The Angel of Soriano: A Renaissance Romance Page 8

  “I would marry you, if I could.” He pouted.

  “Ah, now we’re back to that topic again. Tell me. How in God’s name did you end up engage—”

  “Dowry. A very large dowry.” He closed his eyes and his brows creased as if in pain.

  “Ouch.”

  “Si.”

  “And yet you’re still not married?”

  “My father insists that Lucella have her menses before we wed. An heir, you know.” He opened his dark eyes and stared at her lips.

  She grinned at bit evilly. “There’s some herbs in Pino’s garden that may help. There’s Chaste tree berries, Cinnamon bar—”

  “No. Absolutely not. You will not. Cannot. Do not.” His eyes went wide and for a moment he seemed in a panic, more like a boy than a grown man.

  She giggled so hard he put the pillow over her head to smother the sound. When he took it off, he kissed her with a flavor that was gentle, smiling, and warm. She closed her eyes and tingled to her toes, like enjoying the first warm day of spring.

  His tongue tickled her eyelids until she opened them.

  “Aurelia. You make my heart light. For the first time in my life, I find joy in the world.”

  Even under the blankets, she could feel his hard lust pressing against her stomach. “Bernardo.” His name became a prayer on her lips.

  She remembered Fulvio’s warning. Compelling. That didn’t even begin to describe what was happening. All rational thoughts flew out her mind. Lying on her side, she reached one hand into the dark locks behind his head and pulled his lips to hers. His kisses grew fevered, his tongue wild, and he moaned as he rocked against her.

  He reached his hand between them, untied her garment at the neck and pulled it down to her waist, trapping her arms. Breathing hard, he stared at her purple spotted chest.

  “He did this to you? I will stab him for each one of these.” He kissed each bruise with gentle lips.

  She arched up for more and moaned “Could we not talk about Pierpaolo right this minute?”

  His tongue flicked out, lovingly caressing her right breast.

  “I’m uneven.” She arched the other one toward his mouth.

  He gave a deep chuckle and lavished attention to the left. Then gently he tugged her out of her nightgown until she lay naked before him.

  He hissed out a breathy noise. “Mio Dio. You are so bellissima. So beautiful. A holy angel. You will let me touch you intimately?

  What was he asking? She nodded. Would he know her innocence?

  His hands slid between her legs and she rocked against him, needing something so bad she swore she might burst.

  “Si. Si. Sweetness. That’s what you must do.”

  A finger found where she ached the most and he whispered in her ear. “Push against me. Find your heavenly bliss.”

  She did as she was told and suddenly she reached the peak of a mountain. Stars and colors flashed under her closed lids, and a joy of belonging that she’d never known encompassed her very soul. When her eyes opened, he was beaming at her.

  She knew something of sex. He needed a release as well.

  She reached for his belt. “Can I touch you?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “When we’re ready to take the next step, you must come to me with eyes wide open.”

  She blinked and made them as open as humanly possible. “They are wide.”

  He smiled and kissed her again. “No, Aurelia. I mean with complete knowledge of what being my mistress might mean.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Can we not just enjoy touching?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Say nothing of our tryst, especially to Pino’s sons. Or Fulvio. Or anyone else I may forget to mention.”

  He backed out of her cave on his knees and elbows, dragging the lamp. When he shut the wood door, the room went dark.

  An odd craving grew again all over her body. Mostly between her legs, but also at the tips of her breasts and in her heart. She touched herself, where she was wet, and the want grew worse. This must be lust, she mused with a frown.

  Why was it so damned uncomfortable?

  Chapter 12

  The minstrel played his lute softly by the tavern’s hearth singing the latest news of Rome and beyond. As the embers grew low, Bernardo leaned back against the black tufa and put his hands behind his head. He could still taste Aurelia on his lips, her scent was on his hands, and her naked body in his mind’s eye.

  Grumbling, Fulvio downed another cup of this year’s best wine. “What I believe has no real import. You play a dangerous game. You told Borgia, your benefactor and thus mine, that she fell into the Tiber.”

