DELUGE (21 page)

“Who were those men?” the dogaressa asked. “Do you want me to set my men upon them?”

“An old enemy,” I said, watching Barbato and Foraboschi disappear into the crowds. “But I believe he is leaving the city. There is no need to trifle with him.”

The dogaressa sniffed and turned away. “Come along, then.”

“What does he want?” Gabi whispered, as we walked, arm in arm. “What could he possibly be after from us?”

“Most likely torment and agitation is all he’s after. He’s still chafing after we bested him last time, stealing Alessandra away…securing Castello Paratore for Greco. The list is long, in that man’s book, in terms of reasons to hate us.”

“No more than we have reason to despise the cretin who took Lord Forelli’s life,” Celso said. He took up a position in front of us and Matteo behind. He spoke of Fortino, and memories of Marcello’s older brother filled my mind. Gabi had known him better than I, but I knew he’d been a good man. And the Fiorentini had used him to lure us to a town where they’d managed to kidnap Gabi…

No, there was no trusting those guys. If there were means for them to get to us, to harm us, to bring us down in any way, they’d use them. I sighed. We’d be on public display with this ceremony, distracted…

I could only take comfort in the fact that I was marrying Captain Luca Forelli, and I knew he’d take every precaution he could.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

~GABRIELLA~

We were aboard Caterina’s boat on our way to Borano when Marcello and Luca heard about our encounter with Barbato and his bud.

“Why would you not tell us immediately?” Luca asked, frowning.

“There wasn’t time,” I said. “We reached the palazzo and we only barely had time to change and leave with you.”

“What did they want?” Marcello asked, closing our circle.

“To agitate us,” I said. “They said nothing of consequence. Honestly, I think he only wants to get back at us any way he can.”

“Which is what concerns me,” Marcello said.

“And me,” Dad added, coming up behind.

“What can he do, here?” I said. “We are under the protection of the doge and dogaressa. He won’t want to endanger that.”

Marcello crossed his arms. He and Luca were in the casual clothing of the Forelli knights for our outing—leggings and tunics, belted at the waist. Overcoats to shield them from the damp wind. He turned to the rail and studied the horizon of the lagoon, thinking.

“The Fiorentini’s relationship with Venezia is tenuous at best. They are here to try and secure a new trade agreement. But what if…” He looked at us over his shoulder. “What if they were here for wicked reasons, and only used that as a shield for their true goal?”

“Surely they would not come all this way just to poke at us?” Mom said. “Firenze and Siena are enjoying their first months of peace in years.”

Marcello shrugged. “Lord Barbato makes money from battle. He raises horses and has a good deal invested in the metal guild. The more swords his smiths forge, the more he makes. Foraboschi, too. He builds wealth through his mercenaries. Mercenaries who while away the time at home with sparring and eating; these do not make a man money.”

This made sense. I knew, firsthand, that the knights we employed at the castello were costly. And yet we had little choice. An unmanned castle was soon a conquered castle. We received a stipend from Siena as an outpost to assist in our defense, but it was only a quarter of what we needed.

“So,” I said slowly, “the best way to stir up battle again is to taunt and tease us? That hardly seems enough to instigate a war.”

Marcello weighed my words. “They’re testing us, trying to find a vulnerability. And likely they’re trying to get closer to Galileo and Orazio. I’d wager they’ve heard the tales they told and would like to see how to capitalize on them as well.”

I took a long, slow breath. It would not do to have Orazio and Galileo say anything to the Fiorentini. The guys knew now that they’d said far too much in the early days—and were safely hidden away in Caterina’s palazzo until we could leave—but if they were captured…tortured…

Marcello wrapped his arm around my waist and tugged me closer to him. “Cease your fretting, Wife,” he said, lifting my hand to his lips.

“If the Fiorentini find out where we’ve hidden our cousins away—”

“They shall not. Caterina is good at keeping secrets.”

I lifted a brow. “And what of Nicolo?”

Marcello and Luca shared a long look of concern. If Nicolo went out drinking, which he was likely to do, and started talking, which he was likely to do…

And yet we’d had no choice. Considering our cousins had just been the doge's prisoners, it was unlikely our host and hostess were ready to give their just-sprung-captives a room beside ours. And we weren’t permitted to leave. Only Lia and Luca’s wedding would give us the rationale we needed to leave court and sail home to Toscana.

