| |
At first light, Amoro made his way to the great hall to join his men. He chose a chair near the blazing fire and extended his legs to warm his feet.
The aroma of fresh baked bread wafted in from the nearby kitchen.
Twelve days had passed since his arrival at Monterossa Castle.
A stir at the doors caused him to look up. Last night, Amoro lay restless in bed. Long into the night, Morena haunted Amoro’s thoughts.
When he first met her, she made her disdain for him clear. Over time, he managed to ignite her interest, even desire. Sooner rather than later, Morena would be his.
Head held high, Morena strode into the room flanked by her ladies. She clenched her lips and a faint blush of anger darkened her countenance. Her maidservants sat at a nearby table and garnered the attention of a few of his men. Morena strode directly to him. She stared down at him with defiance.
He studied her with amused interest. She comported herself with courage and dignity. The more he came to know her, the more he liked her. He experienced a profound desire to protect her.
Beneath a blue velvet robe, she wore an azure fur-lined bed-gown that hung from her shoulders and emphasized the plunge of her cleavage. With no wimple or veil, her chestnut hair draped her shoulders and emitted the scent of lavender. He imagined how sensuous she would look when bedded with face flushed and lips crimson from passion.
An intelligent sparkle glimmered in her eyes. Her presence emitted sensuality. Each time he saw her, his desire increased.
“Please sit.” Amoro gestured to the chair opposite him.
“I prefer to stand.”
“Why are you angry?”
“You have to ask?” Her cheeks became all the redder.
Amoro inhaled to keep his patience in check. “Everything I do angers you.” He paused to soften his tone and braced himself for her reaction. “We must leave for Genoa tomorrow at dawn.”
Morena paled at the news. “Good. I look forward to seeing the last of you and your men.”
“No doubt,” Amoro kept his gaze hard upon her, “but you and your ladies will come with us.”
Morena swallowed, but she kept her face expressionless. “No, I already told you I’ll not go anywhere with you.”
“I’m afraid that is impossible. Urgent matters await me in Genoa and I cannot leave you with inadequate protection. I’ll leave word for your father that you are with me. It is a four-day journey. Please take no more than one chest. Pack only what you need. Once in Genoa, I’ll ensure you will want for nothing.”
Amoro narrowed his eyes and took in her long tousled hair, bare throat and comely bosom.
Morena clutched her robe tighter. She paled, but her eyes radiated alertness.
The very sight of her stoked his interest. From the moment he carried her unconscious body to her bedchamber, an intense ache to possess the exquisite woman flourished. It confused him. No other woman affected him so, and he had known many.
He jerked his mind from his heated recollections. “I trust you slept well.”
“As best as can be expected, given my circumstances.”
“Your circumstances, cara mia, are temporary, I promise.”
“So say you.” Her eyes blazed into his. Their fire caused his loins to tighten. Why did her defiance impassion him so?
“My word is my oath. Why will you not believe my sincerity?”
Amoro muttered as he rose and stood before her. He rested his arms on her shoulders.
She shook her head and turned away. He caught her face in his fingertips. He forced her to look at him and fixed a determined gaze on her. “Don’t fight the power that draws us.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek in a gentle kiss. The nearness of her set his blood afire. He struggled to keep his kiss tender.
Amoro pulled away.
She tightened her lips in defiance then relaxed. Her stance softened. It both surprised and contented him. “Go now, dolcissima, before the temptation to wrap my arms around you and kiss you until you are breathless becomes too much for me to resist. Dress for me tonight, bella, for I have planned a small feast later.”
Crimson flooded to her cheeks, but he ignored her reaction. She shut her eyes for several moments and held her breath. When she opened them again, she levelled him with an emotional glare then turned on her heel and strolled from the room.
With her every step, he indulged in her vision. The morning sunshine glistened in the cascade of her chestnut hair. The enticing sway of her hips held him captive. She enslaved his desire. A slow smile crossed his lips. Morena would challenge him every day of his life. He liked challenges. The thought caused his small smile to expand into a wide grin.
***
NEVER BEFORE HAD A day passed with unbearable sluggishness. Morena knew she must go to Genoa with him. No alternative existed. With weak reinforcements, she could not protect herself or her vassals.
The late afternoon sun cast a gentle glow into her bedchamber. A fresh sea breeze blew in from the open window. A colourful array of gowns, kirtles, wimples, linens, goblets, trinkets, and books lay scattered throughout the room. In defiance of Amoro’s wishes, Morena directed Cristina and Silvia to pack all seven of her chests to the brim with personal treasures she had collected throughout her life and refused to leave behind.
