Torrent (28 page)

“And what is that?” I asked flirtatiously, reaching up to touch his face and kiss his lips. “How long until I become yours, forever?”

He looked down at me with such intensity, I knew he totally wanted to kiss me again. “On the morrow,” he said.

I smiled. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Then I think I can wait one more night.”

He looked to the side, as if he was really wondering if he could wait too.

“But,” I dared in a whisper, “who would know if we didn’t?”

He stilled, but his eyes betrayed the weight of struggle that I felt inside. “God. And if it is He who has brought us together, should we not honor Him in this way?”

I considered him. The heat of him. The strength of him. The raw power of him, so close and yet so deliciously forbidden… “We should, m’lord.” But I couldn’t help it. I lifted my chin again, hoping he’d give in to at least one more kiss.

His mouth was so close to mine, I could feel every cool intake of breath and every hot exhale. He caved then, to my silent begging, kissing me, pulling me as close as he could—before he growled, stepped away, and took my hand, racing me up the stairs and down the hallway to my room.

He set me, dazed, in my doorway, my lips feeling swollen, my head fuzzy. Then he stepped away, hands up as if to fend me off. “On the morrow,” he said, almost angrily, as if I were disagreeing with him, “you shall be mine.”

I laughed under my breath. “You shall get no arguments from me, m’lord,” I said. It took everything in me not to step toward him, to entice him over the edge. I knew it wouldn’t be hard. It would only take one small, quiet, gentle kiss, right between his ear and jawline.…

I struggled against it. Against the pull of the power I now knew I wielded over him. Against the desire I felt within me.

But I couldn’t do that to him. To either of us. To our future.

We’d made a promise, and I didn’t want anything,
anything
to get in the way of that promise. I didn’t want our union to be less-than, tarnished, shadowed, robbed of its potential power.

And judging from what I’d just experienced, that was a whole lotta power indeed.

Chapter Twenty-five

Someone was in my bed.

I took hold of the covers and edged carefully, steadily away, then sprang to my feet, turning to face the intruder. The very last of the embers in the fireplace cast a dim glow over her profile.

Lia sleepily squinted at me through one eye and rose up on one elbow. “Chill, Gabs. It’s only me.”

“
Lia,
” I said, putting a hand over my hammering heart. “You shouldn’t do that to me!” I shivered in the frigid air and hopped back under the covers and stared at her. “What are you doing in here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, flopping onto her back and lacing her fingers under her head. “Nice ceiling.”

“Isn’t it? Marcello’s dad had it painted for his mother because she loved stars so much.”

“Mmm, that’s romantic.”

“Yes,” I agreed, lying down next to her, hands under my head too. It was almost as if we were out on a summer’s night, staring upward. Except the room was so cold my nose felt frosty. I tucked it under the covers. “So…you couldn’t sleep, so you decided to steal into my room and give me a heart attack.”

“Won’t have a chance to do it much after tonight, will I?”

Ahh, so that was what this was about.
She was worried. Feeling separated. Left behind. She hated that. And I understood a part of it, feared it too.

“It’s going to change between us, Gabs. With you getting married.”

“Maybe a little,” I said, glancing over at her. She was so beautiful. I loved the gentle slope of her nose, the tip of her chin. She looked more like a girl than woman when she fretted. “But nothing can ever come between sisters. Not even marriage. Not if we don’t let it. It might change a bit, but let’s look it as a bend in the river we’re riding on together. I’m on that river forever with you, little sis.”

She gave me a close-lipped smile and studied my hand. “No ring?”

“No ring,” I said. “I’m not even sure if they exchange rings. Have you noticed?”

“Maybe plain bands. Nothing else.”

I nodded. “That’s all right. I’m not a big rock kind of girl anyway.”

“Yes, you are,” she teased. “Total gold digger. We come to Toscana, and who’d you go and fall in love with? One of the richest dudes possible.”

“Well, there you have it. My secret’s out.” I paused and then looked over at her. “So, after tomorrow, I assume my life of luxury? Nothing but sitting around, watching on-demand movies and ordering Chinese?”

She giggled. And then stilled, working up to the question she obviously wanted to ask me. “Gabs, how do you know? Know that Marcello is the one?”