~EVANGELIA~

In Borano, Gabi had a good time wrapping one lace after another over my head and around my shoulders. Obnoxious, heavy lace in ridiculous flower patterns that she knew I’d roll my eyes over… but then Luca approached, face serious, and Gabi and Mom filed out of the room. In his hand was the most precious, delicate lace I’d ever seen. And in this day and age, I knew it’d been stitched by hand, like all the rest. It was like the kiss of an ice fairy, blowing whispery thread atop a surface.

“This, this is what you seek,” Luca said, green eyes glinting as he further unrolled the bolt of impossibly precious lace across his fingers. He lifted it up and across my head, then over, across my face. “Veiled or unveiled, Evangelia Betarrini,” he pledged, “I cannot wait to have you as my own.”

I stared at him, partially blocked by the veil, and it was oddly stirring. “Nor I, you,” I whispered.

He paused for two breaths, staring at me. “So this is it? The right lace for the veil?”

I nodded.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “In days of old, in arranged marriages, they veiled a bride so her husband-to-be wouldn’t back out before the vows were exchanged.” He lifted the lace up and folded it back. “If our marriage had been arranged, and I lifted your veil to discover your beauty, I might have fainted.”

I chuckled. “My husband-to-be, the prince of overstatement.”

“I do not overstate,” he said earnestly, cupping my cheek. “Evangelia Betarrini, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His green eyes searched my face as if he was memorizing every inch of it again. “I cannot wait until you are mine. Wholly mine.” A glint sparkled in his eye. “Something tells me the rest of you will be every bit as lovely too.”

I could feel the color rising in my cheeks, and he looked gratified. “I love that I can make you blush.”

“I imagine you’ll delight in that all our life,” I said.

He grinned and bent to kiss me. Softly, tenderly. We could hear my family outside, talking with someone, laughing. But it was like they were a great distance away, because my focus was solely on Luca. Luca,
Luca
. How I loved him…how could I have put this off so long? Now that our wedding was almost here, I could hardly wait to kiss him for hours, and let him kiss me…

He leaned back and slowly slid the lace from my hair. I reached up and pulled his head toward me for a deeper kiss. Pleased, he held me closer, then edged me backward, kissing me all the while, until my back met the wall of the house and I was pressed against him. I kissed him and I kissed him some more, opening my lips, accepting his probing pressure, wondering about what it would be like to give my all to him. Just a few days away…

It was a heady thought, that gift. The idea of lying with him, without anything between us. I couldn’t wait, on one hand. And on the other, I was terrified.

His hands were so fine, so good. Warm and reassuring, and yet curious and wanting. They roamed my lower back, pulling me closer to him, every action strong, and yet soft. It was as if his touch was demanding, yet thoughtful, all wrapped up in one delightful package. Asking a lot…and yet nothing more than I was willing to give. Again and again I wondered where that line was. And yet, as his lips covered mine and his warm hands roamed around my hips, all I could think was,
I can’t wait to be his. Wholly. Fully. His wife.

It was the first time I’d gone there. I mean, as hot as Luca Forelli was, as much as he made me laugh and turned my crank, I’d never really accepted that I wanted to be his, completely. And I did.

He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer. “Evangelia Betarrini,” he moaned, “I cannot wait until you are mine.”

“And I,” I said, kissing him, covering each bit of his lips, “cannot wait to be wholly yours.”

“Truly?” he said, pulling away slightly, running a warm hand over my shoulder and down along my arm.

“Truly,” I said.

Then he took a deep breath through his flared nostrils and drew back. Slowly, he reached for the lace on the table and settled it over my head and between our lips, a little swollen from the kissing.

“Soon,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose, “you shall be mine, Evangelia. From the tips of your toes to the top of your head.” He leaned forward until his head met mine. He lifted a brow in mischief. “And everything in between.”

I huffed a laugh. “You speak of my eyebrows, right?”

“Yes, your eyebrows,” he said, one side of his mouth quirking in a smile. “That is what I speak of.” He leaned forward and kissed one and then the other, through the lace.

