The Angel of Soriano: A Renaissance Romance (2 page)

His eyes studied her lips as she spoke and locked her in his gaze. When she squirmed, the intensity too much to endure, he moaned.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” She tried to lift off his legs and scoot onto the floor.

“No apologies. Just a moment.” His large hands surrounded her hips, then he shifted her off his lap and onto his thighs.

Is that a blush on the tops of his masculine cheeks?
When she glanced down, he pulled down his tunic, too late to hide his lust.

Good heavens, the lump was very large.

She tried to rise. “Perhaps I should stand?”

Again his hands shot to her sides, this time holding her in place. “I shall struggle to endure. So what happened after Cardinal Nardini died?”

“For a while, I lived with my Uncle Pino and Aunt Mia, not really relatives but very close friends. They live on the border between Vignanello and Soriano. They minister to the sick for miles around. You’ve surely heard of them, no?”

He shook his head. “I’ve only lived up north for a short while. My home is in Spain.”

“Well I must tell you, should you ever need a remedy, they’re the ones to see. They’ve the greatest collection of herbs in the whole peninsula.”

By his dark expression, the infuriating man still didn’t believe her. Just once, she needed someone to have faith in her. One finger at a time, she counted off the books she owned. “De Materia Medica, Arderne’s Medical Treatises, Medic...Have you heard of any of these?”

The corner of one side of his mouth lifted. “You’re serious. Aren’t you?”

“Si. Si. Si. It’s not amusing. If I don’t travel with my father, our livelihood would be at an end. He doesn’t know a baby’s bottom rash from the plague.”

An eyebrow lifted. “So you’re the one writing the book on Roman Fever? Extraordinary.”

“Not so much when you think about it. In all of God’s kingdom, the male species is not more intelligent than the female. Have you ever thought upon that?”

Laughing, he shook his head, no.

“’Tis no jest. In fact, I’ve read, for some animals, the female is much more cunning. She must be in order to care for the young when the male leaves.”

“I firmly believe you.” His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“About the animals or being the doctor.”

“Both.”

For a moment her heart stopped and she added, “But you must not tell anyone.”

“Who would believe me?” A warm chuckle escaped from deep within his chest.

His mood was catching so she grinned back. “No one except maybe Borgia. He’s the only one who has paid me any mind. I’ve no idea what he wants.”

“Don’t you?” His dark eyes became even darker and his hands roamed up and down her sides. He slid a finger up her wide sleeves to her elbows causing goose bumps all over her body.

Could a woman faint from a man’s touch? From his breath on her face? From wondering what might happen next?

Mouth dry, she whispered, “But he already has the most beautiful women in Rome.”

“No. He doesn’t have you.” His lips moved in closer as if ready for a kiss.

She almost backed away but stopped. Today she’d all but offered her virginity to Borgia so as to save the Carvajal family and hers. Certainly, compared to that, a kiss was nothing. Not knowing what to expect she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

That’s it?
A bit disappointed, she drew back.

His eyes crinkled on the sides and the corners of his lips curled up. “Would you like me to kiss you back?”

“I’m not sure. That was hardly something to write poetry about.”

He tucked a finger under her chin. “That wasn’t a kiss. That’s why.”

No doubt her face showed a bit of disappointment. Her first kiss should’ve been one of the most magical moments of her life. “Our lips pressed together, so I believe that it signifies.”

“You’re too amusing. It doesn’t signify. One must do it correctly.” The black centers of his eyes enlarged and he moved his face in closer to hers.

“There are rules?” She touched a fingertip to his soft lips.

“Indeed there are.” His head lowered, a dark lock fell over one eye, and his breath warmed her face.

“Is there a book? Perhaps I should read—”

In one swift move, he locked her chin in his fingers and covered her lips with his mouth. His other arm tugged her tightly into his chest. With heart beating as wildly as hers, he devoured her, repeatedly nipping and caressing.

When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, the delight was beyond compare. A moan escaped from her and then a similar sound from him. Slow and wonderful heat built up until her whole body tingled. Not fully aware, she reached around the back of his head and dug her fingertips into his scalp, capturing him.

His tongue played in and out of her willing mouth, fervor growing. Suddenly, he groaned as if in great pain, pushed her away, and gasped.

“Scusami.” He stared at her, eyes wide as if in shock.

“Please don’t stop. It was wonderful. Truly delightful. I had no idea...Can we do more while we wait?”

