Lair of the Lion

you in this plan to free your guilty fratello, what is in it for me?
    You have no land to give me. You have no money. Your loyalty toward tuo fratello is commendable, but I doubt I would elicit the same from you. How did you plan to repay me?
    Or did you expect me to risk my life and the lives of my soldiers for nothing?"
    "Of course not." She was shocked that he would think such a thing of her. "I'm a Vernaducci. We pay our debts. I have mia madre's jewelry. It is worth a small fortune. And my mount. She is well bred. And I myself am a hard worker. You may not believe I'll give you the same loyalty, but in exchange for mio fratello's life, I'll work hard for you. I ran our home, so I'll have no trouble becoming a domestica, as I know what is expected." She stared steadily into the shadows of the alcove, digging her nails even deeper into her palms while her heart beat out a wild rhythm.
    "I do not wear jewelry, and I have many horses. I also have many domestici, all quite loyal and very capable of doing their jobs."
    Her shoulders sagged. She hunched in the chair, struggling desperately not to cry. But she continued to stare into the darkened alcove, not wanting to break contact with her only hope.
    "What else are you willing to do in exchange for the life of tuo fratello?" The words were soft. "Will you trade your life for his?"
    At once her mouth went dry, and her heart nearly stopped. She thought of the unearthly scream of agony she had heard in the middle of the night. The terrible roar of the beasts.
    Did he sacrifice women to the lions for some pagan god? Did he watch humans being torn to pieces simply for his own perverted pleasure? She knew there were many in power who committed terrible atrocities. "I think you know I would do anything to save him," she answered, suddenly very afraid.
    "Once you give me your agreement, there will be no going back on your word," he cautioned.

    "You will have him pardoned?" She tilted her chin, putting on a show of bravery.
    "You will trade your life for that of tuo fratello? I have your word of honor?"
    She stood up quickly—she could not stay still. "Gladly," she said defiantly, proudly, every inch a Vernaducci. Even her father would have been proud of her in that moment.
    "And I can trust the word of a woman?" His voice was soft, almost caressing, even as he insulted her with his question.
    Her eyes flashed at him in a small flare of temper. "My word is not given lightly, signore. I assure you, it is every bit as good as yours."
    "Then it is done. You will remain here, in my palazzo, and the moment we are wed, I shall secure your brother's release." There was a grim finality to his words.
    She gasped aloud, a soft protest. It was the last thing she had expected. Her eyes widened as she tried to peer into the darkened alcove. To see him, to see his face. She had to see him. "I don't think it is necessary to wed. I'm quite happy to remain a domestica in your palazzo." She curtsied deliberately. "I assure you, signore, I am very hardworking."
    "I have no need of another domestica. I have need of a wife. You will wed me. You have given me your word, and I will not release you." That strange, low growl rumbled from deep within his throat, and the bird on his arm shook its wings restlessly, as if suddenly nervous or about to attack. Its beady eyes stared at Isabella as relentlessly as did the eyes in the shadows.
    Isabella's heart stuttered, and she gripped the back of the chair to steady herself, but she gazed intently into the alcove, refusing to be intimidated. "I did not ask to be released, Don DeMarco. I merely attempted to point out I was not expecting you to marry me. I have no dowry, no land, nothing to bring to the match." She should have been sagging with relief that he wasn't feeding her to his lions, but instead she was more frightened than ever. "Mio fratello is ill. He will need care. He must be brought here immediately so that I can nurse him back to health."
    "I will not tolerate interference from your brother. He would not want you to trade your life for his. He must believe our match is one of mutual affection."
    After all she had been through, her relief was so tremendous that Isabella feared she might collapse. She could feel tears clogging her throat and swimming in her eyes, and she turned away from the don to stare into the fireplace, hoping he wouldn't notice her weakness. She waited until she was certain she could control her voice.
    "If you save mio