“And my boney elbow?” I asked. “Which will undoubtedly poke you in your sleep?”

“And yes, that,” he said, lifting it up, and tentatively bowing to give it a kiss as if in homage.

I felt my blush deepen as I thought of going on. “Mayhap we should stop such imaginings. Such thoughts are best explored on our wedding night, not before,” I said.

“Indeed,” he readily agreed, straightening. “It’s the sweetest form of torture, to fill my mind with such thoughts before I can act upon them. But rest assured, my soon-to-be-wife,” he said, leaning forward to peck me on the lips again, “I shall act on them. Every delicious one of them.”

Now I was blushing for sure, and he laughed in delight.

“The saints bear witness,” he said, taking a step away from me, rubbing the back of his neck. He reached out to take my hand. “That I am the most blessed man in all of Toscana.”

“Just as I am the most blessed of women,” I said, covering his hand with my other and smiling into his eyes.

And I truly felt that way. I couldn’t wait—every fiber of my being longed to be in Luca Forelli’s arms forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY

~EVANGELIA~

The next two days were filled with fittings for my gown, completion of my veil, and as much touring about Venezia as we could. But Mom and Dad made better headway in the crowded streets without us, since the Venetians tended to recognize me and Gabi now, swarming us with all their well-wishes. Mom had acquired tons of bottles of oils and of packets of dried herbs, which I knew she meant to use as treatments for people back home. Just the thought of it made me long for the castello, which felt good. For so many months, I’d itched to leave. Now I only wanted to return. As Mrs. Luca Forelli.

If the Venetians were excited at the thought, the Sienese would be over the moon. And those of Castello Forelli? They’d be crazy-wild. Only Luca’s sister, Adela, would be furious with us, for not waiting so that she could take part.

The morning of the wedding, Gabi and I played in a room with the puppies, laughing as they tackled and rolled over each other, wincing when their sharp teeth bit down on our hands. The dogaressa swept in and
tsked-tsked
me for, “being down on the floor like a commoner,” and for “letting those vile things mar your hands.”

Like your awful pet squirrel is any better…

She gestured in irritation for us to rise, and we did so, feeling like chastened children. “Come along,” she said, over her shoulder. “We have work to do to get you prepared.”

I gave Gabi a look of alarm, and she gave me a wide-eyed glance in return. But there was a smile on her face, and she tagged along, which reassured me. Together, we could do anything. Would that change when I married Luca tonight? Things had shifted after she married Marcello…but we’d found our way.

She reached for my hand and squeezed it as we walked the long, dark hallway, following the dogaressa and her ladies, our Forelli knights padding along behind us.

“Why do I feel like I’m going to the principal’s office?” Gabi whispered.

I smiled, not daring to respond as the two ladies in front of us sent a reproving look over their shoulders. Apparently, walks down the hallway were meant to be done in silence. Gabi stuck her tongue out at their backs, which made me want to burst into giggles. I covered my laugh with a cough, which made Gabi fairly wheeze with her own laughter, and cough as well. At last we arrived at a doorway, and the dogaressa turned to face us.

“The servants inside here will see to your bath. I will see you afterward, once they are at work on your hair.”

“Thank you, Serenissima,” I said with a quick curtsey, super glad that I was going to score a bath on my wedding day. When I’d asked about it earlier, my maid had seemed confused and said she’d inquire.

“Are there any other doorways into this room?” Celso asked one of the ladies.

“Only the servant’s entrance,” she said.

With a nod, Celso dispatched Otello to take position at that door, while he turned to guard this main entrance. I noted that Luca had assigned the burliest of our knights to my guard duty. Maybe because it was our wedding day? I smiled. He was taking no chances that anything might come between us.

We entered the room, which appeared to be an official sort of bathroom, with a ceiling lower than most in the palazzo, perhaps to preserve heat. It featured a large window, open to the lagoon, and two hearths blazing with crackling fires, heavy pots hanging above them. Servants were filling two copper tubs with hot water, and others were setting exotic-looking bottles and bars of soap on a table between them. There were thick cloths meant for towels, so thick they almost looked like the soft Egyptian cotton towels we remembered from home.