Shaking his head, he went to his knees, stood, and helped her up. No small feat in the tiny space.

Her heart saddened. Perhaps he felt nothing? “I still didn’t do it right, did I?”

He cursed under his breath with brows creased, then peered out the hole into the vestibule of the church. “It’ll be dark soon. We should go.”

“Are you angry with me, Signore Carvajal?” What an odd man. One minute he was full of lust, the next moment, he pushed her away.

“I’m angry with myself. And under the circumstances, you should call me Bernardo.”

“You’re angry because we kissed? That hardly seems justified.” She’d hoped to learn more of what he offered her.

“No, Aurelia. For doing it so well. No more discussion on the subject. It’s time to go. Can you climb?”

“Certainly, I can.” With a huff, she led him up onto the roof of the small church.

The next step was much more challenging, requiring her to lift her skirts and get a running start. She jumped to the next roof, then swung down from an iron bar and dropped into the alley below.

In a moment, he was beside her, muttering and cursing that she shouldn’t be so damn good at this. Then, as if lovers, he tucked her under an arm and traversed the dangerous streets of Rome with his sword drawn.

When they emerged, bright torches lit the streets of finer homes, and he knocked on a red door. Inside, a young man, not even twenty, embraced Bernardo.

He was so similar in looks that he must be the relative he spoke of. “What took you so long?”

“We hid until the streets cleared. Can you get her out of Rome?”

The man nodded while eyeing her head to toe. “I’ll see to it.”

There she stood, aching to kiss him, so he’d never forget her. Instead she curtsied most politely. “Grazie, Don Carvajal.”

He turned on a heel and was out the door and into the dark streets without another word.

She sighed heavily. No doubt, she’d never see him again.

Aurelia’s heart leapt when Bernardo whistled a familiar tune outside her wall. She raced from where she pulled weeds in the garden to the second floor of her father’s stone fortress. Waiting, she leaned out the window. Soon he and Fulvio would emerge from the long rows of hazelnut trees as they’d done many times in the last month.

“Papa, please. Let them in. What harm could it do?” She prayed today would be different.

Her father, however, stood in the arch of their thick wall, aiming a matchlock weapon. Thankfully, she was quite certain that he hadn’t yet learned how to load it.

He waved it about in the air. “It’s all that Spaniard’s fault that you can no longer aid me with my remedies.”

“How can you say that? He’s the one who saved me from Borgia.”

Truly, her father got more unreasonable every day. This evening was worse than most. He’d come home after visiting a patient and poured cup after cup of their best wine until he could barely walk.

“Think, Aurelia! Dideco is warden of Soriano, subservient to Borgia. The same Borgia who stole everything from the Nardinis. The Borgia that impoverished our family and caused your mother to leave us. Tell his minion to stay back.”

He clicked the gun’s pin when her two callers came into view and when nothing happened, stared down into the barrel.

“Put that weapon down this instant, and by the cross of Christ, do
not
look into it!”

She exhaled when her father did as asked and then said, “There’s no proof to support any of those allegations, Papa. Pierpaolo has taken all that to the pope and yet Borgia has been exonerated.”

He strode into the house, grumbling. “Who now lives in the house that should’ve been ours upon Cardinal Nardini’s death?”

“I know. I know. Borgia.”

Musket balls dropped like rain and rolled across the floor followed by extensive cursing. Thank God she’d exchanged the black powder with ground nutmeg and sand.

He must’ve figured out how to light the match cord, however, because the scent filled the whole house. “Who now lays claim to everything Nardini?”

She used the same argument that she’d used for years. “How can you be sure that Great Uncle Nardini didn’t leave his wealth to the church? He was a very pious man.”

As they argued, the handsome Carvajal appeared out of the copse of trees.

“Buona sera! Good evening.” He grinned from atop his black mount, waved, and threw her a kiss.

Fulvio laughed and did the same. Sometime she wondered which of the two men was courting her.

Her insides fluttered as she waved her favorite blue scarf out the window. If only they could have a few moments together. Perhaps even share a kiss.

Instead, her father ranted on. “I saw the will, Aurelia. The
real
will when we were in Rome last season. Not the one that Borgia claims he found next to my beloved uncle’s death bed.
Not
the one where everything was bequeathed to the church. Thank God,
I
was smart enough to take what I did, when I did, or we would’ve been left homeless and you without a dowry.”

