Dante's Dilemma (a Dante Legacy Novella) (3 page)

She glanced across the field, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mother and sisters. Why hadn’t she stayed with them? Why had she gone off on her own? She cast Rom an uneasy look. He was a tall man, well over six feet, broad and strong through the shoulders and chest. He wore a suit with casual elegance, his jacket slung over one shoulder. His features were too defined to be considered handsome in the conventional sense, and yet they were patrician, etched with a nobility that drew her. His hair was a deep ebony, contrasting with the most unusual eyes she’d ever seen, a brilliant antique gold that gave him an air of wisdom beyond his years. They mesmerized her, holding her with a power she couldn’t ignore. And when she looked—really looked—she relaxed infinitesimally.

These weren’t the eyes of a crazed person or someone who wished her harm. They reflected the character of a man who possessed fierce honor and intelligence, strength tempered with compassion. They drew her in, claimed her.

Owned her.

She took a swift step backward, crushing several of her precious blossoms underfoot. With an exclamation of alarm, she knelt and began to gather them, returning them to her basket. Rom crouched beside her.

“Here, let me help.”

“There’s no need. I can do it.”

He ignored her, patiently picking up each fragile stalk and adding it to the basket. “It won’t go away, you know.”

“What won’t?” Foolish question when her palm continued to tingle and itch, and desire ate at her like a hunger she couldn’t satisfy. Didn’t dare satisfy. She forced herself to look at him, indirectly acknowledging the reality of The Inferno by reframing her question. “How do you know it won’t go away?”

“I just know.”

She heard the truth in his words and rocked back on to her heels. “Have you felt it before? Is that how you know it’s this Inferno?”

He looked up from his self-appointed task, and she suppressed a shiver of need at the heat reflected in his golden eyes. “I’ve never experienced The Inferno before, and something tells me I never will again. I wouldn’t want to, not with anyone other than you. I think…” He hesitated as though weighing some private set of facts. “I think The Inferno allows Dantes to find their soul mates. How else can you explain what just happened between us?”

“You are crazy, Romero Dante,” she informed him fiercely. Or maybe she spoke with such vehemence in an attempt to convince herself. “I am
not
your soul mate. I can’t be. I won’t be.”

“Words don’t change facts. We are meant for each other.” He tilted his head to one side and grinned, causing a shaft of desire to rip through her. “Deny it all you want, but I can see that you want me, even though we’ve only known each other a few minutes.”

Madre di Dio
, what was he doing to her? His words wove a spell around and through her, the scent of orange blossoms and hyacinth combining to seal the charm. From this day forward she’d always associate their perfume with this moment in time, with Rom and his wicked Inferno and her sinful, ungovernable passion.

She’d always had “the sight,” and today proved no different. She could see herself on a pathway, one that diverged a few paces ahead. The right-hand fork led in the direction mapped out by her family. It was a comfortable, well-worn path, one that women in her family had taken for endless generations before her. Leafy orange trees lined the way, their fading blossoms carpeting the ground like snow. At the end of the path stood a smiling man who would provide her with a comfortable life and healthy children.

To the left a second path beckoned, full of twists and turns that made it difficult to see clearly. Trees also lined this path, though none were orange trees. Instead they were apples and cherries, peaches and olives, all heavy with fruit. And in the middle of the pathway stood Rom, burning with a light so bright it hurt to look at him. Did she turn left toward the unknown, or right along the road she’d been told to take? How could she continue down the easier path when every fiber of her being urged her to turn aside and take a different road? One that led to Rom.

“The attraction will fade.” Did he hear the desperation underscoring her words?

“It will never fade, not even if we live another hundred years.”

She snatched up a final few poppies and dropped them into the basket. “You try this Inferno nonsense on all the girls around here, don’t you? You tell them you’re their soul mate and then seduce them. Poor, foolish women, falling for your fairy tales. Well, it’s not going to work with me.”

He simply laughed. “Shall I prove you wrong?”

“There’s nothing you can say or do that will change my mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

He cupped her chin in his large hand and leaned in, his mouth hovering above hers for a split second. And then he kissed her. It was as though he reached into her heart and touched her soul. That simple touch of lips sparked a wildfire unlike anything she’d ever known. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. Nor had those kisses stirred the blaze of need that flooded through every part of her.

She heard a soft moan, vaguely aware it came from her. He responded by drawing her closer, into a tight embrace, his arms hard and firm around her back. And she let him. She did more than let him. She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, her fingers arrowing into the crisp, dark waves of his hair to anchor him against her.

His kiss deepened, and she felt his tongue tease her lips. She’d heard that men liked to kiss with their mouths open, touching tongues. But she’d never tried it before. She’d never even been tempted to try it. Until now.

With a soft sigh, she opened her mouth to him, reveling in the delicious sensation of his tongue against hers. She dueled with him, a teasing thrust and parry she suspected mimicked true lovemaking. She barely noticed when he tipped her backward into the embrace of the warm, fragrant grass, or the way his broad shoulders shielded her from the piercing rays of the late afternoon sun. Her hair formed a soft pillow around her head, the ringlets trembling in agitation against her temples, echoing the tumble of emotions racing through her. She welcomed Rom’s weight, heavy against her breasts and hips, delighting in the way their legs tangled, mirroring their lips and tongues. And she pulled him closer still.

Rom cupped her breast, his thumb circling the tip, causing her nipple to harden. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He must have felt the same way because he unbuttoned the bodice of her cotton dress and swept it from her shoulders. She wore only a thin slip beneath, transparent enough that he could see the duskiness of her nipples through the fabric.