Afterwards, Morena lingered in a bath until her skin wrinkled. The two women prepared her hair and helped her dress. Morena surveyed their handiwork in a brass mirror.
Morena wore a rose over-tunic of silk over a linen kirtle. Its cerulean satin trim, beaded with sapphires and embroidered with roses, shimmered in the candlelight. The wide sleeves and hemline were similarly trimmed. From the back, the gown flared into a graceful half-train. A complimentary mantle of rose damask flowed from her shoulders. Rubies and sapphires glittered at her throat and ears and added fire to the matching strand of pearls and rock crystal entwined in the thick braid of hair. Pleased, Morena twirled about in her finery. Let Amoro see what he can never have. What he does not deserve.
“Dancing?”
Morena stopped her twirl mid stream and gasped with surprise.
Amoro stood with one shoulder propped against the doorway. His arms were folded across his chest. Pure delight adorned his rugged features.
“Intruding?” she countered.
“You left the door ajar and I saw you were dressed.” He stared at her with increased amusement.
“You should have knocked first.” Morena raised her chin and returned his gaze. He looked handsome in a black over-tunic with a red silk border that hugged his wide, well-muscled shoulders. Black braies, cross-gartered at the knees, emphasized his powerful thighs and long legs. An incredible broach of topaz fastened his cloak to his shoulder. Beneath his dark brows, sea-green eyes studied her with an audacious gaze.
“Yes, I should have knocked first, but in anticipation of seeing my bride, I lost my head.” His mouth curved into a half grin of pride. He approached and extended his hands to her. “It would please me to escort you to the dinner feast.”
“You may, my lord,” Morena replied, her smile genuine. It delighted her that her efforts of the night before succeeded.
“I wish nothing more than to please my future bride.” Amoro bowed and broke out into a heartfelt laugh that brought a spark of life into the sombre bedchamber.
Cristina and Silvia burst into giggles, but stopped at Morena’s brief but cutting glare.
When she looked at him, he didn’t seem like a barbarian bent on her capture. He retained both her hands in his and stood so close that his tunic brushed against hers. Self-consciously, she withdrew her hands and took a small step back.
His eyes mocked her cautious retreat, but he made no comment.
Instead, he offered her his arm.
They walked in uncomfortable silence through the corridors and stairs. Ensconced torches lit the way. When they arrived, the hall bustled with activity. Most of those present were Amoro’s men, all of them well armed. Wary servants served these uninvited guests with wine and ale.
Morena recognized no one other than her faithful servants. Her own guardsmen likely confined within the guardhouse.
Fresh rushes sprinkled with fragrant herbs covered the floor. As they strode in, all eyes turned to mark their entrance. Murmurs ran through the hall. A strange hush fell. The hiss of whispers faded. Morena felt the scrutiny of many pairs of eyes as they climbed the steps of the dais.
Amoro helped seat Morena before he took his own place beside her.
The chatter resumed and the feast began. Servants brought platters of boar and venison amongst dishes of roasted vegetables, bread, and fruits. Castle hounds clashed in the rushes for dropped bones.
Throughout the meal, Amoro engaged her in courteous but awkward conversation. He shared his dish with her. After he cut the meat with his eating knife, he offered her the most succulent pieces. His attention never left her. Morena possessed a hearty appetite even though the struggles of the past few days left her bereft of energy.
Across the hall, Cristina and Silvia sat at a table with three Genoese guards. They flirted and did not comport themselves with the reserve Morena expected. The laughter in the room grew more vibrant the more the wine flowed.
“Do you see how you draw every male eye? I’m the envy of all.”
Amoro’s thigh brushed hers beneath the table and it sent a shock through her. Her cheeks burned. She turned away and refused to speak to him at all.
The feast lasted for several hours. Throughout, Amoro ignored her brutal silence and remained indulgent. He ensured her goblet remained filled, her trencher full. He maintained cordial conversation with those of his men closest to the high table. After the meal, servants carried away the trestle tables to make room for the entertainment. Minstrels, bards, and dancers gathered.
After the first set of entertainment finished, Amoro stood to address his men. He cleared his throat and waited for the babble to cease.
Morena kept her hands clenched on her lap. The contents of her stomach churned. She did not know what would transpire, but she anticipated she might not like it.
In a clear voice, Amoro began. “Good news should follow such a delectable meal. The Contessa and I have decided to end the feud between our families. We will unite our lands and our people will enjoy freedom from strife.” He paused, took Morena’s hand, and helped her to rise.
Morena stood without expression at his side as she tried to steady the tremor in her legs.
