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Amoro paced the length of the bedchamber. He examined the valuable vases that adorned the mantle and the magnificent tapestries that covered its walls. At the opposite end of the room, an embroidered cloth covered an oak table. Monterossa Castle, Amoro mused, as elegant and rich as the rumours suggested.
The doors of the bedchamber opened.
Amoro cast a cursory glance at Roberto who entered and sat in the chair opposite to him.
Amoro cleared his throat. “Have you learned anything of Boccanera?”
“I questioned the castle servants and guards. I even spoke to some of the villagers. Ernesto is the son of Rodolfo Boccanera, the duke of Savona. At the age of five, his mother died. His father never remarried.
One year past, his father died abruptly. Ernesto inherited everything, but the estate is small. Boccanera possesses a penchant for games of chance. His gambling debts mount and his castle and holdings are in disrepair. He commands a skeleton staff of servants and a handful of guardsmen.”
“What of the betrothal document?” Amoro leaned back in his chair and rested both legs on the table.
“A search of this entire castle and grounds revealed nothing. If it exists, the lady Morena’s father hid it well.” Roberto cast Amoro an apologetic glance.
“Don’t give up. Tear this castle apart if you must, but I want the betrothal document found. Ernesto is a desperate man, and if the rumours of the buried Roman treasure are true, that must be what he is after. At least I know what kind of opposition to expect. With Boccanera’s abysmal situation, he faces disgrace and an unpleasant stay in debtor’s prison.”
“Unless he marries Contessa Morena,” Roberto suggested.
“Yes, an exceptional young woman, her father’s sole heir. I have learned she is able to read and scribe in Latin and Greek and learned the womanly arts at the convent of Santa Maria just outside Portovenere. Is there anything else?” Amoro raised his brows.
“No, that is all I learned in such a short time.”
“Thank you, Roberto.”
“I’m glad to assist, but it is best that I leave. Is it not time for your dinner with the lady?” Roberto rose from his chair. The two men shook hands with genuine affection. Roberto departed, careful to close the door behind him.
Amoro rose to gaze out at the tumultuous sea. Outside, waves swelled and broke on the beach. The howling wind chopped the sea’s surface. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the window frame. Trouble of some sort plagued Boccanera. If he could prove this, he stood a stronger chance to convince Morena’s father to break the betrothal contract. Still, he didn’t wish to marry a reluctant bride. He needed to toil hard to win her heart. He resolved himself to succeed.
***
MORENA SAT ON THE EDGE of the bed and glared at the door. Locked in her room in her own castle – tears of audacity flowed. At the sound of a key, she dried her eyes with the sleeve of her gown.
A guardsman led Cristina and Silvia into the bedchamber. A young kitchen maid laid a tray on the wooden table. She cast a sympathetic glance at Morena before she withdrew from the room.
“My lady, are you harmed?” Cristina and Silvia ran to their mistress.
Morena didn’t respond. Instead, she glared at the guardsman who took his cue and left them.
“I’m unharmed.” Morena reached out to her maidservants.
“I’m fine, my lady. No need to worry.” Cristina gave Morena’s hand a hearty squeeze.
Silvia smiled weakly. “I’m a little afraid, but otherwise, well.”
“Praise to the Virgin.” Morena heaved a sigh of relief. “Have you eaten?”
Silvia shook her head. “Not yet, my lady. We were told to tend to you first.”
“There is plenty here.” Morena gestured to the tray on the table.
Cristina and Silvia exchanged an uneasy glance.
“This is not the time to stand on ceremony,” Morena insisted. “We are no longer in control. It is best to keep our strength up and eat when it is available. Come, the bread smells fresh. Plenty of cheese and honey cakes for all.”
Cristina and Silvia acquiesced. Outside, last night’s storm abated.
Morena did her best to appear calm. It would serve no good purpose to cause them further upset. All the while, her stomach roiled at the thought of dining with Amoro.
When the afternoon grew late and the room darkened, a guard unlocked the door. A steady stream of servants paraded into the room with a large wooden bathtub and buckets of hot water. After they sprinkled the water with fragrant rosemary and lavender oil, they curtseyed before her.
“Many thanks,” Morena said. “Try not to worry. I’ll do my best to ensure no harm comes to you. In the meantime, do as the guardsmen ask and try not to raise their ire.”
“Bless you, my lady.”
“Take care, mistress.”
After they voiced their good wishes, the servants departed. Only Cristina and Silvia remained in the chamber.
