The Scarletti Curse Page 6

  Nicoletta cried out a warning to the don, but the wind whipped her voice from her, back into the mountains and away from the roaring sea. But even though it was impossible that he could have heard, something alerted the don, and he swung around to catch his assailant's wrist. He moved so fast, he seemed a blur, somehow swinging the man around in front of him so that, when the one he had been speaking to plunged his knife deep, it was buried in the don's assailant instead of the don himself.

  Don Scarletti allowed the man to crumple helplessly to the beach. Nicoletta could see that the shocked assailant's mouth was wide open, as if he was screaming, but she could hear nothing. His body writhed for a moment, contorted, then lay still. The don looked from the dead man crumpled in a heap at his feet to his betrayer. Nicoletta's heart went out to the don. She could almost feel his sorrow, see it in the droop of his shoulders. For one awful moment she thought he was going to open his arms and allow the other man to kill him. Don Scarletti seemed to be speaking softly, shaking his head.

  "No," she said softly to the wind. "No."

  At the precise moment of her denial of his death, the don's shoulders straightened, and his betrayer attacked. The don was once again a whirling blur of motion as he leapt to one side to avoid the dagger, catching his opponent's wrist and twisting it as he stepped back into the man so that the blade buried itself in the betrayer's chest. They stood, toe to toe, staring into each other's eyes, and then slowly the betrayer collapsed, and the don lowered him reluctantly to the sand. He stood for a moment, his head bowed in evident sorrow, and she saw his hands come up to cover his eyes.

  Nicoletta's heart turned over, and tears shimmered in her eyes for a moment, blurring the scene below. She wiped them away and looked down again. The don suddenly looked up. Gasping, she shrank back into the foliage. Even though it was impossible for Don Scarletti to see her through the thick leaves and branches, she felt the weight of his stare. He could not have seen her, not from that angle; it would have been impossible. He couldn't even have known she was there. Her teeth bit at her lip nervously. She had always been so careful, yet in a short time she had had two strange encounters with Don Giovanni Scarletti, the very last aristocratico she should ever meet.

  "Nicoletta!" Ketsia's plaintive voice caught her attention, and she turned to see the child rushing toward her. Obviously alarmed because she could no longer see Nicoletta, she had panicked. Tears streaked her little face.

  Nicoletta immediately caught the child to her, dragging her back away from the cliff so she could not see Don Scarletti and his dead assailants on the beach below.

  "Were you afraid, piccola?" Nicoletta stroked back her hair and bent to kiss the upturned face. "I thought I heard something, but..." She shrugged casually. "What frightened you?"

  "I thought... Did you see the color of the sky? I thought..." Ketsia trailed off. "Maria Pia told me I should watch you all the time. I did not want you to get into trouble."

  Nicoletta hugged her. "The sky was indeed a wondrous hue, but Maria Pia--well, she can frighten the men in the villaggio, she can frighten the sheep on the hillsides, perhaps she can even frighten the fish in the sea, but certainly not you, Ketsia. Why, I have seen you fly at your big brother when he teases you. Surely he is much more terrifying than Maria Pia." Deliberately she teased the little girl as she continued to walk with her toward the trail.

  Nicoletta wanted to go back and see what had happened, but she didn't dare rouse Ketsia's suspicions; the little girl was curious about everything her mentor did. Night was falling rapidly. Nicoletta often roamed the wilds at night, but she would never keep a child out so late. The villagers were a superstitious people and believed in all sorts of things Nicoletta had never found to be true. With a sigh of regret, Nicoletta began to lead the way down the path.

  "Wait!" Ketsia called, turning and running back toward where they had been working on the plants. "Your shoes! I left your shoes! Maria Pia will lecture me!"

  Nicoletta burst out laughing. "We cannot have that."

  Ketsia giggled, her world right again. She skipped after Nicoletta, chatting and happy, completely unaware of Nicoletta's silence. It had grown dark by the time they made their way to the village. When Ketsia saw Maria Pia, she tugged at Nicoletta's skirt. "She is frowning at you," she whispered, surreptitiously tapping the shoes against Nicoletta's leg. "Presto, put them on before she sees."

