"Brigita, tea at once, and please ask Cook to include honeyed biscuits. Have Sarina give you the key to the storehouse, and send two manservants to meet us there in a few minutes." Isabella helped the woman into a chair.
Brigita bobbed a quick curtsey and hurried away from the wailing widow. Isabella murmured soothing condolences until Brigita returned with the tea. "Enough now, Signora Bertroni. We must get to work if we are to save your farm for your sons. Dry your eyes, and let us get to the planning of your future."
Isabella's calm words and tone brought an end to the woman's wild, abandoned weeping. "Where is your eldest boy? Is he old enough to aid you?"
"He is waiting outside with the little ones."
"Brigita will mind the little ones while I take you and your son to the storehouse for supplies. I have two men waiting to help us load your wagon. I'll send workers to your farm to plant your crops when it is time, and your son can labor with them and learn."
"Grazie, grazie, signorina."
In her haste to complete her task, Isabella didn't take time to throw on her cloak before braving the outdoors. Gray clouds were spreading across the sky and casting dark shadows across the land. The wind tugged at her thin gown, whipped at her hair, and numbed her fingers.
The storeroom was some distance from the palazzo but still within the outer wall. She glanced around for her two guards, then remembered she had sent them to help Sarina. Brigita had not come with her, so she had no one to send back to the kitchen for her guards or her cloak. Sighing, Isabella resigned herself to a cold journey and a lecture from Don DeMarco when her guards reported she had not stayed where she promised.
The storage house was enormous, a great, hulking building that loomed up very close to the outer wall. The two servants were waiting as Isabella and Signora Bertroni hurried up to them.
It took some time to find torches and lamps to adequately light the cavernous storehouse in order to find the supplies needed. Then Isabella directed the two men and Signora Bertroni's young son to carry out grain and dried fruits in sufficient quantities to see the family through the cold season. She carefully noted each item on a parchment to give to Don DeMarco. The task took longer than she expected, and night had fallen by the time the wagon was loaded.
Isabella realized just how cold she really was as she turned back to extinguish the torches. It crept in then. Slow. Insidious. That terrible, stomach-churning knowledge that she was not alone. She looked around carefully, but she knew the entity had found her.
It seemed wrong to send the widow and her children alone to the farm without an escort when the wind was once again howling and the wagon heavily loaded. She feared for them in the darkness with the spiteful, malevolent being waiting to strike. "It is best if you go with Signora Bertroni," she said to the two servants. "Escort the wagon to the farm, unload it, and remain for the night if necessary and report back in the morning."
Annoyance crossed the face of the younger man. "I have a home to go to. A woman waiting for me. It's cold and late. Let Carlie go." He indicated the older man with a jerk of his thumb.
"Both of you must go," Isabella said sternly, her expression every bit that of an aristocratica. "You cannot allow this woman and her children to travel unescorted in the darkness. I will hear no more about it."
The man glared at her, his black eyes snapping with repressed fury. For a moment his mouth worked as though he might burst into a protest, but he set his lips in a hard line and brushed past her, knocking into her hard enough to send her staggering. He kept going without apology, not looking back.
Isabella stared after him, wondering if she had somehow put the widow in danger by supplying her with a bitter, reluctant escort. Shivering uncontrollably, she hastily snuffed out the remainder of the lights, with the exception of a lantern she needed to see her way back to the castello.
Through the open door she could see mist covering the ground. The fog was thick and swirled like a gray-white shroud in the darkness. "Just what I need," she muttered aloud, feeling in her pocket for the key to the storehouse door. It wasn't there.
She held the lantern high, looking around the floor, trying to locate the exact spot where the younger servant had bumped into her. The key must have slipped from her skirt when he sent her stumbling backward.
A torrent of expletives exploded from the doorway, hate-filled and frightening. Isabella's heart jumped, and she swung around to see the young servant, his face twisted with malice, swinging the heavy door closed.
"No!" Isabella rushed toward him, her heart pounding with fear. The door clanged shut solidly, cutting her off from the outside world, imprisoning her within the huge storage room with no heat and no cloak.