An exasperated sigh burst out of her. “Si. Si. Papa. But the Spaniard out there? Bernardo Carvajal? He’s got nothing to do with all of that. I just want to thank him for saving me. Should we not be that gracious? This is the third time this week he’s approached.”

Her father stomped back out into their small courtyard waving the lit but useless pistol. “The Nardinis will never again mix with Borgia or his Spanish vassals.”

“Si, Papa.” Totally defeated, she kissed the silk scarf and let it fly away into the wind. At this rate, she’d have none left.”

Bernardo caught it midair and put it to his lips.
Would that I were the silk that touched his mouth.
Tears welled in her eyes. With no one to speak to but her drunken father, life had recently become unbearable.

Suddenly in the distance, horse hooves pounded. When she realized the growing noise was a group of armed men heading down their street, she shouted from the window, “Mother of God!”

Tucking the scarf into his shirt, Bernardo drew his sword and raced forward. “Open the gate, Aurelia.”

She ran out to the front door, pushed her father aside, and cranked on the pulley’s handle. As soon as Fulvio cleared the iron prongs, she let go of the rope and the gate clanked down.

Bernardo jumped off his horse, gave her a quick hug, and then pushed her toward the keep. “Hide.”

Not very likely.
She grabbed her father’s sword that hung over the hearth and rushed back into the courtyard.

Outside her walls, irate men barked out their demands. “Hand over the doctor. We have no quarrel with you, Spaniard.”

“State your issue.” Bernardo grimaced and gripped his sword tighter.

She inched further into the yard so as to see through the iron bars where angry men circled around her estate.

Just beyond the lowered gate, a merchant wearing embroidered red doublet and sitting atop a gray charger pointed his sword at her father. “He killed my brother. I prepared the remedy he gave me. My brother frothed at the lips, keeled over, and was no more.”

Aurelia moaned. This was all her fault. She should’ve never let her father go out without her. She’d written everything into a book for him. What could’ve gone so wrong?

Her father paled and stared out, stunned into inaction. “I swear I left him alive and well.”

“Go inside, Papa. Here’s your sword. Give me that useless thing.” After the exchange, she dashed up to her chambers, shaking violently.

The merchant pulled off his feathered hat and waved it in the air. “No more talk. Kill them all.”

Despite her rapidly beating heart, it took her just a few minutes to load the weapon with the powder she’d hidden and run back outside.

“Do you ever obey?” Glaring, Bernardo strode to her side when she exited the building.

“Only when it makes sense.” She jutted out her chin, but at his horse’s nudging, backed up to the wall, and sat down.

Then there was no more time to argue. Heart still racing, she watched as colorful caps appeared above the stone wall. Then arms and hose reached over the top and dropped into her courtyard. Bracing the lit weapon between her knees, she pointed and when one of the intruders lifted his sharp steel over her head, she fired. He fell back, stunned, then a spreading dark hole appeared in his doublet.

Disregarding the bile in her throat, the clanking of metal and the smell of black powder, she reloaded.
Powder. Ball. Rag. Tamp. Point.

In the courtyard, Bernardo and Fulvio dismounted. Back to back, they bashed their swords at the remaining men with her useless father in the middle. Two more soon lay upon the ground, bloody. But her men were outnumbered, three against seven.

Thumb resting on the firing pin, she aimed, hoping for someone to come close enough to kill.

Her Spaniard twisted his metal expertly and his attacker’s sword flew into the air. A lightening palm to the attacker’s throat and the man fell choking. Then Bernardo’s left hand grabbed a stiletto, he spun, and stabbed at another’s midsection.

Fulvio kicked at the groin of an assassin who screamed as his neck was sliced in two. She’d never witnessed any such fighting and prayed never to again. Swords, elbows, kicks, and grunts. Her two heroes felled one man after another but their movements began to slow and the two now fought against five.

When her father tried to enter the fight, Fulvio and Bernardo protected him.

One man sliced horizontally, Bernardo twisted, but the edge drew blood from his waist. She couldn’t help but scream, fearing as it came out that he’d be distracted.

Another raised a weapon over his head, ready to kill the only man she’d ever cared for.

Then without any warning, her father rushed forward and fell onto his sword as he bashed the top of his head into the man about to kill Bernardo. Blood gushed everywhere.

“Oh, Papa, no.” She stood and rushed to the middle of the melee. There, she fell onto her knees. Pistol shaking in her hands, she pointed it, daring anyone to come closer.