I shook my head. Yes, I knew without a doubt. Images flashed through my mind, and I found my voice again. “It helped to be at that altar in St. Peter’s, to be looking at Lord Greco, in a way.”

“Because you knew he
wasn’t
the one.”

“And because, just as much, I knew Marcello
was
. At that moment, even if you and the rest hadn’t arrived, I knew I would take a stand. Refuse anyone else, no matter how they threatened me. Because it was so wrong—” I shook my head again. “So different from what I know tomorrow will be—a promise, a hope. Life.” I looked over at her. “Marcello is far from perfect. I get that. But he’s perfect for me. Together we’re stronger. We want nothing but the best for each other. And surely, out of that, there has to be some sort of decent marriage.”

It was her turn to nod. “I think that’s what Mom and Dad have. That desire to do what’s right for the other.”

“Yes.” I decided it was what had kept them so focused on each other for all those years. It wasn’t just the romantic love they shared—it was how they lived life as partners
,
going-the-distance kind of partners. And knowing how I felt about Marcello, how everyone else kind of faded when he was in the room, I had just a taste of what my parents had been feeling for about twenty years.

For the first time I didn’t resent what they had together; I understood, appreciated it.

“What about you?” I asked, finding my breath again. “What are you thinking about Luca?”

She shifted, as if embarrassed. “I like him. A lot. But love? I don’t know if I’m ready to go there.”

“That’s all right,” I teased. “He’ll wait.”

She elbowed me in the side. “Stop it.”

“What? He’s crazy about you. You know that, right?”

“Right,” she said. “But what if he’s not the right one for me?”

“Then you’ll know that in time,” I forced myself to say. I couldn’t imagine anyone more awesome than him for her, but that was something she had to come to—I couldn’t make her see it.

“What if…I want out of here?” she asked. “Later, I mean? It’s kinda claustrophobic, like living on an island or something, living in this castle, so close to the border.”

I stilled even as my heartbeat picked up its pace. If she didn’t agree…If she was having second thoughts, I was sunk. “Lia…I thought…when we were talking…I thought you were sure.”

“I was. I am. I’m just…wow, it’s a lot to take in, though. Just tell me you wouldn’t freak if I wanted to leave Toscana at some point. Maybe head to Venezia, see what it’s like in the fourteenth century there. Give me some sort of break.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was talking about getting out of here. Not getting back to our time. “Yes,
totally
. Maybe I’ll even go with you.”

“Road trip!” she said with a giggle. “’Cept it will be by horse, and it’ll take a whole lot longer.”

I giggled with her. “Let’s do it. Get the guys to take us up there.”

“Mom and Dad would love that.”

“Okay, then. It’s a promise. We’ll convince them. No one can stand between the She-Wolves of Siena and what they want.” I raised my hand, and she took it again. “I love you, Lia. Thank you for doing this. For me.”

“Oh, Gabs. It’s for you. But I can’t help feeling like it’s for our family. Without this place we’d still be without Dad. And being together…we’re whole again. And more. With Luca and Marcello, you know.”

“I know.” I took a breath. “Now can I get some sleep? I’m supposed to be beautiful tomorrow. Not all white-faced with deep, purple circles under my eyes. You know. Bride material.”

“Right. Do you mind? Me staying with you this last night?”

I turned over to my side and rested our entwined hands on the flat of her belly. “Are you kidding?” I said, letting my heavy lids slip closed. “It’s perfect.”

“Gabs, come on. Something’s up,” Lia whispered.

I stirred, stretched, and squinted my eyes at her. “What?”

“I don’t know. You had better come quick, though. Marcello’s having a full-blown argument with Father Tomas in Fortino’s den.”

I sat up fast, waited for my tunnel vision to fade, then rose. Lia helped me slip on a gown and buttoned me up. I took a few swipes at my hair with a horsehair brush, wound it into a rough knot, and stuck a stick in it, and we raced down the hall, down the turret stairs, and over to the next corridor.

I heard them yelling as soon as we were through the hallway door. Or rather, Marcello yelling. “You cannot! I forbid it!” he said, pacing as we paused in the den door. It took me back a bit, to be in the room. Remembering Fortino in there too. I eyed the chessboard, the lambskin bound copy of Dante’s
Divine Comedy,
the swords on the wall.

