Lair of the Lion

fury. He moved so fast that Isabella's heart jumped as he shackled her wrist and, right in front of her brother, dragged her against him.
    "Where have you been? Don't you think I was worried enough about you tonight without another disappearance?"

    His voice was so soft with menace, Isabella shivered. She glanced at her brother. He was watching them, speculation and knowledge in his gaze. Lucca and Nicolai both turned to Francesca at the same moment.
    She lifted her chin. "My movements are of no concern to anyone. I'm certainly not used to having my activities questioned." She tried to sound haughty, but her voice trembled a little.
    "I can see I've been far too lenient with you, Francesca," Nicolai answered, retaining his hold on Isabella when she would have gone to her brother's side. "Your safety is of paramount importance. Enemies are within our valley, and we have a traitor among us. I must insist you conduct yourself properly and with circumspect behavior. I am tuo fratello and your don. You must answer to me."
    Francesca glared at Lucca. "This is your doing. You've said things to him."
    Lucca lay back, lacing his fingers behind his head, a satisfied expression on his face.
    "We've had a most informative talk," he admitted without remorse.
    Nicolai looked down at Isabella's upturned face. "We need to have a most informative talk," he said grimly, "right now, just the two of us. Say good night, Isabella." It was an order.
    Lucca bristled visibly at the proprietary tone used on his sister, but he remained silent when she brushed a kiss on the top of his head. "Good night, Lucca. I'll see you first thing in the morn. I'm so happy you're finally here."
    Nicolai's fingers tightened on her wrist, tugging her away from the bed. He barely restrained himself as he escorted her to her bedchamber, using the hidden passageway so he would not have to leave her in front of the servants and return later. He was seething with anger, fear gnawing at him until he was afraid he might explode. The fire was burning brightly, and a cup of steaming tea waited on the night-stand, evidence Sarina had prepared the room. Nicolai stalked to the door, ensuring it was locked, before turning to face her.
    Isabella tilted her chin. "Am I to report my every movement to you?"
    He let his breath out in a single rush. "Absolutely you are. You have no idea what you mean to me, what I've discovered myself capable of. Dio, Isabella, all this time I've wasted worrying about what I might do years from now. I should have been getting as close to you as possible. Binding you to me in every conceivable way so that there's no doubt between us."
    She raised an eyebrow. "Doubt, Nicolai? What is it you find yourself doubting? Surely not my fidelity?''
    He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it wild and rakish. "I have heard several…
    unpleasant whispers."

    She stared up at him, her entire body stiff with outrage. "And do you, even for one moment, believe those unpleasant whispers?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer, needing it to be the right one. Everything she was, her heart and soul, was her word of honor. If Nicolai doubted that, he knew nothing of her.
    A slow smile softened the hard line of his mouth. "You look at me with such trust, such belief that I'll say and do the right thing. I fear for you, Isabella. I fear that everywhere you go eyes watch you with petty jealousy, and that already the curse is bringing about its finale. There is more at work here than my controlling or not controlling the beast. You said it yourself. I trust no one with you." He crossed to her side and reached to pull the pins from her hair. He watched it cascade like a silken waterfall, thick and luxurious, below her waist.
    "Francesca loves you, Nicolai. She won't betray you."
    "I never doubted that mio padre loved mia madre, Isabella, but in the end he betrayed her." He bent his head to her mouth, needing to taste her, needing to shelter her close to his heart. Her lips were warm, melting beneath his. Her body came into his, soft and pliant, molding to his harder, more muscular frame.
    Isabella lifted her head to look into his strange, amber eyes. "Maybe she betrayed him, Nicolai. Not with her body, but with her mind. Maybe she didn't love what he was."
    "A beast acts on instinct, Isabella, not reason," he cautioned. "How could a woman ever love that part of him?"
    "Sometimes, Nicolai, a woman acts on instincts, too. If the beast resides in you, then it is