Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse

was… different?" she asked.
    He glanced at her stiff face, her trembling mouth. With a soft sigh, he took her hand in his. "If you are'different,' cara mia, then so am I. I know we belong together. I have seen the welcome changes in my home already. Your stay has been short, yet your influence reaches wide. You say I had a choice. I say, if my people are to survive, I did not."
    "You made young Sophie and Ketsia very happy today," Nicoletta said, deciding on a truce. "Thank you for thinking to have a special gown made for Ketsia." She knew Portia had not seen to that particular detail.
    "I saw only you in the church," he admitted, "but I will make certain I give the girls my compliments at the festivities."
    "Do you know if any others have the ability to send their voices into people's minds?" Nicoletta asked, curious.

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    "My brother Antonello is adept at it. My nonno, too, carries this talent, it is in our bloodline. Still, my padre could not do such a thing; indeed, he was angry that his sons could and thought it most blasphemous."
    "What of Vincente?"
    Giovanni nodded. "Of course. But he is not as adept as Antonello, and he rarely uses the ability.
    Antonello is my most valued emissary to foreign lands, and it is of great use to us to speak silently when no other can hear. And even over a great distance, I can feel if he is in danger. Vincente, on the other hand, is rarely in danger, unless it is from the overly avid attentions of some young lady. Since the death of his wife, there are many who hope to be chosen his new bride. I thought he might look to Portia—they are oft together—but he is still grieving."
    "Your brother once said that the Scarletti men love only once," Nicoletta said: trembling as she recalled the ominous sensation that had accompanied his pronouncement. Then she thought to add, "Little Sophie hears voices at night, and she is very afraid. She is not making it up, though Vincente and Portia and Margarita claim it is so, or that she is going mad. I have heard the voices, too. I believe she is in danger.
    She said her madre heard the voices, and some named her mad."
    Giovanni shook his head. "It is a sad tale, Nicoletta. Angelita was so in love with Vincente, they stared longingly at one another for hours when first they married. But she changed very quickly. She would stay in her room for days on end, not allowing anyone in but Vincente. He would care for her, bring her meals, and entertain her. She wanted only him. He worried for her, took her traveling, tried many things, but she became nearly a recluse. In desperation he decided they must have a child." He fell silent, and the coach swayed and jolted over the narrow passage toward the palazzo.
    "It did not help," she guessed.
    Giovanni sighed softly. "No, it did not help. Vincente devoted himself to Angelita, would almost never leave her side, but she refused to come out of her room and eventually would not see even Sophie, her child. I was afraid for my brother. The laughter had gone out of him. He rarely would look at his daughter, as if he might blame her for her madre 's condition. I sent him on an errand, a small one. He was gone overnight, no more, but in Angelita's demented mind, she thought he had deserted her."
    Nicoletta stared up at him, horrified by the story.
    "She was found dead that evening when the maid took her supper. She had hanged herself. You are entrusted with this information as a member of the famiglia. Vincente would be beside himself if it got out. Once again the Scarletti curse held true." His black gaze moved broodingly over her face. "That is why you will have guards with you at all times. I will not find your dead body somewhere as nearly every male member of my famiglia has." He spoke the words sternly, a command she dared not contest. "They will taste your food and drink, and they will watch over you when I cannot. You will not have a separate bedchamber but share my own with me."
    Nicoletta gasped. "I must have my own bedchamber to retreat to at times."
    "You will not."
    "What of Sophie? I was going to allow her to share my bed."

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    His white teeth flashed, and for one moment amusement lit the dark obsidian of his eyes so that they gleamed mischievously like those of a boy. "You will be much too busy sharing your bed with your husband, not a