Twice Upon Time. Nina Beaumont

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СКАЧАТЬ her attraction for Alessio, up until today she had never once doubted that this was what she wanted above all else. Where, then, did this sudden confusion come from? She’d had enough encounters with power to know that it had a taste she would relish. So why this sudden dread that she would find the taste stale and bitter?

      A wayward, eerie thought pushed its way into her consciousness, suddenly clamoring for attention. Had that woman on the beach, who had appeared out of nowhere in her odd, dark clothes and disappeared just as quickly, been a kind of avenging angel come to strike her with these emotions, these doubts, as one is struck by pestilence? Had she been sent to punish her for the ruthless selfishness with which she had always taken everything she wanted?

      It occurred to Bianca with no little irony that this time she would not be able to take. No matter how badly she wanted Alessio, she would not be able to take.

      Tossing back the hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder, she pushed away the emotions that were pulling at her so insistently. She did not want to feel them. She did not want to think about them. She would not allow it, she told herself with arrogant pride. She would simply not allow herself to feel anything that would stand in the way of what she had chosen for herself.

      The square tower of the villa appeared above the dark green cypresses. Suddenly desperate to be alone, Bianca spurred her mount forward.

      

      Servants rushed to take their horses as they rode through the arch into the small, intimate courtyard.

      Bianca tossed the reins of her mount to a groom. “See that you bring back Messere Alessio’s mount as soon as you attend to it. He rides back to Florence immediately.”

      As her gaze brushed over Alessio, her eyes narrowed at his provocative smirk.

      “Is there something you wish to say, Messere Alessio?” Her voice was low, furious.

      “There is no need to prod me, madonna.” Alessio gestured with his chin in the direction of the stables. “Believe me, I seek no commerce—” he paused to emphasize the double meaning “— with women who sell their bodies for a palazzo and rich jewels and think they are better than those who sell their bodies for a piece of bread.”

      Even as he said the words, his sense of fairness rebelled. How much choice had she really had? Maidens were supposed to accept with good grace the marriages arranged for them. But surely she, he thought sullenly, she, who had already flouted every existing rule regarding the behavior of an unmarried female of unsullied reputation, could have avoided a betrothal with Ugo. If she had wanted to.

      “Thus, Madonna Bianca, I have no wish to linger in your company.” Even as he spoke, he felt the fire in his belly and knew he lied.

      Now it was Bianca’s turn to curve her mouth in a taunting smile, for she had seen the fire reflected in his eyes. The fire that belied his words.

      “No?” The smile paired with that single word was more effective than any insult she could have hurled at him.

      “You mock me?” Like a half-wild horse straining at the bit, his temper flared.

      “Is it only allowed that you mock me?” she demanded. “I wager if I were a man armed with a rapier, you would not dare insult me thus.”

      “If you were a man, I would have no need to insult you,” he snarled. “Men do not sell themselves in marriage.”

      Bianca slipped her hands, which she had curled into fists, into the folds of her skirt. She would not give him the satisfaction of goading her into losing her temper.

      “Indeed, what you say is true.” She paused to make certain her eyes were squarely on his. “Men sell themselves to kill instead.”

      Alessio well understood the inference to his days as aide to condottiere Giovanni delle Bande Nere. It crossed his mind to remind her that in their day and age war was considered an art and the profession of condottiere was an honorable one. Because he was, in essence, a just man, it also crossed his mind that she could remind him that it was considered just as honorable for a girl to be an obedient daughter as she would later be an obedient wife.

      She stood there like a pagan goddess, head high, eyes flashing with temper, her midnight hair flowing down her back like an ebony waterfall, and he again felt that jolt of desire in his belly. But this time it was accompanied by admiration for her wit. Her clever remark had hit the bull’s-eye and, perversely, it amused more than irritated him that she had turned the tables so neatly. Giving in to the amusement, he laughed, his teeth very white against his bronze skin.

      “Your logic is impeccable.”

      Annoyed by his laughter when she had expected, no, wanted fury, Bianca frowned. “I’m glad my impeccable logic amuses you so excellently, although I must admit it was not so intended.”

      “And well I know it.” He laughed again. “That, too, amused me. To blunt the point of your lance.” Because he wanted to touch her, to feel her skin vibrating with annoyance, with the exertion of the ride, with life, he busied himself with his gloves.

      “You have a clever tongue, madonna. Take care that it not be too clever.”

      His suggestive smile made Bianca forget that they had witnesses. She took a step toward him, her hand swung back. When she brought it forward, Alessio’s fingers closed around her wrist cruelly enough to leave marks.

      “That is not a good idea, madonna. ” The laughter was gone from his eyes. “I am not one to turn the other cheek.”

      “I do not fear you.” She spat the words at him like a furious cat. “Not you.” She threw up her chin in defiance. “Not anyone.”

      “No?” His eyebrows curved up in question like the wings of a raven. “Perhaps it would behoove you to do so.”

      “Behoove me to fear you?” Although a quiver crept along her spine, her mouth curled in derision.

      “No, not me. I do not soil my hands with punishing capricious, spoiled children.” He shrugged insolently. “My brother, on the other hand—” He paused. “I suspect my brother will be less lenient.”

      She opened her mouth to give voice to the sharp retort that lay on the tip of her tongue. Even as she began to speak, the world around her dimmed and blurred to an ashen mass.

      In the midst of the grayness, the only spot of color was a huge bed with crimson canopy and curtains, its white sheets tangled by the man and woman who still lay entwined upon them. A noise that sounded like the cry of a wounded boar had them starting up, bewildered, spent from passion sated. A dark figure lunged forward to snatch the jeweled dagger that lay beside the bed. Their arms around each other, they remained frozen, immobile, as the figure lifted an arm and began to thrust the dagger into their bodies with an almost methodical bestiality.

      Because the softness of Bianca’s skin made Alessio want to caress it, because he wanted to put his mouth on the pulse that beat so quickly, he let her hand fall. As he did, he saw her sway and begin to crumple.

      “Bianca!” The same sharp panic that had flashed through him on the beach when she had slid off her mount streaked through him now.

      Picking her up as easily as if she were a child, he carried her to the well that stood in СКАЧАТЬ