The man’s gaze darted repeatedly to his discarded weapon. Leo divided his sight between the two, ready to lunge for the sword if he had to. He narrowed his eyes, judging the man’s expensive purple doublet and neatly quaffed hair. Everything about the dandy dripped with wealth.
Unable to process his uninvited appearance and the fact that he and Eliza would someday wed, Leo stormed away. At the door he paused and looked back at Eliza. The sight of her in that fop’s embrace, his aristocratic lips kissing her flushed cheek, turned his gut into excruciating knots.
He knew not if the castle was worth battling for a woman’s hand. For certain, he couldn’t stand by and watch her fiancé fawning over her, acting as if she had been in the clutches of a barbarian.
She lifted her gaze as if to say she was sorry. Disgusted, he marched out the door.
Eliza’s heart battered her chest long after she stepped out of Geoffrey’s embrace. The hurt and ire clashing in the signore’s eyes troubled her. She didn’t even care for the man. Faith, they were fighting for the same inheritance. But his kisses fogged her mind, and now a headache spread across her forehead.
She glanced at Geoffrey as he went on and on about the ill-mannered and animalistic Italians, promising to defend her honor from the signore if he touched her improperly again.
“Excuse me, Geoffrey. My head is pounding. I must go up to my room and lie down.”
“But we have so much to talk about. I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’ve missed you so.”
Oh, God. Now she must hold off a marriage to two men. If she had to choose, she’d not think twice about taking Signor Da Mitri for a husband. She disliked Geoffrey. He thought he was charming. She thought he was a sneaky bastard.
****
The quiet at the evening meal was palpable. Eliza heard her own heart beating, deluging her ears and eradicating any thought. She glanced at Signor Da Mitri to her right. He stared straight ahead, but his fingers bunched the tablecloth in his fist. To her left, Geoffrey behaved as if everyone except her was beneath him. He turned his nose up at the servants. He also kept his distance from Santo. Now and then, he’d turn a poisonous glare on the signore.
The meal lasted longer than she intended to stay. She was antsy from sitting between two socially and utterly opposed men who would undoubtedly murder each other if given the opportunity. Thanks to their lingering tension, her headache returned.
“I am going to my bedchamber,” she announced.
The men snapped their hostility to one another. Faith, it looked as if they were blowing steam from their noses. Thank God Geoffrey’s sword hadn’t been returned, and it wouldn’t be unless he left the castle.
Geoffrey rose. “May I have the pleasure of walking you up the stairs?”
She tried with all her heart not to glance at the signore. An unseen force pushed her to it. His features stilled, not even a ticking muscle danced beneath his skin. The quick glance turned into a longer observation of his hooded eyes, his strong nose…his attractive lips. She drew in a shaky breath and forced her thoughts to retiring for the night.
“Do not trouble yourself, Geoffrey. I know the way.”
“Of course you do, but as your fiancé, I am honor bound to see that no harm comes to you.”
She hated it when Geoffrey overstated his importance. “There is naught in my way. It is but a few steps to the stairs. I have climbed them often enough.”
“Alone…I am sure.”
A slow, burning retort blistered her tongue, but she kept silent, giving neither man a reason to fight over her. “Yes, alone.” She nodded at Signor Da Mitri and Santo. “Good eve, gentlemen.”
She heard Geoffrey’s tsk-tsk over her use of gentlemen. Truth be told, they had both behaved since coming to the castle. Other than the signore’s stolen kisses, he really hadn’t shown he’d do her harm, and neither had Santo.
All three men stood. Eliza fixed her gaze on the stairs. Climbing, she dared another peek at the signore. A silent groan settled in her chest. His profile spoke of a man of means, not one who had lived on the streets. Would that she could tell him she had no intentions of marrying Geoffrey unless her brother insisted. Compared to Signor Da Mitri, Geoffrey lacked manliness. Still, she’d argue all the reasons a marriage between her and the signore wouldn’t work. One last look, then she hurried up the steps, careful not to trip over her gown.
****
“The bastard has not left her side all day. All mighty, does he tend to her necessities as well?” Leo’s gut curled tightly. “Look at how he fawns over her.”
