Feehan, Christine - The Scarletti Curse (33 page)

Cara mia.
He breathed it into her mind. Intimately. Tenderly.
"You cannot fear this night with me," he said aloud.
Want me the
way I want you.

She watched his hands remove his inner shirt. Strong hands. Hands that moved
over her skin possessively, a seductive caress that melted her insides and
started a shiver of need sweeping relentlessly through her body. His chest was
broad with heavy muscles and several deep scars, two quite recent. One seemed
perilously close to his heart. Nicoletta felt her breath leave her body at the
sight of it, at the vivid image of a sword piercing his heart. Involuntarily
she found herself reaching for him, her fingertips tracing that thin, raised
line.

She felt his powerful body clench and tremble beneath her tentative touch. A
rush of heat gave her the courage to look up at him. His eyes were so hungry,
blazing with stark, raw need. It mattered not that he was enormously strong and
she was his to do with as he wished. In mat moment Nicoletta realized he was
nearly as vulnerable as she.

Beneath her exploring fingers, his skin felt hot and firm, his muscles
defined and sinewy. There was no soft give to his body, only a hard perfection
that made her want to press herself against him. Her own body felt different,
heavy and aching and wanting… something, something she did not yet know… almost
desperately. She wished she had the courage to circle his neck with her arms
and cling tightly, molding their bodies together.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked softly, his hands shaping her
curves almost reverently. The husky note in his voice turned her heart over.

She nodded, her wide eyes betraying her innocence. It only made him want her
more, made him want to protect her and possess her, keep her forever in his
care. His hands found the indentation of her back and dragged her close to him,
so that the heat radiating from his body melted hers. His dark gaze held her
mesmerized, so that she couldn't look away from him.

Giovanni bent his head closer. "Give yourself to me, Nicoletta, and I
swear you will never regret it." His voice whispered over her skin like
warm silk, hypnotic, seductive. His lips moved slowly, gently over hers,
coaxing her to open her mouth to him. And then he was taking her into his world
of moist heat and fire, of pure feeling.

She followed him willingly, more seduced by his stark desire than by the
whirling, shifting colors exploding in her head. He was everywhere, everything,
his hands moving over her body, his mouth welded to hers, her hair brushing
their skin, sensitizing them even more. She couldn't think for wanting him. She
had no idea the fire inside her could burn so bright, rage so out of control.
He managed to lay her on the bed without her even knowing how she got there,
and his mouth left hers to find her aching breast, even as his palm slid over
her belly to rest on the tight dark curls where her moist heat beckoned to him.

Nicoletta felt the coolness of the coverlet beneath her hot skin, the weight
of his palm as he pushed between her legs.

She gasped in shock as her entire body clenched and throbbed in response to
his touch. His teeth scraped against her tender skin, his tongue gently
following to ease any ache. His hands found the curve of her hips, holding her
still as his mouth burned across her stomach to lap at the inside of her thigh.
Her fingers twisted convulsively in his hair. "What are you doing?"
She managed to gasp the words aloud to him, suddenly terrified of the
overwhelming need for something beyond her reach.

Trust me,
cara mia.
I want you to need me the same way I need you.
I burn for you night and day. I cannot sleep or eat or concentrate. I have
traced this path so many times in my mind.
His words were heat and fire,
the feeling in her mind more his than hers. She was as necessary to him as
breathing. And he wanted her to feel the same way about him. Alarm bells were trying
to ring in her head, self-preservation rising in the wake of his talented hands
stroking her body exactly where she wanted—no, needed—him to touch her. And
then there was nothing but a firestorm raging through her as his fingers
brushed against her testing her response.

Her body arched more fully against his hand, and a small moan escaped her.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, an anchor as waves of fire washed through
her. "Stop." She said the word aloud, terrified she might be lost
forever. Her blood surged hotly, her breasts ached for him, her body wanted
his. She couldn't think for wanting him.

