Lair of the Lion

by Christine Feehan

  She nodded. "That's exactly what I want you to do. I believe there is an entity loose, and it is responsible, not the man."

  "If this thing influences what a man is capable of, then this man has a sickness that he would dare risk your life."

  "Nicolai." She breathed his name, a gentle persuader.

  He muttered an imprecation, flames flowing in his eyes. "For you, cara mia, only for you. But I believe this man has forfeited his right to live. I should banish him from the valley."

  She crossed to his side and stood on tiptoes to press a kiss along his set jaw. "You will give him his job back. Send him home. Your mercy will earn his loyalty tenfold."

  "Your mercy," he corrected. "To me he is already dead." When she continued to look at him, he sighed. "As you wish, Isabella. I'll give the order."

  "Grazie, amore mio." Smiling, she kissed him again and left him to his pacing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sarina was in Lucca's room, fussing and clucking over him. Lucca, looking desperate, gestured to Francesca behind the housekeeper's back, clearly expecting her to save him. Francesca and Isabella grinned at each other, the smirk of conspirators.

  "Sarina," Isabella said, using her sweetest voice. "Francesca and I have one small errand to run. Please see to mio fratello until we return."

  "It's the middle of the night," Lucca hissed between clenched teeth. "Neither one of you should be going anywhere unescorted."

  "We'll be perfectly safe," Francesca assured him with a bright smile. "We'll keep to the passageways. Sarina will take excellent care of you in our absence."

  "Isabella, I forbid you running wild! Have you lost all sense of propriety?" Another spasm of coughing shook him.

  All three women rushed to aid him, but it was Francesca he leaned against, accustomed to the firm feel of her arm around his back and the square of cloth she pressed into his hand. Weak, he bent nearly double and clutched her arm to prevent her from moving.

  When the spasm had passed, Lucca looked up at Francesca. "You can see I need you here with me."

  "Just try to sleep," she replied sweetly, patting his shoulder. "I'll be back before you know it."

  "I should speak to tuo fratello," he snapped, disgusted. "And you, Isabella, have much to answer for. Francesca has told me of your betrothal."

  Isabella laughed softly and kissed her brother on the top of his head. "It's too late to worry about my running wild. I came to this place all by myself. I think Don DeMarco intends to speak to you about my wayward manner."

  Lucca's dark eyes flashed, momentarily revealing his proud, arrogant nature. "If he wants to talk to me about your behavior, he might want to explain why his own sister is allowed to be unescorted in a man's bedchamber."

  "I'd love to hear that particular discussion," Francesca said as she took Isabella's hand. "Pay him no attention when he's rambling, Sarina. It's the illness."

  Isabella and Francesca escaped into the passageway. The moment the hidden door had swung closed behind them, they burst into laughter. "He's very demanding but so sweet, Isabella. He said he likes my hair." Francesca patted her upswept hairdo. "I asked Sarina to dress it for me."

  The taper Francesca held was sputtering. She raised the flickering flame to a torch. Light leapt and danced as they hurried along the narrow corridor.

  "Lucca isn't normally so demanding, Francesca. I don't know why he's clinging to you the way he is or why he's teasing you so much." Isabella rubbed her temples. "I hope he won't really talk to Nicolai. We shouldn't let the two of them ever get together."

  Francesca looked vulnerable for a moment. "No one has ever talked to me as Lucca does. He seems so interested in my life, in my opinions. Once, when I was quoting mio fratello, he became impatient and demanded to know what I thought. Only you and tuo fratello have ever asked me what I think."

  Isabella smiled affectionately at her. She studied the young face, finding her vulnerability touching. She couldn't imagine the beast overtaking Francesca. Or Francesca leading her to her doom off a slippery balcony, or stalking her through the city streets. She sighed softly. If Francesca hadn't stalked her, that left Nicolai. "Lucca believes a woman should speak her mind, yet he is extremely protective. He might well speak to Don DeMarco."

  "He couldn't sleep, and he told me the funniest stories. I love his voice. I loved his stories." She ducked her head. "I hope you don't mind that I told him of your betrothal. I assured him Nicolai loves you."

