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A wolf howled in the distance. Morena shuddered. She trotted her horse through a thicket. Above the canopy of trees, she noticed the sky turning pink with darkness. Each strike of her mount’s hooves jarred her to the bone, yet she didn’t care. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and Genoa as possible. The sooner she returned home to Monterossa Castle the better. She should arrive well before nightfall.
She should not have trusted Amoro. He wove a spell to soften her heart with gilded words and generous gifts. Yet, he kept her under constant scrutiny. Did marriage to Amoro mean she would have to live under these conditions forever? The relentless beat of her horse’s hooves drowned out all other forest sounds and absorbed her thoughts. She pulled back on the reins and slowed her palfrey to a walk.
After she ducked beneath low branches, she gazed appreciatively around a small clearing. A tiny stream trickled through its centre.
Morena dismounted and led her horse to drink. She stretched her back and legs and knelt to splash water on her face.
In the distance came the thunder of hooves and the jangle of armour.
Morena quickly re-mounted and kicked her horse into a canter. The sound could only be that of Amoro’s men or even worse, a band of brigands. The full extent of her rash decision to venture off alone struck her. She leaned down to her horse’s neck and urged her mount to gallop faster.
She looked back. A group of at least a dozen mailed men followed.
Amoro's standard, a red dragon on a gold background, snapped in the wind. Overwrought, she galloped on. She plunged her horse through the bracken and over the dark forest grass at an even greater pace than before. She needed to widen the distance between her and Amoro’s men.
Exhausted, she focused on the path ahead as she dodged branches and boulders.
The waning sun peered through the treetops and cast burnished shadows in every direction. It gave rise to odd shapes where none existed and camouflaged what was there. Bush and knoll, boulders and dell, all blurred into oblivion when she sped past on her steed. The thunder of hooves obliterated the frenetic beats of her heart.
Undergrowth splintered beneath her. Twigs jutted out into her path with gangly points to rip her tunic and catch her wimple. Raw terror and damp chill raised gooseflesh on her skin. Her teeth chattered. The mount gathered speed. The thunder of his hooves against the soft ground deepened. Behind her, male voices shouted at her in earnest, “Stop, my lady, stop!”
She heeded them not. Without notice, her horse’s mighty haunches tightened and lurched. Suddenly they were airborne. They sailed through the air and vaulted over the edge of a ravine. The world grew soundless, save for the distinct sound of water that streamed over rocks at the bottom of the ravine below her. Then the horse’s front legs struck the ground on the other side and landed with a bone-jarring thud. Her unhealed ankle could not bear the pressure. Morena lost her balance and soared through the air. Her body struck the ground so hard, it crushed the wind from her lungs. Utter blackness claimed her.
***
MORENA SHIVERED, CHILLED to her bones, as if a sheet of ice blanketed her. She drifted in and out of sleep and recalled snippets of past and present. Amoro’s gifts, her father’s embrace, Laria in his bed. Out of the shadowy void of her troubled mind, she slowly became aware of her surroundings.
A bed, the sound and crackle of a fire, soft fur covers over her naked body, the incessant pounding in her head, thirst, dizziness, blackness, a flight through the air, and hard dirt beneath her. Morena trembled as her memory recalled an urgent need to flee. Fear pulled her from her state of dormancy. She thrashed about as if the shadows and emotions in her mind became real. “No, please, let me go!”
A soft, warm whisper drifted into her ear. “Rest, bellezza, there is nothing for you to fear.”
She recognized the voice, but from where? The tone soothed. It brought a smile to her lips. Then clear memories hurtled through the fog of her clouded mind. Amoro. His desire to keep her like a helpless canary in a gilded cage. Her anger and flight to free herself. She struggled to sit up. Throbs of pain in her head and body forced her to lie down to rest her head on the pillows.
“Try to lay still. You were thrown from your horse.”
Amoro’s tone exuded concern, his voice so gentle and soft it nearly stopped her heart. Those words drew her from her reverie. Her eyes fluttered open and settled upon him. She noticed the arrested expression on his face, his faint smile that carried a touch of sadness. She bit her lip, turned away and closed her eyes. Misery pressed heavily upon her chest.
“Why do you always run from me?” he asked, a melancholy frown flitted across his features. His gaze intensified and the colour of his green eyes glittered against the candlelight in the chamber. “I want to protect you. I care for you. When will you come to believe that?”
