She rounded her shock on Geoffrey. “Is that true?”
“My love, who would you believe? A miscreant from the streets or a noble?” His airy tone sported a nervous edge.
Aware of the lengths Geoffrey would go to get his way, Eliza never wanted to believe he was capable of harming anyone. He’d usually smear a man’s name until their society disowned the poor wretch. Too late she realized none of those English noblemen had done anything Geoffrey had claimed.
A movement behind Santo snagged her notice. Giorgie and the solicitor’s assistant carried Leonardo into the hall. The color drained from Eliza’s face at the sight of his bloodied clothes. More was her shock that Leonardo was indeed alive.
She ran to him only to be swept off her feet, dragged back and slammed against Geoffrey’s chest. His dagger pressed into her neck. She’d wager the fear harbored in Leonardo’s eyes mirrored her own.
Her fingers clamped over Geoffrey’s forearm to steady her balance. His pounding heartbeat at her back drove her desperation deeper. In his state of mind, he was unpredictable. She beseeched Santo to do something, but the man didn’t notice. He was focused solely on Geoffrey.
“How the devil did you survive?” Geoffrey demanded. His hot breath blew the hair away from Eliza’s ear.
“You are a lousy marksmen,” Leo responded weakly.
Eliza snapped her head to the side, disbelief and anger welling inside. “You tried to kill my husband?”
“The man stood in the way of our happiness, Eliza. What did you expect me to do? Stand by and watch him take my future wife from me?”
“I never would have married you. My brother knew that, as did all of London.”
A sneer curled Geoffrey’s upper lip. “I was the only man who agreed to marry you. Think you the other nobles desired a wife with a tart tongue and ice in her veins?”
Silence hung heavy in the large hall. So that was how other men perceived her. The tart tongue she’d admit to. But she was not as cold as ice. Those men he spoke of were boorish, high and mighty. She’d given them the cold shoulder on purpose.
Geoffrey snickered. “I shall sully your reputation if you do not discard the low-life you married and take me for your husband.”
“You’ll not leave here alive if you harm Eliza,” Leo threatened.
“You frighten me not. Faith, your limbs are too weak to lift a sword against me. You cannot even stand on your own feet.”
“I am hale and hearty,” Santo challenged.
“You are a fool to fight in place of your friend.”
A loud screech echoed across the hall. Geoffrey loosened his hold to turn toward the war cry. Little chance did he have to react. Leticia swung her broom like the sword of a warrior in battle. Instead of a lethal weapon severing Geoffrey’s head, she swatted her broom at him with remarkable accuracy. Letty beat Geoffrey again and again. Her fire-red hair sprang loose from its pins. The knife flew out of Geoffrey’s hand. He dropped to the floor and curled into a ball, protecting his head with his arms as he screamed for help from her relentless maidservant.
Santo scooped up the fallen knife, then a handful of Geoffrey’s doublet, dragging him to his feet. Leticia hefted her unlikely weapon again.
“Hold!” Santo’s booming voice stopped Letty mid-swing.
In the silence, Leonardo’s hoarse laugh was a blessed sound to Eliza. She joined her husband in laughing at the irony of the situation. He knew first-hand how badly Letty’s broom stung. Even Leticia saw the humor in her attack.
With Geoffrey in Santo’s capable hands, Eliza ran to her husband, who sat upon a stool Eduardo had brought to him. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the sight of his pale skin and torn, bloody tunic. His wounds appeared terribly serious. She dissolved into tears. She almost lost her husband today. The man her heart desired, the man she truly loved.
Leo reached out to Eliza with a trembling hand. He swore from frustration because he couldn’t stand and go to her. Her soft sobs broke his heart.
“Eliza—” He choked on the damnable pain when he spoke. “I am here for you.” He held her to his chest and thanked God he was spared.
“Leonardo, I feared you were dead.” Her tears soaked into the fabric of his tunic.
“I am not, amore mia. Never will I leave you.”
After her crying subsided, she let go of him and studied the bloody flesh visible through the garment’s slits. “Are you in pain?”
“My pain is forgotten now that God has given me a second chance. And I intend to spend every moment with you. That is if you want to remain married to me.”
“Carry him to his bed before he loses more blood,” Santo ordered
A thud came from behind Santo. Eliza peeked around him and gasped at the sight of Eduardo slumped on the stone. She hurried to the servant. Leticia came up beside her, worry etched into her forehead.
“It appears he has fainted,” Eliza said.
“Take him to his chamber,” Leo directed. “I will sit here and wait.”
Eliza rose. “Make haste. I’ll not have my husband bleed to death.”
Leo grinned at her stern but compassionate tone.
While Santo dragged Camden out of the hall, Giorgie and the solicitor’s assistant carried Eduardo to his chamber beside the kitchen. Eliza turned her fearful gaze to him.
