She lifted her chin, and her eyes were flat and cold. "I will not allow such a perversion signorina. The don with a little baggage! Oooh! You may as well pack your things and return to your villaggio immediately, now, tonight. I forbid this unholy union. Vincente! You must forbid it also."
Nicoletta smiled serenely. She looked over Portia's shoulder as she addressed her. "I shall be more than happy to oblige you, Donna Scarletti. If you would state your objections to Don Scarletti and make him see reason, I will be forever in your debt."
Portia turned to see whom Nicoletta was looking at so challengingly. She gasped when she saw the don's elegant frame draped lazily against the wall. One black eyebrow was arched at Nicoletta, his mouth curved in a mocking smile.
"Giovanni, this girl cannot possibly be telling the truth!" Portia exclaimed.
"What has she claimed, Portia, other than that she will leave if you convince me of my mistake? What is this wager you are prattling on about? I know of no wager, no dare, no jest. I did not state my intention to wed because my marriage is no one's business but mine and my bride's."
Portia let out another dramatic cry, both hands clasped over her heart as if she were suffering greatly. "You cannot be serious, Giovanni. You cannot!"
"Go to bed, Portia." Giovanni sounded exasperated. "You will wake young Sophie, and she will not be separated from Nicoletta if she hears that her friend has returned to us."
"That is so, Portia. It has taken me some time to get my daughter to sleep this night. All she talks of is the healer's apprentice. I do not want her to awaken," Vincente backed his brother. "It would be best if you waited until the morn to sort this out."
"What of my daughter, Margerita?" Portia demanded. "This news will kill her." She glared at Nicoletta as if it was all her fault. "This will kill her! What do you expect her to do, Giovanni?" Tears glittered in Portia's eyes.
"I expect Margerita to welcome Nicoletta into our home and be her friend, as I expect you to do." The iron in his voice warned that his patience had come to an end. "Go to bed, Portia, and do not threaten my personal guards. They take orders from me, not from the women of the household." He glanced at his brother. "Or anyone else for that matter."
"How can you speak to me so in front of that peasant girl?" Portia cried. "Vincente, do you hear him? After all I have done!" she sobbed, pressing a hand to her mouth. "After all I have done!"
Vincente smiled at Nicoletta, shrugged helplessly, and circled Portia Scarletti's waist with his arm. "Come, Portia, I will escort you to your chamber."
Giovanni watched them go down the candlelit hall before turning to Nicoletta. He stepped close to her, his body crowding hers, making her feel small and vulnerable. His hand cupped her chin, tipping it up so that she was forced to look at him. "Did Portia hurt you with her thoughtless words?" His voice brushed over her skin like a gentle caress. "She is used to being the mistress of the palazzo and guards her position jealously. But it does not matter what she thinks."
Nicoletta's eyes were alive with pride. "Every one of your friends and relations and associates will think the same thing. Do you not see how this is wrong and how it cannot be?"
His thumb found her lower lip, stroking it back and forth, sending heat spiraling through her body. He was staring intently at her mouth, and he was so close, she couldn't breathe. Still, she couldn't have moved if her life depended on it, mesmerized as she was by his dark eyes and compelling voice, by his touch. "I have no friends, piccola, and I have never cared for the opinion of others."
Behind Nicoletta, Maria Pia cleared her throat noisily. She took her new role of chaperone quite seriously. She reached for Nicoletta, slowly pulling her back into the room.
Giovanni's white teeth flashed at her, a rueful, almost boyish smile as Maria Pia closed the door firmly in his face.
Chapter Seven
Nicoletta dreamed of the don--dark, erotic dreams that set her heart pounding and her blood coursing through her body like slow, fiery, molten lava. The dreams were shocking, filled with images and feelings she had never thought of, hands touching her bare skin, his mouth moving over hers. Her body and his, hot and twisting in the bedclothes, tangled together in sweat and a terrible need. Toward dawn her dreams were invaded by strange, clawed creatures grasping at her bare skin, tearing at her, dragging her into the sea to drown her. She cried out for the don, reached for him, begging him to save her, but he watched her with impassive, staring eyes and a small mocking smile on his perfectly sculpted lips. Behind him was the palazzo, with its hulking grace and wide, staring windows like terrible, empty eyes, watching, watching, as she was dragged into the murky waters. She awoke strangling, choking, gasping for breath, her heart pounding in alarm.
