this is Signor Zamparini. And this, sir, is Lady Elizabella Godwin from England.”
The solicitor acknowledged her with a curt nod. She bowed her head for the briefest of moments, although it wasn’t necessary. Her father would not approve of her straying from her noble upbringing.
“Signor Da Mitri, you have already made the acquaintance of the solicitor, I believe.”
The signore nodded.
The solicitor moved behind the desk and laid down a parchment. His movements were as inflexible as the English. Eduardo pulled out the chair for him. When he lowered himself to sit, he had no idea the chair was not close behind. He caught himself on the edge of the desk and climbed back to his feet as he straightened his glasses. Eliza turned away to hide her amusement and saw that the signore did the same.
“Allora, I shall read Marchese Calendri’s will.”
Eliza strained to understand the man’s atrocious English. Concentrating on his mouth as he formed his words, she should be grateful he spoke her language at all.
Eduardo stood off near the floor chest Eliza hadn’t noticed before now. He seemed to be grinning, perhaps happy that her inheritance would soon become official. Pray he’d remain a castle servant. His knowledge of the marchese’s household would be a blessing.
Signor Zamparini cleared his throat. From the corner of her eye, she saw Signor Da Mitri’s smirk. He’d not be so smug after the solicitor revealed the truth. She returned her concentration on the man’s mouth.
“The marchese has written explicit details. But first, I shall reveal the inheritance.”
Eliza postured herself regally.
“In the matter of the castle, I hereby leave its entirety to Lady Elizabella Godwin.”
She turned her complacency to Signor Da Mitri. His tensed features, bunched lips and austere gaze cloaked her in contentment.
“There is more.” The solicitor interrupted their stare-down. “In the matter of the land, business and other holdings, I hereby leave its entirety to Leonardo Da Mitri.”
Eliza bounded out of her chair. “How can that be?” she demanded.
“Lady Godwin, I beg your indulgence.”
She stomped her foot and fell back to her chair.
“The details of what each of you have inherited is—” His hand delved into the purse attached to his belt and withdrew two more parchments. “The details are listed here.”
Eduardo stepped forward to hand the lists to her and the signore. Eliza read the neatly written document twice. “This is a list of my duties in the castle. Why are there no servants, save for two, to carry out these duties?”
Signor Da Mitri replied for the indifferent solicitor. “In Italy, the lady of the castle carries out the duties to help the servants.”
“But—”
“Italians do not stand on ceremony, signorina.”
The solicitor’s voice grated in her ears, but she couldn’t tear herself away from the victorious shine in the signore’s eyes.
“That will not do,” she stated and forced her attention back to Signor Zamparini. “Surely there has been a mista—”
“Mi dispiace, Lady Godwin. The marchese was most explicit when he wrote his will. No mistake has been made, I assure you. However, there is a stipulation to the inheritance.”
Folding her arms across her breasts, Eliza glared at the bringer of misfortune. He inhaled deeply then exhaled at his leisure, wasting time, in her opinion. In all appearances he acted as if he dreaded announcing the stipulation.
“To truly own the castle and the marchese’s property”—he glanced at Eduardo—”the marchese’s last directive was for Lady Godwin and Signor Da Mitri to marry.”
“What?” Eliza all but screeched as she jumped out of her chair. Beside her, the signore pounded to his feet, shock crinkling the skin at his temple and around his mouth.
“For either the lady or I to inherit all the marchese’s holdings, we must wed?”
The solicitor nodded. He remained seated, but for the first time he appeared nervous. His hands trembled when he picked up the will.
“There is more.”
“In God’s name, what more could there possibly be?” Eliza wasn’t about to ease her stiff posture or her frostiness directed pointedly at Signor Zamparini.
“You must remain married for one year and one day. Should you not, the marchese requested everything to be turned over to the Basilica di Sant’Antonio.”
She pointed her finger at Signor Da Mitri. “But I do not want to marry him!”
“Think you I cherish marrying you?”
Ignoring him, she implored the solicitor. “I know not why the marchese chose me to inherit his castle, but his stipulation is unreasonable.”
“Mi dispiace…I am sorry.”
“You are sorry?” Her voice pitched higher, and she stomped her foot.
“Have you something beneath your shoe?” The signore’s annoyance came forth.
“I have not.” Indignant by his inquiry, she gave him a deep frown for calling her out on her terrible habit. One of her father’s servants was deaf, but the woman felt the vibration from a pounding foot. For some God-awful reason, the habit seemed to come about if she became angry or upset. “Signor Zamparini, please read the will again
. I am sure you missed an important detail or two.”