  "What did he say?" Isabella gripped Francesca's arm as they began the descent to the bowels of the palazzo. Isabella hadn't been looking forward to telling her brother, knowing he would guess how the match had come about.

  Francesca looked down at her hands. "He seemed pleased. Nicolai is a good catch, but I couldn't bring myself to tell Lucca about the lions. I wanted to. I didn't want to lie to him. When he looks at me, I want to tell him everything." She sighed and smoothed her dress. "He says the nicest things to me."

  "I'm glad he hasn't been too difficult with you. I owe you so much, Francesca. It must be hard for you to be indoors so much after all your freedom." She looked at the young woman. "Your gown is beautiful. Did Lucca notice it?" It was like her brother to observe details.

  "Do you like it?" Francesca asked shyly, pleased that Isabella had noticed. "Sarina is always after me to wear the gowns Nicolai has had made for me. I usually give them away to the young women who really want them. Lucca thought it becoming." She shook her head. "Lucca knows something is wrong. He keeps asking me. I told him he was to sleep, but he wanted to know why I was sad."

  "We'll find a way to tell him the truth."

  "What truth? That I'm Nicolai's half-mad sister who turns occasionally into a beast?" Francesca's voice shook. "I really like him. I don't even know why, but I don't want him thinking ill of me."

  Isabella glanced at her. "Lucca has no reason to think ill of you."

  Francesca was no longer paying attention. Her hand gripped Isabella's wrist. They were in a small room deep beneath the castello. It was bare, empty, a stark, almost ugly place, unlike any other room Isabella had seen.

  Isabella shivered in the cold. "What is this place?"

  "This is where Sophia was buried, here beneath the floor." Francesca spoke in reverent tones, indicating the cross carved into the marble in the middle of the floor.

  "But there's nothing here," Isabella protested. "She should have candles, something to honor her. She wasn't guilty of the crimes they accused her of. Why isn't anyone taking care of her resting place?"

  Francesca looked astonished. "Because of her curse, of course."

  "And if the entity was already loose in the valley, preying on human weaknesses, don't you think, in that one moment, when her friends betrayed her, when her own husband betrayed her, it would feed her natural anger?" Isabella shrugged. "I find myself thinking of her often, wishing her well. What a terrible torment she has lived through. I hope at last she is with her husband and has found some happiness."

  "They all despise her--the 'others,' I mean. They blame her for locking them in the valley. None of them go near her. I don't know about her husband."

  Francesca made a soft sound of warning and turned her head to the side, her eyes closing. "She is here with us now." She was silent a moment, listening to whispers Isabella had no hope of hearing. "She thanks you for your generosity and kind thoughts. She warns you of great danger, of betrayal." Francesca entwined her fingers with Isabella's as if she could somehow hold tightly to her, prevent the dire predictions, the ominous warnings. "The evil was awakened when you arrived in the valley, and you are its greatest adversary. It is preying on Nicolai." Francesca looked stricken. "On me and all others it can use to harm you."

  "Please tell her I'm so sorry for all her pain and anguish. I hope to set her free. If I cannot, I look forward to meeting her in the afterlife." Isabella felt her heart pound at the thought of how she would meet her death.

  "She can hear you, Isabella, but she cannot aid y
ou. Those trapped within the valley cannot give aid to the living. She says she can only remind you that she, who was strong and very much in love with her husband, fell prey to the entity. Your task is twofold. She is sorry for what she caused." Tears filled Francesca's eyes. "She's weeping. Alexander, her spouse, is in eternal torment, unable to reach her, unable to be with her, nor can she reach him."

  "Nicolai is a good man, well worth saving. I'll do my best. It's all I can do," Isabella said softly.

  Francesca heaved a sigh of relief. "She's gone now. I don't feel her." The cold had seeped into her blood. "Let's go quickly."

  Isabella allowed Francesca to drag her back through the maze of corridors, not really paying attention to the directions they took. Sophia had warned her of the danger Isabella had known all along was there. She couldn't abandon Nicolai and his people. She had grown to care about them. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth, she forced her mind from thoughts of Nicolai and the beast. She was determined to think of him only as a man. Someone had to see him as a man instead of a beast.

