"Signore Scarletti." She let her breath out slowly. "Is something wrong? Please tell me. I can see you are upset."
He stared down at her. She could feel his body trembling with a terrible tension. "You must leave this place at once. Do not go near any of them. Any of us. Go while you still have your life!" His fingers bit into her arm. He even shook her slightly. "You are in danger. If you stay here, you will surely die!" He thrust her away from him and rushed off, swiping at the guards with his cane so that they hastily moved out of his reach.
Nicoletta sagged against the wall, watching the old man as he hurried away. His voice had been hoarse with fear. He was warning her away from all the Scarletti men, even himself. What did that mean? Could she be so wrong about the don? Was there a strain of madness running through the family? Two sides to the men? Angel and devil? She rubbed absently at the finger marks on her arm. Where did the man get such strength? She had noticed that the don seemed abnormally strong. Did that run in the family along with madness?
One of the guards approached her solicitously. "Did he hurt you?"
She shook her head. "He didn't mean me any harm. On the contrary, he was attempting to be nice." She knew the older man had bruised her skin with his terrible grip, but he seemed desperate to make her believe him.
"I must report this to the don, signorina." The guard spoke quietly, knowing she would object. "It is my duty."
She wrung her hands. "Must you? He really did not hurt me. I do not want him to be reprimanded, and the don seems very..." She trailed off, searching for the correct words.
"Protective of you," the guard supplied. "I will take care in the way I word my report."
"Grazie," Nicoletta responded, and she pushed away from the wall. More shaken by the encounter than she wanted to admit, she hastened along the corridor until she was safely in Sophie's room.
The bedchamber was much like she remembered it but without the chandelier. In the light of day the room didn't seem quite so alarming. Nicoletta smiled at the waiting child. "Your zio Gino has said you may go to the courtyard with me, bambina."
Sophie's face lit up. "I knew you would get him to say I could go!"
Nicoletta held out a hand to the child, carefully avoiding looking at Maria Pia. The older woman knew her very well and would know something had upset her. "I cannot wait to get outside, either." She tried to be enthusiastic, but she was suddenly afraid.
The eldest Scarletti had succeeded in terrifying her. Nicoletta tried to keep her racing mind under control, but it seemed impossible. Her imagination was running wild as they made their way outside. The palazzo felt like a living, breathing entity, wholly evil to her. She didn't want to feel that way; she wanted to make it a home.
"You are very quiet, piccola" Maria Pia said thoughtfully as they made their way outside.
Nicoletta inhaled deeply, looking upward at the swirls of clouds drifting across the blue sky. No ominous birds circled above the maze. The wind brought her no message of an injury or illness. The tightness in her chest slowly began to ease. Cristano couldn't be dead or dying in the labyrinth, and, true to his word, Don Scarletti had soldiers moving through the tall hedges. She could hear their voices calling back and forth to one another. High up on the ramparts, several other men were using spyglasses in an attempt to peer down into the maze from above.
"Well, it is my new sister-to-be." Vincente, along with Antonello, came through the corridor of green shrubs to make his way to Nicoletta. Both bowed politely, Vincente with elegance, Antonello stiffly, as if he was rarely in the company of ladies.
Nicoletta smiled at them. "Have you two been searching for Cristano?"
Antonello stirred uneasily. She watched the shadows chase across his face. He nodded, avoiding her eyes. Vincente shrugged casually. "I do not believe he is in the labyrinth. We would have found him by now. Gino's men are very thorough."
Nicoletta agreed with him. She nodded toward the soldiers on the balcony high above them. "Has anyone told Margerita that Cristano is missing? She was on the balcony yesterday; I saw her. Possibly she spotted something from up high. She may have seen Cristano leave." She looked at Vincente. "She might tell you if you ask her." She phrased her comment carefully so as not to offend. Margerita would be spiteful if Nicoletta asked her for information. Nicoletta had met other noblewomen like Margerita. They felt entitled to say or do anything to those of lower birth.
