The Scarletti Curse by Christine Feehan Page B

our
home," she hissed.
    "Behave yourself," Maria Pia demanded, and she opened the door.
    Cristano rushed in, almost smashing Maria Pia flat. He knocked the breath
out of her and had to catch her to prevent her from falling. Maria Pia slapped
at his hands and pursed her lips, clucking with disapproval like an old hen.
"What are you about, Cristano?" she demanded.
    Nicoletta burst out laughing as Cristano, mortified, turned bright red.
Maria Pia silenced Nicoletta with one eloquent look. Cristano shot Nicoletta a
withering glare and recovered his dignity sufficiently to face the older woman.
"I have come to ask for Nicoletta's hand in marriage. She cannot be
counted among the eligible women for the Bridal Covenant."
    Maria Pia smiled sweetly and patted Cristano's arm. "What a thoughtful
boy, to consider such a thing, but you seem to have forgotten that she is a
year too young for marriage yet. She will not be included in the don's Bridal
Covenant." She was leading him to the door. "It was kind of you to
offer to sacrifice yourself," she added wryly, "but there is no need.
Nicoletta will remain unmarried at least another year." As she addressed
and patted him, she thrust him out the door and closed it firmly. Then, having
uttered an untruth, as she'd sworn she couldn't, she hastened to the shrine to
the Madonna to seek forgiveness and charity.

 
Chapter Five
    The air of the village fairly hummed with energy the next evening. Nicoletta
shook her head as she watched the festivities from behind a large tree. She
pressed herself tight against the trunk, hoping she looked like one of the
nameless, faceless children the
aristocrazia
never seemed to notice. She
had bound her generous breasts and wore a loose, shapeless dress, a bit worse
for wear but clean. Her feet were inevitably bare, but her skirts hid her
shapely legs. Her hair was bound and covered tightly with a scarf. Still, she
was taking no chances, determined to stay as far as she could from the don.
    During the long hours of the day the adults had continued cleaning and
polishing the
villaggio
in hopes of making it more acceptable to the
don. All houses and stoops were now neat and tidy, and no wash hung on the
bushes or trees. The small boys were deployed as runners, stationed in the
neighboring
villaggi
to report on the don's progress. He was moving
slowly from the small towns and farms, inspecting the young women and evidently
finding none to his liking. He was steadily moving toward them.
    Nicoletta was agog at the girls, her friends, all of marriageable age,
simpering in their finest clothes, scrubbed and powdered, forgetting every
tragic death, every sinister rumor. They stood together in groups, talking in
whispers, erupting every now and then into fits of nervous giggles. They
thought only of the riches, the prestige, and what a coup such a marriage would
be. Nicoletta's fingers twisted tightly into the material of her skirt, and her
heart thudded hard in her chest. He was coming. He had found no bride yet, and deep
in her heart she knew that he wouldn't. He was coming for her.
    She was trembling, a fine shiver she couldn't quite control. Her hands were
icy cold, and her stomach was doing funny little somersaults. The fog had once
again rolled in, bands of it winding in eerie wisps around the trees and
houses. There was a terrible drumming in her head, like the sound of thunder
heralding a storm. He was coming for her. It sang in her head, a hideous
refrain. Self-preservation warred with her sense of duty. The don could not be
defeated. Strong men had tried, and they had died for their efforts. He was
coming for her.
    Nicoletta felt goose bumps creep over her skin. Close. He was close now. Her
legs felt rubbery, her knees weak. It took all her willpower to stand her ground,
albeit as a shrinking violet propped up by a tree.
    He came into sight riding a huge black horse with a flowing mane and tail.
The horse was restless, prancing sideways, tossing its head, but