Chapter Seventeen
Carefully setting the lantern on the floor, Isabella tried to push the heavy door open. It was locked, the mystery of the missing key solved. The servant must have been adept at picking pockets and had cleverly extracted it when he slammed into her. She stood very still, shivering in the cold air, aware of how wet her shoes were. Her toes were freezing. She rested her head against the door, closing her eyes briefly in dismay. The light from the lantern cast a dim circle around her but didn't extend more than a scant few inches beyond the hemline of her gown.
She was afraid to move deeper into the storage house. She wanted to be able to shout for help should she hear anyone nearby. The cold had crept into her bones, and she was unable to stop her helpless shivering. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms generated the illusion of warmth but little else. She stomped her feet, paced back and forth, and pumped her arms, but her toes were so cold she thought they might shatter.
Isabella refused to entertain the idea that she might freeze to death. Nicolai would come looking for her. The moment he found her brother with Francesca, the moment he saw her bed empty, he would turn the hold upside down looking for her, and he would find her. She held that knowledge close to her.
Deliberately she avoided looking into the black, empty maw of the darkened building. It had taken on a disturbing feel, as if hundreds of eyes stared at her from the shadowed interior. Each time her gaze was inadvertently pulled in that direction, shadows moved alarmingly, and she looked away. Only silence stretched endlessly before her. She detested the lack of sound, far too aware of her teeth chattering and how alone she was.
A whisper of movement caught her attention, and her heart stilled. She turned to peer into the darkness. The noise came again. A scurry of tiny feet. Her heart began to pound out a rhythm of terror. She inched her hand toward the lantern. When her fingers closed around it, she lifted the light higher, hoping to cast the circle of illumination wider.
She saw them then, a flash of furry bodies running along the shelves. Her entire body shuddered in horror. She detested rats. She could see their beady eyes staring at her. The rats should have turned away from the lantern, but they continued running toward her.
She realized they were agitated, dashing away from a predator. As terrified as she was of rats, whatever was scaring them frightened her even more. The rats rushed around her feet, scuttling toward a hole she couldn't see. She cried out as she felt them brush against her shoes, her ankles, in their hasty exodus. Isabella clutched the lantern and stared into the cavernous interior, trying to pierce the veil of darkness to see what had sent the rats dashing for safety.
Only then did it occur to her. As much as she detested rats, with grain and food items in the storage house, she had seen only a handful of them. There should have been many, many more. Where were they? She raised the light higher, her mouth dry with fear. Why weren't there more rats and mice? Where could they all be? And what had frightened them more than her lantern, more than a human?
A cat yowled. A high-pitched scream like that of a woman in terror. Another cat answered it. Then another. So many that Isabella feared the building was overrun with felines. She clapped her free hand over one ear to drown out the increasing volume of the cats' cries. The lantern swung precariou
sly, flickering and sputtering, and she held her breath, afraid the flame would go out. As she carefully righted the lamps, fights broke out, cats clawing at one another, a continuous yowling of starving animals desperate for food.
The cats prowled, eyes glowing in the darkness. One leapt onto the shelves above her head, hissing and clawing at the air.
Terrified, Isabella pressed herself against the door, trying to stay out of the animal's way. Ears flat against its head, the cat snarled at her, exposing long, sharp claws and needle-sharp teeth. Though pitifully small in comparison with a lion, the animal was still dangerous. The cat hissed and spit, its eyes feral. Without warning, it launched itself into the air, claws extended toward her face. Isabella screamed. She swung the lantern at the cat, connecting solidly and flinging the animal away from her. For one heart-stopping moment the light dimmed, flickered, the liquid wax-splattering across the floor. She held her breath, praying, until the flame steadied.
The cat screeched, landed on its feet, and turned to snarl, crouching low as it watched her. The other cats hissed and yowled, the din frightful. Isabella didn't dare take her eyes from the cat stalking her. It was small, but it was wild and hungry. It could do much damage. She knew that if she stayed as she was, cowering against the door, others would join the bold one in attacking her. Summoning up every bit of courage she possessed, Isabella began to inch her way toward the nearest torch.