She lay in the gray gloom, staring around her in a kind of shock. The fire was out, and it was cold and drafty in the great chamber. This terrible place was to be her home. Her prison. She could barely breathe with the thought of being cooped up indoors. Already her mountains were calling, her plants and the birds. She needed them the way she needed air to breathe.
A slight noise caught her attention, much like the scratch of a rat in a wall. She rolled over to stare at the carvings at the head of her bed. The scratching stopped for a moment, then began again, a little louder and much more persistent. The more she examined the marble, the more it appeared as if the serpents and sea creatures were undulating, moving.
She frowned and stood up in her nightshift, rubbing her arms as she studied the carvings and mural closely. They were moving! This was no optical illusion. The wall was splitting apart, one section swinging toward her! Nicoletta backed away from the bed until she came up against the wall on the other side of the room. Jumping nervously to the side, she glanced behind her to ensure that that wall remained intact. When she looked back, a little head was peeking around the thick marble at her.
"Sophie!" Nicoletta breathed in relief. Her legs were suddenly so weak, she sat down abruptly. "You frightened me. What are you doing?"
The child put a finger to her lips and looked around the bedchamber cautiously before she came all the way in, swinging the hidden door closed. At once it was a seamless marble wall again. Nicoletta moved across the room to examine it. "I should have known there was a reason for these strange carvings." She ran her hand over the sea serpents. The opening was so cleverly woven into the carvings, it was impossible to find, even when she knew it was there and was looking for it. The walls were incredibly thick, easy enough to conceal the rumored hidden passageways through the palazzo.
Nicoletta looked at the little girl and smiled. "I am Nicoletta. Do you remember me?"
Sophie nodded her head so adamantly that her hair flew about. "You saved me. You made my stomach stop hurting, and you held me when the bad voices came."
"You were very sick," Nicoletta admitted. "Are you feeling all right now?"
Sophie nodded again, casting several nervous looks at Maria Pia.
"Where does this hidden passage lead?" Nicoletta asked, curious.
Sophie pressed her little body against the wall. "I am not supposed to be in this room," she confided. "And Papa told me never to use the passage. I am not even supposed to know about it. He said never to tell anyone and never to go in." Her wide eyes touched on Maria Pia again, who was still sleeping." She lowered her voice even more. "He says there are i fantasmi in the passageway. He said it was dangerous to go in."
Nicoletta raised an eyebrow. Ghosts? Ghouls? "Your padre told you this?"
Sophie nodded solemnly. "He has not made me go back to that other room yet. Zio Gino said I could stay in the nursery, even though Zia Portia thinks I am far too old." Her large, dark eyes were very wide. "I heard them arguing about it. Zia Portia thinks I want my papa's attention. I heard her say I need discipline." She shivered. "But I did not lie. You heard the voices, too. I know you did. I fantasmi, the ghosts. I tried to tell Zio Gino you heard them, too but I know he did not believe me. No one else can hear them. Once I had Papa and Z
io Gino listen with me, but the voices did not come. You can tell him I did not lie. Zia Portia says I am a liar. I do not tell stories, but Papa believes her." She shrugged her thin shoulders.
"Zia Portia does not like me much, you know, because I am just like mia madre." She tried to look strong, but Nicoletta could see the pain in her eyes. Sophie's little hands twisted together, and she looked very forlorn.
"Your madre must have been very beautiful, Sophie, because you certainly are," Nicoletta said softly. She sat on the bed and patted the spot beside her. "Come visit with me." The child was obviously starved for attention, hungry for any affection, and Nicoletta's compassionate heart went out to her. "How did you know I was here? And how did you brave i fantasmi to sneak past the guard?" She sounded conspiratorial and admiring.
Sophie immediately smiled, looking self-important as she skirted around the cot where Maria Pia slept beside the fire and perched on the edge of the bed. "It is dark in the passage, but I light a candle and carry it. I fantasmi will not come out during the day. Only at night. Never use that way at night."