Weariness enveloped her as she struggled to keep the tears at bay. He cared for her. Yet why did she feel trapped, her privacy invaded. Silence filled the bedchamber. Outside, the wind tugged and howled at the windows and tried to fight its way inside. She met Amoro’s steady gaze defiantly. The realization that she needed his protection shocked her.
What possible danger could plague her? Yet, no matter how often she tried to thwart him, he remained steadfast. The realization exhilarated her.
“Why did you run from my men, Morena? They were there to protect you. If harm came to you, my life would never be the same.”
The sound of her name upon his lips scorched through her body.
Amoro beguiled her. A wicked and sinful rogue, he fascinated her.
When she looked into his eyes and met the intensity of his hurt, her breath hitched. Morena moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.
The gesture betrayed her nerves. “I cherish my independence. I am unused to such tight restrictions. As far as my escape from the clutches of those ruffians you sent to chase me, suffice it to say, I’m more than capable of moving about. I’m able to act as chatelaine of a castle. My father gave me the responsibility of all accounts and inventory for Monterossa Castle’s provisions. I controlled a vast amount of iron-willed able servants and cooks. When necessary, I traveled from domain to domain, garnered supplies for battle, and even constrained bailiffs, castellans and stewards to supply silver, weaponry, and food. I cared for the destitute and saw to the fair treatment of the people who lived on my father’s vast properties. I checked the flour for pests, the salt meat for grubs, and the drains for blockages so that they ran clear. My father never confined me in my quarters and never forbade me from riding about.”
“I don’t believe a caring father would allow his sole child to cavort about alone, unprotected.” He spoke with a tense, clipped voice that spewed with a bitter edge of cynicism.
“Well, he did,” Morena insisted.
“You rode alone into Portovenere?”
“Not exactly.”
“You see, I’m right. Every father would forbid a girl child that. I would not have you under escort upon my estates either, but you left my holdings to go into Genoa on a road well traveled by nefarious seamen and brigands. I had no choice.”
He spoke the truth and it angered her. At the same time, something about Amoro tugged at her heart even though every curve of her body spoke defiance. Brashly, she answered in a rush of words.
“He forbade me all sorts of things and it never did him a bit of good. I went where I wanted to go and did as I pleased.”
The distance between the bed and the chair he sat upon diminished as he glided closer. His brawny figure towered above her. He positioned both hands on the pillow at either side of her head and brought his face so close to hers, she could barely breathe. Amoro’s countenance darkened. “I forbid you to ever leave my castle without an escort again.”
Morena erupted. She lashed out with her hands and pummelled him with all her might. “If you cared for me as much as you say you do, you would treat me with courtesy and respect. I insist on retaining my independence. You are a heartless brute if you expect otherwise.”
“You are correct,” he retorted, his voice cold and exact. “When it comes to your protection, I’m a heartless brute. I am familiar with these parts. You are not. I know where it is safe, where it is not. Like my name, I’m like a dragon. Never forget that, Morena. Beneath my rough exterior, I breathe fire. Do not underestimate me.”
A chill hung on the edge of his words. Morena’s fury yielded to shock. How could she have wanted to marry such a hard-bitten, inflexible man with a ferocious, unpredictable temper? No woman could surrender to a man who could be kind-hearted and compassionate one moment, and indifferent and insufferable the next. A man as nefarious as the dragon of his family crest.
Amoro’s gaze narrowed. “One day, you will admit how wrong you are about me. I never mean to harm you, yet you persist in not trusting me.”
“Trust you? You are foolish to expect such a thing.”
“Oh, but I do expect it. The day will come where you will reverse your opinion of me. Then I’ll take great pleasure in accepting your apology, if I’m still willing to have you.”
“That day will never come. I’ll never marry you now unless you can assure my independence and the freedom to move about at will. Until then we have nothing more to talk about.”
He cast a sidelong glance of disbelief. “I tire of your wavering. One day you say you will marry me, the next you will not.”
She kept her face upturned to his. A victorious grin crossed her lips.
Amoro shook his head. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“No, I’m not.” She raised her chin.
“Then you truly don’t understand me. I know how to protect my own even unto the last drop of my blood.” Amoro’s brows drew together in an agonized expression. He left the room and slammed the door behind him.