“Easy, my friend. I know not the details of a marriage agreement between the English, but I do know you and the signorina will soon wed or both of you forfeit the marchese’s worth.”
Leo turned away from the garden Eliza and her fiancé strolled and fixed a wry twist on his lips. “He is not aware of that little matter. He no doubt believes she has inherited the entire lot, castle and land. I wonder if she told him about both letters.”
“Where are you going?”
“I must discuss our coming wedding with Signorina Godwin.” He paused and slapped his hand against the hilt of his sword. “See, Santo. I am wearing a sword. No need to worry about me.”
“It is not you I am worried about. The Englishman may be a weakling, but his wealth could do more harm. We know not the power he has.”
“He’ll not pose a problem. Besides, who would want to harm a man without home or family?”
“He sees you as a threat. Use your head, Leo. Think you he will not call you out?”
Leo waved his hand in the air, dismissing Santo’s concerns. The dandy could possibly give him a decent fight, but Leo fought smartly. If the man was quick to anger, he’d not use his head and slice away to get to him. Then Leo would go in for the kill, although he wouldn’t take the man’s life. Instead, he’d bring humility down on his head.
“Signorina,” he called, catching her by surprise. Her gaze shifted from him to her fiancé and back. “A word, if I may.”
Geoffrey pushed her behind him. “Stay away from my future bride.” His pointy chin elevated, quite comically, Leo mused.
“There seems to be a bit of confusion as to whose bride she is.” Leo grinned at Eliza as her mouth dropped open. She feared the same as Santo. Even though Leo swore he wouldn’t fight over a woman, he’d fight for the honor of the beautiful—and willful—Eliza. Her fiancé, however, ignored the inference of whom she’d truly marry.
“I will have you know that I am a highly trained swordsman,” Camden boasted.
“I am certain you are. However, have you fought a man who learned from the most undesirable, ruthless men on the streets?”
Camden blanched.
“I thought not.” He bowed his head to Eliza and held out his arm. “Will you join me on a stroll?”
When she hesitated, Leo stepped closer. Her fiancé grabbed his shoulder. Leo jerked up his elbow toward the dandy’s face. The ensuing crunch and the Englishman’s scream told him he’d found his mark.
“Oh, no. Geoffrey.” Eliza seemed beside herself, yet she did not offer to help. “I told you goading Signor Da Mitri would bring you harm.”
Leo smiled to himself. She had scolded Camden while he carried on as if he’d been maimed. Blood seeped through his fingers and dropped to his houppelande.
“Geoffrey, seek out Leticia. She will stem the bleeding, though she can do little if your nose is broken.”
The wild flash of hatred in his eyes turned on Leo. But Leo remained nonchalant. “The blood will stain your fine looking garment, I am sure. I would do as the wench said.”
“How dare you insult Lady Elizabella. She is not a wench,” came Camden’s muffled affront.
“She certainly is not a man,” Leo pointed out.
His hand still attached to his nose, Camden issued a ridiculous threat. “You and I will come to blows, to be sure. Be thankful I am injured at the moment.”
Eliza stared at her fiancé’s back as h
e strode rapidly toward the castle. When he was out of sight, she lifted her head, scolding Leo with her gaze. “You could have broken his nose. Faith, you most likely did.”
“It was not my intention. He ran into my elbow.”
She saw through his lie, as he knew she would.
He swept his hand out and half-bowed. “After you, madam.”
“We should not be alone.”
Leo shrugged, striking down the importance of a chaperone for the lady virgin. “Are you afraid you cannot keep your hands to yourself?”
Without warning, she slapped him hard. Church bells chimed in his ear. His ire rushed to the fore, but as quickly died. He had spoken rather crudely and deserved her wrath. Yet she stung his pride.
“Signor Da Mitri, you are the one who cannot keep your hands to yourself.” She postured her entire body superciliously. Her upturned nose beckoned to be kissed. As did her lips.
“You have spoken the truth.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?” She stood her ground in a stubborn stance. “Look there. Santo will see our every move.”
