Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

voice.
    Nicoletta remained silent, afraid of her own voice, afraid she would make a fool of herself if she attempted to speak. It seemed a dream, a nightmare she was trapped in. She went with Giovanni, moving down the aisle while the guards pushed open the doors and hastily erected a canopy to shelter the couple from the fury of the storm. The drenched, frightened villagers had long since fled, only a few stragglers glancing back over their shoulders as Giovanni swept her into his arms, striding with sure, long steps to the coach.
    He placed her gently onto the seat and climbed up to sit beside her. The door closed, and they were alone. "Nicoletta"—his voice was low, a drawling caress—"are you ever going to look at me?"
    She could feel his voice whispering over her skin. Nicoletta stole a quick glance at him, then turned away from his brooding good looks. The storm was now sweeping away from the cathedral, moving inland to scatter over the mountains.
    "Nicoletta, look at me." His voice was quiet, even gentle, but it was a command nonetheless.
    She turned her head, long lashes sweeping upward, her dark eyes enormous in her face. "It has been much more difficult than I expected today." Her voice was a mere thread of sound, so low he could barely catch the words.
    "I do not know if I have the courage to face the revelers at the palazzo."
    "It is a storm, cara mia, a violent storm like all the others that come from the sea. The earth chose that moment to tremble, as it has done in the past. These things occur often. They are natural, not the superstitious nonsense of monsters arising from the seas to walk the land as some teach the children to believe. Or worse, that the heavens were protesting our union because either you are a witch or I il diavolo. I know you are not a witch, Nicoletta, although you have cast your spell over me as none other ever could. And surely you do not believe I am in league with il diavolo. How could I enter the cathedral unharmed? How could I take the crucifix into my hand, drink the sacramental wine, or have holy water splashed over me?" His voice was extremely gentle but with a slight edge of mocking amusement to it.
    Nicoletta glanced up again, a quick reprimand of his irreverence while she twisted at the unfamiliar band of gold circling her finger. "How is it you can talk to me in my mind?"
    "Is it so terrible a sin?" he countered.
    "I do not know if it is a sin. Everything else seems to be." The words slipped out, and she hastily bit Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    down on her lower lip to prevent any further blasphemous statements.
    Giovanni burst out laughing. "You are right, according to Maria Pia Sigmora. But I do not think of my ability that way. I was simply born with it. Mia madre was a bit frightened by it and warned me never to reveal it to others. How is it you can heal the way you do? I felt the curative warmth in your touch; that's no ordinary talent, either."
    "I was born with it also," she said. A small smile found its way to her mouth.
    "Have no fear of the revelers, Nicoletta," he said softly, taking her hand in an effort stop her trembling. "I will not leave your side."
    "You frighten me much, good signore," she admitted, her irrepressible laughter bubbling to the surface.
    He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. "You are such an innocent, piccola, and I may be damned for forcing my will upon you, but, in truth, I had no choice." This time the edge to his voice made her shiver. His black eyes were filled with a hungry intensity he didn't try to conceal from her.
    She wrenched her chin out of his palm, her own dark eyes smoldering. "I do not believe you, Don Scarletti. One such as you always has a choice. You are the law, life or death to those of us who live in the village. You took away my choice."
    "Better me than some rude peasant boy," he retaliated.
    The flames of battle leapt into her eyes. "It might have occurred to you that I wanted no man. That I was perfectly happy without one."
    His laughter was low and taunting. "You cannot be so naive that you would think some man would not eventually come along and take you."
    "I had learned to hide myself. My people did not speak of me to outsiders."
    "I heard of your beauty long before I ever laid eyes upon you." He stretched out his long legs, idly complaining, "These coaches are an uncomfortable means of transportation."
    "Did you hear that I