At her movement, the cats became agitated, raking the air with their claws, spitting, hissing, the hair on their backs and tails rising. Some of them attacked one another. Two somersaulted from a shelf and landed with a thud at her feet. One struck out at her, raking across her shoes before leaping away. As she reached for the torch anchored to the shelving, one of the cats swiped at her arm, ripping the sleeve and laying open a long scratch.
She lit the torch from the lantern's flame and held it high. At once the cats screamed in protest, most slipping back into the shadows. But a few of the bolder cats advanced on her, hissing their defiance. She swung the torch in a semicircle, retreating toward the door. After she made a few whirling passes, even the most aggressive animals stayed back. Only when she placed the lantern on the floor did she realize she was still screaming.
Isabella slid down the door to sit on the floor, clapping a hand over her mouth, ashamed of her inability to stay calm. Loss of control was never allowed. She repeated the words in her mind, using her father's voice. Silent, she huddled on the floor, shaking from the cold, her hands and feet numb. She held the torch like a weapon, terrified it would burn out before Nicolai came for her.
She had no idea how long she was actually in the storehouse; it seemed as if most of the night had passed. The lantern's candle had burned down to the size of her thumbnail, the flame sputtering. The torch was reduced to a glowing ember. Occasionally the cats ventured close to her, but for the most part they kept a respectful distance from the circle of light. She was too cold, too frightened to move when the door finally began to creak open.
"Signorina Vernaducci?" Captain Bartolmei's tall frame filled the doorway, his eyes narrowing when he spotted Isabella.
Isabella lifted her head, fearing she was hearing things. Her muscles were locked in place, and she couldn't find enough strength to get to her feet.
Captain Bartolmei uttered a startled imprecation when his light spilled over her. At once he stepped inside, crouching beside her. "Everyone is looking for you. Don DeMarco sent a party out to the farm to find the woman Brigita said you aided. He is searching for you in the nearby forest while others scour the city."
Isabella just looked up at him, afraid he was going to ask her to stand. It was physically impossible.
"You're freezing, signorina." Captain Bartolmei removed his coat and put it around her shoulders, drawing her close to him to share his body heat.
"I seem to be collecting your coats, signore." Isabella made a weak attempt at humor, but her shaking didn't stop.
Bartolmei had to lift her, a most unseemly and humiliating moment in her young life. She couldn't manage more than circling his neck with her arms to hold on. "Found!" Captain Bartolmei shouted. "Light the signal fire atop the battlements. Signorina Vernaducci has been found."
Isabella could hear the cry, carried from man to man, telling the seekers of her rescue, alerting the servants to prepare for her arrival. Word spread fast, a wildfire of gossip. Rolando Bartolmei hurried across the uneven, snow-covered ground. The lantern swung crazily as he carried her.
They neared the entrance to the huge palazzo. White clouds of vapor streamed from their mouths. Fog swirled around their feet. Without warning a huge lion leapt onto the top stair, the shaggy mane wild, eyes fiery red in the night, mouth snarling. Rolando froze in place, then slowly lowered Isabella to her feet and thrust her behind him, a small protection for her should the beast attack.
"I thought all lions were to be kept out of sight in case Don Rivellio's men should be sneaking about," Isabella whispered close to Rolando's ear. She was clutching at him, her legs too unsteady to hold her up on their own.
"Evidently it's a faster means of travel," Captain Bartolmei responded, clearly recognizing the animal.
Isabella peeked around his shoulder, but the lion took a second gargantuan leap, disappearing into the swirling mists. "It's safe now," she said, her teeth chattering so hard she could scarcely get the words out.
Rolando swung her back into his arms and almost ran straight into Don DeMarco. He loomed over them, tall and powerful, his expression grim. Nicolai reached out and wordlessly plucked Isabella out of the captain's arms, securing her against the protection of his chest. Captain Bartolmei's coat fell unnoticed to the ground.
