Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

savoring the way she coiled tighter and tighter. "Tell me of your famiglia, Giovanni, your parents, your grandparents, you all live in the shadow of a such a foul curse."
    Giovanni sighed, reluctantly lifting his head away from the temptation of her body. His voice was a soft mixture of regret and sorrow. "What can I tell you of my famiglia? My nonno loved his wife as no other.
    They were always together, always smiling at one another from across the room. She was a gentle and caring woman. Everyone loved her—how could we not? She raised Antonello and me. She tried to raise Vincente, although mio padre kept Vincente close to him."
    "You never mention your madre, Giovanni. Why is that?" A sudden draft caused her to shiver. A shadow passed across the moon.
    At once Giovanni dragged her closer, enclosing her in his arms, his body sheltering hers from the wind.
    "Most of my memories of her are of her moving through the palazzo, smiling. She would nod to us occasionally, but she never talked to us. I do not remember her holding any of us, not even Vincente. Mio padre was always with her. He never took his eyes off her. He was so jealous of anyone who was near her, even us." He buried his face in her silky hair as if the memories he was conjuring up were too painful to bear.
    There was such despair in his voice, Nicoletta circled his neck with her arm, pressing her breasts against his chest, wanting to comfort him. "What happened to her?" She wasn't certain she really wanted to know. There was a stillness, a quiet shadow in her that heralded trouble.
    "She… disappeared. We were mere boys. I will never forget that day, not as long as I live." Giovanni stepped away from her, his arms dropping to his sides. Nicoletta's heart went out to him. He looked all at once vulnerable. He walked away from her, staring at the swirling mists, uncaring of his nakedness.
    Nicoletta realized that no one ever talked about Giovanni's parents. His father had been the don for only three short years, and no one spoke of him. Not even Maria Pia ever talked of the man. Nicoletta didn't even know how he had died, leaving the Scarletti legacy to his eldest son, Giovanni.
    "I saw her with one of the soldiers. It was not the first time. They would go up to the tower. Only this time mio padre followed her. I was on the ramparts. I saw Father going up the stairs to the tower. I called out to him, trying to warn my mother of his presence, but the wind was strong and carried my voice away from the palazzo. It was the first time in my life I was truly afraid. There was something in the way Padre was climbing those stairs. I cannot explain it, but he did not look right. I remember I reached out in our special way to Antonello, thinking childishly that the two of us might be able to prevent the inevitable."

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    A terrible sadness pressed on him, and Nicoletta felt the weight of the child's burden, a boy unable to save his mother from the wrath of his father. At once she went to him, putting her arms around him, pressing her face against his broad back.
    Giovanni immediately responded, holding her hands against his flat belly. "Mio padre had many other women. We all knew. She knew. But it did not stop him from his rage. The wind could not carry her screams away fast enough. I saw the body of the soldier afterward, and I never understood how one man could hate another so much as to do the things to him that had been done." He inhaled sharply and spun around to face her, his eyes so black with intensity, she felt terror lodging deep within her heart. "He did these things in front of her. Made her watch. I do not know what he did to her, but he kept her alive for a long time, many months. Yet we never saw her again, and one day he simply announced she was dead.
    "Do you understand now the terrible legacy of violence and jealousy that has passed to the three of us?
    Antonello and I each swore we would never take a bride." His fingers dug into her arms. "I know I had no right to take such a chance with your life, tangling you in the web of violence and death that is my legacy. I want you to know I did try to fight it, but once you touched me and I felt your healing warmth, it was the first time in my life I felt I was home. I belonged." His hands framed her face. "I did not have the strength to give you up. When a man wants something, needs something, he can rationalize anything." He