“Bellezza,”
he murmured against her skin. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“This is wrong. We need to stop.”

“And we will.” A shadow moved across his expression again, tarnishing the brilliance of his eyes. “I will do nothing to dishonor you, I promise.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve dishonored myself. I’m en—”

Rom took her nipple between his teeth and tugged. The words vanished, unspoken. Thought vanished. All that remained was pure sensation. The breath caught in her lungs, and all she could do was hold on… and let go. Her head tipped back, and she stared up at the orange tree and the canopy of blossoms raining gently on to them.

It was the orange blossoms that finally brought her to her senses. “Please, stop,” she whispered.

He heard her, even as softly as she’d spoken. He lifted off of her, carefully adjusting her slip and sliding the bodice of her dress closed. She attempted to button it, but her fingers were trembling so badly she couldn’t manage. So Rom completed the task for her.

“I can’t come to you tonight,” he said. “I have other obligations.”

“So do I,” she said. She prayed her legs would hold her as she stood. The flowers had spilled out of her basket again. Not that it mattered anymore. They’d been crushed beneath her, ruined in a painfully symbolic way. “I can’t see you again, Rom.”

“I’ve already explained to you. The Inferno—”

“The Inferno doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. We are joined now. We will marry. I will meet your family and declare my intentions. After a reasonable span of time, we’ll have the banns read.”

“Stop. Stop it, Rom.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “We aren’t joined. We won’t marry. And you’ll never speak of what happened here. You can’t. It would bring dishonor to us both.”

He stilled. “Why is that, Julietta?”

“Because I’m engaged to be married. My engagement party is tomorrow night.”

He stared in shocked disbelief. “Tito? You’re Tito’s bride?”

She nodded, shame filling her. “And in another week, I’ll be his wife.”

With that, she turned and ran. Ran from the one man she wanted more than all others. The one man she couldn’t have.

Julietta worked alongside her mother, Maria, and older sister, Serena, putting the final touches on the delicacies they planned to serve at tomorrow’s engagement celebration. Since their own village was so far away, the Rossi family had kindly provided them with a lovely stone cottage in which to stay for the duration of the wedding preparations, not far from the huge villa that housed Tito’s family. The cottage was the original home for the Rossis before the villa had been built. Heavily damaged during the war, the ancient structure had been repaired and renovated. Even so, some of the original house remained, the rough stones imbued with the passage of endless generations.

So many Rossis. They smothered her with their ghostly presence, especially after what had happened in the meadow with Rom Dante. Julietta kept her head down and focused on the job at hand, praying no one looked too closely at her. If they did, they’d see what she’d done, for surely the guilt of it must be emblazoned on her face and glittering in her eyes.

Sure enough, her mother paused in her labors. “What’s wrong, Julietta?” she asked.

But it was Serena who responded. “She’s nervous about tomorrow night.”

Her mother frowned. “What is there to be nervous about? It’s a party, for goodness’ sake.”

“I don’t love Tito.” The words escaped in a rush. “And he doesn’t love me.”

Maria gave a quick laugh. “Well, of course you don’t. That will come in time. Do you think your
babbo
loved me when we were first married?” She gave a dainty snort. “Not at all. And look at us now, eight daughters later with the first of you about to wed.”

“I’d always hoped” —
dreamed
— “that I could go to University and get a job in Florence.” While her father had encouraged her dream, her mother had always claimed she was too progressive for her own good. Apparently, that sort of progressiveness would end badly for her, though precisely how had never been explained.

“And where would the money come from?” Maria scolded. “You must be practical, Julietta. Did the war teach you nothing? Granted, you were only seven when it ended, but that is still old enough to remember how many lives it destroyed. How many family members it stole from us, including those of your uncles.” She crossed herself. “Better to keep your head down and marry a man who can care for you. Protect you. See to your welfare. Tito can do all of those things.”

“Tito should be marrying Serena. She’s older than me.”

“You know perfectly well I promised God if we came safely through the war, I would give your sister to the church. And though we suffered greatly, we did survive.” She eyed her daughters sternly. “I am a woman who keeps her promises, just as Serena is a loving and dutiful daughter who fully appreciates her family obligations. That is why I insisted Tito choose you, Julietta.”

“Rosa has the calling, Mamma, not me,” Serena commented placidly. “If I were marrying Tito, I would make him a good wife.”

“Wait.” Julietta took a swift step backward. “You
insisted
Tito marry me?”

One look at her daughter had Maria altering her words. “Perhaps ‘insisted’ is too strong a word. I… I encouraged his choice.” Defensiveness crept into her tone. “It didn’t take much urging. You’re a beautiful woman. He didn’t care which of you he married, so long as you were a well-behaved girl.”

Bitterness filled her. “You mean, so long as it meant he could buy our vineyards.”

“That will be quite enough of that,” her mother retorted sharply. “What’s done is done, and we must be realistic if we’re to have any sort of future. You and Tito marry next week. He will buy your father’s vineyards. And we will never have to worry about money again. He is a respectable man who will be generous to his bride, especially if she keeps him happy.”

“She means in bed,” Serena supplied.

Maria rapped a wooden spoon against the countertop.
“Basta così!
How do you expect the church to take you when you can’t keep a civil tongue in your mouth?”

Serena simply smiled. “That won’t be a problem since I don’t have a vocation to the life.”

“Zitta,”
Maria said in a tone that warned she’d reached the end of her rope. “See what mischief your sisters are getting into. And don’t think I won’t have words with
il sacerdote
about this.”