The shadow in her grew stronger. She looked out the wide window. From the walkway, a large, grotesque gargoyle watched her with silent, staring eyes. "Tell me your name." It was her first order as the new mistress of the palazzo.
The woman paled even more. "Please, Donna Scarletti, I need the work here. I have three bambini. I cannot feed them without working." When Nicoletta continued to look at her, the woman stared at the tiled floor. "I am called Beatrice. My husband was the captain of Don Scarletti's personal guards." She said the latter with pride. "He was killed in the last battle. The don has been kind enough to allow me to work here since."
Something twisted tight in Nicoletta's stomach. There were faint bruises on Beatrice's neck and shoulder. When she saw Nicoletta inspecting her, the maid tugged her sleeves lower over her wrists, but not before Nicoletta could see the strange black-and-blue circle around her skin like a bracelet.
"I wish to see," Nicoletta said. She used the hypnotic voice of the healer.
"Please, no," Beatrice said softly even as she slowly tugged at the drawstring of her blouse. The material fell open to reveal her skin, mottled with bruises and several strange burn marks. Nicoletta moved closer, trying not to look as shocked as she felt. Beatrice appeared to have been tortured.
Nicoletta reached out with gentle fingers and touched the worst bruise along the woman's ribs. There was also a distinct bite mark on her skin. The moment she touched the woman, she felt the aftermath of violence. Someone had attacked Beatrice, used her badly, deliberately hurting her. The maid refused to look at her, shaking with fear of discovery.
"Who did such a thing to you?" Nicoletta asked, so outraged she could barely catch her breath. "You should not be working in this condition. You need to rest to recover."
The woman backed away from her, a fresh flood of tears running down her face. "Please, I beg of you, Donna Scarletti, please do not tell anyone. Please do not let anyone know what you have seen."
Nicoletta pushed up the maid's sleeve. "He tied you up." It made her feel sick inside. Who was so evil and depraved as to do such a thing to a woman?
The woman began to pray loudly to the Madonna, her sobs louder than ever. "It is my life if he finds out that you know, that you have seen me. My life! I can work. I will work. Please signora, I am no whore. But I do what I must to survive and care for my bambini."
"Tell me who did this. We must go to my husband," Nicoletta said.
Beatrice threw herself onto her knees, wrapping her arms around Nicoletta's legs, wildly weeping. "You cannot! For the love of God, you cannot! It is my very life. I have the bambini. You cannot tell him."
Nicoletta pressed a hand to her suddenly churning stomach. What did Beatrice mean? Surely Beatrice wasn't afraid Giovanni would punish her for what some coarse soldier had done to her. She looked down at the maid's bent head, at her bruised body, and suddenly she went very still inside. Her heart began to pound in alarm. Not some soldier. Surely not. As widow of the captain of the guard, surely Beatrice would go to the don and ask that the soldier be punished. Whoever had used Beatrice in such a depraved manner had been a member of the aristocrazia. Who else could so ill use another human, thinking it his right. Yet Beatrice was terrified to go to Giovanni. What did that mean? Unbidden, the memory of Nicoletta's wedding night returned to haunt her. The don had left her, and when he returned, there had been a fresh scratch across his chest.
The memory was vivid in her mind. She was untutored, an innocent; she had not known how to please him. Yet surely he wasn't capable of such an act. Nicoletta looked again at the bruises. Giovanni's father had sent women to his sons to be used, uncaring of the feelings or wishes of the women. No! Nicoletta wouldn't believe such a thing of Giovanni. He was not a man to torture a woman for pleasure. He might be fierce in his lovemaking, he might be passionate and demanding, but he would never harm a woman.
"Hush, Beatrice," Nicoletta cautioned gently, "the guards are outside. I know I can help you. Tell me who did this to you that he might be punished."
"Never." Beatrice drew away from her. "Mistress, on my life, if you say anything, he will kill me. He will kill my bambini. He held a knife to my son's throat as the child slept and told me what he would do should you or any other find out."
