Lair of the Lion

in the hands of Captain Drannacia, and all is well with the holding."
    Sergio, seized by a sudden fit of coughing, courteously turned his back to them, his shoulders shaking. Alberita bowed and curtseyed, backing away until she tripped over the uneven ground. Then she caught up her skirts and ran toward the enormous palazzo.
    Isabella waited until the young maid was safely out of hearing distance, then tapped Sergio on the back, laughing softly. "It's safe, Captain. She's gone and can't knock you to the ground or douse you with holy water or clobber you with a broom."
    Sergio caught her shoulders, laughing so loudly she feared Alberita might hear all the way to castello. "Holy water? A broom? I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm certain that very frightening girl has something to do with it."
    "She never walks anywhere—she's always running. But she's very enthusiastic about her work," Isabella was compelled to point out. She glanced toward the battlements and caught sight of Nicolai staring out across the fields at them. "Don DeMarco must be pleased with the training today. Does he always have to be present, whether the lions are near or not?"
    She waved toward Nicolai, but he either didn't notice or didn't acknowledge her.
    Captain Drannacia dropped his hands from her shoulders the moment she called his attention to his don. He stiffened, nearly coming to attention. "He isn't watching the training, Isabella," he said thoughtfully, moving to put space between them. He opened the sealed parchment and scanned the contents, his jaw hardening. He stepped farther away from Isabella.
    "That missive has nothing to do with secrets of state, does it, Captain Drannacia?"
    Isabella asked quietly.
    "No, signorina, it doesn't," he answered.
    She glanced up at the battlements again. Nicolai seemed a lonely figure, his long hair blowing in the wind, a tall, powerful don apart from his people. "Do you see him as the man he is, Captain Drannacia?" she asked.
    "I see him as a dangerous predator at this moment," he replied gently. "In truth, signorina, more often lately I have seen the man, not the beast. I think he wants me to see the beast this time. As a warning, perhaps."
    Her mouth tightened. "I grow tired of the way men think. Of their unfortunate and unbecoming jealousies." She glared up toward the battlements fiercely, whereas before her heart had gone out to Nicolai's solitude.
    "Do you also grow tired of the unbecoming jealousies of women?"
    A certain note in his voice warned her, and Isabella turned to see Violante in the distance. She stood watching them, a faint frown on her face, suspicion in her eyes. The moment she saw them turn toward her, she began approaching them. Isabella felt sorry for her. There was a lack of confidence in her step as she neared her husband, a basket on her arm.
    Isabella waved a greeting. "I'm so glad you've come! I've been wanting to see you again."
    "Violante." Sergio said his wife's name tenderly, and his dark eyes lit up at her approach.
    "What have you done for me now?" He reached for the basket with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist, bringing her close to him. "It is far for you to be walking without an escort," he said, as if they had discussed the subject many times.
    "You must have your dinner, Sergio," she said uncertainly. "Isabella, I hadn't thought to find you here."
    Isabella shrugged. "In truth, I needed the fresh air. I wanted to walk into the city, but Nicolai insisted I wait for an escort."
    "I'd be most pleased to go with you tomorrow if it is convenient," Violante offered.
    "I'd love that." Isabella could tell, as polite as both parties were being, that they wished her gone so they could be alone. "I'll take my leave and look forward to visiting with you on the morrow." She glanced up at Nicolai once more before walking toward the stables.

Chapter Fourteen
    Isabella was feeling out of sorts when Sarina announced that Violante had arrived and was waiting for her in the library. She had spent the morning, as usual, attempting to familiarize herself with the palazzo. It seemed a huge task, more rooms at every turn, some of which had not been used in years, and an abundance of sculptures and artwork, treasures she could only gape at in awe. Don DeMarco was wealthy beyond her imagining. She knew if Don Rivellio had an inkling of the worth of the lands and property, he would be pushing to find a way to get his greedy hands on it. She couldn't stop