Lair of the Lion

as her betrothed. "Have you ever done it just to see what would happen?"
    He grinned at her, a quick, boyish smile that took the shadows from his eyes. "When I was a boy, I couldn't always resist. Poor Betto—when he would try to get me to come in at night and go to bed, I'd hide in the shadows and growl very low." He shook his head at the follies of his youth as he held the back of a chair for her to be seated.

    Her laughter spilled out, soft and infectious, finding its way into his heart. Her eyes were once again shining at him, accepting of him, daring to tease him, daring to share his youthful escapades and even the abilities that set him apart from all others. He couldn't remember his father ever speaking of the gift with him. He certainly couldn't remember even entertaining the idea of bantering about it.
    Brigita entered, her eyes downcast and her shoulders slumped, as if she were walking to her doom. She shuffled across the room and served the food on the platters, careful not to touch the don.
    "Good morn, Brigita," Isabella said brightly, determined to see the meal through. "All is well with you?"
    Brigita curtseyed, nearly dropping a plate. "Yes, grazie, Signorina Vernaducci." Her wayward gaze shifted toward the don before she could stop it, and her eyes widened in surprise. Staring at him, she backed out of the room.
    Isabella burst out laughing again. "I think you're much too handsome, Nicolai. Your people can only stare open-mouthed at you in silence."
    "Why can't I have that effect on you?"
    She studied him from beneath her lashes. "You do have that effect on me, signore." Her lashes fluttered down as color swept into her face. The good Madonna help her, he did have that effect on her. Captain Bartolmei's coat shredded from collar to hem lying atop her ripped gown meant nothing when he smiled at her. Isabella rubbed at her suddenly pounding temples. Was she so weak-willed that a man's smile could rob her of intelligence, of sanity?
    "What is it, piccola?" he asked softly, and he took her hand. His thumb stroked a caress across her sensitive inner wrist, right over her leaping pulse. "There are shadows in your eyes that were not there when you woke."
    "My life has changed so quickly, Nicolai," she answered. "I feel unsettled and confused.
    I wish Lucca were here."
    "You have me, Isabella. You aren't alone."
    "I know." She flashed a small smile at him and withdrew her hand to bring the teacup to her mouth. "It's simply nerves."
    "Don't get nervous yet, because I've spoken to the priest. I didn't want to give Sarina another opportunity to berate us. He is willing to perform the ceremony in a fortnight. I'm sorry we won't have emissaries attending—you deserve that—but it's best we wed quickly."
    "That doesn't bother me. I don't want all those people staring at me anyway," Isabella said. "I think a small ceremony would be perfect. But Lucca will be disappointed if he's not here." Her heart was pounding so loudly, she feared he might hear it. "He should be here very soon, Nicolai." Isabella was uncertain whether she wanted to wait until her brother could attend the ceremony because Lucca would want to be there, or because she was looking for a way to delay the inevitable. When she was with Nicolai, she felt strangely mesmerized, nearly overwhelmed by her attraction to him, by his need of her.
    Nicolai carefully brought the teacup to his lips, his amber eyes holding her gaze steadily.
    It had been years since he had shared a meal with another human being. He had to learn manners all over again.
    He could read her every expression, her every thought. Fear had crept into their relationship, and he had no way to alleviate it.
    Isabella could see the slight tremble of his hand, the sudden shadows in his eyes, and despite her fear, her heart went out to him. "Nicolai," she said softly, "I know you're afraid for me. Tell me why you are so afraid. If you can control beasts as strong as lions, why should you fear for me?"
    His gaze shifted away from her. Isabella's heart sank. She studied her food carefully, not trusting herself to look calm and serene as he revealed his most secret fears to her. She could feel her insides beginning to shake, tremors that threatened to spread to her limbs, and she hastily folded her hands in her lap beneath the table.
    "I would spare you the truth." He offered it gently.
    She lifted her chin, calling on every ounce of pride and courage. "I don't think it did much good to spare