Bourne (River of Time 3.1 Novella) Page 4

  "M'lady," he protested, anticipating what I was about to do.

  I ignored him and settled the wet cloth across his broad back and over his legs. "'Tis not dry, but mayhap it will afford you a bit of warmth," I said, coming back around.

  He wouldn't look at me.

  "Does it wound your pride to accept assistance?" I paused. "If it does, you best get accustomed to it, m'lord. Because we of Castello Forelli live as a family, and we come to the aid of anyone who is one of us. And like it or not," I said, leaning closer, "you have become one of us."

  He shook his head. "'Tis not a good idea. For me to be one of you. Already Castello Forelli is at the core of every one of Firenze's targets. My presence here only makes that core all the more enticing."

  He stiffened, and a half-second later, I understood what alarmed him. Somebody approached out of the pounding rain.

  Luca.

  I felt the chill of the night in a new way as Luca paused beside me. For the first time ever, he didn't seem happy to see me. "M'lady," he said grimly. "Why is it that you are out without your cape?"

  I felt the rain plastering my hair down on my face and tried to keep my composure, belatedly thinking about how this might look. "Gabi...uh...I..." I clamped my lips shut and squared my shoulders, opting to settle on anger rather than guilt. "I gave it to Lord Greco," I said. "If you insist on keeping him out on such a night as this, it's the least we can do for him." With that, I picked up my lantern and flounced off. As much as a wet, soggy mess of a girl can flounce.

  Half of me hoped Luca would stay behind to interrogate Lord Greco. After all, his issues were with him, not me. But Luca hurried after me. "Evangelia."

  I didn't stop.

  Thirty feet away, at the door to the corridor that led to my quarters, he grabbed my arm and pulled me around. "Evangelia."

  A covered torch on the wall fully illuminated him. Lord Greco and the rest of the courtyard disappeared in the dark and rain behind him. But all I could concentrate on was his face. It was awash in confusion. Fear. Frustration. Fury. "What transpired...there?" he asked, waving behind him, into the darkness, toward Greco.

  What had happened? "Mercy," I said, turning to press on the door latch to escape him.

  But he slammed it shut, his arm across my shoulder, leaning into my back.

  "Luca," I said, getting angry myself. I turned, but he didn't back off.

  "I don't want you near him," he said, terribly close. Even with all our flirting, all our hanging out, we'd never been this close. This...intense. I found myself fighting for breath.

  "That shall be somewhat difficult, don't you think?" I asked. "Given that once he's out of the stocks, he'll likely be by your side, or Marcello's, constantly? Unless, of course, you do not wish to see me either."

  Okay, so it was a little manipulative. But I couldn't stop myself.

  He clamped his lips shut, and he edged away. "You have feelings for him."

  It took me a sec. "What? Nay!" I said. Guys could really be so ridiculous sometimes.

  His eyes searched mine. "'Tis understandable. Rodolfo...he's always had any woman he wanted. I should've anticipated—"

  "Luca. Look at me."

  His eyes, slightly wild, stilled on mine.

  "I am not in love with Lord Greco." You big idiot! Don't you know how I feel about you? Not that I was ready to tell him.

  He hesitated, seemingly reluctant to believe me.

  "And he has not had any woman he wanted. Gabriella...well, Gabriella would have never married him in Roma. She's always belonged to Marcello."

  He gave me the slightest of nods. A tiny smile edged his lips, making me breathe a little easier. "Mayhap it is but one of the Betarrini women's many strengths, resisting the legendary Greco charm."

  "Mayhap," I said with a teasing smile. I was still a little irked with him for thinking anything was going on between me and Rodolfo. I shivered. "Now, may I return to my quarters? I'm as wet as a fish!"

  His smile grew. "And still, even such circumstances do not dim your beauty." He reached out and took a coil of my hair, wringing it until a stream of water fell to the stones at our feet. We laughed together, and his hand moved to my cheek. "M'lady," he said intently, water dripping down over his face too. He leaned down, and for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. But instead, he touched his forehead to mine. "Dare I believe that you have feelings for me?" he whispered, his lips tantalizingly close.

  Which kinda freaked me out.