“To seal this pledge, it pleases me to announce that I shall seek a betrothal to the Lady Morena when her father returns.”
“You presume too much,” Morena muttered out of the side of her mouth.
A chorus of mixed reactions arose.
Morena’s maidservants stopped what they were doing and gasped with shock, their mouths wide open.
Amoro’s men grinned with delight.
Stunned, Morena found herself crushed against Amoro who received the acknowledgements of his men.
“Kiss the fair lady, my lord,” came the jubilant shout from a dark-haired man, already well in his cups.
“Yes, kiss her,” another shouted.
“Seal the troth before us all.”
Some of the men banged their hands and goblets against the trestles.
Those who were wary seemed to acquiesce and they too, soon joined in the enthusiastic demonstration.
Amoro fixed his gaze on Morena.
She pinned him with her iciest stare and looked away.
He stepped so near she felt his heart beat.
Her legs turned to liquid. She inhaled to still the erratic thumps of her heart and the quiver in her knees. She waited. Moments passed, and still, Amoro made no move.
“They demand a kiss, cara.” He ignored her frustrated embarrassment. “What shall you do?”
“Disappoint them,” Morena stated with bravado.
“I think not.” Amoro reached out, caught her in his arms, and drew her against his chest. His mouth descended to hers.
The crowd cheered their approval.
She tried to push him away, but he held her tight. His lips pressed down on hers even harder. Morena melted at the pleasant heat. It ignited a small spark within her. With a restrained sigh, Morena softened. She revelled in the sensation of his lips locked to hers. Then her senses returned. An inkling of vengeance possessed her.
She entwined her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his hard contours. A jolt quavered through Amoro. His hands tightened on her back and hips. They ascended her spine, then descended, and drew her spirited body into his. He intensified his kiss.
The crowd grew silent, captivated with the passionate scene that unfolded before them.
With every gaze upon them, Morena slid her right hand downward between their bodies. She thrust herself against him. Then she grabbed his ballocks - hard.
Amoro came to a dead halt. His lips stilled. His eyes widened with surprise.
Oblivious to the covert act, the crowd sanctioned the escalation of the kiss by beating the trestles even louder.
With her lips pressed against his, Morena whispered, “Never underestimate me. Do not forget you have not gained my acceptance.
The discussion of our betrothal is far from over.” She released her grip.
When he tore his mouth from hers, he continued to hold her tight against him. He rested his chin atop her head and released his pent up breath.
Morena allowed her emotions to settle. Her heart raced with the thrill of having caught Amoro off guard. Yet an unusual confusion complicated her thoughts. In his arms, all felt exciting, yet his arrogance frustrated her. Amoro announced the end of the feud, without her father’s endorsement. His announcement made her all the more determined to thwart him. Without her father’s approval, she would never accept what Amoro tried to force on her.
Morena felt awkward beneath everyone’s gaze, but the crowd soon returned to their conversations and drink. She sat down before Amoro could aid her.
Morena tried to engage him with a smile. “My lord, your wits seem addled. Have I offended you?” She popped a rather large piece of cheese into her mouth.
“Fart of the devil! Where did a maiden learn such a brazen act?” He whispered his question through clenched teeth, but a spark of admiration glinted in his eyes.
“My father insisted I learn to defend myself. I spent many days training on the practice field.” Morena cast him her most demure smile.
Satisfied that she left him speechless, she returned to her seat while the minstrels, jugglers, dancers, and the babble of voices resumed.
Amoro too, sat. He kept his silence.
A Genoese guardsman crossed the room. He made his way to the head table and stepped onto the dais. He came to stand beside Amoro and leaned over to whisper to him. Morena saw Amoro stiffen and glance at her before he whispered something back to the guard.
“What is it?” Morena asked, concerned.
Amoro’s eyes narrowed. His back straightened. He gripped her hand as he glared at the door.
His reaction puzzled her. “Tell me what is wrong.”
Amoro responded in a voice heavy with ironic amusement. “An unannounced guest seeks admittance to our feast.” His gaze never left the door.
“Who?”
He turned to her and sneered. “Ernesto of Savona.”
Before she could react, the crowd fell silent and parted. Four of Amoro’s guards escorted Ernesto and a small band of surly, unarmed men into the great hall. She watched speechless as Ernesto strode up to the dais and glared at Amoro who sat at the head of the table as befit the lord of the household.
Ernesto tossed back his long brown hair and revealed a handsome but stern face with shrewd chestnut eyes and a sombre angular jaw. A week’s growth of beard covered his face. He directed a fierce, proud stare at Amoro.