Her breath came ragged with impotent anger. She grabbed the pitcher at her bedside and flung it at the door. “You addled, whey-faced vulture. How dare you. I’m the Contessa of Portovenere, yet you treat me like a brood mare.” She disgorged her anger from a place beyond logic and reason. Tears blinded her eyes and choked her voice. Morena sobbed, engulfed in tides of frustration.
***
CRISTINA CARRIED A stack of linens and hummed her way down the dim corridor when she noticed Amoro storm out of her lady’s bedchamber. She ducked behind an arch to avoid him seeing her. He slammed her mistress’ door and walk away. A look of pure fury darkened his face.
She stood still for a long time, worried. When she deemed it safe, she ran to Morena’s door and knocked. “My lady, are you well? May I enter?”
“Cristina, is that you?” Morena’s voice came muffled from behind the door.
“Yes, my lady.”
“I’m unharmed, only vexed. It shall pass, don’t worry. Please go away. I want a few moments to myself.”
“Oh, my lady, what shall I do? I cannot bear to see you treated this way.”
“It was a mere spat. There is nothing to be done, Cristina.”
Beneath the reassurance of her mistress’ words, Cristina detected a tone of distress.
“I will be fine. Please get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Very well, my lady, as you wish.”
A sense of despair assailed Cristina because she had failed her mistress. Reluctantly, she returned to her bedchamber. To see her lady treated as chattel in this grand palace incensed her. She deserved far better. Haunted by her worry, one thought returned to the forefront no matter how often she tried to dismiss it. Only one man could rescue her lady from this predicament – Ernesto. She would pen a missive asking Ernesto to intervene this very night and send a messenger to deliver it to him.
***
SLEEP ELUDED AMORO as he tossed in his bed unable to put his tormented thoughts to rest. Morena’s stubbornness battered his conscience. If you cared for me as much as you say you do, you would treat me with courtesy and respect. He could not deny the truth of what she said. What right had he to treat her like a prisoner? How could he expect to win her heart or build her trust that way? This was not the way to begin a life together.
Guilt-ridden, Amoro rose. The adjoining door between their chambers was likely locked. Instead, he made his way down the taper-lit stone corridor to her door, rested his hand on the latch for a moment, and hesitated. He drew a long, unsteady breath and braced himself. With great care, he lifted the latch and pushed the door open.
Rays of moonlight cast a gentle light into the room. The brazier flickered and the shadows danced. Amoro walked to the bed in the centre of the room.
Morena lay on her back, her dark hair splayed across the pillows. The soft ambience enhanced her beauty. She perplexes me, he thought as he regarded her stealthily. Grace lived in every faultless attribute of her face, but her appeal was much greater than that. It existed in her melodious banter and her poised gestures.
Something inside of her glistened and gleamed like a precious gemstone that sparkled no matter what clothing covered her shapely body. He stood by her bedside amazed by the simplicity and depth of her beauty. He recalled his long-forgotten dream for a wife, one to enlighten his world with laughter and affection, to warm his bed and cast out the bleakness of the void within him, to give life and love to the children of his loins . I’m a scoundrel, Amoro thought.
A lump of poignant tenderness swelled in his throat. He brushed away a lock of her hair and laid his hand against her cheek. “I’m sorry,”
Amoro whispered. “On the morrow I shall make it up to you.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then he stepped from the room through the door that adjoined their bedchambers and closed the door behind him.
***
AMORO WASTED NO TIME and sought out Morena the next morning to establish a truce. He underestimated Morena’s wrath. She refused to give him audience until after the morning meal.
At the hour of tierce, she prayed. A string of excuses followed. She tended to an ill maidservant, an arranged fitting with the cutter of clothes, a late afternoon walk.
The sun had already set when Amoro came to Morena’s bedchamber.
Cristina informed him Morena bathed.
He took a menacing step forward to push past Cristina, but she denied him again.
“Then I shall speak to her as she bathes.” Amoro elbowed Cristina out of his way and surged into the room.
Morena gasped. She stood naked, motionless, caught with one foot out of the bath.
The vision of the magnificent enchantress captivated him. Shafts of sunlight beamed through the open window of her bedchamber and immersed her in a pearly radiance. Unbound chestnut tresses cascaded beyond her hips like rich rosewood polished to a fine sheen. To Amoro, it appeared as if a magical luminescence danced about Morena and melded into the sunlight.
Morena grabbed a drying cloth and wrapped herself in it. Her face burned, her obstinate jaw tensed, her eyes blazed. “Barbarians barge into rooms unannounced. You are a...”