“What must I do to get a kiss from my wife?” Leo asked, taking her mind away from Eduardo.
Through her worry, she bestowed upon him a beautifully orchestrated smile.
His love for her immense, Leo knew not how she burrowed into his heart in the short time since they’d met. He was a lucky man and was entirely grateful to Marchese Calendri for bringing them together.
Chapter 11
Standing just inside the doorway of Eduardo’s bedchamber, Eliza wrapped Leonardo in a loving gaze. He sat upon a chair Giorgie had affixed wheels to, enabling him to better move about the castle’s main floor. He was still weak from the horrible wounds Geoffrey had inflicted. Thanks be to God the blade did not go deep in two of the slices. The one on the front of his shoulder did, and he could not lift his arm. Miraculously, though, he seemed to be healing rather quickly.
Her husband sat at the servant’s bedside. Eduardo had drifted in and out of sleep for the last three days. For the most part, Leticia tended to him. She looked worn, tired and fretful. Eliza hadn’t seen it before, but her maidservant’s concern for the man was indisputable.
Eduardo mumbled incoherently. Eliza joined her husband bedside. When the servant lifted his eyelids, Eliza was taken aback by the regret in his eyes. What in God’s name did a placid servant do to regret any part of his life?
“I have come to the end of my time,” he said in a breathy whisper. “For a year now, I have known I was a dying man.”
Moisture gathered behind Eliza’s eyes. Even her stalwart maidservant lost her valiant efforts to hold back her tears.
“There is much I must tell the both of you.”
Eliza slid a questioning glance to Leonardo. He held her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“The marchese had good reason to choose you, Lady Eliza. He first encountered your mother when you were an infant. She was unhappy in her marriage. They met in secrecy for many years, each time the marchese traveled to London for business.”
Eliza’s jaw dropped in disbelief.
“They fell in love. Alas, he refused to bring scandal upon your mother and ended their illicit meetings. He made her a promise to care for you, if need be. One of your father’s servants reported back to the marchese about how well you fared. That promise and a deep love for your mother are the reasons he chose you to inherit his castle and all that he owned.”
“Did my father ever know?”
Eduardo shook his head. “The marchese did not approve of your fiancé, so he chose Leonardo, praying you would find the same true love he had for your mother.”
As incredible as it sounded, Eliza believed him. “How did you come by this knowle
dge?”
He simply smiled then shifted his gaze to Leo. “Your mother and the marchese met long before Eliza’s mother came into his life. When she discovered she was with child, he offered to marry her. Sadly, she had a troubled mind and often became irrational. She left the marchese, but he followed your life closely.”
“Are you saying I am the marchese’s son?”
“Sì.”
Leo’s jaw tightened. His mother had gone mad and taken her own life. He’d carried that stigma from the day she died. But more disturbed him. “Why did the marchese not step forward and let himself be known to me?”
“He realized you were a troubled boy who needed to learn a lesson. The only reason you did not rot in prison was because of the marchese and the powerful people he befriended. You could have been released immediately, but he wanted you to see for yourself what you would face because of your irresponsible acts. After a year, he believed you were ready for a second chance. He was proud of how you survived by using your head.”
Hurt penetrated Leo’s heart. He clenched his fist and pressed his lips together, wishing desperately the marchese had the decency and heart to give him a chance to become acquainted. His mother had told him she didn’t know who sired him. Leo never believed it, and in his mind, she was a harlot.
“Know you that you are Marchese Calendri’s rightful heir?” Eduardo asked.
Leo gave a sarcastic snort. “His bastardo is all I am.”
“His only child whom he loved.”
“Loved?” Leo shook his head vehemently, denying any love the marchese thought he’d felt. “Did he reveal all this to you? My pardon, but you are a servant.”
“I was much more to your sire.”
Leo lifted a hand to silence the man. “I care not, for he could not have loved me as you say and not summon me here before he died.”
“He lost sight of you for a time when you ran away from your treacherous aunt and uncle. He was fully aware of the beatings you received at your uncle’s hand, and of your role as their servant.”
“No! I do not want to hear anymore.” Dredging up the past created old, familiar knots in Leo’s stomach. In anger, he forgot about his injuries and was quick to stand. An agonizing pain in his chest stole his breath and threw him back to the chair. He grimaced and bit down to repress a pathetic moan.
“Leo, please, do not move,” his wife implored. “You have opened your shoulder wound.”
“Get me out of here,” Leo said through gritted teeth.
Eduardo called him back. “There is one more thing,”
Leo refused to listen. He doubted the marchese was his true sire, yet deep down he was relieved to know his identity. How was it possible to believe and disbelieve all at once?
Eliza pressed her hand against Leo’s chest to still him. “Leticia, fetch the sewing kit.”
