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A barrage of cold water shocked Amoro to consciousness. He sputtered and gasped. His body reacted without thought. His eyes sprang open. He tried to rise, but could not. Pain throbbed in his head and drew him from the last vestiges of blessed oblivion. A taste of iron filled his mouth.
Blood. The smell of excrement filled his nostrils.
The world around him presented itself in a misty haze and slowly came into focus, and with it, the face of Ernesto.
Ernesto stood in the doorway, blocking the dim light from the torch-lined corridor beyond. Reality and a feeling of hopeless frustration surged through Amoro. Chained, bloodied and bruised, he lay trapped like an animal.
“Wake up.” Ernesto dropped the bucket to the floor. “I want you alert to hear what I have to say.”
The agony in his body prevented Amoro from responding to Ernesto’s callous demand. A swift kick struck Amoro in the ribs and sent shards of new pain through his frame. Amoro refused to make a sound.
Determination became the only solid reality in an ever-shifting world.
He clung to it as if he were a drowning man.
When the pain ceased he glared up at Ernesto. Anger singed the edges of his control. “I tire of your cowardly assaults, Boccanera,” he mustered. Through clenched teeth and ragged breaths, the rage in his words resounded with raw anger.
“I’ll ignore that comment, for now,” Ernesto taunted. “I have something more important on my mind.”
“Then dispense with the pleasantries. Speak your mind and then get out of my sight.”
Ernesto’s expression grew smug with an air of conquest. “For a man whose life is within my will, to talk in such a way, you are either very arrogant or very stupid.” Amusement lurked in his eyes as he planted his fists on his hips. “Morena agreed to marry me. Monterossa Castle, my bride’s dowry, is mine, as stipulated in the marriage contract. You have lost everything after all, Dragone.”
“I have lost nothing. As long as I breathe, I’ll fight you with everything in my power.”
Ernesto tossed back his head and laughed heartily. Then he sneered with menace. “That is where you are wrong. You lost your father, did you not?”
The question stabbed Amoro in the heart. “What do you know of my father’s death?” Amoro’s mind raced with a million possibilities, the strongest of which, Ernesto’s propensity to commit such a heinous act.
Rage roiled inside of him with a power of its own. A strange uneasiness began to spread inside of him. Amoro struggled to sort out his thoughts as he waited for Ernesto’s response.
“You remind me of your father, arrogant, thinking yourself better than others. You and your father both underestimated my cunning. Your father came here to demand payment for a debt. He would not listen to reason, so I had no choice but to kill him.” A bright mockery invaded his stare. “The deaths of both your sires are something you and Morena share. How unfortunate that I also killed her father, for he too underestimated me. The man was about to betray me. What a fool to think he could break the betrothal agreement.”
A flash of wild grief roiled through Amoro. Feral rage obliterated the pain in his bloody. Amoro bellowed and lunged at Ernesto. The chains yanked him back. A powerful yearning to drive his fist into the smug mouth and feel Ernesto’s teeth shatter at the impact surged through him.
Ernesto threw back his head and emitted a peal of laughter. “Have no fear, Dragone. Your father didn’t suffer. You, on the other hand, will not be as fortunate. It will give me great pleasure to watch you die.” Ernesto left the room and slammed the door shut behind him.
***
AFTER MORENA SIGNED the betrothal documents, Ernesto gave her a private bedchamber. The lavish meal and toiletries in her room awarded her all the prestige due to a future duchess of Savona. Even so, she knew she was nothing more than a prisoner. Ernesto made that quite clear. He didn’t allow her to leave the keep, not even to stroll around the bailey.
She could not send or receive envoys or messengers unless in his presence. Servants spied on her the whole time, all Ernesto’s advisors and his band of henchmen. She felt their eyes upon her when they brought her food. When alone in the bedchamber, she sensed ears at the keyhole and heard whispers of gossip in the corridor outside her room. She possessed all she needed, but at the hands of Ernesto’s handpicked servants.
From her window, she looked out upon the bailey and its stables. She studied the countryside beyond the castle walls. A mist of the morning hovered like a thick blanket across the riverside meadows. Elm and oak trees rose above the whiteness. She looked down upon the towers and living quarters to watch the industriousness of the men and women of the kitchens, bake houses, brew houses, and storerooms.
Beyond the walls that imprisoned her, life went about in normalcy.