Nicoletta's eyebrows shot up. "Me? He specifically said me?" The maid was turning away from her, obviously too frightened to go to the don or his wife for aid. Nicoletta caught her arm. "He said if I found out?"
Beatrice looked at her with terrified eyes. Slowly she nodded.
Nicoletta's heart was close to shattering. "I will say nothing, Beatrice, but I think I can find a way to safeguard you. And you must allow me to try to heal you."
Beatrice ducked her head, ashamed. "Why are you helping me?"
Nicoletta smiled gently. "We are both women, Beatrice, both villagers. Our only hope is to stick together. I will find a way to safeguard you. When you feel you can trust me, I would appreciate your telling me who did this to you. If he can so ill use you, he will do the same to others."
They fell into silence as Nicoletta laid her hands on Beatrice's bruised ribs. She could feel the healing heat rising from deep within her, moving out of her body and into Beatrice's. The maid gasped and stared at her, almost afraid of the power flowing from Nicoletta into her. Nicoletta normally used elaborate means to cover her special ability, yet she felt that making herself vulnerable thusly was necessary to gain the woman's confidence. Beatrice could name her witch, raise a cry even Don Scarletti might not be able to save her from.
The two women stared at one another for a long time, the maid obviously struggling to make up her mind. Nicoletta sighed softly when Beatrice looked away. "I cannot say, Donna Scarletti. It is my life, and I have my bambini to protest. I am in your debt, and I know it. If you have need of me, I will do what I can to protect and serve you always."
Protect and serve. A strange way of putting it. What did Beatrice know that Nicoletta did not? There was danger here; Nicoletta could see the warning in the maid's eyes. "I will see what I can do to safeguard you, Beatrice," Nicoletta assured her softly as she slipped out the door, making certain the guards did not catch a glimpse of the room's occupant. She knew they reported her daily actions to the don. More and more she was chafing under the restraints, under the watchful eyes.
When Nicoletta entered the room Sophie had occupied when she was so ill, she purposely left the door open so the guards could remain very close. She smiled to herself, thinking the soldiers were a two-edged sword. She needed them at times and resented them at others. Something about this room made her distinctly uneasy. It was as if evil had been locked within the very walls. It still lurked there, hideous and relentless in its hunger, oozing out unexpectedly to catch the unwary. The stained-glass windows prevented the sunlight from entering fully, so the room seemed dark and shadowy, the carvings crawling across the walls and up onto the ceiling, spreading like an insidious plague. The scene depicted aristocrazia in all their finery being dragged into the sea. Jagged rocks split apart boats, and legions of soldiers fell into the foaming, raging waves.
The chandelier had been repaired now, once again hanging from the ceiling with fresh tapers in it. If the earth had shaken as it had when she was exchanging her vows, that would explain part of the strange phenomenon that had occurred that night, the strange shadows playing across the room a result of the way the flames had flickered and danced over the carvings as the walls trembled. She saw a niche in the far wall identical to the one in the upstairs room. An identical golden boat, ornate and beautiful, sat in the alcove. She stared at it in wonder.
Nicoletta stepped closer to the wall to study the carvings. Most of them were serpents of some kind with wicked fangs and claws. She frowned as she ran a finger inside the deeply etched relief. There was something right in front of her, something eluding her. She was so close, it was hovering in her brain but refusing to come forward.
The guards were shaking their heads when she wen
t upstairs, straight to the bedchamber shared by Maria Pia and Sophie. Again she had the same strange shadowed feeling of evil. She stared at the wall relief. They were very similar to ones in the downstairs room. "Look at this," she said to the nearest guard. "Obviously the artist was a very violent man." She touched the tip of what looked like a razor-sharp talon.
Nicoletta sat on the bed and stared at the mural, wishing she could see the artwork in the two rooms side by side. Something moved under the coverlet, brushing her fingers. She jumped off the bed, so surprised she let out a small cry of shock. Immediately the guard closest to her jerked her behind him. "What is it, Donna Scarletti?"
