Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (50 page)

"Please take me to them," she said softly.

"Of course." He smiled at her, his gaze warm. But suddenly his
eyes went wide, staring in a kind of horror. A trickle of blood seeped from his
mouth to dribble toward his chin. His knees buckled, and he pitched forward to
fall facedown at her feet. The back of his shirt was soaked with blood.

Nicoletta found herself staring at Vincente's smiling face. The sight of his
evil smirk made her blood run cold. His fingers settled around her throat, and
he backed her into the master bedroom, his body crowding close to hers. "I
have a loyal following, you see. They believe in me; they realize I was meant
to rule. I know Giovanni thinks Austria will receive our country graciously in
the new agreement with Spain—a marriage of convenience so to speak—and he has
been working toward that end. But I disagree with Gino's thinking, and I plan
to be in power not just over Scarletti lands but over all of our country."
His fingers tightened on her throat, threatening to cut off her air. "My
guards wait outside for your husband, so we will… rest here together."

Nicoletta's dark eyes moved over his face with contempt. "You can never
take Giovanni's place. Not as a ruler, and certainly not with me."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really? I know more ways to pleasure a woman—or
hurt her—than you have ever dreamed. We will see." But abruptly he let go
of her, dropping his hands from her bruised skin.

She took two steps away from him, backing toward the marble wall, toward the
entrance to the passageway. "You have forgotten the most important thing of
all, Vincente. You have forgotten the curse on your
famiglia."
She
smiled at him sweetly, confidently. Deep within her a new confidence surged.
This monster no longer frightened her. She was in the palazzo. Her home. And
she had finally realized the tremendous gift she shared with her husband. She
had only to think of what was wrong, only to shout a warning in her mind, and
the strong bond between her and her husband would take care of the rest.
Giovanni would always be there, just a thought away, surrounding her with his
love and protection.

"What are you talking about?" Vincente's voice was a whip of
contempt.

"You were the one who told me of the curse. The downfall of Scarletti
men is always a woman. I am Giovanni Scarletti's woman, not yours. If I am a
curse to someone, do you wish it to be you? Because I will never be a curse to
him." She stepped aside, well away from the passageway entrance as the
crack in the wall widened and her husband launched himself straight at his
youngest brother.

Vincente had no time to react. He fell backward from the force of the blow.
Giovanni wounded though he was, subdued the monster as, outside the room,
Giovanni's soldiers overcame those in Vincente's pay.

Giovanni took his brother out into the corridor, and when his soldiers
escorted the prisoner to the tower, Vincente slammed his body into a guard,
attempting to push him over the ledge. Instead, the guard stumbled aside, and
Vincente Scarletti hurtled himself from the very walkway where he had destroyed
so many others.

Giovanni stepped into the long, wide corridor. He was utterly weary, tired
to the bone. His side ached where Aljandro's stiletto had slid into his
muscles, but more than his flesh, his soul ached. Delving deeply into his
once-loved brother's affairs had been much like immersing himself in evil. His
brother had even kept a journal of his deeds, somehow believing, in his
illness, that he was doing his duty for the Scarletti heirs to come. At last
the sun had set, and he could make his sorrowful way to his bedchamber. To his
wife.

Nicoletta. She was a breath of fresh air in the palazzo, working miracles
with her sunny smile, with her personality alone. She laughed with Maria Pia
and Beatrice and their little charge, Sophie, offering comfort and love. She
drew Nonno into her circle of light until even the servants began smiling at
him. She was often in Margerita's room, talking with her, encouraging her,
offering solace and friendship. She reached out to Dominic's family, giving aid
and comfort as she could. She was the healer, watching over the young injured
soldier, Goeboli, hiding in the palazzo, and, of course, her husband. Nicoletta
tended his wounds very, very carefully.

Giovanni did not remember what he had ever done without her. She was a calming
influence, yet his barefoot bride also brought laughter into the palazzo. He
needed her tonight after the ugly discoveries he had made. He needed her love
of life, her energy. He needed the solace of her body.

He pushed open the door of their room. It was empty, as he had expected it
to be. She was most likely calming Sophie's nightmares or doing a last
inspection of the young Goeboli before she came to bed. Sighing softly with
regret, Giovanni was halfway to the enormous bedstead, peeling off his shirt,
when he noticed the door to the bath partially open. He stood still for a
moment, his fingers massaging the nape of his neck in an attempt to ease his
tight muscles. Drawing off his boots, he allowed them to drop to the floor
before he padded across the room to the bath, his feet bare on the smooth
tiles.

Nicoletta was lying on her stomach on the marble beside the pool, trailing
her fingers in the water. Candlelight flickered and danced over her bare skin,
her long legs drawing attention to the curve of her bottom. Her hair fell in a
cascade of blue-black silk over one bare shoulder. She took his breath away
with her beauty.

He made a sound in his throat, his black eyes fixed on her like a predator's
on prey. She glanced over her shoulder, saw the hunger in his eyes, and smiled
an enticement. "I was hoping you would join me. I have been lying here
thinking about you." She turned slightly, just enough that he caught a
glimpse of her full breasts beckoning him.

"What were you thinking?" His body was already reacting to the
sight of her gleaming skin, her rounded curves, the inviting dimples at the
small of her back. He was hard and thick with need, a painful ache at the
sensuous invitation of her naked body. His breeches were all at once extremely
confining.

