Francesca by Bertrice Small Page A

How flattering that is,” Francesca concluded sarcastically.
    “I believe you are honest,” he surprised her by saying. “You claim to have no interest in me, but do you have a lover back in Florence you would prefer?”
    “If you believe me honest,
signore
, then you know that cannot be true. I would not dishonor myself, your family, or mine by being so duplicitous. I simply do not believe I want to be wed,” she answered him.
    “That is ridiculous,” he replied. “You have no religious calling, so you must marry of necessity. There is no other choice for you, Francesca. If your reputation is true, then you have turned away every eligible gentleman who has presented himself to your family, and you did it cruelly by mocking your suitors.”
    “And my reputation does not deter you?” she demanded to know.
    “Nay, it does not! I see a girl of intelligence who possesses a kind heart, Francesca. A girl hiding from hurt who was once refused by a man she thought she loved. He was a fool, Francesca, but I am not. You will marry me, and we will come to love one another, for we are much alike. Independent, eager to have our own way, and yet a love of family and loyalty guides us as well. Now give me a smile,
dolce mia
,” he cajoled her.
    She couldn’t help it. His words had touched her, although she was still not ready to give in to him yet. She smiled a tremulous smile. “I’m not certain we are that much alike,” she told him.
    He laughed and his dark green eyes lit up. “Yes, we are,” he told her. “And now I mean to give you your second real kiss,” which he did.
    Her head spun a second time and her legs felt weak once more. She liked his kiss, but she wasn’t certain she enjoyed this feeling of utter helplessness. But she knew if she let go of him she was going to find herself in a heap upon the hall floor. “Take me to my apartments,” she said softly. “I need to think.”
    “My father would see us before either of us retires for the evening,” Rafaello told her. “Now we must make our way through all the well-wishers in the hall to reach him. I know you will draw upon that well of strength within you, and play your part.” His arm remained firmly about her waist.
    Francesca forced her legs to work, stepping forward slowly and quickly regaining her dignity. All the while his arm pressed her against his side. She smiled as congratulations were offered from the men in the hall she did not know nor had ever seen in her life. His wisdom in choosing her, her beauty, were all discussed as they moved forward and were praised. They were assured by many of those unfamiliar faces that they would create beautiful children. At one point she wanted to scream, but she forced herself to maintain a smiling facade.
    Finally they escaped the hall. “I think I am going to be sick,” she said.
    “Is the thought of being my wife
that
distasteful?” he asked her.
    “No!” The word was out before she might think. Well, if truth be told, marrying him wasn’t really distasteful. It was just the thought of marriage itself. “Let us see your father first and then I shall be sick,” she told him.
    A small smile touched his lips, and he led her through the
castello
corridors to Duke Titus’s library. There they found Valiant and Louisa waiting. The two young women embraced, and seeing it the duke was well pleased.
    “Sit, my children,” he invited them. Louisa and Francesca sat upon a small settle by the fire while Valiant and Rafaello stood behind them. The old duke was comfortable in a large tapestried chair opposite them. “I am well pleased by tonight’s events,” he began. “I understand, Valiant, that you would wed
Signorina
Louisa.” Valiant nodded, and the duke continued. “Then you will escort her home to Genoa, and with my blessing and full approval you will ask her father’s permission. I cannot guarantee what the Duke of Genoa will say, but I will do my best to see that he agrees to a union