“Come, my lady. Let me assist you.” Silvia took her mistress by the hand and helped her undress.
Morena immersed herself in the warm bath. The fragrant water eased her sore muscles and calmed her fraught nerves.
Cristina dipped a cloth in the water to wash her back. “Do you know what Lord Amoro seeks from you, my lady?”
Morena didn’t understand the jumble of excitement and apprehension that swept through her. “He wants to marry me.” She clenched her fists so her knuckles whitened. “It appears I have no choice.”
Cristina stopped. “But you are already betrothed. You cannot break the troth your father arranged.”
“My betrothal contract matters little to Duke Amoro,” Morena sighed. She sank deeper in the tub and stared into the fire. “He sees marriage as a way to bring peace between our families.”
Worse, she could call on no one for help to escape. No way to summon her father to her aid. She could do nothing to change her fate or dispel the painful feelings of helplessness.
“Would that be so bad, my lady?” Silvia hung a cloth to warm on a rack near the fire and returned with a bottle of fragrant oil, which she poured into the water. “He may be the enemy, but he is very handsome.”
Cristina cast a stern glance at Silvia. “He cannot be trusted. Don’t let your guard down, my lady. To raid our castle and hold us captive, to force your hand into marriage, is not the way of an honourable man.”
Morena’s stomach knotted in trepidation. Her throat constricted.
“You must try to escape, my lady. You cannot marry him. Your father would never approve.” Christina’s words struck Morena hard.
“You speak the truth. My father would fight with his very life to prevent the union.”
“To escape will not be easy,” Silvia said. “The duke has many men.
They know of the secret Roman passage and it is well guarded.”
Morena didn’t comment any further. She must think. The three women withdrew into an uncomfortable silence, engrossed in their own worries. With nary a spoken word, Cristina and Silvia helped their mistress finish her bath, dress, and prepare her hair. By the time they completed their tasks Morena formulated her plan. She kept it to herself lest it put her maidservants at risk. She sat on the edge of the bed to wait, her hands folded in her lap.
Someone knocked three times. All eyes turned to the door.
“Enter,” Morena called out as she rose to her feet.
Two guardsmen strode into the chamber.
“My lady, we are here to escort you to Lord Amoro,” the elder of the two announced in a deep voice.
“Tell Lord Amoro that if he wishes me to join him, then he is to come and fetch me himself.” Morena forced her voice to sound calm but authoritative.
“You refuse?” The guard’s voice carried a tone of incredulity.
“Of course, I refuse. I don’t take commands. Tell Lord Amoro I’ll wait for him here.”
A look of disbelief crossed the man’s face.
Morena remained expressionless, her arms at her side. She hid her clenched fists in the folds of her over-tunic to disguise her anger at Amoro’s arrogance, at his demand for abeyance in all things. Her father had raised her to be strong, independent. She could not argue with Amoro that peace between their families would be good, but it would not be easy to break a betrothal contract in existence since her childhood. As a young girl, she dreamt of Ernesto often, but her romantic thoughts were without foundation because she knew nothing of the man. She knew nothing of Amoro either.
His presence awakened an unusual passion within her. His confidence and strength made her wary. To this time, he kept his word, and she remained unharmed. Still, she considered him a beast to besiege her castle and lay in wait for her father like a lion that waited to pounce upon its prey.
The guard took custody of Cristina and Silvia by their upper arms.
They tried to shrug the men off with no success. With heads held high, the maidservants paraded from the room.
***
AMORO SIPPED WINE AND rested the silver goblet on the night table. He paced, oblivious to the rich furnishings of the bedchamber. He stopped before a brass mirror and examined himself. In a midnight blue tunic, he appeared very formal and elegant, just the effect he wanted to achieve.
He wanted to make a good impression upon his future wife.
Regret at the harshness of his initial encounter with Morena bothered him. He didn’t wish to build a relationship based on fear or mistrust.
Tonight he would treat her with gentleness and respect and then propose marriage. He doubted it would soften her reluctant heart, but it provided him with a definitive start.
Satan’s blood! What an enchanting creature Morena turned out to be.
A contradiction that was part innocent, part seductress, refined, vitriolic, but with a mature, sumptuous attractiveness that made his blood surge.
