DELUGE (24 page)

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Authors: Lisa T. Bergren

BOOK: DELUGE
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This was finally happening.

Me and Luca.

Forever.

We knelt on the step at one point, and the cardinal droned on in a fervent prayer, and while I couldn’t understand all the words, I felt the blessing settle over us like a blanket, wrapping ’round and ’round us. A shiver ran down my back. Never had I felt God so close, even though Tomas and I’d talked about it time and again. But here, now, I was so focused on the blessings of my life, it seemed like God was tangibly present.

It almost made my heart explode. Seriously. I’d never felt the kind of joy I was experiencing at that moment. And while I wanted it to go on and on, Luca and I were soon facing each other, the cardinal wrapping our hands with a holy cloth, chanting a litany in Latin; a boy was waving a smoking censer on all sides of us, creating a sweet-spicy cloud of incense around us. In a way, it almost made everyone else disappear. All I could see was Luca, taking my hand, sliding a beautiful emerald ring on my finger, then accepting his own gold-and-emerald band from me. There was some sort of vow that I belatedly accepted, after I realized they were waiting on me, and then Luca was lifting my veil, cupping my face and kissing me, so sweet and tender that it made me tear up.

The people clapped and swarmed around us, offering their congratulations. Luca allowed us to greet the doge and dogaressa, my parents, Gabi and Marcello, but then he took my hand firmly in his and pulled me toward the side entrance where we’d come in. Bells were ringing at a maniacally joyful pace, their deep tolls reverberating in our chests, so loud in the side chamber, I could barely hear Luca. But his expression of joy and peace settled over me, and I merely concentrated on following the knights before us as other Ducale knights made a channel through the loggia for us to walk through. The people were in high spirits outside, crowding close to cheer us on and throw flowers and leaves at us.

We could hear music and the surge of people laughing and cheering, roaring like the very sea itself.
I’m married,
I thought.
Married. Mrs. Luca Forelli. Evangelia Forelli. Lia Forelli.
I felt like I was floating. The doge and the dogaressa led us upward, and we were again on the roof of the palazzo, the knights on guard turning to smile upon us and applaud. But then the doge and dogaressa led us into another covered passageway, back toward the basilica. We emerged high up in Saint Mark’s, turned left, and suddenly we were out above the piazza, between the four bronze horses that had been taken from Constantinople centuries before.

The crowd beneath us went wild when we were spotted. They shouted, “He-Wolf! She-Wolf! He-Wolf! She-Wolf!” in a swelling, disjointed cry that again reminded me of waves—part ebbing, part flowing.

Luca turned toward me, took me in his arms, and thoroughly kissed me, much to the pleasure of everyone beneath us. Then, with a wave, we left the doge and dogaressa to lead the festivities. Back inside the palazzo, there was a table set in an intimate, small dining room, where the sound of the crowd was a muffled roar. At last it was just us—our family. Mom and Dad. Marcello and Gabi. Me and Luca.

“Do you think they’ll keep it up all night?” I asked Luca.

“Most likely,” he said, picking up the dainty roasted leg of a small hen and biting into it. “They’ll be in ill spirits when they find out we’re not going to join them. But after enough wine, they’ll forget that we were the impetus for this early Carnivale and simply enjoy themselves.”

“I wish we could be out there,” Gabriella said, accepting a ladle of steaming mushroom soup from a servant.

Marcello laughed without mirth and shook his head. “Think no more of it. You and Evangelia are staying close to your husbands this night.”

“Very close,” Luca whispered in my ear. I knew I was blushing in response and nudged him in complaint as he chuckled.

“Forgive me for cutting short your wedding, uh,
celebration
, Cousin,” Marcello said to Luca, with a wry smile. “But we must sail by mid-morning. Collect the Betarrini boys and depart for Ancona as fast as we can. The sooner we are away from those who assailed our wives, the better.”

“Agreed,” Luca said.

“The day after we were married, we were at war,” Gabi whispered to me, her tone full of consolation. “This is a bit better than that.”

I nodded. That had been awful—seeing the guys ride off when I knew Gabi was likely still asleep upstairs, dreaming of her new husband. I’d been so scared that he’d get hurt and not come home to her…

I confess I fairly inhaled my dinner. I was pretty hungry, and I was also a little anxious to be alone with Luca. We’d never been alone for longer than a few hours. Now we had the night…even if it was a short night.

