Cascade (9 page)

He sauntered to the door, unlocked it, then glanced back at me as the candlelight from the hallway spilled inward and Marcello burst through, looking in confusion from me to Lord Rossi. Seeing me in my nightdress, in bed, he looked to the ground, then furiously at Lord Rossi.

“Highly unorthodox, I know, Sir Forelli,” Lord Rossi said stiffly. “But then so is this girl who has so captured you,” he said, looking over at me. “Tread carefully, sir. I fear this one is most…bewitching.”

With that, he left. Marcello rushed to my side and wrapped me in his arms. I clung to him, still trembling at Lord Rossi’s threat. I could see Luca’s shadow, shifting in the doorway as he stood guard.

“Gabriella, did he hurt you?”

“Hurt me? Lord Rossi? Nay. He merely threatened me,” I said with a humorless laugh. I pulled away and wiped my eyes. “I do not know why I am crying.”

“You’ve been through a great deal.” He knelt down beside the bed and wiped yet another tear, streaming down my cheek.

“Marcello, you shouldn’t be in here. If someone were to see—”

“Shh. Leave the palace gossip to me. I’ve lived with it all my life, remember?” He took my face with both of his hands and waited for me to look into his eyes. “What did he want, Gabriella?”

“He wanted to know who I was. Really,” I whispered. “After Lord Paratore’s outburst, he won’t be the last who wonders.”

Marcello shook his head. “Paratore is an enemy of the republic. And no one but one of the Nine would dare to ask you. Lord Rossi—he has other reasons.”

I nodded. Romana. Fortino.

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I tried to reassure him. But he’s concerned I might intervene between Fortino and Romana.”

Marcello let out a scoffing laugh. “With but a week before their nuptials? Why would you?”

I remained silent.

“Gabriella.”

“I do not trust her, Marcello.” I turned to meet his eyes, adding, “Do you?”

“Romana? Yes.
Yes
.”

“Even with the Fiorentini? Here? In this very house?”

He set his lips in a grim line. “It is the way of the Nine to seek peace as well as to fight for what is ours. It is what we need in our leadership.”

“At what cost?” I muttered. “Your brother’s happiness?”

I knew I was out of line to say it. The expression on Marcello’s face confirmed it. “It’s only that…” I paused, then went on. “After all he’s been through, Fortino deserves”—I gestured between Marcello and me—“this. What we have. Love. Not some sort of hand-me-down relationship, forged because it strengthens an alliance.”

Marcello leaned back and sighed. “Marriage is a sacrament, a blessed union. And I admit, it has become more a method of securing political gain than ensuring happiness for either bride or groom.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But it is what it is. Our parents’ marriage was much the same. In time, my mother and father grew fond of each other. Already, Fortino and Romana share such fondness. You’ve seen it for yourself, no? Might we not hope and pray that love might grow from those tender seeds?”

I gave him a sad, weary smile. “Mayhap. I suppose the perils of my own world,” I said lowly, “have made me suspect all. Half of our marriages end in divorce.”

“Divorce?” he said, bringing a hand to his chest as if I’d wounded him. “Half? Impossible.”

“Half.”

He paused, considering. “Your mother? Your father…”

“No, they loved each other. Really loved. More than I’d seen in most other couples. But my father died six months ago in an accident.”

“I grieve with you, beloved,” he said, drawing near again, touching the side of my head tenderly, then cupping my chin. “Do you think he would have blessed our union?”

“I don’t know,” I said. Then, “Believe me, m’lord, my mother will be far more difficult.”

His eyes narrowed, and he dropped his hand. “Why? Does she find me somehow…wanting?”

I snorted and shook my head. “Nay, m’lord. How could anyone find you wanting?” I sighed, not wanting to get into the whole mess of whether Mom would agree to leave everything behind so I could get hitched to Mr. Medieval. “Might we speak of it later? You really must steal out of here before someone sees you.”

He smiled into my eyes. “You are as wise as you are beautiful, Gabriella Betarrini. Come to the door after I am gone,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “Lock it behind me. No other visits shall you have before your maid, come morn. I shall stand guard myself.”