Still, it was not enough for him. He was taking no chances with her
innocence. He wanted her slick and hot and beyond thinking. He moved lower to
taste her. Hot honey, her scent beckoning. Her body rippled with desire.
Giovanni slid the confining cloth from himself even as he moved over her,
blanketing her body with his own.

He watched her face, the look of need and confusion in her eyes. There was
fear of him, of his strength, his power, his dominion over her. He was aching
and full, his own need beyond anything he had ever experienced. He pressed
against her, hard and thick, pulsing with an urgent demand. He moved his body
gently to ease into her entrance. She was hot and tight, her folds a velvet
fire surrounding his tip. She caught at his arms, her eyes wide with shock.

Feel me in you,
cara mia.
We are one as we are meant to be.
He
pushed in farther until he encountered the thin barrier of her chastity. Her
fingers were digging into his skin, and she suddenly stiffened in panic. At
once he subsided, holding onto his self-control with supreme effort. "The
pain lasts but a moment,
piccola.
It is unavoidable." Lines of
strain etched his sculpted face.

Nicoletta looked up at him, her eyes searching his features for what seemed
an eternity. He made no effort to hide his terrible need from her, the effort
he was making to control himself. At last she relaxed trustingly beneath him.

Giovanni bent his head to take possession of her soft, trembling lips as he
surged forward, taking her innocence. Nicoletta gasped as he filled her. There
was unexpected pain in the midst of such pleasure.
I know,
cara mia.
I
know it hurt. But give yourself a moment, and it will be much better.
There
was such intimacy in the way his voice brushed seductively at the walls of her
mind. His mouth was devouring hers, hot with excitement, with the answers to
the mystery of what transpired between a husband and wife.

He began to move, slowly at first, with long, sure strokes, watching her
face carefully for signs of discomfort. She looked bemused, sexy, her innocent
gaze on his. She was hot and slick, a fiery sheath gripping him tightly. He was
careful with her when he needed to bury himself deep and hard, wanting to crawl
inside her and weld them together for all time.

His hands cradled her rounded buttocks, pulling her into him as he deepened
his strokes. She moved with him, reaching for him now, reaching for more of
everything he was willing to give her. The small pain was forgotten as the
pressure built beyond anything she had ever imagined. She clung to him, her
eyes open, watching him closely, watching the shadows play on his face, the
lines etched so deeply. He was surging into her with harder, deeper strokes.
Her body seemed to ripple with a life of its own, even as his hands tightened
on her and she felt him swell, hard and full, driving even deeper so that for a
moment she felt on the edge of a great precipice, so close to perfect ecstasy.
She reached for it, wanted it, even as he called her name softly, his seed
pouring hotly into her. Whatever it was eluded her, leaving her frustrated and
slightly ashamed.

Giovanni was breathing hard, his arms hard bands around her as he gathered
her to him. Nicoletta unexpectedly felt close to tears. Her body was still on
fire with need, slightly sore but very aroused. His hands framed her face.
"It is only your first time,
cara mia.
It was my failure—my wanting
you too much—not yours. We are far from finished here."

Her teeth bit nervously at her lower lip. "I do not know what to
do."

"It will be a pleasure to teach you," he said softly, bending his
head to brush a kiss at the corner of her mouth. Her heart somersaulted at the
tenderness in his voice.

"How is it you know so much?" she dared to ask. He had brought her
to the brink of losing herself, of becoming a willing slave in his arms. Yet it
didn't matter. She couldn't think of anything but Giovanni and his hard body,
the way he made her feel.

He turned his face away from her. "That is not something you would want
to know, Nicoletta." He was still buried deep inside her, strangely
intimate, giving her the courage she needed to be insistent.

"I asked you." She sensed she was on the brink of some truth about
him, a piece of himself he did not share with others.

Giovanni sighed softly, reluctantly separating their bodies as he rolled his
weight off her, his arms still wrapping her closely to him. "I am a
Scarletti,
piccola.
Much was demanded of us. Many heirs expected of us.
Our education in such matters was required at a very early age.
Mio padre
sent women to us to teach us these things. The women reported our progress to
him. If we were not as successful as he thought we should have been, we were
severely punished." Bitterness and distaste were like ashes in his mouth.

