The night wind whispered around them. The fog muffled the other night sounds, its veils of white weaving in and out of the trees. Nicoletta's dark eyes searched his face carefully. "Have I done that for you? Have I given you peace, Giovanni?"
He trailed his fingers down her soft skin, over the creamy swell of her breasts. "More than enough to last a lifetime. I thought your body would give me solace--a selfish thought, really--but you also light up my home, so my people smile now. I have heard singing and laughter where there was once only silence." He bent to kiss her lips, gently, tenderly. "You have changed my life, piccola, and I long to feel mio bambino growing in your belly." His fingers spread wide as if already holding the child beneath his palm. "The day cannot pass fast enough so that I can get to our bedchamber where you are waiting for me." His hand slipped lower to the tangle of dark, moist curls, pressing to feel the hot dampness. Giovanni's breath escaped in a long sigh of contentment. "I look into the coming years and know it will always be this way. The instant I see you, feel your body, touch you, I will want you again and again. It will never matter that we have just made love. I will grow hard and thick and heavy with my need."
He slid two fingers into her tight channel and felt the instant rush of damp heat that welcomed him. He bent his head to the waiting tip of her breast, his mouth suckling, his fingers gliding in and out of her until her muscles clenched with fiery need. Catching up his shirt, he placed it on the fallen log and then lifted her easily, backing her up until her bottom rested on the shirt. He took her feet, carefully placing them near the log so she was open and vulnerable to his invasion.
"Again?" Nicoletta's breath was coming in gasps. "You want me again?" She had to brace herself with her arms.
"So much that I am going up in flames, cara." He caught her to him, pinning her hips so he could thrust forward, bury himself deep.
This time she could see his face, the lines etched deep, the hot intensity in his eyes, their bodies coming together in a dance of passion and heat. She moved with him, finding his rhythm, urging him to longer, deeper strokes, wanting to take him so deep he would find shelter in her soul. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing tightly against him, so he was rocking into her, so they were one.
Nicoletta watched his face, his every expression, the shadows, the joy, each nuance. She wanted his pleasure to be every bit as intense as her own. He was very giving, ensuring her fulfillment before his own, taking care, no matter how strongly he surged into her, no matter how violent his passion, that his hands were gentle and she suffered no discomfort other than the torment of the building fire within. Of the coiling heat winding tighter and tighter until she exploded with it, taking him with her.
Nicoletta stared up at him, astonished by the magnitude of their joining. He was a man of great power, of enormous strength, and yet he was always so tender with her. His expertise never made her feel inadequate. She found herself smiling up at him. "I think I need to sleep, Giovanni. Right here, right now. You've worn me out."
He gathered her to him, and her feet touched the ground, something real and solid. His strong body was still trembling, his heart beating loud and strong beneath her ear. "You want to sleep out here? Under the stars? I would not want you to take ill." The fog brought with it the salt mist from the ocean.
She nestled against him. "I am with you. Nothing can harm me."
Chapter Eighteen
Nicoletta looked around her, searching for her clothes. The fine sea spray was clinging to her hair, curling it into long spirals around her shoulders. "Do you ever get tired of being the don?" she asked. "So many petitioners coming to you with their problems, expecting you to solve everything to their satisfaction?" She tilted her head to one side, her hair sliding over her breasts. "And how is it you became the don at so young an age? What happened to your padre?" She preferred he tell her everything here in the open, with the sound of the waves crashing to shore and the wind carrying his words out to sea.
Giovanni raked a hand through his black hair, his gaze all at once wary. "Nonno became quite ill, a terrible fever. We did not expect him to recover. The mantle of leadership fell to mio padre. Even though Nonno was ill and near death, there were things he refused to tell mio padre about the running of our lands. I think he knew Padre was..." He searched for the right words. "Not up to the demands of such a position. Nonno had a difficult and long recovery, and he remained quite weak. But it soon became clear that my father could not continue leading our people. There were... incidents. He made enemies and neglected his duties in his constant pursuit of women. Our people and estates, the lands, were being ruined at a shameful rate. It could not continue. There was also talk that he was selling out our allies." He glanced down at his hands. "Mio padre was assassinated. I never found out who ordered it, though I tried. I know other dons were concerned that my father was aiding our enemies, and I know Nonno feared such a thing would happen. Mio padre was buried quietly, and as Nonno had never sufficiently recovered, I assumed leadership." He left it unspoken that most of their people believed his grandfather had murdered his own wife.