  For most of his life he had been shaped by his legacy, shaped by his isolation and his people's downcast eyes. If she gave him nothing else, she would give him the gift of his own humanity. And while he was hers, she would cherish him. She became aware of Francesca's silence. Glancing at her, she noted the stricken look on her face.

  "What is it?"

  "Didn't you hear what she said? She said the entity was preying on me. She warned you of betrayal and danger. I was the beast following you through the city. Nicolai smelled me. Isabella, what are we to do? I don't even remember I could harm you. Nicolai could harm you."

  Isabella stopped in the passageway and hugged Francesca to her. "Sophia didn't say you were the beast. We already knew there was a possibility of danger and betrayal. We'll figure it out together, you and I and Nicolai. We just have to watch one another, try to be prepared for the entity when it feeds our weaknesses."

  Francesca nodded mutely, looking as though she might burst into tears. She took a deep breath and found the panel that swung the hidden door to Lucca's bedchamber open. They extinguished the torch before entering.

  But it wasn't Sarina waiting for them. Don DeMarco was pacing, his long strides taking him back and forth across the floor in his silent, fluid manner. He swung around as they entered, his amber eyes burning with fury. He moved so fast that Isabella's heart jumped as he shackled her wrist and, right in front of her brother, dragged her against him.

  "Where have you been? Don't you think I was worried enough about you tonight without another disappearance?"

  His voice was so soft with menace, Isabella shivered. She glanced at her brother. He was watching them, speculation and knowledge in his gaze. Lucca and Nicolai both turned to Francesca at the same moment.

  She lifted her chin. "My movements are of no concern to anyone. I'm certainly not used to having my activities questioned." She tried to sound haughty, but her voice trembled a little.

  "I can see I've been far too lenient with you, Francesca," Nicolai answered, retaining his hold on Isabella when she would have gone to her brother's side. "Your safety is of paramount importance. Enemies are within our valley, and we have a traitor among us. I must insist you conduct yourself properly and with circumspect behavior. I am tuo fratello and your don. You must answer to me."

  Francesca glared at Lucca. "This is your doing. You've said things to him."

  Lucca lay back, lacing his fingers behind his head, a satisfied expression on his face. "We've had a most informative talk," he admitted without remorse.

  Nicolai looked down at Isabella's upturned face. "We need to have a most informative talk," he said grimly, "right now, just the two of us. Say good night, Isabella." It was an order.

  Lucca bristled visibly at the proprietary tone used on his sister, but he remained silent when she brushed a kiss on the top of his head. "Good night, Lucca. I'll see you first thing in the morn. I'm so happy you're finally here."

  Nicolai's fingers tightened on her wrist, tugging her away from the bed. He barely restrained himself as he escorted her to her bedchamber, using the hidden passageway so he would not have to leave her in front of the servants and return later. He was seething with anger, fear gnawing at him until he was afraid he might explode. The fire was burning brightly, and a cup of steaming tea waited on the nightstand, evidence Sarina had prepared the room. Nicolai stalked to the door, ensuring it was locked, before turning to face her.

  Isabella tilted her chin. "Am I to report my every movement to you?"

  He let his breath out in a single rush. "Absolutely you are. You have no idea what you mean to me, what I've discovered myself capable of. Dio, Isabella, all this time I've wasted worrying about what I might do years from now. I should have been getting as close to you as possible. Binding you to me in every conceivable way so that there's no doubt between us."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Doubt, Nicolai? What is it you find yourself doubting? Surely not my fidelity?"

  He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it wild and rakish. "I have heard several...unpleasant whispers."

  She stared up at him, her entire body stiff with outrage. "And do you, even for one moment, believe those unpleasant whispers?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer, needing it to be the right one. Everything she was, her heart and soul, was her word of honor. If Nicolai doubted that, he knew nothing of her.