Swords lowered and men glared, but the fighting stopped. Then the leader of the attacking merchants approached, spat upon her father, and sheathed his sword.

She quickly wiped it off. “Papa?”

Blood gurgled out of his mouth and with a final shudder, he left her. The pungent scent of urine followed and warm fluids soaked her knees.

A voice that had to be hers keened, “Nooo.”

“Best I never see you again,
friend
.” The leader of the intruders glared at Bernardo.

“Best you take your men and go.” Clenching his sword, her Spaniard seemed as if he might continue to fight, but Fulvio stepped between them.

With that, the murderers filed out of the courtyard, dragging bodies with them.

One with gray hair, dressed in black doublet, stopped. Sweat and drops of blood stained his white shirt. “You are a Carvajal of Soriano?”

Bernardo nodded, eyes wary, and mouth grim.

The merchant shook his head slowly and gazed down at her. “If you want to keep the peace between our villages, best you take her to Vignanello. The Earl, Pierpaolo Nardini, will want her.”

“I’m taking her home with me.” Her Spaniard’s jaw clenched and his neck pulsed.

She heaved out a sigh of relief, he would take her with him.

“Pierpaolo has no love of your family, although he hides it well. You cannot keep her.” The assassin stopped at her father’s body and made a sign of the cross. “I truly am sorry for your loss, Signorina, but it had to be done.”

She stared uncomprehending. Had to be done?
This cannot be happening. Oh Papa, wake up.

Bernardo led the man out of the gate. The same gate, where moments before, her father had stood very much alive. Now his life’s fluids pooled around him, soaking the ground. If she’d only gone with him this morning, none of this would’ve taken place. His death was all her fault. Tears dripped down her cheek.

With gentle hands, Bernardo lifted her to stand, led her away from her beloved father’s body, and then kissed her forehead. “I must take you to Vignanello.”

“Please, no. I wish to stay here.” She would beg, if need be.

He tucked her chin, dark eyes creased in concern. “Gather up what is most important to you. I fear they may return to take compensation.”

Fulvio shouted from upstairs in her chambers. “It’s true. They wait close by.”

She grabbed a few dresses and put them into a sack. Almost as an afterthought, she knelt at the hearth and removed a loose brick to find her one true possession. Memories flooded and she was taken back five years ago, to the day Cardinal Nardini died and her mother abandoned her. Once the will was read, her parents argued for hours.

“I will not live in poverty.” Intricately embroidered silk skirts whooshed as her beautiful young mother paced the palace hall where they lived in Naples.

Papa’s eyes were wet and his voice cracked. “I can see to your welfare.”

“You?” Her mother’s lovely face scrunched up with scorn and Aurelia had cringed. “I’ll marry my lover and annul our marriage. You won’t object. That’s the least you can do.”

“But what of Aurelia?” Her father fell to his knees and took his wife’s hand in his.

She pulled out of his grasp. Then her mother’s harsh words and hard tone had broken Aurelia’s young heart, “Well, I certainly cannot take her.”

“But if you annul our marriage, you declare her outcast. She cannot marry. You have doomed her future.”

“And if I don’t, she won’t eat. Which do you prefer, Giuseppe?”

After that, Aurelia’s memories all blurred together. With no dowry, her engagement to a prominent Orsini was broken off. All of her belongings were sold and her mother left court without even saying goodbye. Papa, a broken man, was her only friend.

“Aurelia?” Bernardo’s concerned voice brought her back to the present.

She pulled the parchment out from its hiding place and replaced the brick. It was supposed to be her dowry. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. Papa was gone forever. Weeping wouldn’t bring him back.

Taking her elbow, her Spaniard led her out into the courtyard where Fulvio already stood waiting, reins in hand. Her father’s body lay over their donkey, hands tied to feet under the beast.

She gave Fulvio a hug, “Thank you.”

“He died for you. A brave man.” Bernardo lifted her onto his black charger.

“No. A very, very stupid man.” She stared down. “How could someone argue Aquinas and Plato so well, and yet forget the simplest of instructions?”

Fulvio shook his head with pity and she allowed herself just one moment of despair. Unwed, yet desired by Borgia and her only male protector, a relative she’d never met.

Bernardo mounted behind her and hugged her back to him. “I vow, fair angel, I’ll see to it that you’re well cared for.”