Nicoletta found her blouse and held it to her for a moment, thankful she had grown up in the villaggio, free from so much deadly intrigue. "I am most happy that you chose me to be your bride, Giovanni. I hope I always take the shadows from your eyes."
He went to her immediately, his arms dragging her close, his mouth finding hers. His hands moved over her bare back, shaping her narrow ribcage, then gliding upward to cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples, already hard peaks in the cold night air. "I am most happy I looked upon you and recognized you immediately. You were meant for me. I knew you were. I feel it in my heart."
Nicoletta nearly dropped her blouse, holding him to her, cradling his head to her, her fingers in his hair. "I feel it, too." She held him close, offering comfort until he reached to kiss her gently before reluctantly letting her go.
She pulled her blouse over her head, sliding her arms into the sleeves, determined to bring a smile back to his face. "Look at how perfect it is out here, quiet, lots of space to run free." She stepped into her skirt, tilting her head back, looking like a wild siren. "I love it up here."
Giovanni dressed slowly, watching her as she danced around the trees, her soft laughter a whisper of invitation.
Nicoletta looked at him over her shoulder, provocative, sexy. She saw he was smiling. He looked younger, more carefree than she had ever seen him.
"My barefoot wife," he said softly, and he went to his horse to pull a ground sheet from his pack. "If you want to spend a little more time alone here with me, who am I to say no to you? We can rest for a short time. We are not far from the palazzo."
"Not here, Giovanni," Nicoletta said. "Up on the cliffs above the sea. It is so beautiful there at night. We can watch the waves and look for the sea lights that sometimes shine deep under the water. They look like silver nets below the surface. Have you ever seen them?"
Don Scarletti nodded as he followed her up the narrow path toward the cliffs overlooking the sandy cove where his cousin and associate had attacked him. It had been a long while since he had shirked his duties and taken a few hours for himself. He had a new bride; it seemed little enough to ask to sit with her, just the two of them, watching the sea. He spread the cover on the ground and took her hand, helping her to settle. He sat close to her, pulling her into his arms.
Nicoletta snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest. She was drowsy, her body sated and deliciously sore. She curled her fingers in his. "I had a happy childhood, Giovanni. I lost mio padre before I knew him, so I was not sad. The time I had with mia madre was wonderful. She made life an adventure. She was always laughing and singing, and other children flocked to her. I was devastated when she and my zia, her sister, died, but Maria Pia was there, and she allowed me my freedom, and she loved me with all her heart. She never made me feel different. She made me feel special. She said I had gifts from God."
 
; His hand found her hair and tangled there. "Now you make young Sophie and Ketsia feel special, as you will make our children feel special." His arm tightened possessively around her. "Why do you fear me so much, Nicoletta?" The words slipped out of him before he could stop them.
Nicoletta felt the way his heart jumped. She was silent a moment. It was not in her nature to tell an untruth. She turned her gaze so she could meet the dark intensity of his. "Because you fear yourself. It is in everything you say and do. This dark curse you and your brothers live under. You believe in it, and that gives it life."
"You do not believe in it?" he asked quietly, the words barely audible. He turned away from her to stare out at the foaming sea. "You cannot see it?"
"I see that you give it power. As long as you believe in it, you breathe life into it, Giovanni. You give it power. It lies in wait, watching you for a moment of weakness. And we all have them, you know. Each of us. If you believe you are cursed with murderous, uncontrollable jealousy, there will come a time when I will smile in the direction of some young, handsome soldier, and you will see me. The curse will be there, crouching like a wild beast, lying in wait to take a hold of you. I will not give it life; you will have already done so." She sounded sad.