Nicoletta nodded. "I understand. Where does the passage go? Does it lead outside?" She sounded more hopeful than she intended, and the child shook her head, her eyes wide with alarm.
"You cannot go around in the passage. There are spiders and rats and terrible things. The spider webs are very thick and sticky. I only go between the nursery and this room and..." She trailed off, looking disconcerted. "It is a bad place."
'Thank you for telling me," Nicoletta said solemnly. "I certainly would not want to meet i fantasmi or spiders and rats. Is everyone else still asleep?"
"Zia Portia and Margerita sleep very late." Sophie again looked impressively self-important as she imparted the information about the household. "No one dares disturb them. Do not talk loudly or laugh, or they will get very angry. But Bernado is in the kitchen early, and he will fix special treats for you if you ask him. He is nice," she confided.
"And what is Don Giovanni Scarletti like?" Nicoletta prompted shamelessly.
The child sighed. "Everyone does what Zio Gino says. Even Papa. Margerita acts silly around him and always giggles whenever he comes near her." Sophie rolled her eyes. "She says I am an ugly little peasant."
Nicoletta's eyebrows shot up. "She does not say such a thing in front of your papa or Don Scarletti, does she?" she guessed shrewdly.
The child's eyes grew large, and she shook her head. "And then there is Zio Antonello, Papa and Zio Gino's middle brother. He does not talk much at all, but Margerita giggles around him, too. She also acts very silly around my papa."
The elusive Antonello Scarletti. Nicoletta had seen him once in the forest. A few months earlier, he had sustained a terrible injury while out hunting. An arrow had struck him in the thigh, and he had bled profusely. His horse, nervous with the smell of blood, had thrown him. Antonello had crawled into the brush and lay unconscious. The raven had led Nicoletta to his hiding place. She had immediately set about saving his life. It had been a struggle, and she had had no choice but to heat a blade in flame and press it to the wound to stop the flow of blood, a painful process. He had not spoken a word or uttered a sound other than one throaty cry torn from him when the hot knife seared his thigh.
He had not wanted anyone to know where he was, shaking his head repeatedly when she offered to send word to the don. In the end she and Maria Pia had dressed his wounds, arranged him in his bedroll, brought him food and water, and stayed silent despite the soldiers combing the hills for him. He was gone on the third morning, and Nicoletta had never so much as heard a whisper of a rumor that the don's brother had been injured. Twice, in the winter, though, someone had left a deer, all dressed out for them, on their doorstep. Nicoletta suspected Antonello
Scarletti had left the meat for them, to reward them for their aid, but she never found out for certain.
Nicoletta tapped her fingernails on the coverlet. Antonello Scarletti had been afraid for his life; she was certain of it. He must have suspected that someone from the palazzo had attempted to murder him. Why else would he have refused to allow Nicoletta to call his famiglia to aid him? It was a frightening thought. "Sophie, did Bernado make soup for you before you became so sick? Do you remember? Was it for your supper?"
Obviously uncomfortable, Sophie glanced quickly at Maria Pia, who continued sleeping heavily. The little girl looked down at her hands.
Nicoletta smiled at her. "Do not worry, bambino. We are alone. It is safe to tell me."
Sophie suddenly looked frightened and shook her head. "I have to go before they find me here. Do not tell anyone that I was in this chamber. Do not tell Papa." She slid off the bed and scampered to the wall. "Come to the kitchen, and Bernado will fix us treats. Hurry, Nicoletta."
Nicoletta watched carefully as the child slid her hand along the floor until she found some hidden mechanism. Whatever it was that released the wall was eerily silent as the heavy marble swung open. Nicoletta peered into the dark interior. Sophie was right about the thick veil of spider webs. The gossamer strands covered the walls and hung from the ceiling. The passage was very narrow and dark. Sophie's little candle was barely adequate to light her way. Nicoletta stayed in the opening, watching to see that the child returned safely to the nursery.
Maria Pia was chuckling softly. "I did not think the young scamp would ever leave. I am too old to lie in bed without moving for so long." She sat up with a faint smile on her face. "Secret passageways. I should have known this heathen palazzo would truly have such things."