CHAPTER 9

I didn’t know how I was going to get to sleep after all that, but I did, just like someone had given me warm milk and a bedtime story and tucked me in. I awakened to my maid’s knocking. She came in chattering on and on about all the invitations we ladies had received. Thankfully, she also reported that Marcello had declared that we would leave the city promptly and return just in time for the wedding. She said he had business to tend to at the castello, while Fortino was “otherwise engaged,” but I knew he really wanted me and my sister and mom out from under the squinting eyes of the Nine and back home.

Home. Was I really thinking of it as that?

It was more home than this place, in Siena, especially with Lord Rossi set on watching me more closely than ever. If Marcello was hittin’ the road, I was goin’ with him. And if my mom and sis were with me, even better.

At least that was what I thought.

But when we exited the gates and set into the pace that would get us to Castello Forelli by nightfall, I realized that Mom was thinking this was the perfect opportunity for a heart-to-heart. We were moving along, two by two, and Marcello had just ridden to the front of the pack when she glanced back at me. “Gabi, can I have a moment?” she asked lowly, glancing at Lia meaningfully.

“Uh oh,” Lia whispered. “Day Seven.”

Our mom wasn’t one of your average, cozy, hovering, wanna-know-it-all kind of moms. She was more of a communicator on an as-needed basis. She had discussions with me and Lia. And sure, we knew she loved us with a crazy kind of passion. But we’d grown up with her mostly distracted, six out of seven days a week. She had an intensity of focus that I hadn’t really seen in many others; maybe it was the scholar in her. But once in a while, she’d pop into what we called Day Seven—even if it was literally Day Five or Day Ten—and act like she was trying to make up for lost time.

Lia pulled back and rode beside Luca for a while, while Mom pulled up next to me. She glanced around at the hills, the grass brown and fading but still holding a thick sheen, like a doeskin-colored velvet. “Think we’re safe, Gabriella?”

I glanced around and shrugged. “As safe as we can be with a hundred men ready to lay down their lives for us.”

“That’s pretty cavalier.”

I wasn’t really sure what
cavalier
meant, but I could guess from her tone. A
Whatever
sort of mode. “Yeah, go through a few battles where you almost lose your life and this seems like a vacation,” I said. “Or just like every other time we’ve been in Toscana. I mean, beyond…well, you know.”

Her eyes grew distant, and she bent to pat her horse’s neck.

I felt a pang of guilt. She was thinking of Dad. I knew she was. Of him dying. And I’d made her think about it. Nothing this year felt like “any other,” even before we were leaping through time. Maybe it was uncool of me, acting like I didn’t really care. “I, uh, can’t really think about it, much. I mean, I stay ready all the time. But if I obsess about death, then I can’t enjoy being here, now.” My eyes flicked toward Marcello, and she followed my gaze.

“Is that what this really is, Gabi? The ultimate opportunity to run away?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t do this to get away. It just happened. But now that I’m here…now that Marcello is a part of my life…It’s hard to describe. But I’d say it’s more like running
to
something than running
away
.” I glanced at her. “Would I have brought you and Lia along if I wanted to run away?”

“Not that you had much of a choice.”

I smiled with her. “That’s true. But Mom, even if I didn’t need Lia to get here, if I had a choice, I’d never choose to leave you guys behind.”

She looked out across the countryside, and we rode in silence for a bit. “Your dad lived in the moment,” she said, her tone heavy with an unexpressed sigh. “He’d be proud of you, Gabriella. You know that, right?”

I thought of him and choked up unexpectedly. I blinked fast, not wanting to cry. But it hit me then. I wished he were here. With us. Just as I had wished a thousand times, back in our own age. It was just that…for a while, I’d been able to put him aside. Put the sadness aside. It was all so different…and now, suddenly, it was back, that freakin’ heavy blanket of grief.

She reached out and touched my arm, making it worse. It was always worse when I was feeling vulnerable and then someone showed me compassion. I had to look away, focus on the horizon, think of anything but Dad for a minute. Then, when I knew she wasn’t letting me off the hook, I managed, “I know, Mom.”

She seemed eager to lift my tension. “He’d be especially pleased to see your skill with the sword.”

I smirked in response. Never in all my training had Dad considered I might need a sword as an actual weapon of defense—

“Although I’m not certain he’d approve of what you did last night.”

