Lair of the Lion

and warm. "Do you have to wake me so early?" She groaned and attempted to snuggle deeper into her pillow. She found it was warm and muscular, a heart beating out a steady rhythm beneath her ear. Her shocked gaze flew to Don DeMarco.
    He was lying beside her, one arm wrapped firmly around her. He bent his head to place a kiss in the hollow of her throat. "Grazie, cara mia. I have not ever had such a peaceful sleep." He rose with his fluid grace while Isabella gaped at him. His hair was wild, pulling loose of the leather tie he had used to tame it the night before. He made no attempt to straighten the long mane, and she thought it only enhanced his good looks. There was no remorse on his face or in his eyes for his improper behavior.
    Isabella caught his hand. "Have tea with me."
    Sarina's scandalized gasp should have made them both wince. "He will not have tea with you in your bedchamber!" She crossed herself and kissed her thumb.
    "Not here." Isabella kept her gaze locked with Nicolai's. "In the dining hall. Out in the open, where everyone can see us together."
    "He must leave immediately, this instant, and not through the door. No one can see him come from your room." Sarina wrung her hands in agitation. "I'll get the priest. You must ask him to perform the ceremony at once."
    "I'll speak with the priest, Sarina," Nicolai said calmly, his gaze drifting over Isabella's face. "And do not reprimand Isabella. The fault lies with me alone. I came in when she was unaware." There was a soft command in his voice but a command nevertheless. His gaze flicked to Sarina, then back to Isabella. "I'd be pleased to share tea with you, bellezza."
    Calling her beautiful didn't seem to capture the way she took his breath away. He clasped her hand, his fingers sliding over hers slowly in an unhurried inspection of her skin before he brought her palm to his lips. He pressed a lingering kiss in the exact center.
    Mesmerized, Isabella could only stare up at him, this man who had claimed her allegiance by saving her brother but who had stolen her heart away with his fierce pride and incredible tenderness. He stole the breath right out of her body. His eyes held a thousand secrets, dark shadows, and turbulent emotions. When he looked at her that way, she ached for him.
    Don DeMarco moved across the room, his body fluid and powerful. Both women watched as he disappeared into the hidden passageway.
    "I saw him." Sarina said the words aloud in wonder. "You weren't touching him, and I still saw him. As a man, Isabella."
    He is a man, Isabella said calmly as she pulled on her robe. Her body was sore and battered, but she ignored her protesting muscles as she went to the small alcove to wash and dress. The less she drew Sarina's attention to the previous night's adventures, the better off she'd be.
    "You can't know what that means after all these years," the housekeeper whispered.
    Abruptly, as if her legs could no longer support her, Sarina sat on the bed and covered her face with her hands. Her thin shoulders shook as she wept without reservation.
    Isabella saw the housekeeper sobbing and gathered her into her arms. "Sarina, what is it?
    Tell me. Is it Betto again? We can find him a healer. I've heard there are many who know much about herbs."
    Sarina shook her head. "It's Don DeMarco. I watched over him as a little boy, so beautiful with his wild hair and laughing eyes. I loved him like my own." She wiped at the tears streaming down her face. "When he came in from the courtyard that day, that terrible day, covered in blood, his poor face torn…" She buried her face in her hands again in a storm of weeping. It was a few minutes before she recovered herself enough to lift her head and look at Isabella. "His padre loved him, you know. Loved him more than anything. I know he wanted to spare Nicolai the pain, the shame, of what he believed would happen to his son. He tried to kill Nicolai, not out of hatred but out of love. Love can be a terrible thing." She gazed at Isabella. "From that day to this one, I've never seen Nicolai as a man, not when he was standing alone."
    "Sarina." Isabella took a deep breath, let it out, and forced herself to ask what was better left unsaid. "His padre believed Nicolai would kill his own wife someday. He believed it so strongly he was willing to destroy his own son to prevent it from happening. I know Nicolai fears it is possible. You know Nicolai, you know his true heart, and you love him. What do you believe?"