Torrent (25 page)

“I shall. If you must.”

“I must. Fortino…he meant much to me. I am so sorry, Marcello.”

He placed his hands on mine and took a long, deep breath. In it I could hear just a bit of the overwhelming exhaustion I felt inside.

“You are weary too,” I said.

“I am,” he admitted.

I settled my cheek against his back. “We are far too young to feel like old people.”

He laughed. “Indeed.” He turned and cradled the side of my face. “But it shall pass. There is much ahead of us, Gabriella. Fortino…he would wish for us to embrace
life
.”

Life?
He was tired, yes. But he wasn’t feeling this sick kind of tired that I was. Still he was being so sweet…

He studied me. “When shall you tell me what transpired in Roma?” he asked.

“In time,” I said, shifting away. In retrospect, what was so terrible about it? Indulgent Roman baths? Being pampered, dressed in costume? I felt silly, guilty over giving in to feeling like I’d been through So Much. But I couldn’t help it. It felt like a lot. There’d been my harrowing escape, sure. The chase, the capture. The fear that I was about to be made to marry, whether I wanted to or not. The horrific plan to verify that the marriage was consummated…Then our escape from Rome. It just was too much—too much for my brain and heart to take in.

Marcello took my hand before I was too far away. “Rodolfo…did he…? Did he not honor our agreement?”

He wondered if something had happened between us. If that was at the heart of what was going on inside me. For the first time I wondered if it
was
a part of it. I remembered our kiss in the woods. Our embrace in Palazzo Vivaro. I’d allowed it. Betrayed Marcello. “Can we speak of it later?” I asked, staring at the tile floor, unable to meet his gaze.

He stilled, guessing there was more there—much more—then let go of my fingers. I felt the chill of the air flowing through the window then, on my palm, where his warm hand had been a second before. “Certainly, m’lady.” He touched my chin and waited for me to look at him. “But we
shall
speak of it, in time.”

I gave him the tiniest of nods, and, after a breath, he turned and strode toward the door. He paused there, his back to me, clearly wanting to say something. “Do you love him, Gabriella?” he finally asked, staring up at the door frame.

His words sent a shock through me. For the first time since awaking at Castello Forelli, I
felt
awake. “Love? Rodolfo?”

He waited, deadly still.

“Nay,” I said, striding over to him. I put a hand on his shoulder. “Marcello, look at me.”

Reluctantly he turned.

“If there is one thing I know to be true, it’s this: I love but one man. And that man is
you
.”

His eyes narrowed in pain and confusion. “Then what is it, Gabriella?” he asked. “What are you not telling me?” He took my hand in his and put it to his chest, covering it with his own. “What are you keeping from me that pains you so that you wish to sleep the day away?”

“I know not,” I said to him. “Truly.” I lifted my free hand to my temple. “Mayhap it’s that I’m trying to pull together so much in my mind, my heart, in so short of a time. It’s a great deal to absorb, Marcello. Even without the trauma of the last few days…weeks. Every time I’ve been here, with you, I’ve experienced battle, disappointment. Death.”

He nodded, holding his hands over mine, still on his chest. “But you’ve also experienced love. Extreme loyalty. Friendship.”

Yes, but…

“I understand,” he said at last. “Even for me, ’tis been a great deal. I need to remember that you went from the war, to this. Whereas I had more than a year, without you, adjusting, resting.” He gave me a sad smile and tucked my stupidly stubborn hair behind my ear. “And for a girl of
Normandy
…such circumstances must be sorely trying indeed.”

I returned his smile. “Normandy is far more tame,” I said. “At least in some regards.”

“I am praying that in the coming days, we shall know an era of peace. That is if Rodolfo can maintain his position among the grandi, and me with the Nine—together we might build bridges again, instead of this incessant fighting.”

“’Twould be good,” I said. If a bit weird. I pictured Rodolfo coming to visit. Marcello inviting him.
Sure, dude. Come by the house. Don’t worry if you made moves on my girl. We’ll hang out!