So…she’d heard. From Marcello? I let that sit a moment. “And you?”

“I think you did what you had to.”

I nodded. “You should know, Mom…that man would not have hesitated to slit my throat or Lia’s, if he’d had the chance.” I shivered, remembering how he’d leered at Lia when she’d been his prisoner.

“Marcello told me.”

I nodded, swallowing hateful, angry words. Just the thought of Lord Paratore made me want to throw up.

“And he won’t be a threat to you now that he’s free?” she asked.

“Marcello thinks he’ll be banished, sent away from Firenze forever. He’s as good as dead.”

She paused. “I hope so.” I could see that she was again looking at Marcello. “Tell me of Marcello, Gabi. What you know of him.”

I lifted a brow and then smiled, feeling suddenly shy. “He’s pretty amazing, Mom.”

“I can see that. From what I’ve gathered in a week, anyway. But tell me, Gabi. Why do you think you might be in love?”

I blinked a few times, a little taken back by her direct question. She didn’t say it in the dismissive way Lia said it. She was taking it seriously. I knew she was thinking,
She’s too young…How can she know?
But day by day, it became clearer and clearer to me. I loved Marcello.

“Because he’s…
Marcello Forelli,
” I said lamely, as if that explained everything.

A small smile turned my pretty mother’s lips upward. “And who is Marcello Forelli? Tell me. Pretend I’ve never met him.”

I looked at him again and sighed. “He’s…so much, Mom. Brave. Strong. Dedicated. Smart. Tender, sometimes, in a way that always surprises me. Loving. And this is the wild thing…” I waited until she met my eyes again. “He’s totally into me.”

Her smile grew wider, and she nodded. “It was only a matter of time. Before a guy finally worthy of my girl came her way.”

My heart lurched. “So you’re okay with it?”

She paused, and her smile faded a little. “I’m okay with it, Gabi. But in this place, they take romance very seriously.” She looked into my eyes. “Marcello has intimated…clearly, he assumes this romance is leading toward something very serious. Very permanent.”

Marriage, she meant. “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
He kinda risked political suicide, opting for me over Romana.

“Marriage,” she said with a sigh. “That, I’m not ready for.” She looked my way again. “You’re seventeen, Gabi—”

“Almost eighteen,” I said. “In a few months.”

“Even at eighteen,” she said, shaking her head. “Far too young to make a forever kind of promise.”

My mouth got all dry. Half of me hoped she would block Marcello’s we-gotta-get-married pursuit. Or at least slow him down.

The other half of me shook at the thought. Nothing, nothing could stand between me and Marcello! Not here. Not now. I couldn’t tolerate the thought of not being with him, every day, for as long as I could.

“Just, please. Think about it,” Mom said. “We can’t stay here forever.”

I remained silent. I was not so convinced. In fact, with every morning I awakened here, now, I wanted to stay more. But making my mom and Lia stay too? That wasn’t very fair.

She studied me. “He means that much to you?”

“Yeah. Pretty much,” I said miserably, feeling totally caught.

“Then…at least take it slow, kiddo, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, eyebrows raised. “People around here seem to be all-in when it comes to settling down young.” It didn’t take an anthropologist to figure out that a lotta girls my age already had a kid or two at their hips. The castle and countryside were riddled with them. Giacinta, my redheaded maid, was already a young mother herself.

“Well, with an average life span of forty years,” she mused, to herself mostly, slipping back into scientist mode, “they have to.”

Forty years. That meant that Marcello’s life might almost be half over. He might only have twenty years left, if that. It made my heart pound a little. Twenty years used to seem like forever to me. This time-travel business was messing with my head.

But one thing was clear to me: Any day I had with Marcello was something I was willing to fight for.

The scouts told Marcello that there were no enemy troops about, and with a temporary peace treaty in place and a contingent of the Sienese between us and Florence, we again set out to check on Signora Giannini. Luca and Lia traveled with us, but Mom elected to ensconce herself in Fortino’s library, reading the texts in Latin as if she was committing each one to memory. It kind of irritated me, that she’d choose the books over us. But I was thankful for the reprieve, too. Already, my mom and I had spent more concentrated time together here in the last week than we had in the last three months at home. A little space felt good.