  Nicoletta ruffled the child's hair as she took the shoes. "She sees everything, Ketsia. Do not worry. She frowns, but she does not bite."

  Ketsia's mother took the child off after exchanging all the endless gossip of the day with Nicoletta, who pasted on an appropriate smile.

  Maria Pia evidently felt the same impatience. She clutched at Nicoletta's arm tugged. "We must eat. I am sagging without food."

  Nicoletta followed her quickly into the small hut they shared. "You look tired. Allow me to fix you something to eat while you rest." Gently she helped the older woman into the one good chair they had beside the fireplace. Curbing her curiosity, she built a fire and began to heat the soup. Maria Pia did look tired and strained. She was usually so spry, Nicoletta often forgot her advancing age.

  "Stop giving me those worried looks, piccola. I am just tired. I am too old to traipse off to the palazzo with Mirella. She is an old fool, that one."

  Nicoletta hid her smile. All in the villaggio deferred to Maria Pia, with the exception of Mirella. Mirella was older than Maria Pia, and, according to her, she had been the most beautiful and coveted of all the women in her youth. The stories of her romantic conquests seemed to grow with each telling, and Maria Pia was exasperated with the tales. "The old fool," Maria Pia repeated. "She was actually flirting with the don."

  Shocked, Nicoletta nearly crumbled the loaf of bread into crumbs. "She what?"

  "Ha! The old fool. I told you her mind was going. But, no, you always laugh, as if she is so entertaining. And what are you doing to that bread? Wringing its neck? We have to eat that."

  "Mirella detests the entire famiglia Scarletti. I remember some time ago you said you had to forcibly stop her from speaking to Portia Scarletti in order to protect her. What happened? What could have gotten into her?"

  Maria Pia crossed herself solemnly. "It is the palazzo. It is not right. Evil lurks there. I think she was"--she lowered her voice, looked around, and finally let the word slip out--"possessed." Hastily she rose and shuffled to the shrine to the Madonna in the corner of the hut and lit three candles against any evil she might have invoked with her words. "Nicoletta, perhaps you know strong offerings that, with the Madonna's consent, you might make on our behalf against what I may have wrought."

  Nicoletta gaped at her. Maria Pia was a devout practitioner of her faith. She would never consider doing anything improper unless she felt they were in mortal danger. "Maria Pia?" she said softly. "Come sit down, and tell me exactly what happened. Surely it is not so bad that we cannot make things better." She swept her hair back into a knot before arranging bread and cheese on the older woman's plate, the action steadying her trembling hands. She couldn't bring herself yet to tell Maria Pia about what had taken place at the cove. She needed to know first what had gone on at the palazzo.

  "I tried to protect you, Nicoletta, but I think Mirella told the don things about you. He was asking many questions." Maria Pia left the shrine to make her way slowly, heavily to the crude table.

  Nicoletta poured hot water into a cup and added a mixture of herbs to make a soothing brew. "Start from the beginning. Why did the don command the healer to the palazzo?"

  "He said he wanted to pay me for my services. And he paid us handsomely," Maria Pia said sorrowfully. "It was ill to take his payment." She shook her head as Nicoletta placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of her. "I knew he was looking for you. He stared at Mirella as if she were an apparition. I think the old fool thought he was intrigued by her. He asked about you, and I told him you were resting." She glared at Nicoletta. "You were resting." She simultaneousl
y made it a statement and a question.

  "In my way." Nicoletta waved her hands airily and sat across from Maria Pia at the small table. "Please continue."

  "He asked if you knew a great deal about healing. He was speaking so casually, so easily, I was distracted at first, he was so kind. But then a man came in and spoke to him in a whisper, and during that pause I realized I was telling the don things I did not want to tell." She crossed herself again and kissed the crucifix around her neck. "I am sorry, Nicoletta. I got up to leave and would not look at him again, but Mirella simpered and fawned all over him in a terrible display." Maria Pia's faded eyes were watery and could not look at her young friend.