He seemed to be of the same mind, picking at his food, pushing most of it to the edge of his trencher, his green eyes straying to me again and again.

“All right,” Dad said gruffly, after a while. “Enough of us. You two go, with our blessing.”

I grinned at him, and he smiled back at me, like a lord who had just bestowed a gift, which he had, in a way. Luca rose at once—“You need not encourage me more than once, sir”—and we all followed suit. Luca moved forward to take Dad’s arm, and then Marcello’s, both of them clapping him on the back and on the shoulder like he’d just accomplished a feat in marrying me. Then he kissed Mom and Gabi on the cheek and turned to me, eyes bright. “Ready?”

I nodded. With a grin over my shoulder to the family, we followed two knights down the hall and up the stairs to his room. Inside, the candles were lit, and there were bedclothes spread over the blanket. Celso closed the door behind us, and Luca slid the bolt closed. He came over to me, wrapped warm hands over either of my hips, and pulled me to him. There was a new measure of claim, authority, power in him, that I found sexy as all get-out.

“Ah, Evangelia,” he whispered. “My sweet, precious, Evangelia.” He kissed me softly, then more urgently. I matched him with my own desire, pulling him closer.

After a moment, he paused and leaned back to unpin my hair, slowly unbraiding it, then circling around to loosen the net and let the rest of it fall around my shoulders. He tossed the pearl netting over his shoulder, making me giggle, then continued around to my back again. His warm hands rubbed over my shoulders and he leaned forward to kiss me right where my neck and shoulder joined, sending a delicious shiver down my back. “Are you afraid?” he whispered, all careful concern.

“Nay,” I said, “not with you.”

“Good. There is no need to fear, Evangelia. Only reasons to rejoice…” He unlaced the back of my overgown and slipped it from my shoulders. Outside, through the open window, I could hear singing, a sound of pure joy, while inside, deep within me, my heart seemed to echo it.

Luca pulled off his tunic and then his shirt, and stood there before me, all smooth-chested, muscle upon muscle. Gabi always said she wanted to make a calendar of hot Italian knights…and now I was married to one of them.
Married
. Shyly, I lifted my trembling hands to skim his shoulders and arms, his skin warm to my touch. He took hold of my hand and slowly kissed my palm and then one knuckle after another, his eyes on me the whole time.

“Evangelia,” he whispered gruffly. “You have honored me greatly by becoming my wife. Thank you.” His eyes glistened with tears.

“The honor’s mine, Sir Forelli,” I returned, tearing up a bit myself.

He bent and lifted me up in his strong arms, carrying me so slowly toward the bed, I wondered if we’d ever make it there…He seemed to get a bit distracted with me kissing him the whole time. It was like I couldn’t get enough of him. When his knees finally met the edge, he tossed me, laughing, into the center of it and hurriedly chased me in, hovering over me, kissing, kissing, kissing…

And for the rest of the night, through fumbling and giggles, and missteps and awkwardness…

And fear and frustration…

And hope and desire…

Through moments that were so crazy, epically wrong…

And eventually, crazy, epically right…

I learned what it meant to be
his
, while my husband learned what it meant to be
hers

In the fullest sense of both words.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

~EVANGELIA~

 

The next morning, when I reached for my husband and found his side of the bed cold, I rose with a start. My first thought was that this was the curse of a Forelli bride—husbands always called to duty—but then I caught sight of him by the window, looking out. He was half-dressed, with only his leggings and shirt on, untucked, and he looked gloriously rumpled and handsome and
mine
.

I swung my legs out of bed and pulled the blanket around me, padding over to him across the cold stone floors, but feeling warm, through and through. He greeted me with a smile and welcomed me by opening an arm to pull me close. I nestled in, my cheek by his neck, and together we looked out at the lagoon, the first light of dawn casting a pink glow over the water.

“Good morning, Wife,” he whispered, kissing my temple.

“Good morning, Husband,” I said, tugging him close.

His hands roamed over my bare back and he turned his head in order to peer into my eyes. “How does the morning find you?”

“Better than any other,” I said, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “I’m Signora Forelli.”