Her gaze moved over his masculine frame to settle thoughtfully on his rigid
thickness. "I was thinking how much I like the way you touch me." Her
hand drifted down her own body, calling attention to the swell of her breasts,
her narrow waist, the curve of her hips. "How good your mouth feels on my
skin. How much I like my mouth on your skin." She turned back to settle
down, her fingers playing absently in the water, her eyes closing. "It is
so wonderful here in this room, Giovanni, the two of us locked away from the
rest of the world."

Giovanni murmured his agreement even as he kicked aside his breeches. He
walked down the steps into the hot water, which licked at his skin like a
thousand tongues, cleansing him, and he stood beside her, his hands finding her
ankle, her beautiful calf. She had already bathed, and she smelled clean and
fresh. He bent his head to taste the small droplets on the back of her knee.
His teeth teased her gently, moving steadily upward to her thighs. His hands
stroked caresses over her legs, inch by slow inch.

Nicoletta stirred, sighing contentedly. "Do you miss me the way I miss
you when you are gone?" Her voice was soft, seeping into his pores,
soaking into his heart.

His tongue swirled behind her knee. "I miss you so much, I ache for
you." His breath was warm, teasing her sensitive skin. "I think of
you when I should be working." His fingers delved into hidden shadows. His
teeth nipped gently at her skin. His hands shaped the curve of her hips. He
pulled himself out of the water to blanket her body with his, his mouth finding
those intriguing little dimples in the small of her back. He pressed against
her, taking his time while he explored the firmness of her derriere, trailing
kisses, lazily swirling his tongue in each hollow and secret feminine recess.

"Really?" Nicoletta laughed softly, lifting her hips to push back
against him, enjoying the feel of him so thick and hard and wanting her.
"What are you thinking about right now?"

He turned her over, his gaze hot and hungry. "I am thinking that
claiming my rights from your
villaggio
was the best decision I ever
made." He bent his head to her breasts, his hands moving possessively over
her. His tongue bathed the faint bruise there, gentle and soothing.

"I am thinking you are right, Giovanni." Nicoletta closed her
eyes, arching into the heat of his mouth, burying her fists in his hair to hold
him to her. "I want you. I have waited all day for you."

He lifted his head to study her face. "
All
day?"

She nodded mutely, watching him. Beneath him, her legs moved restlessly, her
hips pushing at him. "All day I thought only of you."

"You make me happy as no other could, saying that simple thing to your
husband," he said softly, slipping back into the water and pulling her to
the edge of the pool so that he could put her long legs on his shoulders.
"You take away my every burden, Nicoletta." His hands stroked her
thighs and pulled her even closer.

Nicoletta's entire body clenched in anticipation. His breath was warm on her
skin. His hair brushed like wet silk on her inner thighs. He kissed her wet,
tight curls, his tongue stroking a lingering caress to taste her before he
inserted two fingers into her tight core, pushing deeply just for the pleasure
of her response.

"Yes,
bambina,
that is what I need. You, hot and ready for
me." He pulled her to his seeking mouth, delivering a wild assault of
sheer pleasure.

Nicoletta cried out, throwing her head back, her hips bucking out of
control, so ready for him she was nearly in tears. Her fingers clutched his
hair, holding him to her even as the intensity mounted to heights she wasn't
certain she would survive. She had been afraid she would never be able to bed
Giovanni again without the distaste of Vincente's perversions in her mind, but
she should have trusted her husband more. He made certain he drove out every
demon, every fear, until only he remained, his hands and his mouth and his
soft, whispered endearments.

"
Ti amo,"
she said softly, meaning it. The words were
embedded in her soul for all time.

He sank beneath the warm waters, then resurfaced, droplets pouring off him,
his black hair streaming, the water running from his skin as he levered himself
easily from the pool. His eyes were fiercely possessive, hot with desire. He
caught her up in his arms and carried her straight to their enormous bed.

"We are very wet," she reminded him, laughing softly at his newly
impulsive, playful ways. "We will soak the coverlets."

Giovanni followed her right down to those coverlets. "We have many beds
and many coverlets in the palazzo," he reminded her, pressing against her
aggressively. "In any case, it will not matter. We will need no blankets,
as I intend to keep you busy—perhaps making a
bambino
—all night."
He thrust into her, watching her as he welded them together.
"Quando
sei bella. Ti amo."

He breathed the words—
How beautiful you are. I love you.
—and he meant
them. He loved her with every breath in his body, with his entire heart and
soul. She knew the way to break the curse, and he was man enough and loved her
enough that he would follow her advice and trust it would be so. He wanted her
soul soaring with his, and he wanted to feel her belly swollen with his child.
A child who would know love and laughter, not endless losses, wonderment, not
evil whispers. The Scarletti curse, he vowed, would live no more.

Nicoletta watched her husband's face, watched the shadows disappear, watched
joy replace fatigue. She moved with him, arching into him, so they came
together in fiery friction, so that she could feel him thicken even more deeply
within her. She could hear his breath come in gasps before he spilled his seed
within her. She loved the way he loved her.

And he was right: She never noticed the water soaking the coverlet, and the
don and his bride did, that night, make their first happy, healthy
bambino.