  “So? She was miraculously discovered by a group of nuns who returned her to her father. Praise be to God.” He smirked. “That’s when we rescued her. How can that be considered malicious intent by anyone?”

  His friend looked from side to side, which was mostly for show because everyone else had long gone. Putting his elbows on the table, he whispered, “Because you and I both know that Borgia’s been looking for her.”

  Bench legs scraped against stone and Bernardo bent forward. “But we returned her to her rightful guardian, the Earl of Vignanello. How the hell would he blame us for that?”

  With a roll of his eyes, Fulvio motioned the sleepy tavern maid for another pitcher. “Because Borgia will suspect your hand in all this. You showed too much interest in Rome.”

  “I disagree. I think she doesn’t matter that much to him. A child’s plaything. And if she’s out of sight, he’ll soon find something else to amuse him.”

  Another round was poured, Fulvio downed it and said, “I hope you’re right, my friend. He’s known to be most persistent.”

  “I’m always right.” Bernardo hummed along as the musician started a new tune.

  “Not so, I remember Pisa…”

  “Shut it. I was drunk at the time.” Bernardo yawned, recalled the brawl, and stood. “I need some sleep.”

  “So. What are you going to do about her?”

  “I’ve decided to keep her.” Her lovely face the first time he saw her in Rome, floated in his mind’s eye and his lust stirred as it always did.

  “As mistress?” His friend’s brows creased and arms crossed over his chest. He was way more concerned about this woman than any of his previous mistresses.

  An odd pang of jealousy struck his gut. “Come now, even the pope has a mistress. Three I believe.”

  “I know, but Aurelia? She’s too sweet, Bernardo.”

  Dammit. She’d bewitched Fulvio as well? Time to put an end to it.

  “Sweet? By God, do you know what she told me she intended to do? Dress as a young man and enter the university. And from what I’ve learned of her so far, she might accomplish it. Then get caught. Someone needs to protect her from herself.”

  He paid the tavern keeper, stepped outside, and they disturbed a boar foraging in the garbage. Before either could draw sword, it squealed and raced away into the dark.

  Bernardo hissed and kept his weapon close as they ascended the dark stairs into the piazza. “I tell you, she needs a protector. I’ll treat her with the respect and kindness due a wife.”

  “Swear you’ll never put her aside. Not even when you lose interest.” His friend stumbled, a might too drunk.

  “You go too far.”

  “Calm yourself. I remember Dominica, Francesca, Isabella…Need I go on?”

  “What’s your point? That I like women? I confess fully. I do.” He waved to Victor, alert at the main gate, and led the way across the piazza.

  “No. I’m saying that you have this irresistible need to save them. Then, once that is accomplished, you lose interest.”

  “Have I not helped them all to find husbands, lovers, or a place in the church?”

  “But you stop loving them.”

  “No. It is because I loved them. Since the age of ten, I’ve been engaged to a tiny tyrant with an ogress for a grandmot
her. Am I wrong for releasing my mistresses?”

  “And how will it be different with Aurelia? I swear if you do not marry her, I will. I check the west gate. You can check the east.” Fulvio cursed and stumbled away with a disgusted wave of his hand.

  Bernardo had never seen his friend so worked up over a woman. Not surprising, Beautiful, intelligent, and resourceful, Aurelia was different than all others. He wouldn’t let her go. Not ever. Not even for his best friend.

  Wide awake and mind churning, he checked each of the city’s gates, then strode up to the castle where Antonio sat, repairing a leather belt by lamplight.

  Bernardo sat down beside him on the rough wood bench, the scent of burning hazelnut wood thick in the air. “How goes it?”

  “All is quiet.” The guard put his work down.

  “Pierpaolo’s men?”

  He glanced down the street at the long stone building. “Asleep in the garrison, after vomiting repeatedly.”

  “Bene. Good you weren’t ill.”

  Antonia stretched and yawned. “No. I was on guard. Didn’t eat with the rest. Wouldn’t matter. Don’t like those spices much. I prefer to taste my meat. Learned that long ago.”

  Bernardo chuckled.

  “Why aren’t you abed? It’s halfway to dawn.”