Giovanni bent his head to hers at once, kissing her eyes, the corner of her mouth. "Tell me how to break the curse, angelo mio. Tell me what to do. I feel it clawing at me when I look out the window and see you laughing in the courtyard with Francesco or Dominic or even mio fratello. You are so beautiful, you take my breath away. I know without you there would be emptiness. I have endured emptiness, and I do not want to go back. I would rather die now, happy for once in my existence, than ever risk harming you in some way as mio nonno did his wife. He adored mia nonna, yet she is dead, and he is hollow. Better that I never took you as my wife than have the fate of the famiglia catch up with us."
"Then you must believe in me, Giovanni," Nicoletta whispered softly. She framed his face in her hands. "Believe in what you see in my eyes when I look upon you. Believe in my body when you touch me. Believe in yourself, in your strength and power, but most of all, believe in us. If you can do that, the curse will be broken, useless. I could smile at a hundred young, handsome men, and you would always know I see only your face, want only your body. It is up to you." She allowed her hands to slip away from him, but her eyes were steady on his.
"You think the Scarletti men have fashioned their own curse?" He shoved a hand through his dark hair, tousling it even more than did the wind. "Do you think our women have been driven insane or murdered for a powerless curse?" His fingers tangled in her hair, the long, silken strands sliding around his palm.
Dark color swept into her face. His voice was mild, yet he made her feel young and foolish. Her gaze fell away from his. Who was she to try to explain away something that his family had lived with for generations? Giovanni caught her chin in his palm, forcing her to look at him. "Do you believe what you are saying, Nicoletta?" he persisted. "Really believe it?"
She took a deep breath, her heart pounding. She did believe what she was saying, but did she trust him enough to admit it? She was so much younger and inexperienced than he, a woman and of much lower status.
"Nicoletta." He breathed her name out into the wind. His talisman. His world. His arms enfolded her again, holding her tightly against his body.
She decided to speak and risk his derision. "Everyone has weaknesses, Giovanni. Even the Scarlettis. Jealousy is just as wrong as telling an untruth. It eats one from the inside out, destroys men and women. It is a weakness, not a curse. You can stop it just as your nonno could have stopped it. You should not give it merit, should not nurture it or feed it or allow it any power over you at all. It is not really a curse, Giovanni. No legacy of love gone wrong. In truth, it is something you must fight, like an enemy or an illness. Be vigilant at all times, never lower your guard, and you will conquer the 'curse.'"
"You believe it is that easy?" There was a grimness to his voice.
Nicoletta shook her head. "Not easy, and yet not so difficult. It is a matter of trusting yourself and the one you love. You cannot simply own someone and expect her to love you in return," she pointed out bravely.
He stared down into the pounding, foaming water, the waves rushing at the shore and crashing against the rocks. His fingers found the nape of her neck, massaging gently to ease her fears. "Is that what Scarletti men do? Own their women?"
"You tell me. You are the one afraid of the curse, Giovanni. I do not fear the curse anymore, only one who believes so strongly in its power to destroy us."
He was silent for a long time, giving her words the respect of thought. "How did you get to be so wise at such a young age?"
"Each of us has our strengths to balance our weaknesses. I have many weaknesses, Giovanni. Men are not one of them. I am loyal and truthful, and I will be your faithful helpmate if you allow it." She ducked her head. "Among my weaknesses are that I do things without thinking, and I need the freedom of the hills." Her voice was becoming drowsy.
He laughed softly. "I never would have guessed such a thing, piccola. But you are weary, falling asleep. We must go home this night. You will have a patient waiting. I would like to get there soon to ensure his identity is not discovered."
Nicoletta groaned softly in protest but obediently stood and stretched to ease the stiffness in her body. She rubbed her cheek along his broad shoulder. "I do not care where we sleep, as long as we do it soon."
Giovanni swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "You look like a bambina with your big eyes drooping, ready for sleep." He bent his head to hers, his mouth drifting lazily over her face. "Thank you for being my wife."
