Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

slumped against him, the fight draining out of her, exhaustion winning the battle. Finally she turned Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    her face up to his. Tears ran down her skin, swimming in her eyes, making them look luminous in the darkness. "You are here." She said it softly, an accusation. "You can hurt me. I can never be safe again. I would rather you throw me over the cliff now than have me burned as a witch."
    He muttered something beneath his breath, his hands framing her face. "No one will ever burn you as a witch." He made the vow fervently, his black eyes expressive with his need to protect her. Giovanni bent his head and tasted her tears. Gently. Tenderly. He kissed her wet skin, followed the trail of tears to the corner of her mouth. "You must not cry like this, Nicoletta. You must not."
    In his arms she was still ice-cold, shaking so hard her teeth were chattering. "I do not think I can ever stop," she answered him sadly.
    Giovanni swung her slight figure easily into his arms, carrying her to his horse. He wrapped her in his own elegant shirt, settling her close in front of him so that the heat from his body could provide as much warmth as possible on the ride home. He rode swiftly over the rough terrain, urging his horse to greater speed.
    The palazzo's stable boy rushed out to collect Giovanni's mount as he swung down with Nicoletta huddled in his arms. It mattered little to him that his favorite mount was sweating profusely in the cold of the night, when ordinarily he would have ensured the beast was provided with excellent care. His only thought was getting Nicoletta out of the cold.
    Antonello arrived at the palazzo door at the same moment, his long hair disheveled, his clothes smudged with dark, wet stains. "Giovanni?" He sounded tired, yet there was a note of accusation in his voice.
    "What has happened to her?"
    Giovanni, with Nicoletta in his arms, barely glanced at Antonello as he pushed through the door his brother had opened. His eyes widened at the condition of Antonello's clothing, but he refrained from commenting. "She has had a shock," he replied tersely. He shouted for his manservant as he strode down the long corridor, Nicoletta held tightly against him. "Did you get a fire going in her room, man?" he demanded as the servant scurried before him. "Are you heating the water?"
    Antonello hesitated as if undecided whether to follow, then turned and moved along the hall toward the far wing where his quarters were.
    "Has Vincente returned with Signorina Sigmora?" Giovanni continued walking very fast, the manservant nearly running to keep pace with him.
    "The guards returned Signorina Sigmora to the palazzo along with your instructions to us. Your brother remained behind at the farm to see to it that your orders were carried out there."
    Giovanni spared the man a glance. "Grazie, Gostanz." The words were clipped and abrupt, but the older man blinked rapidly as if bestowed a great reward.
    He hurried faster to get ahead of the don to open the door to Nicoletta's room. Maria Pia stood in front of the crackling flames, wringing her hands. She gave a glad cry when she saw Nicoletta cradled in Don Scarletti's arms.
    "Presto Signorina. Her clothes are damp, and she is in shock," Giovanni said, placing Nicoletta in a deeply cushioned chair beside the roaring fire. He began to pull her blouse over her head in his haste to warm her.

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    Maria Pia, shocked at his utter lack of convention, hastily intervened. "Scusa, Don Scarletti, you are not married to her as of yet. I shall undress her." She tried to sound firm even in defiance his hard authority.
    Impatience ran across his face. He yanked the damp blouse off of Nicoletta and tossed it aside with controlled fury. Her full breasts and satin skin gleamed golden in the dancing firelight, and his breath abruptly caught in his throat while his pulse pounded uncomfortably. He felt the answering fire in his blood, flames leaping when he wanted only to comfort. He dragged the coverlet from the bed and hastily wrapped Nicoletta in its folds. "Dio, Donna, do you think that matters? Nicoletta is freezing and must be warmed. Gostanz is just outside. Have him bring the tub and fill it with hot water to bathe her. She cannot stop crying." For a moment, for all his authority and rank, the don looked like a helpless lost boy. "She cannot