The second guard, Francesco, thrust her farther behind him, almost shoving her out of the room. Nicoletta tried to peer around him as the first guard caught the edge of the coverlet and pulled it from the bed. At once a ball of scorpions fell to the floor, a wriggling, boiling black-and-brown mass immediately scattering into different directions across the tiled floor.
Nicoletta stared in horror at the hideous creatures as the guards gave chase. The poisonous insects were fast. It was a frightening thought that someone had dumped such a swarm of them in the bed in which Maria Pia and Sophie slept. "Why?" She asked the question aloud.
"Look out!" Francesco yelled, shoving her none too gently into the corridor, slamming his boot heel down hard on a scorpion that had crawled far too close to Nicoletta's bare foot.
Nicoletta stumbled backward, trying desperately to regain her balance. The guard leapt to steady her. Another hand snaked out to drag her to safety. She was pulled up against her husband's hard body.
"The tower is looking better and better," he murmured, his dark eyes slashing at the guard and the poisonous creatures spreading out across the marble floor. Don Scarletti swung her up into his arms, holding her far above the danger as he aided her guards in dispensing with the scorpions.
Both of his brothers were soon there, too, stamping on the creatures, Vincente going through every inch of the room. "Sophie cannot stay in here," he announced, his body trembling. "Something must be done, Giovanni! This cannot continue." His tone was accusing, his expression dark and dangerous.
Nicoletta's heart went out to him, knowing he must be afraid for his daughter and angry that someone had done such a thing. She couldn't blame him for his anger. His child had been placed in danger on more than one occasion. "Why would anyone want to hurt Sophie? She is just a child." She voiced what the others would not.
"The curse," Antonello said softly. "We are cursed to lose all our women." It was an ominous warning, and his eyes were on Nicoletta when he uttered them. Giovanni's arms tightened around her like twin bands, threatening to cut off her air. "The curse is ours, Antonello, not that of our women, and I refuse to allow it to rule my life. This was no 'curse.' " He gestured toward the dead and dying scorpions. "A human gathered and brought these things to this room." She could feel the fury running through his body, a rage that refused to give in to the superstition that dominated their lives. "I want every servant questioned. Every single one. Get to the bottom of this." His black eyes pinned Antonello.
Antonello nodded silently.
"They were beneath the coverlet, Don Scarletti," Francesco announced. "Donna Nicoletta nearly placed her hand on them."
Giovanni gave her a little shake, as if she were responsible for the near tragedy. I am seriously considering chaining you to my bed. "We cannot risk that even one escaped, Vincente. We must move Signorina Sigmora and Sophie to another room immediately. The poor child will soon feel she has no home."
"Better to be safe," Vincente said. "I will search the chamber myself. I do not want any of her things taken to a new room when one of those poisonous creatures may be carried along."
Giovanni nodded and turned with Nicoletta in his arms to carry her down the hall to their bedchamber. A rush of excitement heated her blood, and she relaxed in his arms. "I did not find the scorpions on purpose to provoke you," she informed him.
"How do you manage to get yourself into these incidents?" he asked, thrusting her into their bedchamber so that the door banged closed behind them.
"Maria Pia says I have a knack," Nicoletta admitted, unrepentant. She wiggled to remind him to put her down but found as her breasts moved against his chest through the material of her blouse that his skin was suddenly hot and his body aggressive.
"Where are all the new gowns the seamstresses made for you?" Giovanni demanded, allowing her bare feet to touch the tiles.
Nicoletta's eyes darkened, the smile fading from her mouth. "What is so wrong with my own clothes?" She sounded hurt.
Giovanni's heart turned over at the forlorn note. "You cannot think I am ashamed of you, piccola" he said softly, his voice lowering an octave until it purred along her skin like the touch of his fingers. "I would not marry a woman of whom I was ashamed."
"I like my own clothes. I am comfortable in them." She stepped back defensively. "I planned on wearing the new gowns when we must entertain." Even to her own ears she sounded young and uncertain. She took another step away from him. "I do not belong in this place, Don Scarletti. I cannot breathe here. I do not understand what goes on here. I cannot be a proper wife to one such as you."