Nicoletta frowned, turning her head to look at him. "How terrible. I
have never heard of such a thing. Are all the
aristocrazia
treated in
such a manner?"

"It was solely the wish of
mio padre.
His demands were always
excessive. Later he sent young girls to us, to be certain we would know what to
do with an innocent. He insisted his sons had to excel in every area. The
things he wanted done to the women and girls often made me sick, and I would
refuse. He would beat me, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of
concurring with his wishes or of crying out at his blows. Some things done
under the guise of lovemaking are abnormal and deviant,
piccola,
and not
for your ears."

Nicoletta heard the distaste in his voice. She had no idea what he was
implying, but something in his tone twisted her stomach. She laid a hand on his
arm. "I think it is a strange thing the way we have false ideas of how
others live. I am happy I am no
aristocratico."
His hands were
moving over her body, seeking shadows, soft curves, and hidden hollows. She
watched the firelight play over his face as he indulged his ability to memorize
every inch of her body. He looked relaxed, even happy, and it occurred to her
that she had never seen him this way before. He was always so remote or
serious.

He bent his head to find her throat, and his hair brushed her sensitive skin
like the tickling flames. "I have a surprise for you," he murmured,
his mouth drifting lower so that the dark shadow on his jaw rubbed along the
swell of her breast, sending fire racing through her blood. "Something to
keep you out of the hills."

"I was born to run in the hills," she cautioned, her chin lifting
in a subtle challenge.

He smiled, his warm breath teasing her nipple erect.

"Ah, but your running days are over,
piccola.'"
His mouth
closed over her breast, and she cried out with the exquisite pleasure of it,
arching into him, seeking relief from the burning in her body. She still
throbbed with need. His hand traced the indentation of her waist, then glided
down over her belly to find the nest of damp curls. His mouth was hot and
demanding even as his fingers moved inside her.

For one moment Nicoletta thought to pull away from him, aware he was an
expert at arousing a woman, any woman, but the fire was already burning out of
control. She moved against him frantically, the pressure building almost to the
point of pain. And then she cried out, clinging to him for support as her
entire body seemed to fragment and waves of pleasure washed through her, over
her, inside her.

Giovanni found her mouth with his, tasting her passion.
It is not the
same with other women. It was never like this.
And he couldn't explain it to
her. How could he? The palazzo was his home, and he was the guardian of his
people. The duty was his; it rested squarely on his shoulders, and he would
never shirk it. But the curse on the
famiglia
Scarletti was very real.
The palazzo was aptly named by those who whispered—
Palazzo delta Morte.
Palace of Death. It was a dark, monstrous place to live, to grow. A shroud of
evil encased it, one he could not hope to lift. There was no laughter or love
there, only emptiness and fear and envy. Something evil lurked there, poisoning
all that was good.

The women who had come and gone in his life had been mere duty, a thing that
shamed him. He was well aware of the curse, well aware of the savage beast that
crouched within his body, of the hot blood that ran in his veins. He had seen
the results when watching his father. Giovanni kissed Nicoletta again, gently,
tenderly. How could he tell her he should never have been so selfish as to
force her to accept him? That her life was in constant danger, that death
stalked her every moment she was in the palazzo.

He kissed her again because he had to, because he couldn't possibly do
anything else in that moment. She lay in his bed, her body soft and inviting,
her eyes luminous, enormous, shy, an angel trapped in the devil's realm.
"I wanted to find the perfect wedding gift for you," he said softly,
kissing the corner of her mouth, drifting lower to her chin. "I was told
you have an uncommon interest in cleanliness, in hot water."

At once her eyes became shadowed, haunted, her young face mirroring her
fear. Giovanni bent once more to kiss her lush mouth. "You do have strange
habits,
piccola.
You cannot deny it." He sounded amused.