Lair of the Lion

what either of them was talking about, but Nicolai kissed her right in front of Sarina. A slow, lingering kiss that heated her blood and melted every bone in her body. He stared into her eyes for a long, endless moment. She saw the flare of desire, of possessiveness. She saw affection.
    Isabella smiled and traced a fingertip over his perfectly sculpted mouth. They were becoming closer. No matter what strange things were taking place in the castello, they were becoming friends. If she was to marry him, she wanted more than merely the heat between them.
    "Good night, Isabella. I trust you have had adventures enough for one evening," he said tenderly, his eyes alight with mischief. "No roaming the halls, seeking out ghosts."

    "She is a good and obedient girl," Sarina said staunchly. Her hand felt for the key in the pocket of her skirt and patted it for reassurance.
    "Is she now?" Nicolai rose in his fluid, graceful manner, all power and controlled coordination, gliding across the room silently. He paused at the door. "Obedient to whom, I wonder."
    Sarina watched the door close behind him and turned back to stare in disapproval at Isabella's bare shoulders. "What has been going on in here?"

Chapter Nine
    Isabella had the grace to blush. "Nicolai is very handsome," she observed casually. It didn't come out casually. She barely recognized her own voice. It was soft and sensual and totally unlike her.
    Sarina's eyebrows shot up. "It is good you find the don attractive, Isabella, but he is a man. Men want certain things from women. Nicolai is no different. Did your madre explain to you what is expected of a woman when she weds?"
    Isabella sat up, holding the slipping coverlet with one hand and accepting the cup of tea with the other. Sarina began to brush out Isabella's long hair. The action was soothing. "Mia madre died when I was quite young, Sarina. I asked Lucca, but he said it was my husband's duty to teach me those things." Color crept up her neck into her face. She had the feeling the don was teaching her already, before he should.
    "There are things that go on in the bedchamber between a man and wife, perfectly natural things. Do as he tells you,
    Isabella, and you will learn to enjoy what others do not. My Betto has made my life wonderful, and I believe Nicolai will do the same with you. But these things are done after you are wed, not before."
    Isabella sipped her tea, thankful she didn't have to reply. She wanted Nicolai with every fiber of her being. It didn't matter that things hadn't gone perfectly—her body still burned for his. She didn't dare tell Sarina what had transpired in her bedchamber.
    Isabella lay awake for a long while after Sarina left, hoping Francesca would come to visit her. She was restless and wanted company. Sarina's tongue-lashing had been far milder than Nicolai had led her to anticipate, and she was grateful Sarina had treated her as a daughter or a friend. But she couldn't talk to Sarina about Nicolai.
    She sighed and rolled over, the quilts tangling around her body. She should have dressed in her bedclothes, but once Sarina left, Isabella lay naked, her body burning, the memory of Nicolai's mouth pulling strongly at her breast and the feel of his silken hair sliding over her skin, uppermost in her mind. She ached, she burned, she was unsettled and edgy. She wanted all the things Sarina had hinted at. She wanted Nicolai's tongue stroking her skin, his fingers buried deep inside her.
    It was useless lying there, unable to sleep. She sat up, allowing the coverlet to fall to her waist so that the air cooled her hot skin. She pulled her long, thick braid around and loosened her hair, shaking her head so that it brushed her skin the way his had, cascading past her waist to pool on the bed. Her body clenched as the silky strands caressed her body.
    She groaned softly in sheer frustration.
    If she hadn't been so aroused, she would have asked Sarina why the servants treated their don so abominably, but she could only think of him. Nicolai DeMarco. Isabella threw back the covers determinedly and rose from the bed. Padding naked across the room, she stretched her hands out toward the fireplace, the only light left in the room. She had never stood naked in front of a fire and found it sensual.
    Had he changed her in some way? She had never felt like this, hot and heavy and so aware of her own body. She had been naturally curious about what went on between a man and a woman, but no man had ever