"What has brought this on, Nicoletta?" he asked softly, stalking her right across the room. "You are my wife. I will have no other. You are doing the things necessary to become the mistress of the palazzo. The guards, the servants--all of them accept you readily. Portia and Margerita know they must, too. They live in your home by your allowance."
"I do not want that kind of power. I am from the villaggio. I know it entails much work to run a house of this size, but I do not like the way servants are treated here, and I cannot be a part of it." She tilted her chin at him even as he cut off her escape by planting his body firmly in front of hers.
Giovanni reached out and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. The gesture was tender, and his palm brushing across her skin caused her to shiver with heat. "I am aware I did not realize Gostanz had so much .work. I have provided him with more help and made the changes he suggested. Bernado also informed me of certain needs at your suggestion. I thank you for bringing these matters to my attention. It was wrong of me to count on others to run my home without soliciting their advice."
Nicoletta sighed, looking as confused as she felt. She had made promises to Beatrice that she would not reveal her secret, and she wouldn't go back on her word, but it was far more than Gostanz she was talking about. "Can you not see, you cannot take a plant from where it belongs and expect it to thrive. It will wither and die."
"You have moved plants, cara mia," he pointed out gently. "I have been to your garden in the hills. You have managed to rearrange many plants, and they thrive and grow and seem healthy."
Nicoletta swallowed hard, her eyes large and dark. "How long have you been watching me?" She was trembling, pressing one hand to her suddenly churning stomach.
His black gaze didn't waver as he looked at her. He was tall, arrogant, unrepentant. "What does it matter?"
"It matters to me," she answered, her heart pounding loudly. She had thought she had freedom; she had thought the villaggio protected her. All along he had known of her. All along he had planned to take her from her home.
"That is not true," he denied, even though she hadn't spoken her thoughts aloud, proof their tie was growing ever stronger. "I had no intention of claiming you for my own, only of protecting you. I did not want the Scarletti curse to claim you as it has all the others. I live every day with the knowledge that murder is in the hearts of men and that I brought you into this danger."
"Why did you?"
There was an insistent knock on the door. Giovanni closed his eyes and shook his head as if attempting to resist the interruption.
"Why did you?" Nicoletta insisted. "This is important to me."
"I know it is, piccola, but things are happening that I must take care of. Have patience, and do not condemn me for what I
must do to safeguard our people." He raked a hand through his hair, looking suddenly world-weary.
At once Nicoletta's heart turned over, and she found herself wanting to hold him. She even took a step toward him. Giovanni met her halfway, gathering her close, his lips in her hair. "I love the way you dress, piccola, but I find you far too appealing to the eye. Men look at you, and they see something that you, in your innocence, cannot conceive of. I know you wear little beneath your garments, and the gowns I have provided will cover you more adequately."
She raised an eyebrow. "You have not seen them. And when I roam the hills, I must wear what is functional."
Giovanni groaned as the thumping at the door became more persistent. His arms tightened for a moment, then he lifted her chin so that his black gaze seemed to capture hers. "I know you need reassurance from your husband, and there is much you do not understand, but trust in me, Nicoletta, for a while longer. Have faith in me." And he was gone as abruptly as he had left her on their wedding night, off to another of his secret meetings.
Nicoletta stood in the middle of the bedchamber feeling bereft. She did need reassurance, badly. Her head ached from trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. The answers were there, just out of reach.
The guards were waiting outside the bedchamber as she emerged. Giovanni was already out of sight. She didn't want to think about the curse anymore. She wanted to go out into the cool, crisp air and breathe in the sea. She wanted to look at her hills and be with the children.
Nicoletta hurried along the corridor, self-conscious for the first time in her life. Things were not the way Giovanni had described. Her clothes were serviceable, simple, not made to draw the eyes of men.
Sophie and Ketsia rushed at her as she entered the courtyard. Their faces were flushed from running, their eyes shining with childish joy. "We were coming to get you!" Sophie greeted cheerfully. "You took so long."