Lair of the Lion

whispered her name in terror. "We must get you out of the valley.
    There must be a way."
    Isabella wrapped a comforting arm around the older woman. "We must get me ready for tea. I don't want to keep Don DeMarco waiting. Betto must burn the coat and gown." She longed for Lucca, yet she was curiously reluctant to explain Nicolai's legacy even to her beloved brother. "Isabella," Sarina protested again. "Say nothing. Tell no one. Let me think on this." She used her most authoritative voice, hoping to ward off the housekeeper's objections.
    As Sarina worked on her hair with trembling hands, Isabella attempted to puzzle out why she was so pulled in opposite directions. Could she have fallen in love with Nicolai? So completely in love with him that she was willing to risk her life? She had told him she would trade her life for her brother's life, and she had meant it. But why the unswerving loyalty to Nicolai, the need to stay and remove that look of utter loneliness from his eyes?
    She shivered, her heart pounding at the thought of being ripped apart by a lion with blazing amber eyes. Nicolai feared that such a thing would happen. He had said as much to her. It was in the shadows in his eyes. In his nightmares. He had feared it from the very beginning, when he had asked her if she would trade her life for Lucca's. Isabella closed her eyes tightly for a moment, trying to still her nerves and quiet her rapidly beating heart.
    Lucca always told her to think things through, yet there was a strange buzzing in her ears, and her mind was in chaos. "I want to look my best, Sarina." She needed the extra confidence. "We'll take tea in the formal dining hall, not his rooms." Isabella was uncertain whether she feared being alone with him, or whether she wanted his people to see Nicolai behaving in a normal manner. All at once it seemed more important than ever that he eat with her out in the open as a gentleman would.
    Sarina nodded her agreement. "It's time, I think."

    Isabella took a last peek in the looking glass to see her appearance. Satisfied that her terror wasn't reflected on her face, she took a deep breath and swept out of her bedchamber and down the curving staircase. The gown clung to her figure, the soft material falling in folds and swishing lusciously while she walked. Her hair was in intricate braids, swept up on her head, giving her an elegance her lack of height often prevented. Her appearance hid her pounding heart and a mouth tasting terror. She walked with her head held high, regally, a member of the aristocratizia, born to wealth and position.
    All along the hallway fresh tapers flickered in their sconces, throwing the carved lions with their teeth and claws into stark relief. The flat, cold eyes of the carvings stared at her, seeming to follow her every movement as she made her way down the hall. Isabella was all too aware of the wings on the crouching creatures, the plethora of claws stretching toward her. She found herself straining to hear a whisper of movement as she walked carefully to meet her betrothed.
    Don DeMarco was already in the dining hall, pacing restlessly. She paused in the doorway to drink in the sight of him. He was tall and strong, his shoulders wide, his bearing straight. His long hair was tamed into a semblance of order, pulled back and secured at the nape of his neck. He didn't look like a killer. He looked handsome and dashing, a man born to rule. She saw his head go up as if he scented her in the air. He turned slowly, his gaze drifting over her face, her body. Desire leapt into the depths of his eyes. Stark. Intense.
    Hungry. For her alone.
    It shook her, the way he looked at her. As if she were the only woman in the world. As if, without her, his life was empty and meaningless.
    He crossed the gleaming tiles and clasped her hand. "Isabella, you take my breath with your beauty."
    A smile curved her full lips. "You certainly make me feel beautiful, Nicolai."
    He led her to a small table, ignoring the long dining table set with exquisite china and flatware. "I want to be able to talk with you, not shout from one end of the table to the other. The servants will frown at this, but if they give us too much trouble, I'll growl at them," he offered.
    Humor was the last thing she expected. A small laugh escaped her, yet his teasing hadn't dispelled the wariness in her eyes. "What a useful asset you have. I didn't think of that." She leaned close and lowered her voice, determined to treat him