  Nicoletta placed her hand over the old woman's, feeling the papery skin beneath her palm. Maria Pia shook her head and jerked her hand away. "I am as guilty as Mirella. I betrayed you, too. He knows you are the true healer."

  Nicoletta took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We must eat while the food is hot." She bowed her head over the food to give herself time to think.

  Maria Pia prayed devoutly for some time before signaling it was time to eat. Nicoletta took several cautious sips of the soup before speaking. "What, exactly, did Mirella say to him?"

  "She told him you were magical. She actually used the word magical. I interrupted and tried to say she meant you were so filled with joy and laughter and could light up a room, but Mirella just stared at him completely spellbound and went on as giddily as a girl."

  "The don had to leave to meet someone--I heard him tell his manservant, Gostanz, that he had a very important meeting and would return late. I hurried Mirella out of there, I can tell you that, and scolded her all the way home. She was very contrite, as she should have been, but I fear that will not save you. Though it breaks my heart, we must send you away, far away, where you will be beyond the don's reach."

  Nicoletta continued to eat calmly, her mind racing. Now she didn't dare tell Maria Pia what she had seen from the cliff. She would be sent away for certain. The don had obviously gone to meet someone of importance at the cove, but it had been an ambush, ending in two killings at his hands. If he knew she had witnessed the event, he might well wish to dispose of her by naming her a witch. Don Giovanni Scarletti might live in a pagan household, but he had close ties to the Church. He had close ties to everyone in power.

  "I will stay here, Maria Pia. I do not intend to hide from him. Besides, no one hides successfully from the don. You have said so yourself on many occasions. No one has yet come to haul me away. After supper I will go to Donna Mirella and comfort her. I do not want her to worry that she has placed me in a terrible position."

  "But likely she has, Nicoletta. You are not taking this matter as seriously as you should."

  "I am taking it very seriously," she said softly, "more seriously than you can know, but I do not think it fair for Mirella to blame herself when I believe the don is able to... to influence people in some way. You said yourself he influenced you. You said he is rumored to read minds as well. It is not Mirella's fault."

  Maria Pia looked at her a long time and then smiled slowly. "I did a good thing when I took you in, bambina. You are right, of course. We cannot allow the old fool to be ashamed and mourn. She is dimwitted--that is her excuse. I, however, have none. If the don should threaten you, I will travel far from here with you."

  Nicoletta smiled sweetly. "You will remain here where I know you are safe, and you will trust me to hide out until the don loses interest."

  "You said he would lose interest immediately, and he did not. You also just agreed that no one could hide forever from the don." The sparkle was beginning to return to the older woman's eyes, however, with Nicoletta's reassurances.

  "I thought you told me you were forgetful," Nicoletta teased her back, pleased that Maria Pia was no longer so fretful.

  Chapter Four

  Nicoletta lay beneath her coverlet, unable to sleep, tossing and turning this way and that. Outside, the wind rushed at the thin walls of the hut as if storming a fortress. It brought his voice with it. The don's voice. She could hear the low voice murmuring to her continually, mercilessly, a relentless assault she feared would never end. Soft. Compelling. Needing. Commanding. It went on and on, the sound brushing at the inside of her mind and making her body burn in an unfamiliar way. There was something darkly sensual in that voice, a whisper of sin, erotic and seductive, that left her wanting and needing and burning in her bed. Nicoletta squirmed and put her hands over her ears to try to drown out the sound. It only increased in volume. Her skin felt damp and sensitive, her breasts aching with need. Furious, she sat up, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. Impatiently she braided it quickly, padding on bare feet to the window to stare out into the darkness.

  She desperately wanted to leave the hut right then in the middle of the night and inspect the cove. What had happened to Don Scarletti? Was he safe? Was she merely dreaming he was calling to her? Had there been others lying in wait to ambush him? Could he be out there, injured and in need of aid? But the voice sounded smooth and haunting, not weak and injured. The voice sounded seductive, like a sorcerer's weapon that seeped its way through flesh and bone and under skin to smolder with wicked heat in her breasts, her belly, between her legs. Color swept up her neck; her entire body seemed hot and unfamiliar to her. Was the don capable of black magic, as it was rumored? Had he somehow marked her because he saw her differences? Defensively she put a hand to her throat. Few things in nature frightened her, but Don Scarletti and his evil palazzo had managed to do so.