  “Fulvio and I closed down the tavern. Now I can’t sleep. Woman problems.”

  Antonio shook his head. “I don’t envy you. Your fiancé is quite a shrew.”

  He sighed. “The price I pay to keep both Spain and Borgia’s favor.”

  “For your supreme sacrifice, I and those in the garrison, salute you. And if you wouldn’t mind, would like to have permission to prepare our own meals. There’s a fine brick oven behind our quarters.”

  “Of course.”

  No doubt, rumors had spread. Bernardo needed to get to the bottom of the mysterious illness before the word got to Rome.

  “I’m going to get a few moments of shuteye in the garrison. When you’re relieved of duty, come wake me. Sooner, if you see Pierpaolo. I want him and his men escorted out of Soriano without talking to anyone, nor seeing our defenses. I don’t trust that man.

  Chapter 13

  Where am I? Aurelia’s eyes shot open wide when horse hooves clomped outside on the stone street. Lines of yellow sunlight peaked between the shutter boards, exposing her cave-like bedroom.

  Soriano. Vignanello. Arsenic. The events of the last few days flooded back into her mind’s eye followed by the embarrassing intimacies of last night.

  Did he really come to her and touch her or was it all a dream? She pushed against the wood panel with her toes but it remained solidly in place. Soft sheets brushed against her naked breast tips. Her linen underdress lay beside the bed in a heap on a soft fur rug.

  Dear Lord. Did I sin? Had she lain with a man? She shot a hand between her legs and found it slick and damp. Surely she’d know if he’d penetrated her. It’d ache and hurt. Wouldn’t it?

  In the front room, Pino talked softly to Stefano and Venario. What if they’d heard her moaning? What would they do to Bernardo?

  “Are you awake, Aurelia? Carvajal’s man, Fulvio, brought a different dress for you.” Her uncle’s voice sounded normal enough.

  She pulled the sheets up to her neck. “Si, si. Come in.”

  He viewed her nightgown on the floor with eyebrows raised and placed some colorful clothing on the bed.

  “The fire. It was too warm last night.” Giving a weak smile, she prayed she didn’t sound guilty.

  Apparently her acting was sufficient for he turned and hastened out the door. “Dress quickly. The warden wishes to thank us and that eldest son of his has some urgent business that he says only you can explain.”

  Stefano brought in clean water and a linen towel and left it by the door. “You need a fire. Auri?”

  “No. no. Grazie.” As soon as he left, she jumped out of bed, washed, and opened the shutters a sliver. In the bright morning sun, merchants walked down the street with open laced shirts and light doublets. With one arm, women lifted bright skirts and held baskets filled with market goods.

  Convinced she’d not need the heavy wools from Signora Carvajal, she picked up the lighter attire that Pino had placed on the bed. Had Fulvio selected these underthings? Face heated, she donned the chemise, then struggled into the dress’s tight bodice. After tying up the sides, she grabbed the many folds of embroidered velvet and strode to where Pino waited with his sons by the door.

  Before exiting, he placed a lace cap on her short locks, and tied it under her chin. Then they trudged up the steep slope, passed under the guarded arch, and across the private palazzo.

  She gasped once inside the hall. Knights, horses, blood, angels and demons, covered every inch of all four walls. High above, a ring of milky glass under the rafters lit the gory scenes. Under one particularly bloody wall where demons carried knights to hell, Bernardo looked up and stood.

  He’d been sitting at the largest of the hearths with Lucella, the old witch, and Signora Carvajal. That they did not rise to greet her was more a blessing than an insult. She didn’t wish to speak to any of them, either.

  Bernardo looked her up and down as a hungry man does a meal, then strode across the marble floor. He nodded to Pino and his sons, locked her hand into the crook of his arm, and walked them to where Fulvio sat at a table piled high with books.

  “We retrieved these from your father’s estate early this morning.” Fulvio handed her one of the precious possessions that she’d thought she’d lost forever.

  Her eyes watered and she caressed the leather binding. How she missed her past life, her home, and her Papa.

