Lair of the Lion

think he's feeling better, so watch out for his teasing." Brushing back his hair, she smiled at Lucca. "You behave."
    Lucca flashed a smirk at her, warming her heart. He was becoming more like his old self every hour.
    Isabella made her way through the castello, aware of the two shadows, the guards Nicolai had ordered to watch over her. She ignored their presence, heading toward the library, her one sanctuary. She was turning over the matter of Francesca and Lucca in her mind. Deep in thought, it took her a while to become aware that the servants she passed were whispering together in groups. Their voices were hushed and agitated.
    She stopped in the middle of the great hall, suddenly afraid the battle with Don Rivellio might have started. Surely Nicolai would have told her, although he had left her bed in the early-morning hours. Worried, she turned toward the nearest group of servants, determined to find out what had made them nervous.
    The whispers stopped the moment Isabella approached, the servants suddenly extraordinarily busy. Even Alberita was dutifully scrubbing at an imaginary speck on the gleaming table in the formal dining room. She kept casting surreptitious glances toward Isabella and then hastily looking away.
    Annoyed, Isabella went in search of Betto. He was talking softly with two other men near one of the entrances to the servants' passage. They stopped speaking and looked at the floor the moment they spotted her.
    "Betto," she said, "I must speak with you."
    He didn't look happy but obediently took his leave from his companions, who hastily escaped. "What is it, signorina?"
    "Exactly the question. What is it? The palazzo is a hotbed of gossip. I've been caring for mio fratello and have not heard it, but it obviously concerns me."
    The man cleared his throat. "I can't possibly know what the servants are gossiping about now."
    Her gaze pinned him. "It's better I hear it from you, Betto. If it is something upsetting, I prefer to hear the news from a trusted friend."
    His shoulders sagged. "Better you hear it from Don DeMarco. He has said if you inquire, I'm to bring you to him."
    She stared at the servant for a long time, so many thoughts racing through her mind she was afraid to move or speak. Surely Nicolai hadn't sent for another bride. Rivellio's men were in the valley. Nicolai would never betray her in a power play. She knew he was busy with his captains, preparing for battle. Why would he have her brought to him simply to repeat gossip?
    She followed Betto slowly up the sweeping staircases to the wing of the don. At his gruff command, she entered his rooms with trepidation. At once his captains excused themselves.
    Isabella faced Nicolai across the room.
    They looked at one another for a long time. She couldn't read his expression at all, which was faintly shocking when she had just spent the night in his arms. When his body had been buried deep inside of hers. When they had clung to one another, whispering together, sharing laughter, sharing plans. Nicolai looked almost a stranger, his amber eyes flat and hard. He didn't approach her, didn't smile in welcome.
    "What is it, Nicolai?" Deliberately she addressed him informally, hoping to break through his icy demeanor.
    "The servant, the one who locked you in the storehouse, is dead," he said starkly, without inflection.
    A shiver went down her spine. Her blood turned to ice. She kept her gaze locked with his. "How did he die, Nicolai?" Her voice betrayed her, husky with emotion.
    "He was found this morning, murdered. There were signs of a struggle. Someone stabbed him numerous times." His voice was still devoid of expression.
    She waited, knowing there was more. Her heart seemed to be thundering in her ears. She couldn't equate the gentle, loving man she had lain with to someone capable of such a brutal act. Yet Nicolai had gone into many battles, defeated many enemies, was a feared and respected don. He was capable of ordering death and just as capable of killing.
    "There were paw prints all around the body in the snow, though all the lions are hidden.
    There were no signs of a human approaching him, only the tracks of a lion." He didn't take his eyes from her face, watching her with the unblinking stare of a predator focused on its prey.
    "Am I to believe that you murdered this man, Nicolai? You were with me last night." Her throat felt swollen, threatening to cut off her air.
    "The blood on him was fresh. He was killed in the early-morning