She peered across the yard. “That is not of comfort. He is your friend.”
Despite his patience dwindling, Leo didn’t dispute her observation. “True, but Santo is a gallant gentleman. He’ll not stand for any man who mistreats a woman.”
Still reluctant, she placed her hand lightly on his arm, perhaps believing she could flee if she didn’t grip him too tightly. Leo maintained a space between them as they strolled, else he’d drag her into his arms and show her the meaning of a real passionate kiss. Alas, he’d only prove her words astute, for he’d not keep his hands away from her body.
“Since we are soon to be wed, you may call me Leonardo or Leo.” He glanced at her profile, noting the stringent set of her mouth.
She lifted her hand away from his arm, leaving behind a heated imprint. “Our marriage will be in name only.”
“We must do away with formalities, signorina, else our year together will feel like ten.”
“Right you are.” A budding frown hesitated and never bloomed. “I know not how to inform Geoffrey about our forced arrangement. Thankfully he did not hear your comment else he would have drawn his sword on you, now that it has been returned.”
Leo brushed off her unease. “Have faith in me, Eliza. Only for a year will I address you by your given name.” Her body stiffened by what she perceived as inappropriate.
“Then it is Elizabella to you.”
“Right.” He glanced at the nearby stable to gather his thoughts. “Remember, we must wed within the week. Think you delaying the truth will make your fiancé livid?”
“I fear telling him the truth will.” Her shoulders lost their rigidness and her body relaxed once again. “Yet you are right. I must talk with him today. Mayhap he will understand and go back to England.”
The woman giggled. Leo cast a questioning look her way.
“My pardon. I have seen Geoffrey when he is angry. Spittle sprays from his mouth, and his flesh burns fire red. Faith, his voice is higher and he squawks like an unhappy bird.”
Leo grinned with approval. At least she had the good sense to laugh about her fiancé’s shortcomings. “I shall like you to describe me when I become angry. Do you promise?”
Shyness crept into her mien. “Why…I could…if that is your wish.”
Leo stopped and brought her around to face him. He understood her uneasiness with his hand on her waist, but he simply couldn’t get enough of touching Eliza. “I do wish. As I wish you would not be frightened of me.”
“I—”
He covered her mouth with his hand, squelching her coming denial. “You know I will never cause you harm. More is your fear from being close to me and desiring my kisses. Your temptation to caress me.”
She looked away. “No, you are wrong.”
His finger at her cheek turned her head, and he searched her eyes. “No, carina, I am not wrong.” He lowered his head, pausing before he gave her the sweetest kiss he’d ever given a woman. If she did not desire his kisses, why then didn’t she beg off, push him away, shout?
He pressed her body to his, feeling her hesitation. Yet she leaned into him, held his hips between her hands. Leo washed her lips with his tongue, then persuaded her to allow him entrance into her mouth. The warmth he found gave him a sense of home. Would that he could lay her down and kiss every part of her sweet body. Alas, he did not cherish her fiancé or her maidservant beating him away.
Leo straightened, his gaze locked on her moist lips and the surrounding chafed skin. Her eyelids half-opened. She didn’t know how appealing she was to a man. Or how breathtaking her wispy glow was to him.
“I fear I must return you posthaste to the castle else I’ll not refrain from doing to you what the illicit thoughts in my head are begging me to.”
She hopped back and lost her fleeting euphoria. “Remember you this, Signor Da Mitri. We are not yet wed. I will not allow you to seduce me now or when we are husband and wife. Do not lose sight of the real purpose of our union. Neither you nor I look forward to spending a year together.”
“And a day.” She cocked her head. “Our marriage is to be a year and a day.”
A frustrated huff puffed out her cheeks. “And no more stealing kisses. If you must, you may kiss my cheek…but only after we are wed.”
Leo’s chest felt ready to explode from pent up lust as well as from the indignant rage rising through his body. In response to her demand, he slammed her against his body and trapped her with his arms. She’d not get free from him. Without reservation, he swooped down, devouring her mouth, parting her lips, tasting the delight awaiting him. He’d had women aplenty, but this particular woman made his blood catch fire. Perhaps it was a matter of the fox chasing the hare, a game. She’d soon learn what the fox was capable of once the hare was in his possession.