Vincente's handsome features darkened visibly. His eyes glittered, for the first time reminding Nicoletta of his oldest brother. "If she saw anything and is withholding information to distress you, I will get it out of her," he promised.
Antonello looked more uncomfortable than ever. "I will talk to her, Vincente," he said, his voice so low it was a mere thread of sound. "Portia's daughter can be stubborn as her madre."
"She will do as I command, and certainly Portia will insist she cooperate," Vincente answered. "The young woman is far too indulged."
"It is possible she saw nothing out of the ordinary, and perhaps she has not even heard of Cristano's absence," Nicoletta offered, fearing she had gotten the girl into trouble.
"She has heard," Vincente said, frowning at her. He looked even more handsome with his frown. "Do not waste your pity on her, Nicoletta. Margerita lives to plague others. I will deal with her."
Antonello sighed. "Do not distress yourself over Margerita, Nicoletta. I must concur with my brother. She is quite capable of withholding information just for spite. She does not want you here. She is young and spoiled and used to being the center of attention." He rubbed his nose thoughtfully, letting out his breath in a long sigh as if talking was a distressing business.
Vincente nodded his agreement. "We have all spoiled her abominably. I am most careful with my daughter that she does not become like Margerita. At times I fear I go too far the other way." He looked fondly at his little girl, who was dancing in delight near an explosion of flowers. "I want her to be as good as she is beautiful, like her madre." He choked on the word, and looked away quickly, but Nicoletta caught the sheen of tears in his eyes, and her heart went out to him.
Antonello rested his hand briefly on his younger brother's shoulder. Vincente sighed and shook his head. "I rely on Portia's advice, but it is most difficult to resist Sophie's tears when she wants something dearly."
Nicoletta bit down hard on her lower lip to prevent pointing out that Portia had failed to do a wonderful job of raising her own daughter. "What happened to Margerita's padre?" she asked to change the subject.
Antonello looked grief-stricken at the question. It was Vincente who answered. "Portia was raised with us here in palazzo as mio padre's, ward. She is a distant cousin. Another cousin, mio padre's brother's son, often lived here, too. He married Portia, and they had Margerita. He was very close to us, but he became ill and slowly wasted away. Portia never left his side, not for one moment. She nursed him herself, even fed him, but for all her care, she could not save him..." Vincente's voice trailed off.
A chill seized Nicoletta, and she shivered violently. So much death in the palazzo. Why hadn't the village healer been called when a man was slowly wasting away? Her heart felt heavy, and she turned away from the Scarletti brothers. They both seemed so open and caring, yet she trusted neither of them. No one. A sense of danger was pressing down on her, the story not quite ringing true. Each time she looked directly at Antonello, his gaze slid away from hers. Vincente seemed just the opposite, meeting her gaze almost too boldly.
Nicoletta studied Antonello. He was of the same build as the other two Scarletti brothers, tall and elegant, with sinewy muscles and eloquent black eyes. He looked a bit more rugged, although this time his clothes were immaculate. Her teeth bit down on her lip, and her eyes widened in sudden memory. Antonello's clothes, too, had been stained with blood when he came out of the labyrinth the day before! She remembered it clearly. He wore hunting clothes covered in dark stains, much like when she had found him all those months gone. She backed away fr
om the two brothers, taking small, barely noticeable steps, but her skin had gone pale beneath its golden tone.
Vincente turned to regard his brother steadily, obviously reading Nicoletta's transparent face. "You looked ill-used on coming home yesterday, Anton. What happened?"
Antonello looked more uncomfortable than ever. He shrugged, again avoiding Nicoletta's eyes. "Gino sent me out on business, which took longer than expected. On the way home I hunted."
Vincente quirked an eyebrow at his brother. "Up to your usual nonsense, secretly donating meat to the village widows and orphans. Antonello sees himself as the great savior of the oppressed." His voice was good-natured rather than sneering, but Nicoletta found herself blushing deep red.
Nicoletta had been the recipient of fresh meat by an anonymous donor. Antonello certainly had been the one providing for her and Maria Pia.
He frowned at his brother. "Sometimes it is in payment for services rendered, Vincente. The people give much to us. You do not appreciate all that they do."
