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Throughout the journey, they stopped at various inns. It pleased Morena that at every one, Amoro secured a private chamber for her and her ladies-in-waiting. On the final day, the weather conditions deteriorated.
The wind surged. Clouds settled thick over the hills. Rain hurled crossways against their path and soaked horses and riders. Huddled beneath her cloak, Morena’s teeth chattered. She shivered without respite.
“I’ll be thankful when we arrive.” Morena’s eyes stung because of the cold rain. Silvia rode beside her, cloak wrapped tight.
“I never thought to hear you speak such words,” Amoro laughed as he cantered up beside her. The main body of his men-at-arms surrounded them. Behind them rode more men with the supply wagons.
“I thought I was speaking with Silvia.” Heat crept into Morena’s cheeks.
“Are you disappointed?”
Morena blinked and shook her head. A smile rose to her lips.
“Fear not, cara. We have arrived. Look yonder.” Amoro pointed.
Deep ruts in the muddy road curved up the slope of a cloud-draped hill. Olive trees lined both sides. The walls of a castle rose before them. Encircled by mist, its high windows shimmered with torchlight and the promise of comfort. Slopes of vineyards and orchards surrounded it. A massive wall enveloped the various outbuildings. The stone keep seemed to swell out of the land. Ramparts soared majestically into the sky. A dozen guards atop the two crenulated towers of the gatehouse looked down as they trotted their horses over the drawbridge and clattered through the portcullis to the courtyard.
Morena took in the scene of welcome. Assembled courtiers cheered despite the rain. Her heart warmed to see women and children run through puddles to greet husbands and fathers who leapt from horses to embrace them. Mothers waited in relief to welcome home sons.
One mother waited for Amoro. A woman dressed in black stood against the inclement weather just outside the keep doors. Liveried servants surrounded her. A sense of nervousness swept through her at meeting Amoro’s mother. Perhaps she could be the mother she yearned for.
Amoro dismounted. He tossed the reins of his horse to a young squire and strode to Morena’s mount. He placed a firm hand around one of her ankles. With the other, he gripped the bottom of her shoe. A thrill unsettled her. Her breath caught in her throat. He possessed a rugged handsomeness far beyond any man she knew. His shining black hair, tousled by the wind and rain, swept across his brow and whipped back. She noticed faint laugh lines around his mouth and vibrant eyes. Each time he looked at her, she lost a little more of her anger.
A page held her horse while Amoro lifted her down. He took her hand and led her up the steps to the massive oak doors of the keep, to the woman who waited there.
Morena stepped into a luxurious hall lit by numerous torches. The sight caused her to stop to take it all in.
“Welcome home, my son.” The diminutive woman embraced Amoro.
Morena studied Amoro’s mother. A fur-lined mantle flowed elegantly behind her statuesque body. Raven hair flecked with grey peeked out from beneath of a wimple of black silk. An aquiline face and rich olive complexion established her aristocratic blood. Beneath the mantle of mourning, a damask tunic beamed with beaded embroidery. Delicate shoes of black kid showed from beneath her kirtle.
A brief smile flickered across her serious face and faded. She turned to Morena, a flash of interest in her eyes.
“Mamma, this is the Contessa Morena of Portovenere, my bride.”
Amoro put his arm around her shoulder. “Morena, this is my mother, the Dowager Duchess, Caterina of Genoa.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” Morena curtsied. When she rose, she studied the grand duchess a little more. She looked well over forty. Her beautiful face was the feminine version of Amoro’s. Her eyes, the colour of jade, enhanced by the light of torches, sparkled with intelligence.
“I was anxious for your arrival, Contessa. I hope you will find your new home comfortable.” Caterina spoke with formality, her eyes discerning.
Morena smiled as a shiver ran through her body.
“You are cold?” Caterina asked, but didn’t wait for a response.
“Come and warm yourself by the fire.”
“Thank you. It is only a slight chill from the rain and cold.”
“No doubt you are both weary from the arduous journey,” Caterina acknowledged.
“And hungry,” Amoro added.