Her tongue tapped his, and he held his breath, if only briefly. He’d relate how much she pleasured him with a simple kiss, but she’d likely not listen. He lifted his head. Breathing raggedly, he contemplated the confusion transforming her features. Was she remiss that he stopped? Would that he could believe she desired him that much.
A scream jerked both of them from their rapture. Leo turned his head in time to see the maidservant running at him, her infernal broom raised menacingly above her head. Behind her, the dandy screeched and drew his weapon. Leo didn’t know who to beat back first. Jerking his sword free, he thrust Eliza away and braced for the first clash of weapons. Before a fight ensued, the maidservant whacked at him, her broom almost knocking the sword from his hands. He grabbed the broom handle, trying desperately to shove the woman aside. The wench was immovable, built like a stone tower.
Leo caught sight of Santo. “Amico, now would be the time to come to my aid.”
Santo shrugged. “It is not my fight.”
Leo growled his discontent, and by sheer will yanked the broom out of the maidservant’s hand. She fought until the end to keep her tight grip and came into him with the force of a runaway horse. They tumbled to the ground, Leo taking the brunt of the wench’s weight. He saw Eliza’s damn fiancé from the corner of his eye, seething. Leo knew not where his strength came from, but he pushed the woman off to keep her from being impaled by the dandy’s sword.
“Geoffrey, stop!” Eliza’s fear rattled her voice. “You cannot kill him.”
With a murderous gleam in his eyes, the man lunged.
“Geoffrey! Signor Da Mitri and I are to be married.”
The tip of his sword barely missed Leo’s arm, and the man fell flat on his belly, shock strangling his features. Leo scooted back and jumped to his feet, pointing his weapon at the grousing Englishman.
His fierce look firm upon the man, Leo subtly reproached Eliza. “Think you telling him about us should have been handled more delicately?”
“I just saved your life.”
Leo slid his incredulous gaze upon her. Before he could speak, something hit the side of h
is head. The light of day dimmed. His balance faltered. Then the blessed darkness closed around him.
Chapter 5
No one apologized to Signor Da Mitri. He sat upright on a bench in the great hall, his hand pressed to the left side of his head as if he were trying to keep his brains from seeping out. Now and then he’d moan. Eliza felt sorry for him, if only just a mite. Leticia had her charge’s well-being in mind, so she couldn’t chastise the woman’s protective action. Perhaps the signore had it coming. After all, he had taken advantage of her innocence on more than one occasion.
She glanced at Geoffrey sitting on a stool several feet away from his nemesis. A white cloth covered his nose, which she was certain now was broken. Not just from the signore’s elbow, but it was helped along when Geoffrey landed face to the ground. His forehead bore scrapes and bruises. The skin beneath his bottom lashes purpled, but Eliza felt little pity for the man. Since the day he’d pursued her and talked his way into her father’s good graces and her hand in marriage, he’d been unbearable. Fawning over her, demanding to know where she’d gone and to whom she’d spoken. He had turned her life into a prison, for she’d been unable to leave her father’s manor house without Geoffrey in pursuit.
She glanced from one man to the other. Neither gained her sympathy. One was a jealous nuisance, the other a… Oh, Lord, the signore was a handsome man and had somehow piqued her feminine interest. He plagued her mind often, and she hadn’t tried to stop the direction it wandered.
Grinning, Santo lowered himself to a bench seat set up across from the signore. His chuckle drew his friend’s ire. Signor Da Mitri’s head came up ever so carefully, revealing his peeved temperament. He pinned her with his intrepid gaze then slid the same look to Leticia. The woman dared to meet his gaze directly.
“Would that I could stand without losing my balance, I would kick you out of this castle.”
“You cannot, sir.” Eliza clutched her hips in a rebellious stance. “I inherited this castle. You inherited all the rest. Should anyone be kicked out, it would be you.”
Mine to Keep Page 4