He tried to purge her image from his mind. The thought of her lush body while she washed and dressed no more than twenty paces away aroused him. In his mind, he conjured a vision of what her body might look like. Ample breasts, pert and firm with silky rose tips, sufficient to satisfy him for a lifetime. Supple skin the colour of cream. Soft curves and a torso that narrowed to waist, and then moulded into womanly hips. Long shapely legs and firm thighs. The condition of his body indicated he would suffer discomfort until the moment he could seduce her. He lifted a goblet and glowered into the contents. He had treated her badly until now. Tonight he would make amends. Someone knocked on his door.
“Enter.”
Servants carried in trays of food and drink. The aromas of fresh bread, hot stew and roasted vegetables infiltrated the room. They laid the trays on the table and lit the many candles in the room.
When they departed, the guard he commanded to fetch Morena entered and snapped to attention.
“Lord Amoro.” The man’s forehead was creased with worry.
“Where is the Contessa?” Amoro peered past him to the open door and into the corridor.
The guard cleared his throat. “The Lady Morena refused to come.
At your command, my lord, I didn’t force her. She waits for you to fetch her.”
Amoro’s mouth dropped, his face twisted with frustration. “She refuses to come to me?” He tried to hide his growing anger behind a forced calmness.
The guardsman eyed him with wariness.
I see I shall have to teach the Contessa the protocols of Genoa. This is not what I expected from a woman of her rank. Amoro seized a goblet from the table. “Wine.” He held it out to the guard who refilled his overlord’s goblet without hesitation.
The guard passed Amoro the key to Morena’s bedchamber.
With goblet in hand, Amoro crossed the hall and turned the key in the lock of Morena’s bedchamber.
When he entered, it irritated him to find the room in complete darkness. Someone had recently snuffed the candles and extinguished the fire in the hearth. The only light to guide him through the shadows came from the narrow window on the other side of the room. He took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. What game did she play? Where did she go? He sensed something terribly amiss.
Then it came. A rush in the dimness. A hard strike on the back of his head. The wine goblet flew from his hand and liquid splashed everywhere. He fell to the ground.
***
AMORO’S HEAD SPUN AND throbbed, but he managed to rise. He shook his head to clear his vision. In the semi-darkness, he caught the flight of a shadow at the periphery of his vision.
A ligature swept past his face and tightened around his neck. Before his lungs grew deprived of precious air, Amoro reacted. He grabbed the taut fabric around his throat and yanked it. At the same time, he bent forward, swift and firm, and flung his assailant over his shoulders.
Morena landed on her back at his feet, her hair and gown dishevelled. She glared up at him. She might be renowned for her boldness, but he possessed more strength. She sprang and clawed at him. He tried to fend her off, but tripped on the goblet and fell. She flung herself at him. “Cretino, farabutto!”
Two of his guardsmen scrambled into the room and came to a sudden stop. “My lord?” The first inquired with an expression of bewilderment on his face.
“Leave us. This is nothing more than a slight disagreement.” Amoro skilfully evaded a blow.
A look of amusement enlivened the man’s face as he backed from the room.
Amoro returned his attention to Morena. His blood raced as he struggled to regain control. He had to admit she acted resourcefully.
Despite his precautions, she found a weapon. In this instance, she used a wooden jewel box to strike him and the tieback from her curtains to choke him. To make matters worse, regardless of his ire and the pain in his head, the vision of her on top of him sent a stab of lust to his groin.
He looped the curtain tie loosely around her neck and held on to the other end before she could do more harm. He hated himself for doing it, but she left him no choice. His anger flared. He rolled on top of her.
Perhaps such a harsh measure could make her come to her senses.
“Get up.”
“I prefer to remain on the ground.” She fixed a defiant glare on him as she struggled to catch her breath.
“I asked you to get up.” His voice cracked like a whip.
“No.” Morena did not move.
He pulled hard to force her forward and up on her knees. Even in defeat, she cast him a fierce look, eyes wide with rebelliousness.
Amoro forced himself to remain calm. Damn, she made him so angry he wanted to strike her, but he would never hurt her. Not when, in spite of everything, her aroma allured and inundated his nostrils.
“It appears you have no intention of behaving with decorum,” Amoro said through clenched teeth.
He saw her clench her hands and cast a glance at the window.
In a smooth but serious voice, he warned, “Don’t even think of attempting such a hopeless act.”
He lowered his hand and pulled the rope to draw her close. He clutched her by the shoulders and turned her in his arms. Morena attempted to pull away, but he tightened his grasp.
“Why did you try to kill me?” Amoro hissed.
“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”
“I think I can tell when someone is attempting to murder me.”