Isabella caught a brief glimpse of Theresa and Violante standing together, clutching hands as they watched Nicolai carry her into the house. Theresa caught her husband's arm. Violante reached down to retrieve the coat from the snow, handing it to Sergio to return to Rolando.
Isabella burrowed closer to Nicolai in a futile attempt to get warm. She buried her face against his neck. He carried her swiftly through the castello, straight to her bedchamber. Sarina was already there, wringing her hands, distress plain on her face.
"She's freezing, Sarina. We must warm her immediately." Nicolai's voice was tight with control, but a fine tremor ran through his body, the only indication of the volcanic emotions roiling deep in his belly.
"She's injured!" Sarina gasped.
"We have to warm her before we attend to anything else," Nicolai insisted. "The underground baths will be too hot."
"I've asked for the small tub. They are heating the water."
Sarina and Nicolai talked as if Isabella weren't present, but she couldn't seem to summon the energy to take offense. She was so tired, wanting only to sleep.
Nicolai looked down at her tear-stained face. The thought of what could have happened to her had they not found her when they did tore at his soul, turned his blood to ice. Questions clamored in his mind, but he kept quiet. He had never seen Isabella look so vulnerable, so fragile. His arms tightened around her, and he held her to him.
There was a knock on the door, and Francesca swept in. "Sarina, I've summoned the healer." She turned to her brother. "I will care for Isabella while you find the one responsible for this, Nicolai. I'll send for you the instant she's in her bed."
Nicolai hesitated, for the first time indecisive. His gaze locked with his sister's.
Her eyes remained steady on his. "I'll see to her myself, mio fratello. I won't leave her side until you are once more with her. I give you my word of honor, the word of a DeMarco. Leave her to us, Nicolai."
He didn't want to leave Isabella, not for even a few minutes. But he intended to know what had transpired. His men would bring the widow and the two kitchen servants to him. Nicolai bent his head to brush a kiss along Isabella's temple. "I'm putting my heart in your hands, Francesca," he said softly, his voice rumbling with menace.
"I'm well aware of that,"
she answered.
Nicolai reluctantly placed Isabella on the bed. The healer had entered the room. Nicolai stood there, looking at the three women. "See to it that she recovers quickly." Something unfamiliar clogged his throat, and he spun away from them, his fingers curling into fists. This would stop. It had to stop. It was bad enough that Isabella faced a very real threat from him, but to have these accidents occurring so regularly whispered of a conspiracy.
Francesca closed the door behind her brother and turned to the healer. "Tell us what to do."
The three women stripped Isabella and put her in the bath. Even the lukewarm water was painful to her, and she cried out and tried to squirm away from them as they gently rubbed life back into her limbs. The healer attended the wicked scratch, even as Sarina called for steaming water to make the bath hotter. Tears streamed down Isabella's face as her body began to warm. The shaking persisted, the remnants of horror in the depths of her eyes. Francesca rocked her gently, while the healer poured strong, honeyed tea down her throat.
When Isabella was finally dressed in her warmest nightgown and tucked beneath the coverlets, Francesca sat beside her, stroking back her hair.
She waited until the healer and Sarina had bustled out of the room, taking their supplies with them. "You frightened me, sorella mia. You can't disappear like that." She leaned close, whispering words of encouragement. "I held watch over tuo fratello for you. He is sleeping peacefully. Nicolai loves you very much. You have become his life, you know. His heart." She took Isabella's hand in hers and leaned closer still. "You're the only friend I have, the only one who can lead me back from a dark, empty place. I don't want to live there anymore, Isabella. Stay with us. Stay with mio fratello. Stay with me. We live in a world you can't hope to understand, but we need your courage."
Isabella's fingers tightened around Francesca's just for a moment, then went slack. Francesca sighed and tucked Isabella's hand beneath the coverlets. Nicolai was waiting impatiently, nearly growling at his sister as he prowled into the room like the restless lion he was.
Lair of the Lion Page 30
