Lair of the Lion

to take other holdings.

    She ate a quiet dinner with Sarina and Betto, although Sarina was clearly uncomfortable with her insistence that she dine with them. Betto said little, but he was courteous and charming when he spoke. Isabella retired to her room in the evening, drank the required cup of tea, and allowed Sarina to once again apply the numbing salve to her back. The housekeeper spent a great deal of time combing out and rebraiding Isabella's hair, most likely waiting for her to become sleepy. Isabella deliberately yawned several times and made no protest when the door to her bedchamber was locked from the outside. She lay in bed waiting for Francesca, hoping the girl would visit her once the household settled down.
    The wailing started an hour or so later, along with low moans and the rattling of chains.
    The noises seemed to be in the hall outside her room, and Isabella was frowning at the door when Francesca flounced happily onto the end of her bed. Startled, Isabella began laughing.
    "You must tell me where the secret entrance is," she greeted. "It would come in quite handy, I'm sure."
    "There is more than one," Francesca said. "Why did you go away like that? I was afraid you would leave and I would never see you again." For the first time the young woman looked vexed and sulky.
    "It certainly was not my choice to go off in a snowstorm," Isabella defended. "I'd never even seen snow until I came here."
    "Really?" Francesca turned her head, her dark eyes leaping with interest. "Do you like it?"
    "It's cold," Isabella said decidedly. "Very, very cold. I was shaking so much my teeth were chattering."
    Francesca laughed. "My teeth always chatter, too. But sometimes, when I was little, I used to slide down the hills on a skin. It was fun. You should try it."
    "I'm not so little, Francesca, and I'm not certain of the fun. When my horse threw me off, and I landed in the snow, it was not soft, as I thought it would be. When the snow falls, it seems fluffy, but on the ground it is much like the water of a pond becoming ice."
    "I tied skins to my shoes once and tried to slide, but I fell very hard." Francesca laughed at the memory. "I didn't tell anyone, but my legs were black and blue for a week."
    "Who makes all that noise?" Isabella asked, curious. The wailing and moaning seemed to be louder than usual. "Doesn't it bother anybody?"
    "I think everyone ignores them out of politeness. I tell them to stop, that no one is impressed with such nonsense, but they won't listen to me." She looked indignant. "They think I'm a child. But, in truth, I think it makes them feel important." She looked at Isabella, her dark eyes guileless. "Have you ever taken a lover? I've never had a lover, and I've always wanted one. I think I'm pretty, don't you?"

    Isabella sat up, careful of her back, drawing the coverlet over her knees. Francesca was such a mixture of woman and child. "You're beautiful, Francesca," she assured her, feeling older and maternal. "You have no need to worry. A handsome man will come along and insist on marrying you. How could any man resist you?"
    At once the shadows cleared from Francesca's face, and she beamed at Isabella. "Will Nicolai be your lover?"
    Isabella took a sudden interest in plucking at the stitching on the quilt. "I know nothing of lovers, never having had one. I do have a fratello, a very handsome one Don DeMarco said he would come here. His name is Lucca."
    "I have always liked that name," Francesca conceded. "Is he very handsome?"
    "Oh, yes. And when he rides on a horse, he is dashing. All the women say so. I can't wait for you to meet him." Isabella smiled at the thought. Francesca might be just the person to get Lucca through the coming months. She was beautiful and funny and sweet. "He is ill, and he has been imprisoned in the dungeons of Don Rivellio. Have you ever met the don?"
    Francesca shook her head solemnly. "No, and I don't think I would want to. Is Nicolai going to rescue your brother?"
    Isabella nodded, but deep within, her heart twisted. She had left Nicolai DeMarco standing alone in the storm. The wind had howled and blown sheets of white flakes over him, and all she had done was fling his cloak to him. She never should have left him.
    "You look so sad, Isabella," Francesca said. "There is no need to worry. If Don DeMarco has said he will have Lucca brought here to you, he will do so. He is a man of his word.
    Truly. He lives by his word. I have never known him to break