“If you do not take me out of here, I will—”
“You’ll do naught,” she told him, her voice and demeanor unyielding. “Marchese Calendri must have had good reason not to contact you sooner. I think we should listen to what more Eduardo has to say.”
Leo gazed into her eyes, the serenity there calming. He nodded. “I’ll not sit here for long.”
“You certainly cannot walk away.” Her reminder took the steam out of his ire.
“Marchese Calendri’s wish was for you and Eliza to fall in love. And now, his wish has been fulfilled.”
Eliza kissed Leo on his lips and whispered, “I do love you.”
Leo’s heart swelled. “As I love you.”
“Bravo.” Eduardo’s face lit up. “The marchese chose well.”
Circling his arm around his wife, Leo had so much to be grateful for. A wife who was not only beautiful but also kind-hearted and loving. He’d found the new life he’d dreamed about. “Yes, the marchese chose well.”
A sigh of relief came from the bed. Leo noted that Eduardo was pleased with himself.
“Dio, forgive me my sins,” Eduardo said, his sight heavenward. “Now I am ready to become yours.”
“Sì, I believe you are, Marchese Calendri,” Eliza said.
Leo whipped his head around swiftly and nearly unseated himself. He gawked at the man on the bed. “Is this true?”
“Your wife is astute, my son.”
“You knew he was the marchese?”
“No, Leonardo. I figured it out when Geoffrey bade me not to listen to what the servant said about the will. Marchese Calendri…ah, Eduardo…” She dipped her head then lifted it, a beaming smile affixed to her mouth. “He told Geoffrey he had witnessed the marchese signing the will. Geoffrey was right about one thing. Servants do not witness the signing of important documents. And given how knowledgeable and confident he was, it made sense.”
Too many emotions tangled Leo’s mind. He could not describe how he felt. Perhaps confused would be a good start. Uncertainty closed in on him and hung heavy around his soul. He had told himself he didn’t care who sired him. He never wanted to meet the man. But now…
He pulled Eliza down to his lap and placed his immobile arm across her thighs. “What say you, Eliza? You have married a noble after all.”
“I did not care if you were of noble birth. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, here in your rightful place.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Leo drew his wife’s head down to meet his lips. “What say we go to our bedchamber and start a family?”
She slapped the side of his head. “Do not be so bold in front of your father.”
“One more thing, my son.”
“What more could there be?” Leo mumbled.
“You are now a marchese, my son.”
****
Two days later, the marchese passed away in his sleep. In that short time, Leo made peace with his sire. Eliza had sat with her husband beside Marchese Calendri’s bed, listening to tales of a prestigious life gone by. She quietly reflected on the turn in her own life.
She held their letters in her hand. “I did not notice before now, but your letter is not identical to mine. Here, read yours and I shall read mine.”
He pushed the letter aside. “I need not read the letter. Words mean naught.”
“No, Leonardo. Read it.” She shoved it into his hand.
Leo swallowed hard. He held up the letter and scanned the words from top to bottom.
“Well, do you see what is written at the end?”
He nodded.
“Well?” She bounced to her knees.
He shrugged.
“Leonardo, are you not surprised by it?”
Lowering his head, he knew this day would come. He was ashamed to admit, “I cannot read.”
“I know.”
He met her smiling eyes. “You knew?”
“Yes, my husband. I realized it when you returned from the solicitor’s and told me about the second will. I asked you if you read it. You said no, you didn’t need to. I was not fooled. Something as important as a will and an inheritance would never get past your perusal.” Her hands framed his cheeks, and she kissed away his embarrassment. “I will teach you to read if you teach me Italian.”
He bobbed his head up and down. “Fair enough.”
“What more is troubling you?”
“Noble I may be, but I did not live a noble life.”
“Think you that matters to me?”
“It did.”
“I was a foolish snob then.”
He traced her lips with the tip of his finger. “And now?”
“And now, my love, I have relented in my ignorant beliefs. Because of you, Leo, I am a better person.”
Her kiss was tender. She rested her hand on his manhood, stroking it, bringing it to life. Star-bursting sensations bombarded Leo, and he cursed the injuries that made it impossible for him to be a husband to Eliza.
She gently pressed him back to his pillow. She lifted his tunic and her brows. He wore naught else while he recuperated. He sucked in a breath in anticipation of her warm hand c
losing around him. A naughty gleam emanated from her eyes right before she lowered her lips to his erection. Her tongue circled the very tip. When she closed her mouth over him, Leo groaned.
Sweet Mary.
His wife showed him he didn’t need to prove he was a man. In time, he’d be stronger. But for now, he’d allow her freedom over his body. She already owned his heart and soul.
A word about the author...
Born in New York, Jannine Corti-Petska came from an Old World Italian family, which is the reason she began writing medievals set in Italy.
She lives in Southern California with her husband of almost 40 years and three demanding Rat Terriers.
Find out more about Jannine at:
www.jcortipetska.com
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