  "You are free to believe what you wish," I whispered back with a teasing smile, edging away. "There is no law against such things." I turned back toward the door, intending to go in, but he held it shut, hovering close. Deliciously close again. Teasing me.

  "Evangelia," he said, his lips practically on my ear, his breath tickling my neck. "How long shall you torment me so?"

  "That remains to be seen," I said, smiling up at him from the corner of my eyes.

  "Ahh, how you wound me! Such...is the excruciating...pain," he gasped, pantomiming injury, "of unrequited love." He stumbled back a step.

  I laughed under my breath and shook my head. "Good night, Luca," I said softly. "Please. Make certain your brother-in-arms does not perish in the cold, will you? This castello has seen her share of death this day."

  "I shall see to it, m'lady." He bowed and took my hand, kissing it tenderly. "Forgive me for mistaking your merciful heart as something...other. I was a fool."

  I nodded, accepting his apology. Still, he held my hand.

  "Some day, you shall ask me to kiss you," he said.

  "Such are the dreams of men," I said with a light laugh, turning to open the door.

  "Dreams of you?" he asked, shaking his head and putting a hand to his heart as he faded into the shadows again. "Only upon every dark hour of the night, m'lady."

  I giggled and shut the door behind me, reluctantly entering a new hallway full of the wounded. But as I bent to pick up a pail and ladle to give each man a drink, ignoring my soggy skirts and hair—plastered cloyingly to my face—I couldn't help but smile.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ~GABRIELLA~

  It was my husband's stillness that awakened me. I wrenched myself up so I could get a better look at him, alarm flooding my heart.

  But it was then that he gave me the tiniest of smiles, slowly opening his eyes as if it hurt to do so. "You Normans have the most unique methods of providing succor to those who ail," he managed.

  "Marcello? Marcello!" I lifted my hands to my mouth. Was I dreaming? Could it be true? "How do you fare? You are obviously past the fever...."

  "Indeed. Wait until I tell the men how you healed me." His smile broadened. "Climbing into bed, with none but that on...."

  I hit him. Not hard. But he was well enough to tease me!

  He caught my wrists and held them tight, grinning through a wince when I tried to wrench away. I stilled. "It only pains me that I am not yet well enough to make the most of my nurse's care. And state of undress."

  I leaned down, crying and laughing through my tears. Kissing his cheeks, his eyes, his jaw.

  "Ow! Ow!" He took my face in his hands and smiled through his wincing. "Cease your kissing! It hurts!"

  "I'm sorry," I said, laughing. "I can't help myself! I'm so happy you're all right!" I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed each knuckle. "Does that hurt?"

  "A little. From the fighting, you know."

  "Ahh, right," I said, turning it over in my hand and kissing the pads of his palm. "Is that all right?"

  "Mmm," he moaned, letting his lids droop. "Yes. Gives a man good things to dream about for the near future."

  "Yes, yes," I said, gently placing his hand on the covers. I needed to ease up, not push him too much.

  His eyes opened, and he stared at me. The morning light was streaming through the window, and my hair rolled in waves over either shoulder. "God has smiled upon me. I have the most beautiful wife in all the land."

  I swallowed hard, remembering
Nuncio Mancini and my promise to go to his widow. "Marcello, I was so frightened. So, so frightened."

  His smile faded, and he took my hand in his. "We were foolish, Gabriella. Forgive me. Rushing home before we knew the way was clear. We'll take heed and be more cautious next time." He closed his eyes, clearly giving in to the weariness again.

  I nestled against him once more. "Better yet, let's be done with battle, war. Let this bring a time of peace. Prosperity. Rest. For us all."

  "Mmm, yes," he muttered. I ran my hand lightly across his chest, and he covered it with his own. Beneath my palm, I felt his heart beat, strong, steady, true. Mom had been right. Marcello Forelli wasn't leaving me. Not for a long, long while.

  Thank You, Lord, I prayed. Thank You for bringing him back to me. Thank You, thank You, thank You—

  A knock sounded at the door. "One moment!" I called, reluctantly pulling away from Marcello's side. I hurriedly left the bed, saw Marcello was asleep again, pulled on a robe, and then went to the door.

