Lair of the Lion

denial and cried all the harder, Captain Bartolmei crowded protectively closer to Isabella. "We must report this immediately to the don."

    Isabella took a deep breath, desperate to regain her composure. She feared she might laugh at the complete absurdity of the situation. She dared not, for it would humiliate the weeping girl even more. "I think young Alberita should be taken to the kitchen and served a calming cup of tea. Is there anyone able to escort her to the kitchen, Sarina?" Isabella smiled serenely, moving confidently out from behind the captain. "Grazie, Captain, for your quick action, but, of course, we can't disturb Don DeMarco with something so small as this accident. It was merely a broken broom. Alberita is very enthusiastic in her work."
    Determinedly she went to the young girl, ignoring the captain's restraining hand. "Your hard work is much appreciated. Go with Brigita, now, Alberita, and get a nice cup of tea to steady you."
    "You must be more careful, girl," Captain Bartolmei snapped. "If anything should happen to Signorina Vernaducci, we are all lost."
    Isabella laughed softly. "Come now, Captain, you'll have the people believing I was terrified by a broom."
    Rolando Bartolmei found himself unable to resist her mischievous grin. "It wouldn't do to have that happen," he agreed.
    "Rolando?" The voice was young, trying to be imperious but wavering alarmingly.
    "What is going on?" •
    The servants, Isabella, and Captain Bartolmei turned to face the newcomers. Two women, obviously aristocratiche, stood beside Sergio Drannacia, waiting for an explanation. But it was the tall, handsome man behind them who caught Isabella's attention and stole the breath from her lungs.
    Don DeMarco was utterly motionless. His long hair flowed around him, shaggy and thick. His eyes blazed with fire, the eyes of a predator, focused, intent on prey. For a moment his image shimmered, so that a lion seemed to stare relentlessly, mercilessly at the man standing so close to Isabella.
    The very air in the room stilled, as if any movement, any sound, could trigger an attack.
    The servants hastily stared at the floor. Captain Bartolmei bowed slightly, averting his eyes.
    The two women turned to look behind them. At the sight of the don one of them screamed, her face completely white. She would have slumped to the floor if Sergio Drannacia hadn't caught her and steadied her.
    It was Isabella who moved first, breaking the tension. "Is the woman ill?" She hurried through the small group of servants, around the women and Drannacia, and made straight for Don DeMarco. She looked up at him. "Shouldn't we offer her a bedchamber?"
    Captain Bartolmei took the woman from Sergio, giving her a small shake. He bent his head and whispered fiercely to her, his face stiff with embarrassment.

    Betto clapped his hands and gestured to the servants, scattering them quickly, sending them back to their duties. "Tea is served in the drawing room," he announced to his don, and he melted away as only a well-practiced manservant could.
    "There is no need of a bedchamber," Captain Bartolmei answered grimly. "My wife is perfectly fine. I apologize for her conduct."
    The young woman turned her head away, but not before Isabella saw tears glittering in her eyes at the harsh reprimand she had received from her spouse. Captain Bartolmei's wife kept her head down as they walked through the halls to the drawing room.
    In truth, Isabella felt sorry for the girl. More than once her father had publicly censured her. She knew the utter humiliation of such a deed. She knew what it cost in strength and pride to have to face those who had witnessed the reprimand.
    The don matched his longer strides to Isabella's, his hand resting lightly on her arm, his body quite close to hers. "Would you care to explain why the captain was holding your hand?" His voice was low but purred with a menace that sent a shiver down her spine. His palm slid along her arm to take possession of her hand, his fingers threading tightly through hers.
    Her startled gaze jumped to his face. "Is that what it looked like? How awful. He was worried for my safety and kept pushing me behind him." Isabella shook her head. "No wonder his wife became hysterical. What must the poor woman think?"
    Something dangerous flickered in the depths of his eyes. "Why would you care what she thought? Isn't what I think of paramount importance to you both?"
    She tightened her fingers around his and leaned closer.