Vincente held up his hands in laughing surrender. "We have heard this dissertation on more than one occasion. I shall pass on another lecture." He bowed low toward Nicoletta, a teasing grin on his face. "I see Gino has been bitten by the famous Scarletti curse. Jealousy runs deep within our blood." He nodded toward the study and the man looking down from its windows upon the courtyard.
Giovanni stood very still, his arms behind his back, watching everything with his dark, hawklike gaze. He remained motionless, although she could see beyond him into the shadows of the room that he was not alone. His visitor was gesturing as he talked, uselessly gesturing, as Giovanni was not looking at him. No doubt he was listening intently, though; Nicoletta couldn't imagine anything else.
"It is a terrible curse upon us," Vincente explained. "You cannot blame him; our blood runs hot when it comes to our women. It is no small thing to capture and hold the attention of a Scarletti, but we love only once and suffer no other man near the beloved." The way he uttered the words, almost with menace, made her shiver.
Nicoletta rubbed her bare arms. Antonello exclaimed softly and reached out to touch her upper arms. "You are bruised!" He looked up at his older brother standing motionless at the window. There was a gleam of something frightening in Antonello's eyes, something reminiscent of Giovanni himself.
Vincente turned back from watching his daughter circling the largest fountain in the courtyard, skipping and singing happily. "Bruised? Who has marked your skin?" He, too, glanced up at his eldest brother. "Dio! I do not believe it of him. I will not believe it of him, no matter what the gossips whisper. He would not mistreat a woman. But you cannot play with his feelings," he cautioned Nicoletta sternly. "You must stay away from other men. Marks like that betray passion. Good or evil, but passion nonetheless."
Nicoletta turned a vivid red, the color sweeping up her neck and into her face. Her eyes flashed at him. "How dare you accuse me of wanton behavior!" She gestured toward the guards. "I would not have a chance even should I be so inclined." Her chin rose haughtily. "I take my leave of you, sirs." She dropped a cursory curtsey toward the two brothers and marched away, her back ramrod straight. Anger smoldered deep within her. That Vincente would accuse of her of such a thing and imply, like most men, that any flirtation was her fault! Marks of passion! Who would call bruises marks of passion?
She stormed toward Maria Pia, her anger rising with every step. She wasn't satisfied with Antonello's explanation of the blood on his clothes; he had seemed far too evasive for her liking. And Vincente! He was arrogant and a true aristocratico in his attitude toward the people living on Scarletti lands. More than that, she couldn't forgive the fact that he had brought up the one subject she didn't want to think about. The one fear that was hovering on the edge of her consciousness.
The Scarletti family curse. She had grown up hearing the whispered rumors of madness and jealousy. It was widely believed that Giovanni's grandfather had strangled his wife in a fit of jealous rage. Vincente had sounded very ominous, almost as if he were warning her, much in the same manner his grandfather had. A riddle for her to solve. And she needed to solve it. If she didn't, it could very well mean her life.
"Little sister." Vincente bounded after her. "I ask forgiveness if you think I was charging you with ill behavior. No such thing. I wanted to counsel you in your behavior simply because you do not know the strange heat swirling in our Scarletti blood. I am only looking out for you and my brother."
Nicoletta glanced over her shoulder at Antonello, who had remained very still. He was looking up at his older brother, still watching them so solemnly. "Don Scarletti did not bruise me in anger or in any other way. I think he would be insulted that you thought he might, as I am insulted that you thought another man had put those marks on me for the reason you implied. It was ungentlemanly and most unseemly of you, signore."
"I meant only to serve you," Vincente replied, his dark eyes reproving as he bowed again. "Let us not quarrel, sister."
She supposed it wasn't Vincente's fault that he had contributed to the one real fear she had of her marriage to the don. She had seen Giovanni's flashes of jealousy, felt the dark fury in her mind when he saw her with other men, even his own brothers.