“A hot meal and a warm bath before retiring should restore you. I have ordered a private meal– just the three of us, to become acquainted.”
As she led the way into the castle, servants glided across the stone floors and removed their mantles.
“Dinner will be served soon. We shall eat and then someone will show you to your bedchamber.”
The castle was large and spectacular, built to withstand the perils of the world. Large granite columns rose from the rush-strewn floors.
Chairs stood against the walls in the entrance hall. Sculptures of men and women decorated niches. The numerous cushions on benches as well as the many tapestries on the walls emitted a sense of warmth.
Servants strutted about with trays of aromatic foods.
Morena noticed the many relics of the House of Genoa hanging in proud display - ceremonial swords and jewel-laden scabbards, chain mail, and knives whose hilts sparkled with emeralds and rubies.
Amoro led her past a gallery and through a room where a tranquil pool lay surrounded by gentle torchlight. They climbed some stairs and stopped at a set of doors that revealed another equally opulent sight.
Goblets of gold and silver sparkled on an elaborately prepared table, its chairs covered in crimson damask and golden brocade. This is my new home, much richer than Monterossa Castle, she thought. Perhaps here she could find a sense of family, of belonging once again.
“Come, let us be seated. I’m famished.” Amoro took her hand and followed his mother to the table.
Servants glided in and out with aromatic dishes of hot venison stew and fresh bread. Amoro ate heartily with an appetite appropriate to a man of his size. Beside him, Morena dallied and played with her food.
“You should try to eat more, Morena. You will need your strength,” Amoro urged.
“Why? Do you desire your future wife to be fat?” The quip escaped Morena’s lips without thought.
Amoro broke out in a hearty laugh. “My bride has a quick tongue.”
Caterina gave a slight smile and studied Morena with deeper intensity.
“It is a trait I find attractive.” Amoro broadened his smile. Even more of his even, white teeth showed. He picked up Morena’s slim hand and toyed with her fingers. With her free hand, Morena raised a goblet to her lips.
“The future duchess of Genoa must be hearty and strong in order to breed heirs.” Caterina reached for a portion of bread. “Eating well is one way of assuring your success in that regard.”
Morena choked and spewed a spray of water into the air.
Amoro patted her back. His brow furrowed.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Beneath the table, Morena’s thigh accidentally brushed against Amoro’s leg. She cast him a startled glance.
His eyes held hers. They spoke to her, told her of his desire.
A rush of heat caused her body to tremble. Her father had protected and nurtured her. He tried to prepare her for marriage. Now a woman grown, she would fulfill her purpose and marry this stranger. A man who stood by her in tragedy. A man who inflamed great passion within her.
Amoro carried most of the conversation with Caterina. Morena interjected every so often with politeness. Too tired to move from her chair, Morena yawned.
Amoro rose. “My wife-to-be wearies, Mother. With your permission I shall escort Morena to her bedchamber.”
“Yes.” Caterina cast a discerning eye upon her. “Sleep well, child. Tomorrow will be an eventful day. You need your rest.”
Amoro escorted her upstairs. He stopped before a door engraved with dragons and roses. “This is your bedchamber.” He lifted her hand to his lips.
Morena’s heart softened at the gesture.
“What did your mother mean when she said tomorrow will be an eventful day?”
Amoro swallowed and hesitated. “Tomorrow you will face the noble physician.”
Trepidation must have shown on her face because Amoro responded before she could blurt out another question.
“Fear not, carissima. The ordeal is safe and my lady mother shall attend you.”
Morena couldn’t determine whether Caterina’s presence reassured or gave her cause to worry.
Amoro kissed her hand. “Good night, sweet dreams. I’ll have your maidservants sent to your room to attend you.” He smiled and departed.
Morena entered her chamber. Jewelled statues, costly wall hangings, and the finest furnishings of carved wood decorated the room. Plush carpets lay on either side of a fur-covered bed laden with silk pillows below a high, carved headboard. A fire crackled in the hearth. Candles burned on small tables at either side of the bed. A steaming bath welcomed. After breathing a sigh of relief at the sudden quiet, she ran her fingers through the bed furs. This day had certainly been an ordeal.
