Lair of the Lion

palazzo was not enough to keep her a prisoner in her room. If the beast had wanted to devour her, it had already had a perfect opportunity. She stalked across the room and jerked at the door. To her shock, it was locked again.
    Isabella stood there for a long moment, puzzled. A lion could not have locked the door, and surely Sarina hadn't crept back to lock it a second time. She had no idea how late it was, but she set about picking the lock, suddenly furious at having been locked in her room like a naughty child… or a prisoner.
    Once she had the door unlocked, she flung it open defiantly and stepped out into the hall.
    She knew the way to the library, and, carefully lighting a taper, she began to retrace the route. The din in the hall was awful. Wailing and moaning and rattling of chains. Totally exasperated, Isabella paused at the entrance to the great study. "Enough! All of you will stop that silly noise this instant! I want no more of it tonight."
    At once there was total silence. Isabella waited a moment. "Good!" She flounced into the library, allowing the door to swing closed behind her. Searching the shelves and cubicles, she thought of Don DeMarco alone in the snow. Inspecting a painting, she thought of him hunkered down beside the dead lion, sorrow in his eyes. Seating herself in a high-backed chair at the long marble table, she thought of him taking her hand in his. Staring at the ornate script of the thick tome she had chosen, she could think of no one, of nothing, else.
    He filled her mind and her heart until her very soul seemed bursting with fear for him.

Chapter Six
    Isabella turned her head, and he was there. Her heart gave a single leap of joy, then began to pound with alarm. Don DeMarco was watching her intently. His amber eyes blazed at her with a smoldering mixture of desire and possessiveness. He was in the shadows, so he seemed indistinct, yet his stare was vivid and brilliant, almost glowing at her.
    Very slowly she closed the book she was reading and set it on the table. "I am very happy to see you arrived safely, Signor DeMarco," she greeted him.
    "How is it I find you lurking about the palazzo when you have been instructed to stay in your room at night?" he countered. His tone was a low blend of sensuous and rough. His voice seemed to seep into her pores and light a fire in her blood.
    "I do not think I would use the word instructed," Isabella countered daringly. "It was most certainly an order."
    "Which you completely ignored." His blazing eyes didn't so much as blink. "You chose to skulk instead."
    "'Lurking' signore? 'Skulking'? I fear your imagination is out of control. I am merely reading a book, Don DeMarco, not stealing your treasures."
    His mouth twitched, drawing her attention to his perfectly sculpted lips. "Sarina had orders. It is necessary to know that the servants obey without question."
    Isabella lifted her chin and stared straight back at him, arching one eyebrow as if daring him to chastise her. "Have no fears, signore. Your housekeeper did her duty to you and carried out her orders, securely locking me in."
    For the first time he stirred there in the shadows, and the movement drew attention to his earlier stillness. Muscles rippled, fluid and sinewy, reminding her of the predatory beasts he held dominion over. He had been motionless—now he exuded tremendous power, tremendous danger. "You are locked in your room for your safety, signorina, as you well know." His voice was quite low, a lash of temper held in check.
    "I am locked in my room for your convenience," Isabella countered calmly. She folded her hands neatly in her lap to keep him from seeing her fingers twisting together in agitation. If they were to spar, she was not going to run simply because he was the most compelling and intriguing—the most frightening —man she had ever met. "Surely you would not have me believe you are so careless as to allow huge beasts to run free in your home. You are an intelligent man. That would be disastrous for several reasons. I suspect locking me in my room is more to keep me out of mischief than for my personal protection against marauding lions."
    "And you saw no lions this night?" he asked softly, his voice a caress.
    Isabella blushed, her lashes sweeping down to veil her expression. She had the feeling he knew she had seen a lion. "None from which I needed protection, signore."
    His stare didn't waver, rather became even more focused. The color of his eyes deepened,