Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

—Maria Pia tried to console her—"the tradition has been in existence for many, many generations. Most girls would be happy to marry an aristocratico. You must not blame the elders. They tried to talk him out of it. I heard them."
    Nicoletta was nodding, but tears were streaming down her face. The fog was a thick blanket now, and the gossips were finally driven indoors. Night had fallen quickly as it did in the hills, shadows stretching, the wind howling mournfully through the trees. Her world. She belonged out there, free and wild, like the bears and wolves. She should not be imprisoned in an evil, hideous palazzo with people who would Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    never understand or love her.
    "The elders will be here soon," Maria Pia warned softly. "You must calm yourself, bambina. They cannot know your defiance."
    Nicoletta nodded, oddly grateful that Maria Pia didn't refer to her having to leave soon. She didn't think she could bear it. She gathered up her pitiful disguise and carefully put it out of sight. Taking refuge in work, she pushed all thoughts of escape aside until after the coming ordeal. She built a fire and brewed a hot herbal tea. She lit several candles for their soothing aroma and added a few more to the Madonna's shrine at Maria Pia's suggestion, refraining from pointing out the that Madonna must have been doing good works elsewhere while the don was choosing her.
    Although she stiffened when the knock came at the door, she stood quietly with her head bowed as Maria Pia let the dignitaries into their hut. The elders avoided looking at Nicoletta, unable to face her without shame, but she felt the weight of Don Scarletti's stare. He was willing her to look at him, but she steadfastly continued staring at the floor.
    Giovanni bowed low to Maria Pia. "Naturally, Signorina Sigmora, I will provide generously for my bride.
    I have already sent for the dressmakers to see to her wedding garments and the proper attire she will need as my wife. They will be here quickly. We will be married in the cathedral as soon as it can be arranged."
    Maria Pia thanked him. What else could she do?
    Nicoletta smoldered with anger. How dare he come into their home and dictate to them! He had already sent for dressmakers! The nerve of him! The don sauntered across the room to stand in front of her, setting her teeth on edge. She could tell by his mocking air of amusement that he was aware of her irritation. His presence alone filled the small hut, taking all the air so that she felt as if she couldn't breathe, would never be able to breathe again. She thrust her hands behind her back, twisting her fingers together so she didn't do anything crazy, such as slap the smug look right off his face.
    "I believe you left these behind again." The Don sounded amused as he dangled her sandals in front of her.
    Nicoletta took them from him, careful to avoid touching him. "Thank you, signore." Deliberately she didn't give him the more respectful title, her voice barely audible, an obedient child reluctantly thanking a well-meaning adult.
    "Come, bambina." An elder held out a hand to her. "Let me introduce you formally to our don. He will provide all that is needed for the festivities. Don Scarletti, this is our beloved Nicoletta."
    She made the mistake of looking at Giovanni Scarletti then, lifting her lashes so that her dark eyes met his briefly. He glimpsed the fierce flame burning in their depths, betraying her defiance and smoldering anger. One black brow arched, and a faint, mocking amusement curved his mouth and touched his eyes, making them glitter wickedly. "I do not want you to worry." He addressed Maria Pia, although his gaze remained on Nicoletta. "I know there is always the danger of an enemy trying to kidnap my bride-to-be until I have her in the safety of my palazzo. To ensure that she is safe at all times, my men will be stationed here day and night." The merest hint of humor laced his voice.
    Nicoletta had hastily averted her gaze as he regarded her, but now her chin went up, her eyes blazing at him. He was not protecting her; she was his prisoner! Let the others believe his preposterous Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    explanation—she knew the truth! She wanted to throw something at his handsome, smiling face.
    Maria Pia gasped, clasping her hands to her breast. "Surely such a thing is not necessary, Don Scarletti."
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