Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

him.
    "How dare you accuse me of wanton behavior!" She gestured toward the guards. "I would not have a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    chance even should I be so inclined." Her chin rose haughtily. "I take my leave of you, sirs." She dropped a cursory curtsey toward the two brothers and marched away, her back ramrod straight. Anger smoldered deep within her. That Vincente would accuse of her of such a thing and imply, like most men, that any flirtation was her fault! Marks of passion! Who would call bruises marks of passion?
    She stormed toward Maria Pia, her anger rising with every step. She wasn't satisfied with Antonello's explanation of the blood on his clothes; he had seemed far too evasive for her liking. And Vincente! He was arrogant and a true aristocratico in his attitude toward the people living on Scarletti lands. More than that, she couldn't forgive the fact that he had brought up the one subject she didn't want to think about. The one fear that was hovering on the edge of her consciousness.
    The Scarletti family curse. She had grown up hearing the whispered rumors of madness and jealousy. It was widely believed that Giovanni's grandfather had strangled his wife in a fit of jealous rage. Vincente had sounded very ominous, almost as if he were warning her, much in the same manner his grandfather had. A riddle for her to solve. And she needed to solve it. If she didn't, it could very well mean her life.
    "Little sister." Vincente bounded after her. "I ask forgiveness if you think I was charging you with ill behavior. No such thing. I wanted to counsel you in your behavior simply because you do not know the strange heat swirling in our Scarletti blood. I am only looking out for you and my brother."
    Nicoletta glanced over her shoulder at Antonello, who had remained very still. He was looking up at his older brother, still watching them so solemnly. "Don Scarletti did not bruise me in anger or in any other way. I think he would be insulted that you thought he might, as I am insulted that you thought another man had put those marks on me for the reason you implied. It was ungentlemanly and most unseemly of you, signore."
    "I meant only to serve you," Vincente replied, his dark eyes reproving as he bowed again. "Let us not quarrel, sister."
    She supposed it wasn't Vincente's fault that he had contributed to the one real fear she had of her marriage to the don. She had seen Giovanni's flashes of jealousy, felt the dark fury in her mind when he saw her with other men, even his own brothers.
    It was entirely possible that a madness ran deep within the blood of the Scarlettis, just as Vincente and old Signore Scarletti had warned. One caution she might ignore, but she would be foolish to ignore both.
    She raised her chin and turned to look up at the windows where Giovanni stood.
    Across the distance their eyes met, hers troubled and filled with trepidation, his fathomless, impossible to read. On the morrow her life would be tied to his for all time. She would live in the palazzo amid the sinister artwork and the watching eyes, surrounded by enemies and never knowing who they were or why they hated her.
    Nicoletta turned and looked at the great maze with its twists and turns. It reminded her of the path she had been set on, with dead ends at every turn and no safe way out. She needed the comfort of Maria Pia and Sophie. She walked the remaining distance to the older woman and put her arms around her.
    Maria Pia knew immediately what she needed and hugged her tightly without saying a word. Sophie, too, sensed she needed comfort and stopped playing to run over and wrap her arms securely around Nicoletta's legs.

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Chapter Twelve
    Nicoletta returned to her villaggio early on the morning of her wedding. Several guards, rugged men with hard faces, escorted her, determined to do as their don commanded. Sophie had cried great, rolling tears at being separated from Nicoletta, even temporarily but she was refused permission to accompany Nicoletta to the village. The child had slept securely in Nicoletta's room, undisturbed by any whispering voices that might have been murmuring in her old bedchamber.
    Nicoletta inhaled the wind, the fresh air flowing off the mountains. The feeling of freedom was tremendous. "I feel as if I can breathe again," she confided to Maria Pia.
    "I know what you mean," the