  It was Giacinta, carrying a tray. I grinned and pulled her in. "He awakened!" I said in an excited whisper. "And his fever seems to have passed."

  Her auburn eyebrows lifted in surprise and gladness. "Saints be praised!" she returned, bustling toward the table with the tray. She straightened and glanced over at Marcello. "Might I fetch anything for you or m'lord?"

  "Nay. Just tell the others that the master appears to be through the worst of it."

  "Indeed, m'lady," she said with a nod. "Would you like me to fetch your white gown today? Conte Lerici and the others prepare to ride out, carrying their wounded home, after Father Tomas sees to the funeral of the masses. Your mother said you would wish to take part."

  Her words made my smile fade. So many men, gone. I made myself form the words. "How many, Giacinta?" I asked softly.

  "All but thirty-three have been claimed by kin," she said. She straightened. "Not as bad as it might have been, had not Lord Forelli's friends come to our aid. And, thanks to your ministrations, many more than expected made it through the night. God willing, we shall not lose any others." She shook her head. "The ground is unyielding, heavy with the wet and nearly frozen by the cold. Sir Luca intends to bury them within the old tomba etrusca."

  I frowned. The Etruscan tombs? Surely not Tomb Two... "Does it not put us further at risk to head north to bury them there?"

  "Nay, m'lady," she said softly. "The Fiorentini have plenty of their own kin to see to burial, and the border is holding a mile north of the tombs. Our men shall see to it." A silence settled between us. Almost like a moment of honor for them all, be they Fiorentini or Sienese. For the hundredth time, I hoped that this would be it, the end of battle.

  I cast about for a happy thought. "How do my mother and father fare this day?"

  "Already among the wounded, seeing to their care." She nodded toward Marcello. "And like Lord Forelli, your father is much improved this morn."

  I perked up and took her hands in mine. "Oh! Truly?"

  She grinned. "Truly. He prepares to accompany your mother to the burial site. Do you believe Lord Forelli might—"

  I shook my head, cutting her off, and glanced over to my husband, who was still out cold. There was no way he was well enough to go anywhere.

  "Ah, well," she said. "The others shall understand. Shall I sit with him while you're gone? Fetch that Doctor Menaggio?"

  "I'd be most grateful, Giacinta."

  "Good, then. I'll fetch you the gown, but mayhap your boots, given the mud?" She shook her head. "After the rain, slippers..."

  "Yes, please," I said.

  "Then I'll be back to see to your hair and help you into your gown. Mayhap m'lord would take a bit of broth before you go?"

  "If he wakes." I nodded in agreement. "I'll try."

  ***

  ~EVANGELIA~

  We left the castle gates under heavy guard. Luca was taking no chances, but we had to see the dead "to ground," as they said, before decomposition really set in. Already, I steered clear of the wagons full of bodies wrapped like mummies, the smell threatening to make me sick. We were all dressed in shades of ivory and white, a medieval tradition, even if the roads were riddled with mud. I loved the elegance of it. As I crested a hill and saw more than a hundred before me, making their way through the wood, I longed to sit down and sketch the scene.

  We walked in silence, Gabi and I, last among those from the castello and our friends to leave, with only a rear guard behind us. None were on horseback other than guards and scouts, and I decided I liked it. It was stately, solemn, our ranks echoing with respect and sorrow for those who had been lost. Mom and Dad had gone ahead to make certain we were not losing anything vital in the two tombs Luca intended to utilize. The last thing we wanted was to have to extricate these bodies down the line....

  In seven hundred years, Dr. Manero or his archeological competition would be able to distinguish what had been original to the tomb, and when the other bodies had been added. It would add all kinds of historical mystique. Once upon a time, it would've been the kind of thing that would have kept my folks chattering and theorizing for weeks.

  If the tombs were ever found at all. Had it not been for Mom and that break with a local farmer... Trying to figure out the nature of time travel and the ramifications were enough to make my head spin. So I gave up.