She smiled up at him, her long lashes sweeping down. "You are very welcome." She was floating, half awake, half asleep, as he carried her back to where he had left the horse. She welcomed sleep, but most of all she welcomed the comfort of his arms. She had dared to tell him her thoughts, and he wasn't angry with her, nor had he dismissed her ideas as silly and childish. He had treated her as an equal. That meant more than any gift he could have given her.
Far off, somewhere on the edge of a dream, she heard the cry of an owl. It seemed to echo through the fog, a strange, distorted note that brought a shadow to her dream. Nicoletta frowned and turned her face into the shelter of Giovanni's chest, pressing close to the steady beat of his heart. The owl was answered by another, this one much closer and louder. The inner shadow lengthened and grew.
"Nicoletta." There was a clear warning in Giovanni's whisper. He put her feet on the ground, his mouth against her ear. "There is trouble, someone stalking us. The horse is gone." His arm swept her protectively behind his solid frame.
"I am sorry, I was so sleepy," she murmured softly. It was a poor excuse; she should have realized the danger immediately. The owl had warned her twice, the shadow had grown deep within her, but she had been tired, drifting in and out of sleep. Now they were in peril.
They heard a faint sound to their left, something moving stealthily through the brush. Far off the owl hooted again. Some distance away, they could hear the sound of hooves thudding on the ground. The fog was very thick, weaving in and out of the trees, swirling madly. Giovanni reached behind him to take her hand as they moved together along the narrow path in the general direction of the palazzo.
Nicoletta knew the hills, even at night, but Giovanni would not allow her to take the lead. He moved silently, so much so that she clutched at his hand to ensure that he was still there. The white mist spread like a blanket, moving through the trees and brush. Visibility was poor, but the shadow within her grew until her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. Something was after them, man or beast, stalking them in the darkness.
Men, Giovanni whispered in her mind, obviously reading her intense emotions. He squeezed her hand in reassurance. They made their way in silence, with only their breathing and the loud beating of their hearts to betray their presence. The path
winding through the hills began its steep descent. They would be entering the narrow mountain pass soon. The cliffs rose sharply on both sides, and the trail was rocky.
Giovanni stopped so abruptly that she ran into him before she could halt. "This is a perfect place for an ambush," he whispered.
The wind here tore at their clothing, biting cold, so ferocious that it whistled through the mountain pass like the wailing of ghosts gathering for a wake. Nicoletta clutched at Giovanni's arm. "We must go the long way," she cautioned, tugging at his wrist. "This feels wrong. I know you feel it, too. We are not supposed to enter this pass."
He swept her close to him, putting his lips to her ear so she could hear him. "You are such a child of nature, piccola. The winds always whip through here from the sea. It is no warning for us."
But she knew it was. She always knew. Yet Giovanni was already in motion, daring the angry sea gods, a mortal unimpressed by their frightening display of power. A Scarletti who boldly claimed his bride though he lived under a curse that could soon see her killed. A don who dared to live a life of deadly intrigue and political unrest while holding his people together. Nicoletta tightened her grip on his hand, wanting to pull him to her, to keep him safe, but she knew he would press onward. It was his nature to meet danger and conquer it. And she loved him. The realization came at that awful moment, with her hair whipping around in a frenzy and her body shivering with cold. With the wind shrieking angrily at their defiance and with robbers or worse stalking them. She loved Don Giovanni Scarletti, curse or no curse. And she would follow where he led.
The trail was strewn with rocks, and Nicoletta's feet hurt as she dashed blindly over them. She heard a rumbling sound, low at first, then louder, coming from above them. Giovanni yelled something to her, but the wind whipped it away. He thrust her in front of him, shoving her hard. Then she felt it, the pelting stones coming from the cliffs looming over them. A rockslide. Her heart in her throat, she began to run, her hand slipping out of Giovanni's. A figure loomed up in front of her even as the shower of pebbles and rocks thundered around her.