It was entirely possible that a madness ran deep within the blood of the Scarlettis, just as Vincente and old Signore Scarletti had warned. One caution she might ignore, but she would be foolish to ignore both. She raised her chin and turned to look up at the windows where Giovanni stood.
Across the distance their eyes met, hers troubled and filled with trepidation, his fathomless, impossible to read. On the morrow her life would be tied to his for all time. She would live in the palazzo amid the sinister artwork and the watching eyes, surrounded by enemies and never knowing who they were or why they hated her.
Nicoletta turned and looked at the great maze with its twists and turns. It reminded her of the path she had been set on, with dead ends at every turn and no safe way out. She needed the comfort of Maria Pia and Sophie. She walked the remaining distance to the older woman and put her arms around her.
Maria Pia knew immediately what she needed and hugged her tightly without saying a word. Sophie, too, sensed she needed comfort and stopped playing to run over and wrap her arms securely around Nicoletta's legs.
Chapter Twelve
Nicoletta returned to her villaggio early on the morning of her wedding. Several guards, rugged men with hard faces, escorted her, determined to do as their don commanded. Sophie had cried great, rolling tears at being separated from Nicoletta, even temporarily but she was refused permission to accompany Nicoletta to the village. The child had slept securely in Nicoletta's room, undisturbed by any whispering voices that might have been murmuring in her old bedchamber.
Nicoletta inhaled the wind, the fresh air flowing off the mountains. The feeling of freedom was tremendous. "I feel as if I can breathe again," she confided to Maria Pia.
"I know what you mean," the older woman agreed. Her expression was grave. "Once you are wed to the don, I will not be able to stay in the palazzo. This night will be my last night to attend you as chaperone, but then I will be useless and forced to leave."
Nicoletta put her arms around the other woman. "You are my famiglia. I do not want you in danger. I want to be with you, too, but I do not want you where evil stalks the halls and haunts the bedchambers. Something is not right at the palazzo, and until I am able to ascertain what is going on, I do not want your life at risk." She was very firm.
Maria Pia shrugged her thin shoulders. "There is safety in numbers. I would prefer that I remain in the palazzo." She ducked her head to hide the sudden sheen of tears in her eyes. "I will be very lonely without you."
"I have been trying to think of a solution for Sophie's fears," Nicoletta answered thoughtfully. She waved at the girls in the villaggio who were awaiting their arrival. "I will have my own bedchamber, of course, and I expect Sophie will sneak in often, but I would prefer that some
one sleep in her room with her on a nightly basis. She has heard ominous whispers in her room..."
"That is nonsense." Maria Pia tried to shush her. "There is talk among the servants that the child is hearing voices as her madre did before her. It is in her blood." She hesitated for a moment. "Some say it is the Scarletti curse that the women go insane and must be locked in the tower, or that the Scarletti men become furiously jealous and murder their wives." She repeated the ominous rumors in a voice of doom.
"I am not insane, Maria Pia, and I heard the whispers in young Sophie's chamber the night the chandelier fell. You were asleep, but I heard them with her. Those voices are real, not her imagination. I think the child is in danger, but I do not know why. No one will believe her." Nicoletta turned the full power of her solemn eyes on the older woman. "She has great need of us, if you are willing to risk the danger."
Maria Pia had only enough time to nod in agreement before they were engulfed by the young, laughing women who bore them off to the community bath. The men had the other side of the bathhouse, separated by the long meeting hall where local festivities were often held. Thick stone formed the large communal tub filled with collected rainwater. It was cold and invigorating, and the women laughed and gossiped, teasing Nicoletta unmercifully.
The sky was a brilliant blue, the breeze coming off the sea steady and cool. Dark clouds were drifting in from out over the bay, but the puffs were flowing slowly, as if they were lazy and not certain they wanted to move inland. The birds sang to one another cheerfully, and the trees swayed gently to the tune.
Nicoletta tried hard to join in the merriment, knowing it was all in her honor, but a terrible dread was seizing her, shadowing what should have been the most memorable occasion in her life. Her natural trepidation of what happened between a husband and wife was not eased by the teasing; the sexual innuendoes only heightened her fear of what was to come.
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