Morena’s hateful glare bore a world of emotion, none of it pleasant.
“Answer me,” Amoro demanded in a cold voice.
Her eyes widened. Her body jerked. “I meant to distract you.”
“So that you could escape?”
She stared at him. Her eyes challenged. “To knock you unconscious. I meant no harm.”
How could he blame her? In similar circumstances, he would do the same. Within him, a poignant tenderness stirred. A protective desire that both astonished and troubled him, and caused his ire to fade. He held her face in his hands, pressed it close to his chest, and pulled her tight against him until she yielded.
Her chest rose in a sigh and he felt warm drops of tears dampen his over-tunic. To soothe her, he stroked her hair. Morena cuffed his hand away.
He paid her no mind and continued to hold her. The moments passed.
When Morena regained control, she pulled away from his embrace.
Amoro took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up.
She stared back at him through a mist of enraged tears. “I hate you,” she spat.
“I believe you do,” he murmured.
She turned away and stared off to the right. Her fingers trembled as she wiped her tear-streaked face.
“Look at me,” he said with unusual tenderness.
“No,” Morena retorted. “If I do, I’ll want to spit in your face.”
“Admit it. You are angrier with yourself than you are with me.”
“Why don’t we wager my freedom on that premise and see?”
Amoro understood and graced her with a smile. “I’m not a man to gamble,” he said in a deep, amused voice. His expression softened.
“What do I have to do to convince you I’ll not harm you?”
She faced him with resentful silence.
He stepped back and slid his gaze from the top of her chestnut hair to the swell of her exposed breasts above her red silk bodice and to the toes of her delicate black embroidered slippers. She stood still, prideful, and held her breath. When his eyes returned to hers, the icy look therein pierced him. He knew he infuriated her and that she longed to launch an outburst. He saw it in her feral eyes.
“I, no...”
“Yes?” His voice strained against his desire to take her in his arms and kiss her. “Perhaps you are right to hesitate. I’m a man who seldom wavers once I make a decision.”
Morena’s face turned crimson. “And you have decided on me.”
“Yes.”
“If it is passion you want, then take me now, here, and be done with it. In return, you will abandon your misguided intention of wedding me and promise I never have to lay eyes upon you again.” She pressed her lips together.
“You would be ruined.”
“What do you care?” Morena clenched her teeth, fighting back tears of rage.
“I care. It is not seduction I seek, but marriage. After we are wed I’ll want heirs.”
Morena did not reply.
“Keep your silence then. It changes nothing between us.” Amoro sighed. After a brief pause, he pressed further. “Still, I admire your courage – not many men would dare contemplate an assault upon me, let alone a woman.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“What can I do to convince you otherwise?”
Once again, she greeted his response with a stern look. “You might wish to avoid laying siege to my castle.”
“I already explained this to you.”
Morena folded her arms across her chest and said nothing.
“I will try to forgive you...this once.” His words brought a frown to her face. It pleased him to see his words unbalance her.
“Take this off me.” Morena grabbed at the curtain tie around her neck.
“If you choose to behave like an animal, then I’ll keep you on the leash. Behave like a lady and I’ll treat you as one.” It felt good to recapture the upper hand. “Apologize and swear you will conduct yourself with decorum. Then I will release you.” He pursed his lips and waited. He saw her hesitate. He knew well the cost of such an admission to one’s pride. Yet, he must stand firm with this woman of wilful spirit.
Otherwise, she would dominate him.
“I apologize.”
“And swear you will at least pretend to enjoy yourself as we dine together.” Amoro’s heart sang with amusement. By the look on her face, she seemed even more infuriated.
“I swear, at least for this evening.” Morena waited as Amoro untied the rope from around her neck.
What a proud spirited beauty! Despite her enthralling curves and intoxicating face, her inexperience and innocence touched him. A dying promise bound him to her. Everyone who knew him would find his current situation as outlandish as he did, despite his notorious reputation with women and her preposterous behaviour with men.
“I admire your uncommon resourcefulness. It is a mark of valour for you not to run from a situation when you are uneasy. I applaud your fortitude.” A brief pause ensued before Amoro spoke again. With a grand gesture of humility, he bowed and offered her his hand. “Are you ready for some food?” he asked. “It’ll do no good for the future duchess of Genoa to starve herself.”
Morena straightened her over-tunic and accepted his arm.
Victorious, Amoro led Morena across the hall into his bedchamber.