“What is the meaning of seizing my weapons and those of my men? I came in peace.” Ernesto clenched his jaw.
An exigent look hardened Amoro’s face. “What matter of import compelled you to seek an audience?”
Morena watched Amoro’s hand clench his goblet of wine. He released, clenched, and twirled it in a rhythmic cadence. She guessed he longed for Ernesto’s neck, and not the goblet, within his grip.
Ernesto endured Amoro’s stare and in a brash voice declared, “I have come to claim my bride.”
Morena remained stoic and forced her body not to waver.
Ernesto flicked his gaze upon her and back to Amoro.
“Who is the doomed woman?” Amoro’s gaze on Ernesto turned deadly with menace.
“Contessa Morena of Portovenere.”
The crowd emitted a sharp gasp. A few snickers sounded. Benches scraped as men leaned forward in interest.
Amoro removed all expression from his face. He rose from his chair and stepped down from the dais. He drew so close to Ernesto, Morena feared they would come to blows.
Every man in the hall moved his hand to his weapon.
“I fear your journey here was for naught. The Lady Morena is already betrothed.” His voice carried like a hunt horn in a silent wood.
“Impossible. Her father, Don Umberto and my father signed betrothal documents years ago.”
“It is possible. She is betrothed to me.”
Ernesto crimsoned, his anger emblazoned upon his face for all to see.
He turned his ire upon Morena, voice tart, eyes hostile. “Does this man speak the truth?”
Before Morena could respond, Amoro interjected. “Say what you must, but address me, not the lady.”
“What says Umberto of this false claim?” Ernesto demanded.
“I assure you, my claim is anything but false.”
“You lying bastard, you debauched piece of rancid shit...” Ernesto flushed as he spewed insults.
Even as Morena watched his rage and heard his bitter diatribe, her inner voice cautioned her. She knew little of Ernesto except rumours of his strong will and inability to walk away from confrontation. A man as angry as Ernesto would not give up. For the first time, she worried for Amoro. This new emotion caught her off guard. Were the barriers around her heart weakening? No, she must remain on guard. Amoro had yet to prove himself.
Ernesto’s eyes locked on Amoro.
Amoro’s eyes blazed back with animosity.
Ernesto smiled, leaned forward, and spat on the dais at Amoro’s feet.
The guards lunged for Ernesto, but Amoro halted them with a raised hand. Two other guards crossed their spears in front of their overlord to protect Amoro.
“You Genoese have a proverb I’ve always fancied.” Ernesto continued his tirade undaunted.
Amoro raised an eyebrow. “And what is that?”
“He who is wronged must retaliate.”
“So they say.” Amoro smiled. “But I have one better. He who plays with fire will burn.”
Amoro’s men cheered.
Ernesto’s face heated as he clenched his fists. “You craven whoreson. God rot you, but you will pay for this, I swear you will, if it takes me forever.”
Amoro threw back his head and laughed. “Bones of Christ, you have a shrewish tongue, man.” His demeanour turned lethal. “I shall wait for that moment with great eagerness. You will rue the day you crossed my path. I tire of your presence. Guards! The sight of this man sickens me. Remove him. Send this piece of shit and his contingent of ruffians on their way, but without any of their weapons.”
***
FOR MORENA, THE REMAINDER of the night passed as if it were a nightmare. Amoro withdrew into himself, his face serious and enigmatic.
The crowd’s earlier boisterousness became subdued discussions.
At the earliest opportunity, Morena retired. She left the men to their wine and conversation about the encounter with Ernesto. Escorted by guards and her maidservants, she went straight to her bedchamber, with no wish to converse with any of them.
Her mind roiled in a tumult of contradictory emotions. Anxiety for herself, trepidation at the threats made by Ernesto, admiration for Amoro, fear for the future, and confusion, all melded together to torment her.
The sight of Amoro and Ernesto in the same room brought more uncertainty. As hard as Amoro tried to convince her that marriage to him would end the feud, a part of her remained aloof. Until she received her father’s approval, she could not accept Amoro as husband, even though it would result in long-term peace. She thought of all the lives she could save by their union.
Of Ernesto? She knew little. Although pleasant to look upon, did his appearance deceive? Could he make her happy? His ominous words of revenge shot bolts of fear through her.
Amoro. His name stirred mixed emotions. One moment he made her outraged and the next, excited. She never knew what to expect from him.
Handsome and impossible to dislike, he drew her inexplicably to him.
Even though he behaved with atrocious arrogance, he was also considerate and generous.
She prayed for the safe return of her father to help settle this dispute.
Perhaps he would bless their union and all could live in peace.