  A slow smile softened the hard line of his mouth. "You look at me with such trust, such belief that I'll say and do the right thing. I fear for you, Isabella. I fear that everywhere you go eyes watch you with petty jealousy, and that already the curse is bringing about its finale. There is more at work here than my controlling or not controlling the beast. You said it yourself. I trust no one with you." He crossed to her side and reached to pull the pins from her hair. He watched it cascade like a silken waterfall, thick and luxurious, below her waist.

  "Francesca loves you, Nicolai. She won't betray you."

  "I never doubted that mio padre loved mia madre, Isabella, but in the end he betrayed her." He bent his head to her mouth, needing to taste her, needing to shelter her close to his heart. Her lips were warm, melting beneath his. Her body came into his, soft and pliant, molding to his harder, more muscular frame.

  Isabella lifted her head to look into his strange, amber eyes. "Maybe she betrayed him, Nicolai. Not with her body, but with her mind. Maybe she didn't love what he was."

  "A beast acts on instinct, Isabella, not reason," he cautioned. "How could a woman ever love that part of him?"

  "Sometimes, Nicolai, a woman acts on instincts, too. If the beast resides in you, then it is a part of you. A woman doesn't pick and choose what she loves in a man. She loves all of him."

  His hands framed her face. "Do you love all of me, cara, even my wild side?" His voice was a low caress, playing over her skin like the touch of his fingers. Butterfly wings brushed along her insides.

  "I love every part of you," she whispered softly. "Your voice, the way you laugh, how gentle you can be. I love the way you love your people, the way you've dedicated your life to them."

  "And my wild side, beautiful one--do you love that part of me?"

  "Most particularly, signore," she agreed.

  His thumbs trailed down her neck, her throat, slipping along the neckline of her gown. Isabella shivered as the pads of his thumbs rubbed her exposed skin.

  His gaze was moody, brooding, a dark quagmire of love and despair. He wanted her; desire burned fiercely in him. He had lived with the results of his legacy; Isabella had not. Still, she believed she saw matters more clearly.

  "Are you correct, amore mia? Do I place my entire faith in you and trust that you are capable of securing our future for us? There is no giving you up, no turning back, as much as I have tried to pretend that we could. Keeping you as my mistress would change nothing."

  She shook her head. "No, it wouldn't." Her voice was a shivery whisper. His fin
gers were loosening her gown, allowing it to gape open, spilling her breasts into the shadows of flickering firelight. The light and dark seemed to caress her curves, and the brush of his fingertips over her flesh sent heat curling deep in her very core. "What other choice do we have but to live our lives, Nicolai?"

  His hands framed her face again, his amber eyes alive with love, with tenderness. "I want to make a vow to you. I'll love you with everything in me. I'll bring you as much happiness as I can give you. But I cannot allow your death, not at my hands. You're more important than I am." His mouth found each of her eyelids, then drifted down her cheek to the corner of her lips. "Don't protest. Just listen to me. I've thought about this for a long time. Your life is in danger. You've accepted that, and you're willing to chance our love. But I couldn't live with your death at my hands. I can't, Isabella." He kissed her mouth, her soft, pliant lips, drawing strength from her, her endless courage becoming his.

  When he lifted his head, his amber gaze drifted over her face. "After our child is born, an heir for our people, when I see the beast grow stronger I'll end my life."

  She cried out, a shocked protest, but his arms tightened around her, crushing her against him, crushing her objections. "I'm placing my trust and faith in you, all of it, that your way is the right path for us, but you have to allow me this way out. You have to promise, give your word of honor, that you will raise our children to love this valley, the lions, their legacy. I won't have regrets, Isabella. Your life, our lives together, are worth it."

  She slid her arms around his waist, afraid to speak, afraid of saying the wrong thing. What could she say? She heard the finality in his voice. She had to guide them through the dark passages and into the light. There had to be a way. She was certain the key lay within her. And she refused to lose him.

  "I've been so alone, apart from life, not really knowing why I was so empty. You've filled all those empty places, cara mia. I sleep with you in my arms and have no nightmares. I open my eyes and look forward to each hour, to hear your laughter, to watch you move through my home. Your smile takes my breath away."