Not a man or woman who existed in the world outside Savona knew or cared about her predicament. Everyone she loved no longer existed - her mother, her father. Everyone save Amoro, of course. For him she gave up her freedom. To save his life, she signed the betrothal documents that forever bound her to Ernesto.
Grief and despair tore through her. A hot tear trickled down her cheek as she yielded to feelings of forlornness. Yet, many other feelings confused her. She loved Amoro, hungered for him. In his presence, her heart reached out to him and her eyes could not help but swing to him.
She ached to touch him, to have his arms around her once again. She belonged to Amoro, not because of any law or official betrothal, but because she consented in her heart to be his.
Compulsive sobs shook her as she fled from the window and threw herself on her bed. She wept and rocked and clutched a pillow to her heart.
Morena didn’t hear the door open. When she ceased crying, she looked up. Laria stood at the end of the bed staring down at her with cold, hard eyes. Silk fabric, the colour of daffodils, cascaded over her arms.
Morena sat up straight and composed herself. “Come to gloat?” she asked. Her blood pounded and her face heated with humiliation at her sorry state.
“Perhaps,” Laria declared. An expression of satisfaction showed in the slit of her eyes. With a toss of her head, Laria’s auburn curls cascaded down her back. She raised the silk and held it against herself. “Do you like it?” Laria asked, eyes catlike with malevolence.
“The colour of the gown makes your skin look jaundiced and the wimple is a poor match.”
Laria hurled the bundle of fabric onto the bed. “It is not for me.” She lowered her voice mysteriously. “It’s for you.”
Disconcerted, Morena crossed her arms and looked away. “I don’t need it.”
“Ah, but you are wrong, Contessa. All brides have need of a new gown for their wedding day.”
Morena froze. Her mind and body numb, she glared at Laria.
“When?”
“Didn’t Ernesto tell you?” Laria strolled nonchalantly through the room. She stopped to rub her hand over the silk threads of a tapestry.
She lifted and examined a vase from the mantle and stopped to smell the contents of a small bottle on a vanity table. “On the morrow. The Bishop of Savona has arrived to perform the ceremony and the kitchen servants have begun preparing the food for the feast.”
“I didn’t expect it to be so soon.” Morena’s voice faded to a hushed stillness.
“No, I don’t suppose you would have expected it. I daresay you wish yourself married to Amoro.” Laria sat down on the bed and reached out to caress the golden fabric. “But it is I who will possess Amoro in the end. After tomorrow, you will be wed to Ernesto and out of my sight.
Amoro will come to realize that he will share his life with me. After all, we have been together for several years already.”
“You seem confident in yourself, Laria. From what I have seen, Amoro is no fool - when his garments become soiled, he seeks out new ones.”
“Then you don’t know him as well as I do. I have seen the loving care with which he polishes the sword handed down to him by his father and his father’s father before that. He knows the value of something that has served him well in the past.”
Laria ran her hands over her belly.
Morena’s eyes widened.
Laria smiled. “I carry Amoro’s child. He bedded me a few times already, without your knowledge.”
Morena’s heart constricted. Despair struck her with such a force she wished to die. She restrained herself from showing her anguish. “Why do you come to taunt me? I am no threat to you. You are free to pursue Amoro to the very ends of the earth if you so wish. Is it not enough that I am to wed Ernesto?”
“No, it is not enough. I wish to see for myself that it is over between you and Amoro.” She picked up the garment and wimple then carried them to Morena. “This is your wedding gown. Don it. When you are finished, a guard awaits outside to take you to see Amoro.” Her eyes narrowed. “One last time.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, of course. I want him to see you in your wedding gown, as you will look when you pledge yourself to Ernesto, so that he understands you are forever out of his reach.” Laria gave her a smug, calculated look then turned on her heels and sashayed from the room.
Morena fought the urge to scream at this vile woman, to tear the golden gown and wimple into shreds and cast it into the fire to burn. She knew that she would not. The desire to see Amoro, to check on his welfare became too powerful to resist. Morena swallowed her pride, rose to her feet, and donned the gown.
***
MORENA TOOK LITTLE notice of her surroundings as she followed the guard through the maze of corridors and stairwells that led to the dungeon and cells beneath the castle. Dressed in her bright silk finery, she felt as out of place as a fresh rose on a midden heap. Trepidation somersaulted within her abdomen. Anxiety stabbed at her heart. It vexed and set her body to tremble. She wanted to express a million thoughts to Amoro, but she feared the words would wedge in her throat.
