Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

immediately, clearing his path, and he strode purposefully, looking neither right nor left but only at her.
    His prisoner. His prey. The thought beat in her head to the rhythm of her furiously pounding heart.
    He stopped directly in front of her, towering over her so that she had to tip back her head, her gaze still locked with his. At that moment her senses became so heightened, it was nearly unbearable. She was aware of everything: the wind tugging at her, moving over her skin with the coolness of a touch; Ketsia clutching at her skirts; the terrible trembling she couldn't seem to overcome; the blackness of the don's eyes, his perfectly sculpted lips; the way wisps of fog seemed to curl around his legs as if he were from another world.
    His dark, penetrating gaze traveled slowly over her, taking in every detail of her drab, urchin appearance. Faint, mocking amusement stole into his eyes, briefly dispelling the icy aloofness that was so much a part of him. He turned on the heel of one gleaming riding boot and strode back to his horse, his movement a mesmerizing display of graceful, gliding coordination.
    Like the proverbial cornered rabbit, Nicoletta watched him, terrified of what he might do. It was too much to hope he would get back on his horse, ride away, and leave her in peace. Stark possession marked his gaze when he looked at her, and Nicoletta was woman enough to recognize it. She could only wait helplessly, feeling foolish in her child's clothing.
    He walked back to her and stood directly in front of her a second time. Closer now. So close that she could feel the heat from his body seeping into her ice-cold skin. She couldn't look away from his black, black gaze to see what he held dangling from his fingertips. He raised his hand to her eye level so that her thin sandals swam into view, swaying at the end of their long thongs. "Perhaps if you were to put on your sandals, it would add an inch to your height and a year or two to your age, signorina," he suggested softly.
    Nicoletta stared at the shoes in horror. Her hands were trembling so badly, she didn't dare let go of her Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    skirt. It was Ketsia who reached up and dragged the sandals out of his hands while he stared directly into Nicoletta's eyes with a faint, taunting smile.
    The don didn't even glance at the child, his dark gaze locked with Nicoletta's. "You are the one," he said softly, thoughtfully. His voice turned slightly self-mocking. "It is your honor to be chosen in the Bridal Covenant."
    Nicoletta stared up at him, still mesmerized. Both of them knew it was no honor; it was tantamount to a death sentence. The knowledge shimmered between them, unspoken. Involuntarily she nodded her head, her eyes wide and pleading.
    Abruptly Don Scarletti tore his gaze from hers and turned to the village elders. "The Bridal Covenant has been fulfilled. She is the one."
    For a moment there was complete silence. Even the wind stilled. Then chaos erupted. A sound of pure terror escaped Nicoletta's throat. Cristano, his face a mask of fury, burst into a fiery protest. Several of the prospective brides gave in to nerves and began to weep loudly. The elders protested in unison, and Maria Pia began to pray to the good Madonna. The don's men looked at one another, shocked at the villagers' reaction to the high compliment, but, unbidden to speak, remained stoically silent.
    But Cristano had captured the don's attention. Don Giovanni Scarletti looked from Nicoletta's white face to the young man's outraged expression. A dark shadow crossed the don's sensual features. He turned back to Nicoletta, moving close enough that she was trapped between his hard body and the solid tree trunk. His hand spanned her throat, his fingers curling around her neck as if he might strangle her, while his black gaze roamed over her upturned face to settle on her soft, trembling mouth.
    "I have chosen. Your young man must find another." There was soft menace in his voice. Hard finality.
    But that same voice managed to touch the core of strength and fire in Nicoletta. Her teeth came together with a snap. Her dark eyes flashed fire at him. "Choose another. There are many willing brides for you,"
    she hissed, uncaring that he might think her disrespectful or defiant.
    "I have chosen, and my choice stands."
    "I will not go."
    All around them was the clamor of talking and arguing, but they might as well have been the only