Nicoletta allowed the wall to swing shut, shivering suddenly. "Perhaps they need such a thing to store all the bodies of the women murdered here."
"Nicoletta!" Maria Pia automatically reprimanded her as she began to dress.
"Tell me what happened to mia madre and mia zia. I want to know. Tell me what really happened to them." Nicoletta leaned against the cool marble and regarded the older woman somberly.
A cold draft seemed to race from the cold hearth and into the room, chilling both occupants so that Nicoletta shivered uncontrollably. Without conscious thought she reached to pull the don's heavy coat around her, wrapping herself in folds of warmth. There was a strange, hushed silence, as if all movement in the palazzo had suddenly ceased. In that vacuum of sound no mice or rats scratched, no servants scurried in the halls.
Maria Pia sighed softly and shook her head. "It has been many years, yet it is not a good thing to speak of, not now when we are in the palazzo." She looked around her carefully at the staring eyes of the many demonic sea serpents. "It is not good to discuss the dead, Nicoletta."
Nicoletta lifted her chin, her dark eyes eloquent. "I need to know what happened. I remember them bringing Mama's body back over the hills. That day was so dark and dreary. I was waiting up in the meadow for her, and the raven came. I knew she was gone. The bird would never have been out flying about otherwise with the rain that had poured down so heavily that morning. I knew something terrible had happened to my mother, but no one would say, no one would tell me. Later I heard the whispers. People implied she was murdered, but no one actually came out and told me what happened. She was mia madre, and I deserve to know." She sank down onto the mattress, her hand circling the tall, thick bed post until her knuckles turned white. "I have to live here, Maria Pia--here, where my mother and aunt died. I need to know."
"It was said that your madre was working on the ramparts, cleaning the walkway. She was young and beautiful, already a widow so young, your father taken so early by incurable disease. Everyone loved your mother and she sang like an angel." There were tears in Maria Pia's voice. "They said she must have slipped on the wet surface, the marble walkway slick from the rain."
Nicoletta's dark gaze remained steadfastly on the older woman's face. "But you did not believe them."
"Why would she be cleaning the walkway in the rain? It was dangerous up so high. Your mother was very smart; she would not have chosen such a time to clean the walkways aro
und the turrets." Maria Pia spread out her fingers. "I examined her body when they brought her home. She had fallen a great distance and so had many bruises and broken bones, but her fingernails were torn and bloody, as if she had clawed to save her life. The bones in her fingers were broken, and there were bruises and scratches around her throat. And..." Maria Pia turned away from Nicoletta, tears swimming in her eyes.
"Finish it," Nicoletta said numbly. "I need to know what I will be facing."
"She had been badly used. I think she fought her attacker, and when he was finished with his dark deed, he hurtled her over the rampart. She must have caught the ledge, and he pounded her hands until he broke her fingers and she fell." Maria Pia hung her head. "My beautiful angel. I told the don, Giovanni's father, my findings, and he conducted an investigation, but nothing came of it. I could not prove anything."
Maria Pia sighed heavily. "The very next morning Don Scarletti's grandmother was found dead in her own bed with fingerprints around her neck, the old man sleeping beside her. The palazzo, indeed the entire land, was grief-stricken with Donna Scarletti's death. She was much loved and rightly so. Yet no one would remember the death of a peasant, a poor, widowed domestica."
A surge of anger erupted in Nicoletta, shaking her body so that for a moment she could only cling to the bedpost and fight down the volcanic emotions swirling so strongly within her. It took a few minutes for her to realize that Maria Pia was weeping silently. At once Nicoletta pushed aside her own feelings and rushed to the older woman's side. She hugged her tightly. "I am sorry I made you relive it all again. It is no wonder you did not wish to speak of such an ill thing."
"She must have been so frightened. And she had gone to the Palazzo delta Morte certain the gossip was not true. I should have stopped your mother from seeking work at such a place, but we needed to get through the winter, and we had no man to help. I knew there was danger; I had seen the body of her sister, your zia, when they returned her home from the palazzo." Maria Pia buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. "Only a few months before, your zia, too, had met with an 'accident' while serving there. A statue made of heavy stone fell and crushed her, they said."