  Restlessly she paced across the room to tuck the coverlet more closely around Maria Pia. Her heart warmed at the sight of her, sleeping so soundly. The woman had always been there for her as long as she could remember. Nicoletta knew they shared a distant blood tie--nearly all the families in the villaggio were related in some way--yet Maria Pia was more family to her than any other she had known. Long before her mother and aunt had died, there had been Maria Pia. She remembered the low murmur of feminine voices conversing while she was dozing off. Her madre. Her zia. Maria Pia. Reassuring, secure. She had been accepted and loved by Maria Pia all her life. Now she had no one else, and most likely she never would.

  Were they coming for her, the don's minions? She padded on bare feet back to the window to peer anxiously in the direction of the palazzo. Right now, were they gathering torches and coming together at the command of the don to call her witch? She could hear her heart beating far too loud and fast. Earlier she had managed to appear calm, but the truth was, she was terrified. This was her home; she knew no other. These people were her family; she wanted no other. She did not want to attempt to flee, and no one wanted to be burned as a witch. And what of her people? Would they suffer for having harbored such an abomination in their midst? Was the voice she was hearing a sign from God? Had she gone mad?

  The wind rattled the small hut and found its way in through the chinks, making her shiver. It howled mournfully through the trees, an eerie, ghostly sound that rose like a thin wail and died off, only to return again and again. She heard the hunting cries of distant wolves, first the leader of the pack and then the others answering, signaling the presence of prey. The cries sent another shiver along her spine. The mist from the ocean had turned to a heavy fog, shrouding the surrounding hillside. The wind spun the viscous vapor until it appeared to boil angrily, and shadows moved within the gray-white veil as if edging closer and closer. All the while the voice murmured to her, a low, insistent command Nicoletta tried not to hear.

  She stood watching at the window most of the night until the wind died down and took the relentless whisperings with it. She was slumped against the wall at dawn, sound asleep, when young Ricardo, son of her friend Laurena burst into the hut after only a perfunctory knock.

  "You have to come now. Mia madre said you have to go to the farm of her sister. Zia Lissandra is very ill. Her bebe is coming, but something is wrong. Madre says do not let her sister die, Donna Nicoletta." His fac
e was white, and he delivered his message without taking a single breath. Sagging against the door, he looked at Nicoletta with tears in his eyes. "She was screaming, Nicoletta. Zia Lissandra was screaming. I ran here as fast as I could."

  Nicoletta was immediately awake, hurrying to soothe the boy. "You have done well, Ricardo. Your madre will be proud of you. I shall come at once. You light a candle to the good Madonna that my work this morning goes well."

  At the sound of Ricardo's high-pitched, frightened voice, Maria Pia sat up on her bed and looked anxiously around, afraid the don's men had come to take Nicoletta from her.

  Nicoletta bent to kiss her. "I must go now. To Lissandra, ill in childbirth. Follow as quickly as you are able. I cannot wait; it sounds too urgent." She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, caught up her satchel of medicaments, and rushed from the hut, her bare feet silently slapping the ground.

  Thoughts and fears of witchcraft and the don were shoved aside as she prayed all the way to the farm. Lissandra was young yet to be a mother. Not yet sixteen, she had married a man much older than she. Nicoletta and Lissandra were friends, and Nicoletta was terrified of losing her. Already she had seen far too many women lose their lives in the birthing process.

  The farm was some distance away, and Nicoletta lost track of the times she begged the Madonna to lend wings to her feet. Maria Pia would take well over an hour to make the trek. Whatever had to be done would be done by Nicoletta alone. She almost wished she did have magic at her fingertips to aid her. Every step was uphill and steep. Her injured calf was burning by the time she saw the torches lit around the farmhouse where Lissandra resided with her husband, Aljandro.

  He flung open the door, having obviously been watching for her, his huge bulk filling the frame, his face twisted with guilt. "Hurry, Nicoletta. I fear you are too late."