  On the next hill, right above the riverbed that had once marked the boundary between Paratore and Forelli land, Luca awaited us, along with Captain Pezzati, who always reminded me of an Italian Sean Connery with his distinguished, grizzled gray looks. Quietly, they waited for us to gather our skirts and then took our hands to help us pick our way over the rocks to the other side. And then we finished our walk by winding our way up the steeper road to the tiny valley that held the ancient Etruscan tombs.

  When we reached it, Mom and Dad were among the many others gathered on the grassy field that held the stone mounds. I wondered if this would be what heaven looked like when that day came. So many beloved faces gathered around, everyone dressed in white. But probably without the mud...

  We divided, forming channels to the tombs, and the knights carried the bodies in, one after another. And then, with a nod from Tomas, who stood between the two tombs, men rolled the heavy stones back into place, locking them forever away. Gabi cried then, fat tears streaming down her face. But I had nothing. It was like I was empty, worn out, wrung out. As Father Tomas began sharing a few words of comfort, my eyes moved to Rodolfo. He was on horseback—one of twelve knights assigned to guard us—and consequently, his eyes moved slowly across the northern horizon. Again, I felt his grief like something tangible. Perhaps in this funereal moment, he could put his past to rest as we had our fallen comrades, and embrace his future.

  Slowly, his head turned to survey us, and he caught my gaze. But then I followed his dark gaze toward Luca. Luca was watching us both. I tried to suppress a sigh and a roll of my eyes even as I felt a blush climb my cheeks. The last thing I needed was Luca's jealousy; not when we all were trying to sort out so many other complications among castello relationships.

  I lifted my chin and returned Luca's gaze with a soft smile, waiting him out. And he gave. If there was one thing having a big sis had taught me, it was how to win at staring contests. It had to do with confidence. Security. Concentrating on the right thoughts. And there was nothing in me that should make Luca worry. Greco was trouble, from skin to core, and all I wanted to do was encourage him. As a friend. Nothing more. I'd always had a soft spot for the kids on the playground who nobody else would play with. It was just who I was. And Greco...well, it was like he was totally lost.

  A woman's sob made me look to the ground, remembering myself, where I was, what was happening. There were so many here who had lost friends, brothers, sons. How close had we been to burying Marcello or Luca along with them? What if we had lost both of them? The thought of it made my heart pause and then pound painfully in my chest. Gabi had been talking about how this place, this
time, made us appreciate life more; moments like this brought it home.

  The service was done, and the group slowly turned toward home. I was waiting on Gabi and my parents, who lingered beside the tombs, talking, when Luca came near. He gave me a small smile and cocked his head, looking totally adorable. "Walk with me, m'lady?"

  "Certainly," I said, taking the arm he offered. We walked in silence for a bit, watching as stair-step children—had they had a child every year?—in a family ahead of us split off to walk along the top of a fallen tree, then hid around others, playing a game of tag. Already, the tone of our group had moved from somber to celebratory, as was custom here; the walking seemed somehow easier now. I tried to take it all in, to capture certain moments in my memory like a photograph so that I could draw it later.

  "Evangelia," Luca said, "as soon as Marcello is able to leave his bed, I am to leave for a time."

  Leave? Why would he leave? I thought in a panic. But I was careful to construct my answer so I didn't come off as some sort of freakishly clingy girlfriend. "Oh? What calls you away?"

  "My sister is due back any day now. I must travel to Aquina to collect her and bring her here."

  I felt like an idiot. I knew next to nothing about his family, his past. Not that we'd had a lot of time for such things. "Forgive me, Luca. Please. You know all about my family, but I know next to nothing of yours."

  "I would not say that I know all about your family," he said with a conspiratorial grin. "There is much yet I'd care to know."

  "You begin," I said, easing him off that line of thinking. "Your sister. She has been away?"

  He nodded, and his smile grew. "She was promised to the Church at a young age and was sent away to an abbey until the day she took her vows. The trouble emerged when she decided that she loved God and the Church but that the life of a nun was not what she most desired."

  I lifted a brow and nodded. I couldn't imagine taking on a nun's vow. "'Tis difficult to condemn her for it. I hope others will not."

  "Nay," he said with a shake of his head. "Adela has always made her own way, and now shall be no different. My mother and father hoped the Church would curtail her headstrong spirit, but obviously that was to no avail."