Lair of the Lion

circling his neck with her arms to hold on. "Found!"
    Captain Bartolmei shouted. "Light the signal fire atop the battlements. Signorina Vernaducci has been found."
    Isabella could hear the cry, carried from man to man, telling the seekers of her rescue, alerting the servants to prepare for her arrival. Word spread fast, a wildfire of gossip.
    Rolando Bartolmei hurried across the uneven, snow-covered ground. The lantern swung crazily as he carried her.
    They neared the entrance to the huge palazzo. White clouds of vapor streamed from their mouths. Fog swirled around their feet. Without warning a huge lion leapt onto the top stair, the shaggy mane wild, eyes fiery red in the night, mouth snarling. Rolando froze in place, then slowly lowered Isabella to her feet and thrust her behind him, a small protection for her should the beast attack.
    "I thought all lions were to be kept out of sight in case Don Rivellio's men should be sneaking about," Isabella whispered close to Rolando's ear. She was clutching at him, her legs too unsteady to hold her up on their own.
    "Evidently it's a faster means of travel," Captain Bartolmei responded, clearly recognizing the animal.
    Isabella peeked around his shoulder, but the lion took a second gargantuan leap, disappearing into the swirling mists. "It's safe now," she said, her teeth chattering so hard she could scarcely get the words out.
    Rolando swung her back into his arms and almost ran straight into Don DeMarco. He loomed over them, tall and powerful, his expression grim. Nicolai reached out and wordlessly plucked Isabella out of the captain's arms, securing her against the protection of his chest. Captain Bartolmei's coat fell unnoticed to the ground.
    Isabella caught a brief glimpse of Theresa and Violante standing together, clutching hands as they watched Nicolai carry her into the house. Theresa caught her husband's arm.
    Violante reached down to retrieve the coat from the snow, handing it to Sergio to return to Rolando.
    Isabella burrowed closer to Nicolai in a futile attempt to get warm. She buried her face against his neck. He carried her swiftly through the castello, straight to her bedchamber.
    Sarina was already there, wringing her hands, distress plain on her face.
    "She's freezing, Sarina. We must warm her immediately." Nicolai's voice was tight with control, but a fine tremor ran through his body, the only indication of the volcanic emotions roiling deep in his belly.
    "She's injured!" Sarina gasped.
    "We have to warm her before we attend to anything else," Nicolai insisted. "The underground baths will be too hot."
    "I've asked for the small tub. They are heating the water."
    Sarina and Nicolai talked as if Isabella weren't present, but she couldn't seem to summon the energy to take offense. She was so tired, wanting only to sleep.
    Nicolai looked down at her tear-stained face. The thought of what could have happened to her had they not found her when they did tore at his soul, turned his blood to ice.
    Questions clamored in his mind, but he kept quiet. He had never seen Isabella look so vulnerable, so fragile. His arms tightened around her, and he held her to him.
    There was a knock on the door, and Francesca swept in. "Sarina, I've summoned the healer." She turned to her brother. "I will care for Isabella while you find the one responsible for this, Nicolai. I'll send for you the instant she's in her bed."
    Nicolai hesitated, for the first rime indecisive. His gaze locked with his sister's.
    Her eyes remained steady on his. "I'll see to her myself, mio fratello. I won't leave her side until you are once more with her. I give you my word of honor, the word of a DeMarco. Leave her to us, Nicolai."
    He didn't want to leave Isabella, not for even a few minutes. But he intended to know what had transpired. His men would bring the widow and the two kitchen servants to him.
    Nicolai bent his head to brush a kiss along Isabella's temple. "I'm putting my heart in your hands, Francesca," he said softly, his voice rumbling with menace.
    "I'm well aware of that," she answered.
    Nicolai reluctantly placed Isabella on the bed. The healer had entered the room. Nicolai stood there, looking at the three women. "See to it that she recovers quickly." Something unfamiliar clogged his throat, and he spun away from them, his fingers curling into fists.
    This would stop. It had to stop. It was bad enough that Isabella faced a very real threat from him, but to have these accidents