Amoro veered close to carp a warning. “Mark your words, amore. See that they are coated with honey lest you are forced to eat them.” Amoro beamed. The look on her face told him she would like nothing more than to smite him. “I like you better without that cloth draped about you.” He scanned her from head to toe.
Morena smiled. “Ah, my lord, and I like you better when you remain in your own bedchamber, as all unmarried men of class should.”
He could not prevent the smirk that sprang from his lips. Her courage pleased him. “Your bedchamber is my bedchamber,” he bantered. “Since I’m master of both, we could come to some arrangement perhaps.”
Frost flashed in her eyes, but she recovered, her eyes wide as she murmured, “You may own the bedchamber, but I command my body and mind.”
“What if your body and mind were to falter? You look so innocent and virginal and yet I know that I have coaxed a response or two from you before.”
Her eyes fluttered wide open. Amoro knew she could not deny it.
Her body had responded to his touch on more than one occasion.
She shivered and raised her chin to him. “I weary of you skewering me with your arrogant words.”
“If I skewer you with something other than my words, you will have no shield against me,” he mocked.
A fiendish look crossed her face and she smiled with wickedness. “I hope you are impotent, you repulse me.”
He jested no more. Amoro bored his cold gaze into her. “Retract those words,” he ordered.
A long pause ensued. Morena cast her eyes downward. “I’m sorry, Amoro. I’m sorry that the sight of you sickens me.”
Amoro reacted without thought. He swung her up into his arms like war booty and thrust her into the tub, drying cloth and all. “You speak filth. A proper mouth washing followed by a good romp in bed to test my potency will bridle that feral tongue of yours.” He knelt beside the tub, grabbed the soap, and brought it close to her mouth.
Morena cried out. She kicked and swung with all her might, but he kept the soap poised. Her eyes wide with shock, she twisted and struggled and sprayed water everywhere.
Amoro stopped and let the soap drop into the water. “You are an illusion, Morena. You appear as docile as a lamb, yet your tongue cuts deeper than a well-sharpened dagger. With your beauty, you ensnare a man, but the moment he succumbs to your charms, you turn his blood to ice with cruelty. You are slight and sweet, but a poisonous viper against someone of strong spirit.”
“You see me as a flawed she-devil, but you are blind to your own faults,” she yelled. “You are much more venomous a snake than I. You see everyone as weaker and subordinate, and believe you own them. Because every whore in the castle seems spellbound by your arrogance, you think I’m the same. Well, you are wrong.”
He watched her through narrowed eyes. Her breath quickened, her cheeks turned read. He perused her body with deliberate slowness. “As my wife, I’ll be your lord and master. You will obey me in all things.”
Fury heated her cheeks. “Some women may like being treated so cruelly, but not I. What form of courtship is this where you attempt to win my favour in this shocking manner?”
“You are like a lioness waiting to be tamed by her mate.”
She emitted a shrill laugh. “Oh, so now I’m a lioness. Take care, for it is the lioness and not the lion that hunts and kills.”
With a raw act of possession, he jerked her to his chest. Outrage and passion erupted inside him. It made him insane for her. Her wet cloth dampened his shirt as his hands roamed down her back and he pressed her against the throb of his stiffness. He kissed his way up her throat. “I want you.” He pressed his lips upon hers and with his tongue parted her supple rose mouth. He plunged his tongue into her, desperate to ravish.
Morena reached down with her hand and grabbed his manhood. He gasped. The ballocks again! This time, there came no pain. He moaned at the out-and-out rapture. The moment he succumbed to the pleasure and loosened his hold on her, she wrenched herself free and ran across the bedchamber. She took care to keep the cloth around her.
“Why do you fight me so?” he challenged as he strode after her.
Never had he wanted a woman more.
“Because I’m alone in this world. You are but a stranger to me, a man different to anyone I have met in my life. I’m unused to being controlled. To that, I’ll never submit. Not even if the king demands it.”
Her words melted his heart, yet it annoyed him to realize she had bested him again. “You are the most exasperating woman I have ever met. Don’t toy with me, Contessa, because the next time I may not have the strength to restrain myself.”
He turned his back, stormed through the connecting door to their bedchambers, and slammed it shut. He leaned back against it, wounded by her scorn, desolate that he hurled the last word because it brought him no satisfaction.