The guardsmen stopped before a small wooden door. He lifted a key from a ring that hung from a chain at his waist and unlocked the padlock on the latch. He pushed open the door and stepped aside to allow her entry.
At first, she hesitated. Her heart slammed with dread. She didn’t know what to say to him. At this moment, all that mattered was to see him.
Morena stepped into the cell. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but then she saw him. Her heart lurched with alarm. Amoro lay on his back in blood and filth curled upon the straw with a ragged cloth around him, chained to the wall like a wild animal. He shivered like a rousing cat and babbled something indistinguishable as he held up his arm to shield his face.
His face, half-turned into the shallow light that filtered into the room from the tiny barred window, was a mask of filth and bruises. One eye was swollen shut above a bruised and swollen cheek. He cradled his arms to himself in an effort to keep warm. His good eye widened in surprise at the sight of her. He blinked as if in disbelief, as if she were too bright, like some sudden, sharp burst of sunlight.
“You have come,” he said, the words less than a whisper, scarcely an utterance. “Dio mio, what dream is this?”
“I am no dream, I have come,” she said. She looked at him on the floor then held out her hands and fell to her knees beside him. “Get me fresh water,” she commanded of the guard.
The man hesitated.
“Now!” Morena cried out. “Else I shall see that you atone for refusing to heed the command of your future Duchess.”
The man nodded and backed out of the cell.
“Amoro.” Morena reached her arms around his powerful shoulders and lifted his head to cradle it in her lap. “This is no dream. Talk to me.”
“Morena?” Alert in spite of the ravages done to him, he inhaled a long distressed breath. “I have thought about you a thousand times, about what to say to you, but now that you are here, I cannot find the words.”
The raw desolation in his voice brought tears to her eyes as she looked devotedly at him. “I can,” she whispered unevenly. “You asked me to say them to you once. I love you. I’ll always love you.” She slid into his arms.
Once there, he did not want to let her go. He held her in his embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him. Everything he did felt right and easy. Time seemed to reverse and then stop at this very moment.
“Morena,” he murmured, like an incantation. He traced her cheek, touched her lips, moved down to her throat, and let his fingers linger in its hollow curve. His gaze, his touch sparked buried passions into flame.
Her body seemed to be made of fire. He pushed aside her wimple and entwined his fingers through her loose tresses. He held her face between his strong hands and regarded her. “I love you,” he whispered hoarsely.
“How I love you.”
Amoro pressed his mouth over hers in an inflamed kiss that catapulted a rampant heat through her.
“Morena,” he murmured in a rugged breath as he kissed his way down her neck. Tremors shuddered down her spine. “Morena,” he repeated and buried his lips on hers again.
He kissed her deeply and with urgent hunger.
“No, please stop.” Morena pushed him away.
She saw the brief look of confusion that transformed into hurt as he pulled away and sat up.
A painful silence passed between them.
“How do you fare?” Morena asked.
“Better now that you are here.” Amoro managed a wry grin.
The guard re-entered the room with a small bucket and ladle. Morena took it from him. “Thank you. Leave us.”
The guardsmen hesitated.
“Leave us,” she repeated through clenched teeth.
“Very well, my lady,” the guard said as he cast a wary glance at Amoro. He departed, but left the cell door ajar.
“And close the door behind you.”
With the creak of rusted hinges, the guardsmen complied.
“I thought you were a vision in a dream.”
She smiled at him and caressed his cheek. “No, Amoro, this is no dream. I’m here, but I cannot stay long.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Another awkward silence ensued as he studied every nuance of her face. Then he seemed to comprehend. “You signed the betrothal documents.” Amoro swallowed.
“Yes. He would have drowned you.”
Amoro looked away, deep in thought. “I see.”
“I had no choice.”
“I wish with all my heart that you jest.”
“No, Amoro, I don’t.” The essence of this man almost overwhelmed Morena. Even in this state, he wore his powerful personality like a proud jewel. He exuded appeal, strength, and masculinity. Her heart shattered a little at the realization she would never again feel the comfort of his flesh against hers, the safety of his sturdy arms when they encircled her.
“Don’t you see, Amoro, I was scared. I could not bear to see you suffer so.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “I’m supposed to let you go? You signed a document, but that is all. Such a bargain can be broken.” His voice rasped with anxiety.
“It is for the best, my love. He promised not to kill you if I signed.”
Amoro reached around and pulled something out. He took her hand and placed it into her palm. He closed her fist and kissed it. “He gave me this. I think you may want it back.”