“Yes, that you are,” he said with a grin, hugging me close. He turned to face me and kissed me, and my lips still felt a little swollen from all our kisses last night, but I didn’t mind.

“What time do we leave?” I asked, in between kisses.

“In but a few hours,” he said, closing his eyes, his lips moving lower, to my jaw, my neck.

“So we must see to packing, getting ready,” I said, closing my eyes at the sensations he was awaking.

“Indeed,” he said, gently pressing me back and back, toward the bed. “Just as soon as we properly greet the morning as man and wife…”

 

***

 

Three hours later, we emerged from our room, properly dressed and hair combed—with mine in a new, somewhat-matronly net, courtesy of the dogaressa—and the knights outside straightened. They gave me quick smiles and then clamped arms with Luca, apparently in silent congratulations, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Bedding a wife” was often the subject of much bawdy conversation in medieval Italy, especially among knights. Marcello and Luca had urged the knights in the castello more than once to keep from discussing it around we ladies, but comments often slipped into the stream of their teasing and story-telling.

I was only thankful that the Forellis’ prominence among Sienese society didn’t demand that they have a witness for the consummation of marriage—a horror I’d heard about once or twice. Just the thought of it made me blush. It was all so intimate anyway. But to have an audience? A shiver went down my back. Barbato had actually threatened Gabi with that when she tried to escape her marriage to Greco…

Out in the piazza, Ducale knights were hauling away a few people who had become so drunk, they’d fallen asleep in the streets. I winced as one, covered in his own vomit, tried to wrench away and ended up chest-to-chest with the knight. In disgust, the knight pulled back and struck him across the face, sending him reeling to the stones again. Luca moved between me and the sight, and gripped my arm.

“Come along,” he urged. “The air on board the ship shall refresh us all.”

There was a small crowd awaiting us at the docks, surrounding the doge and dogaressa, who both looked a bit weary after the festivities of last night. Servants stood behind them, holding huge umbrellas over them to shield them from the sun. But I couldn’t keep my eyes from the beautiful ship. Crates of supplies that my folks and the men had gathered while in Venezia were tied down on deck, creating a small mound. The puppies cried and yelped from one with slats.

“We have no more room belowdecks?” I asked.

“Not with all our trunks,” Luca returned. “This ship is the fastest Venezia’s yards have ever turned out, the finest of gifts to us, but she doesn’t carry much in terms of cargo.”

It was then that I saw her name, painted on the back.
Mare-Lupo
.
The Sea-Wolf.
I grinned and caught the eye of the doge, and he lifted a brow and gave me a proud nod. Together, Luca and I went to them, following Marcello and Gabi, Mom and Dad. In turn, we gave them our thanks and said our farewells.

“Return to my courts, as promised, with that babe,” the doge reminded Gabi and Marcello.

“Just as soon as the child is of age,” Marcello said carefully. “It will be our pleasure.”

The doge reached for his arm. “I will anticipate your return with good pleasure,” he said. “I’ll ban every Fiorentini in the city, if necessary.”

“That
might
be sufficient to keep our wives out of danger,” Marcello said with a wry grin.

“It’s a start,” Luca said under his breath to me. “Every city is better without Fiorentini about.”

The doge and dogaressa turned to us. “Thank you for allowing us to host your nuptials,” the doge said, kissing my hand and then covering it with his. “It was a delight to witness it.”

“Indeed,” added the dogaressa. “The city shall speak of nothing else for weeks.”

“You made it far more memorable than I could’ve ever imagined,” I said. “And the gift of this beautiful ship—it’s astonishing, truly.”

“The least we could do,” said the doge. “Return with Lord and Lady Forelli when they come to present their
daughter
to our court,” he added. His tone brooked no argument, but his face was benevolent and merry.

“We shall,” I said, with a curtsey.

“Go with God,” said the dogaressa. “May the winds be in your favor. And may your marriage be fruitful.”


Grazie mille
,” Luca said, bowing to kiss her hand. We turned to Caterina to say farewell, and afterward Luca helped me across the short, steep gangplank to our new ship, where my parents, Gabi and Marcello, and most of our knights awaited. Nicolo lo Grato, Caterina’s brother, stood at the helm, looking surprisingly un-hung-over. Had he changed his ways in light of this new duty as our ship’s captain?

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