He shook his head, rolled up the will and started for the door.
“I have a fiancé.” Her announcement ceased movement in the room. The solicitor came around, Eduardo’s brows rose, and the signore gaped at her. No one had to know she didn’t intend to marry Geoffrey. “We stopped plans for our wedding when I received Marchese Calendri’s letter. It seemed most urgent.”
“That does pose a problem.” Signor Zamparini stroked his chin in thought.
Leonardo snickered. “Most assuredly, I am not keen on obtaining a wife. More so in an arranged marriage. Yet I must point out one fact. The lady is not married at present, so the stipulation should be honored.” What the hell was he saying? That particular woman might prove difficult to tame. Perhaps a delight to lay with, but nevertheless, he wasn’t sure he had the patience to deal with her uppity behavior.
The coldness in her eyes sank into his flesh like sharp talons. “Not a moment ago you objected to marrying me. Why then, signore, did you bring up the state of my impending marriage?”
Her pale hair rippled like soft waves on a moonlit sea. He had caressed the back of her head when he kissed her, but he longed to run his fingers through the silky strands. He gazed leisurely down to her hips where the tips of her hair rested. Nice hips, sitting upon legs most likely slender and attractive. Leo shifted his stance.
“I intend to claim this castle as my own. If marriage to you is the only way, so be it. I shall have to live with it for a year.” He scowled. “And a day.”
She balled her gloved hands into ineffective fists. He doubted she’d cause him harm should she decide to punch him, which was what she appeared to be fighting against.
“Indeed!” Her mouth opened and closed, and he prayed she’d march off and display her tantrum elsewhere. “Indeed,” she repeated at the top of her voice. “You will have to live with the arrangement? What about me? Even if I did not have a fiancé, why would you think I would marry you? You are—”
“Poor?” he inserted.
“Well…yes.” The many hues in her eyes changed from blade sharp to downy soft. Even her posture relaxed a mite. “I understand that you cannot help the lot you were given. Will or not, my brother will not allow you anywhere near me.”
Her maidservant had already seen to that. Leo leaned against the desk. “Are you a princess?”
“Of course not, but—”
“You are a wealthy noble and I a poor retch who lives an unsuitable life.”
“Said as such, you have spoken the truth.”
The haughty wench. Before the year was over, he’d have her eating out of his hand like a pup. She would learn that noble and commoner were one in the same. Both people. Both with a beating heart. Only, one was born into privilege and the other…
The solicitor hadn’t moved. “My lady, you must abide the will or you will forfeit everything, as will Signor Da Mitri.”
She stomped her foot. Leo closed his eyes and prayed to God to give him the fortitude to spend a year with the pompous female, else he’d throw her on a ship posthaste and send her back to England.
“Allora, I shall leave,” the solicitor announced. “Eduardo, kindly escort me to the door.”
Left alone with Eliza, Leo stepped a good distance away. Fire burned in her eyes, and her cheeks flushed a most becoming, if not unsettling, red. She was enraged over the arrangement, but she was a comely wench, whether sedate or worked up, and that excited him. Her forehead wrinkled and smoothed many times and her mouth puckered. He wished she hadn’t done that. Her lips invited him to enjoy another kiss. He took another step back.
“Your head is recovered?” The better of the two subjects. They did have one thing in common—neither wanted to marry the other.
“My life is in ruins and all you can do is make meaningless conversation? What are you going to do about our situation? You must do something.”
“Do not the nobles teach their children manners?”
“More than living on the street has taught you yours,” she countered, angling her petite chin.
How the devil did she know he had lived on the streets? Did Santo enlighten her? No, for Santo would not betray him or their friendship. It was a fortunate guess, he decided. If she didn’t stop looking at him like he was the dirt beneath her stomping foot, he might show her he’d not stand for her noble nonsense by kissing her again…if he could be assured he’d stop at one kiss now that he’d tasted her delectable virgin lips.
“There is naught I can do. The will is binding.”
“There must be a way to unbind it.” She tapped her toe on the floor and stared at the wall over his head. Just what was she thinking that set her features askew?
“My apologies, for I am certain there is naught either of us can do to change our situation.” Leo observed her closely. He’d never seen so many expressions skitter across a woman’s face before. She ran through every one of them, settling with a quiver on her lips that spoke of tears to follow. Crying women were his forte. Comforting them usually led to carnal pleasures. He frowned as he stared at the signorina. He tried to bring to mind the women from his past, but all resembled Lady Elizabella. Unwilling to delve into the reasons his mind betrayed him, he stepped closer to her, old habits coming back to mark his undoing. “It appears you and I will soon be husband and wife.”