“’Tis not your place to approve of my journey or not, m’lord,” Father Tomas said gently. Neither of them had seen us yet.

“It was my understanding that you would perform the wedding ceremony today,” Marcello said, bending toward him. “It was my understanding that you had agreed to assume the chaplaincy here.”

I sucked in my breath. Was that what this was all about? We’d be without a priest for the secret ceremony? I couldn’t imagine anyone but Tomas being the one to marry us.
But sheesh, talk about your overreaction…Marcello, ease up! This is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives!

Lia coughed, covering her mouth with a fist to let ’em know we were there.

“Surely we can figure out a solution,” I said, stepping forward. I moved to Marcello and took his hands. He distractedly kissed both my cheeks and then released me. Hardly the kind of warm reception I’d expected on the morning of our wedding. I shoved down my feelings of disappointment and tried to not get too angry. Was he so used to getting his own way that he was pouting? Furious at Tomas for thwarting his plans?

I glanced at the priest. “Tomas. What is it? Where are you off to? And must it be this day? Surely you can stay a few more hours…”

He stared at me and then glanced at Marcello, who was pacing back and forth across the floor, head down as if he could figure it out if he only tried hard enough—

It was then I knew that something else was going on. This was more than a little frustration over our plans. I thought back, remembered Tomas speaking to Lord Rabellino last night. “You discovered something,” I said softly.

Tomas stared at Marcello, and when Marcello said nothing, turned back to me. “’Tis Lord Greco.”

Lia came fully through the door then. “Lord Greco,” she repeated.

“Rodolfo, yes.”

“He’s taken the brunt of the blame,” Marcello said with a growl, lifting a hand in frustration. “Lord Barbato pinned our whole escape from Roma on him. Said he’s been a Sienese sympathizer from the start. Protected you. Protected Fortino. And ultimately let you go.” He took a few steps and stared at the high window, hand over his mouth. He looked over his shoulder at us. “He’s been stripped of everything. Title. Land. Thrown in prison. They’re bringing him here.”

“To us?” I asked, bracing.

“Nay, to the border. To Castello Paratore. They want him to be able to see us, the Sienese, and the Sienese to see him, when they impale him.”

“Impale him?” I asked numbly. “What does that mean?”

Marcello closed his eyes and rubbed all ten fingers into his forehead, pressing inward. “The worst form of execution, borrowed from the Ottomans. They take a pointed pole…” He shook his head, as if the mere thought of it pained him and he could not bear to tell us more. He threw his hands out, fingers splayed. “It’s reserved for traitors, the worst sort of traitors, and has been used recently by our old friend Lord Paratore, who seems to delight in it. But Rodolfo shall suffer for days before he dies.”

“But…but,” I said, sitting heavily in the closest chair. “’Tis not how the Rossis were executed, right? Were they not accused of similar crimes?”

“Nay, because the Sienese are civil. Not barbarians,” he cried, throwing his hands out again. I knew he wasn’t angry with me.

“And you—you think you can stop it?” I asked Tomas.

“Nay,” he said sadly. “I must go to him to receive his last confession, to be his friend.”

“Which is, in effect, signing his own death sentence,” Marcello spat out angrily, gesturing toward Tomas. “He knows as well as I that the Fiorentini will tie him to you, to us. Saints above! The last time they saw him in Roma, who was hauling him away? Lady Gabriella Betarrini. They’ll impale him beside Rodolfo!”

I stared hard at Tomas. “Why?” I asked in confusion. “Why would you give your life just to see him?”

“Because he has done far more for me,” Tomas said steadily. “He is a friend. A brother.”

Marcello let out a sound of exasperation. “Show her. Get it over with!”

Tomas sighed and rolled up the brown sleeve of his robe to show me the triangular tattoo at his elbow.

I let out a soft breath. “Oh.” Now it made sense. Him leaving Rodolfo, coming after me. Watching out for me—because I was Marcello’s intended as well as Rodolfo’s friend. Rodolfo protecting him, giving him a job as chaplain, regardless of his status within the church.

“What’s that?” Lia whispered.

I ignored her. “How many are there?” I asked. “How many more?”

“A fair number,” Marcello hedged.

“Have you called on them before?” I pressed.

“Only Rodolfo. And now Tomas, in a fashion.”