A small creak came from the right side of the chamber. Morena turned in the direction of the sound. A small inner door stood open.
Amoro stood inside her bedchamber. He leaned against the wall near the open door, arms crossed and with a cocky grin.
“Where, how?” she stammered as frustration welled up inside of her.
Before he could answer, she realized that he stood in a doorway that adjoined their two rooms. “Am I not even to have the slightest privacy?”
The grin on Amoro’s face disappeared. A look of concern replaced it. “I meant no harm other than to show you this door. It joins our two rooms, uh, in case you should need anything. Come, bella, it is common in Genoa for a husband and wife to have adjoining bedchambers. I meant only to show it to you.”
“We are not wed yet.” Crossness surged through her. Too much change accosted her far too fast. He either impassioned or enraged her.
The barrage of inconsistent emotions weakened her spirit. Every bone in her body ached.
“I apologize. When it concerns you, I cannot seem to do anything right. You shall have privacy, all that you need.”
“Oh.” Morena’s cheeks heated. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted so.”
“Everything is new. I understand.”
Morena turned away. She studied the opulent room and the waiting bath. The turmoil of the past few weeks struck her. Her knees trembled.
She missed the comforts of home. One moment she embraced the future, and the next she yearned to escape it. Dear God, why must she still struggle so? Why could she not accept her fate without trepidation?
“Don’t let the water grow cold.” His voice came to her in a heated whisper. He stood near, his breathing ardent and intense. He lifted her chin and scrutinized her face as though she were a puzzle.
She gazed into his acute stare and decided she wanted him to kiss her. The realization stunned her.
As if he read her thoughts, Amoro pulled her to his chest, lowered his head, and touched his lips to hers. His masculine power spilled out to her, an energy that astounded because of the control with which he commanded it. It invigorated Morena the way a downpour of rain restores life to a parched meadow.
The pleasure whenever Amoro kissed her reappeared with incredible suddenness. This time, her feelings seemed deep-seated, more vibrant, as though her body braced for it. Amoro’s touch set a torch to the kindling of her senses.
She whimpered softly. Something changed deep inside her. The anguish and defeat of recent weeks disappeared. The mystery of her future no longer mattered. Morena wrapped her arms around Amoro’s neck tight.
“I have waited a lifetime for a woman as beautiful as you. I want to see all of you, this very moment, but not until I’m your husband. The wait will make our wedding night all the more extraordinary.” With a stroke of his fingers, he caressed her cheek. Heat reflected in his eyes. He bowed and left the room through the small, shared door. She heard the turn of the latch as he locked the door behind him.
Their fates entwined. Destiny decreed she must share her life with this man. The life she left behind suddenly seemed lonely.
A knock on the door heralded two maidservants who helped her undress and bathe. All the while, Morena’s mind reeled with muddled thoughts of Amoro. He behaved dissimilar to any man she knew. His magnetism drew her to him. Never had she imagined becoming so besotted over a man, so willing a participant in exchanging kisses and embraces without guilt. His mere presence provoked unrestrained feelings. The heat of his lips still warmed hers.
He ignited an intense desire that refused to leave her body. Instead, it burned fiercer and hotter.
She discovered a lusty side to her character since meeting him. She yearned for him to touch her in ways she could not explain. How did she permit such a rogue to infatuate her? Where had her good sense gone?
Morena shook her head. She should have utilized better judgment than to indulge over him, yet she could not help herself. He drew her to him as the nectar of wine attracted the gods. A riotous ardour possessed her in his presence.
When the water grew cold, they provided a warm drying cloth and helped her dress in a lovely night-rail embroidered with tiny dragons.
Dragons appeared everywhere.
Afterwards, they combed her long tresses, turned down her bed, and departed with promises to return in the morning.
Morena wandered about the bedchamber and succumbed to fantasies of Amoro and the magic of his touch. For the first time in a long time, that night she slept soundly.