Shock widened her eyes. “Are you gloating?”
“What reason would I have to gloat? I know not what else we can do to remain unmarried. If we must follow the marchese’s stipulation, then I shall do my best to be a good husband.”
“Think you I will allow you husbandly rights?”
She didn’t have to sound appalled. “They are part of a marriage.” One more step toward her, then another until they were toe to toe. “Neither of us is ghastly to look upon. We might discover that we enjoy the privileges matrimony brings.”
She tilted her head back and glared up at him. Damn her stubbornness. Could she not understand that once the year passed, they could negotiate which of them would inherit everything the marchese had left behind? To be sure, she’d never adjust to castle life, for she was brought up spoiled, as were all noble children.
Leaning in to whisper, he found their close proximity too much to bear. Unwise as it was, he circled her waist with one arm and pulled her to his body. She opened her mouth to protest, but Leo seized her lips, kissing her as if he’d not kissed a woman for quite a long time.
She tasted sweet, boldly delicious. A groan died in his throat. She rested her hands on his hips, more than likely to balance herself. She needn’t be fearful, for his hold was made of iron. He wasn’t about to release her until he took his fill. Yet he began to understand that he wanted more, wanted to caress her womanly curves, cup her breasts, run his hands up and down her legs. He groaned again, but this one died at their lips.
The tautness in her body eased, and she leaned into him. He capped the back of her head to hold her to the kiss while his tongue slipped just past her lips then teeth, encountering her gasp. Leo refused to let her go. Kissing was one thing, but he feared the sudden urgency, the need to bare her to his view. The control over his desire she could make him lose.
Her hands wandered to his back, tentative. Perhaps she was frightened she’d succumb to his exploration. Was she afraid she might beg him for more? Gladly would he accommodate her, but she’d no doubt wake up from the euphoric state she’d lapsed into and slap him soundly should he even try to remove any part of her clothing.
Leo released her lips and kissed a path down her graceful neck, losing himself in the pleasant scent drifting out of her pores. He glided up to her mouth again, perched to sink his tongue into the moist cavern. A loud gasp from across the room doused his rampant lust.
“Get your hands off Lady Elizabella immediately!”
Leo snapped his head up. A red-faced dandy near the door drew his sword, pointing it with authority. “Who the hell are you?”
&
nbsp; “Baron Geoffrey Camden, and that woman is my fiancé.”
Chapter 4
“Geoffrey, no!” Shock choked Eliza’s throat. She hopped out of Signor Da Mitri’s way, afraid her fiancé would charge him and stab her as well. She counted on the distance soothing Geoffrey’s rage. She cleared the strangling fear from her throat and boldly issued an order. “Do not kill him, Geoffrey.”
A wild shine in his eyes emanated across the room. “He was molesting you.”
“Really, Geoffrey? Did you find me struggling or calling for help?”
“Mind your tongue, Eliza. Already you are speaking like the damn ignorant Italians.”
The signore lunged at Geoffrey. Eliza caught his arm, digging her fingers into his hard muscles. He tore out of her weak restraint. Geoffrey hoisted his sword, intending to run him through. She couldn’t bare to watch.
Elation washed over her when Santo rushed through the open door and swung his sword downward, knocking Geoffrey’s several feet away. Her fiancé howled like a witch set afire. The signore’s friend poked the sword’s tip at Geoffrey’s heart.
Her hands and legs trembled for what could have happened. Of a sudden, her body flushed, heat spreading up her torso. By God, she found Signor Da Mitri roguishly handsome in his agitated state. With his body tense and fists hanging at his sides, she tried desperately to subdue her inappropriate musing.
“Oh, my,” she muttered, fretting because she had worried more for the signore’s well-being than Geoffrey’s.
Leo’s stance lost some of its stiffness. What the deuce came over him? He was about to fight a man sans a weapon. “As always, Santo, your timing is impeccable.”
“Had I not heard this man arguing with the woman’s maidservant, you would be lying in your own spilled blood.” Santo wagged his head from side to side. “Carry your sword, Leo. Next time, I may not be nearby to save you.”
Leo resented his friend’s mighty tone, as if Santo was the only one who could save him. Closing his battle ready stance, Leo didn’t move until Santo left. Yet anger returned with a vengeance and tightened his body once more.
Mine to Keep Page 3