Morena opened her fist. She gazed down at the heirloom and then at Amoro. Shadows of regret etched his vivid features.
“Keep it,” she said and pressed it back into his palm. “Smerelda told me about the gem. It is the stone of the warrior. It calms fear and brings courage in battle. When in dangerous situations, it gives strength of mind, firmness of purpose. She said that when your heart speaks to you, to hold it in your hand and it will give you the answer you seek.”
Morena paused. “It ensures justice and fairness.”
Amoro stiffened. “Do you think this is justice and fairness? Is that what you did with the bloodstone? Held it in your hand and the answer it gave you was to walk away from me, from a future so filled with promise? How is that just and fair?”
I must be strong. Morena choked back her distress and fought to keep her face expressionless. She pretended his words carried no impact. She lifted the pendant from Amoro’s hand and placed it around his neck.
“When the bloodstone’s spots turn to white, you must return it to the earth.”
“Do not go to him,” he pressed. “You belong to me, not to him. You know that.”
There came a silence deeper than before, and Morena drew away from him. “I don’t belong to either of you. I belong to myself. I have to do what I feel is right.” She never realized how she felt until that moment. She loved Amoro more than anything or anyone. Ernesto, she detested, and would forever more.
Pain flashed across his handsome features. “I cannot believe your feelings for me mean so little that you could walk away so easily. That your faith in me to overcome Ernesto and his vile lust to possess Monterossa Castle and its supposed buried treasure is so weak.” Amoro paused. “He killed our fathers.”
For a long time, Morena waited. Nausea gripped her. Her thoughts reeled. Ernesto murdered her father. It changed nothing. To save Amoro’s life, she must wed Ernesto. With each moment that passed, Amoro’s hurt and anger might harden into hatred for her. Her heart lurched at the possibility. He loved her, and more than a little.
She loved him and had brought all this trouble upon him, his very life threatened, danger at every turn. Ernesto would never give up. If nothing else, she owed Amoro a future free of all this turmoil.
“It is because of my love for you that I do this.” Morena composed her features and rose to her feet. Tears cascaded down her cheeks. “For the rest of my days, I will love you.”
The blood and dirt of Amoro, the man who would always possess her heart, stained the front of her wedding gown. Morena turned away and fled the cell. Tears blinded the way.
***
AMORO LEANED BACK AGAINST the cold wall. Morena had come to him as a dream comes in the night. Once in his arms, he never wanted to let her go, no matter the obstacles. He would weather any storm. She belonged to him, not Ernesto.
As he stared out into the fading light of the late afternoon, he experienced a frenetic frustration at his helpless state. Never had he felt so alone. She was gone, and with her, his reason for living. Amoro tasted bitter defeat and he hated it. His mind raced with visions of Ernesto with Morena at his side, in his bed, his children at her breast. The thoughts agonized and infuriated him. He loved her desperately, utterly. Hatred for Ernesto burned stronger, a living thing within him, a dark passion so virulent that it strangled him.
For a long time after Morena left, Amoro sat in the dark contemplating the impossible. A way to stop the inevitable.
***
ERNESTO STORMED INTO Laria’s bedchamber. “You betrayed me.” He slapped her across the face. “You took Morena to see Dragone.” He lifted his hand to strike again.
Laria faced him, her anger ablaze. “I did what I had to do to make Amoro forget Morena, to realize it is over between them.” Another sharp slap connected with her cheekbone and interrupted her diatribe.
“You bitch. I’m master here,” he said through gritted teeth. “I say who sees and does not see the prisoner.”
“And were it not for me, you would not have Morena in your clutches.” She backed away from him, her head held high. She would not allow him to strike her again. If he did, she would strike him back.
Laria put the length of her bed between them. “You have no power over me.”
A wretched smirk twisted Ernesto’s face. “You have pushed me too far—”
“And you think too highly of yourself,” Laria interrupted. “You had better keep me content or I swear I’ll tear you down.”
“You will never have the opportunity.” His eyes narrowed. “When the sun goes down this evening, I’ll wed the Contessa.” A sarcastic edge crept into his voice. “After I consummate the marriage before witnesses, I will take her to Monterossa Castle. Then I’ll have Amoro executed.’’
Ernesto tossed back his head and laughed. He turned on his heels and opened the bedchamber door to leave.
Laria lunged after him and screamed, “Bastardo! ” The door slammed in her face. Then she heard the lock of the latch.