  “Did you sleep well, signorina? That room can have a terrible draft.” Bernardo’s eyes were too merry and his smirk too wide.

  Oh, the wicked man. Still, the distraction had raised her spirits which he no doubt intended.

  She wiped at a wet eye with her thumb and gave him a grateful smile. “Indeed I did. And you?”

  “Alas, no. Dreams of heavenly angels kept me awake all night.” A sly wink meant only for her caused her cheeks to heat.

  “How fares your family this morning, Signore Carvajal?” She forced her voice bland while her insides shook from his nearness.

  “Very well, thanks to Pino’s tinctures and teas.

  At the mention of the sick, she suddenly remembered her Uncle Nardini. He could be nearby.

  Heart racing, she sat and pulled her lace cap down over her face. “Where’s Pierpaolo?”

  Bernardo slipped her cap to the top of her head and teasing, pulled on a lock of hair. “Be calm. My men escorted him before dawn, to make sure he’d have safe passage home. He seemed eager to go looking for some niece he lost.”

  Pino and his sons frowned, but Bernardo relaxed onto a bench. “He knows nothing.”

  “What about your father? Have you told him anything?” Her uncle’s eyes darkened.

  “My father thinks the Earl is a dear friend and there’s no convincing him otherwise. I’d never let it be known our fair Aurelia is the woman Pierpaolo searches for.”

  “Surely they both will eventually put the pieces of the puzzle together.” Stefano exchanged a worried glance with Venario.

  “They both were sound asleep when she came in last night. Even if the town talks, they never saw her face. I had Fulvio check the gossip in the village. All say Aurelia is a relative of yours and a talented healer.”

  “I don’t like this. We should go.” Pino nodded to his two sons, with hand to sword’s hilt.

  “Believe me, you’re much safer within my walls than your small estate. Besides, Aurelia has promised me something in return for my gift.” Bernardo put a hand out to stay Fulvio from rising.

  “Are we prisoners, signore?” Stefano stood, eyes blazing.

  “Sit down. All of you!” She picked up a book and thumbed carefully through the pages. When she found what she wanted, she grabbed Bernardo’s hand and compared the white lines on his nai
ls to the rough etching.

  He grabbed his hand back and studied them. “Am I being poisoned? Is that what this means?”

  “How long have you lived here?” She slapped his hand and grabbed it back.

  Frowning, he said, “About a year now. Borgia entrusted Soriano to my family as payment for a favor. How long do I have left to live?”

  “The white spots are near the growth line. I don’t believe it’s that serious. Not yet. But it must be stopped immediately. The book doesn’t say for sure and honestly, it could be a myriad of other things.”

  Chapter 14

  Furious at how he was escorted home, Pierpaolo Nardini paced the public square between his church and his front door. In the distance, Carvajal’s men disappeared into the long rolling hills, back toward Soriano.

  They hid Aurelia there. He could tell by the way the eldest son had flinched at her name. But he’d no intention of telling the arrogant cardinal anything of the sort.

  Borgia, just arrived from Rome, dismounted. “Rumors abound that your niece is not truly dead. Did you find her?”

  Nardini allowed his hatred to simmer. “What is she to you?”

  The devil in his expensive red gown put his hands behind his back and stared, unblinking. “Let’s just say I’ve taken a special interest in her well-being.”

  If Borgia married Aurelia to one of his minions, her husband would legally own the last of the Nardini wealth. Pierpaolo’s hand twitched by his sword and his ears burned with ire. He’d not allow it.

  Father Michael barged out of the church and waddled across the piazza, allowing Pierpaolo the time he needed to calm. Even if he could overpower Borgia and his men, what good would come of it? The pope would merely send more men.

  The Earl of Vignanello smiled through gritted teeth. “Let me offer you something cold to drink while we speak. Your horses and men can rest below in the town.”

  Bowing and smiling, he ushered Father Michael and Borgia into the keep. The frown lessened somewhat on the cardinal’s face and yet he motioned two of his guards to accompany him.

  Once inside the main hall, they sat. The embarrassing crumbling walls and water stains were an ever present reminder of all this man had done to impoverish the Nardini family.