I had to tell him. All of it. Rodolfo had ultimately been faithful to him, to me. But there had been that undercurrent of wanting something far different.…

Chapter Twenty-two

So, apparently, I’d come to the end of my record sleep-a-thon. Because even though my body was trying to pull me back into Slumberville, my mind was Awake, with a capital
A
. For hours I’d thought of nothing but Marcello, Rodolfo, Dad, Mom, Lia, the past, the future, tossing and turning. The more I thought, the harder I worked at trying to figure it out, the worse it seemed to get.

I stared at Lady Forelli’s stars until I longed to see the real thing.

I finally threw off the covers and rubbed my arms against the chill. I carried a candle over to a trunk, rifled through it, and found the one I was seeking—a simple brown gown made of a sturdy wool. No adornment, nothing too fancy. But of an older fashion, and therefore higher at the neck and shoulder, warmer. I tossed it over my head, managed to reach a few buttons, then called it good. I grabbed a hooded cape and wrapped it around my shoulders, pulled on my tapestry slippers—wishing they had Ugg boots—and then long gloves.

I needed to walk. Outside. Move. See the stars.

Thinking of Lady Forelli, I blew out my candle. I knew the rest of the castle was likely illuminated anyway, with enough torches lit to guide the knights, should attack occur.

I cracked open my door to the hall, wincing as it squeaked, since I was next door to the quarters Marcello had taken—Lord Forelli’s. I assumed he was sleeping, and he needed it.

After several breaths I assumed he’d not heard me. Otherwise, he’d be racing to his door, sword drawn. He was in that kind of protective mood. Then I tiptoed past his door, down the hall, entered the turret stairs, and circled downward to the bottom. I exited through the door, startling a sleepy knight on guard outside it.

Marcello, really? Isn’t that a bit of overkill?
We were inside the castle, after all.

He stood straighter and gave me a curious look. “M’lady? Is there something I can get you?”

“Nay,” I said, giving him my most charming smile. “I simply couldn’t sleep. I suppose that after sleeping so many days away, I’m quite finished.” I raised my shoulders in a shrug. “I’m here to walk, get some fresh air.”

He gave me a polite nod, but I knew he’d be following my every move. How long had I been under guard without knowing it? I supposed it was all right. Understandable. It just…rubbed me wrong. Felt a bit like the ropes on the stretcher a few days ago. Too close to the sort of imprisonment I’d experienced of late, elsewhere.

I walked to the center of the courtyard, looking up. But the moon was half full now, bright in the clear winter sky, and the stars dim. I sighed, frustrated, wanting one of those moonless, brilliant star nights where there was practically more white than black. And then I started to walk, fast. Power walking, of sorts. Trying to drive out all the frustration and confusion building inside me again like a silent scream. I walked the whole perimeter of the castle, which took about ten minutes. I wished I could be outside, in the woods, running through the trees.

I was attracting the attention of every guard on watch, but I ignored them. I wanted to break into a run, circling and circling the inside of the wall, but knew that they’d think I really was like a caged wolf. The last thing Marcello needed was more people thinking I was losing it. So I tucked my hands behind me and slowed my stride to a stroll, keeping my head down, thinking, thinking, thinking.

I was on my fourth round, just passing the kitchen and stables, when I saw him waiting in the center of the courtyard. I paused and then approached him. “Can’t sleep?” I said.

“Not if you can’t,” Marcello said, staring with such deep compassion in his eyes that I held my breath. He lifted a bow toward me and said, “Lia told me you tried your hand at it yesterday.”

“Tried,” I said. “And failed. Most miserably.”

“Then you must try again,” he said, giving me a gentle smile of encouragement. I had never seen a bow and arrow in his hands, but I had no doubt that he was as expert with them as he was with the sword. “I find it settles me, if I cannot find a suitable sparring partner. Mayhap it shall be the same for you.”

I nodded and stepped forward. He’d lit several more torches. I knew the guards watched, but I was mostly aware of Marcello. He stepped behind me, gently correcting my stance as I nocked the arrow and pulled back the bowstring.

“Most overshoot. Aim lower than you think you need to.”

I let it fly, and it stuck to the top of the wheat sheaf.

“There you are,” he said.

I laughed under my breath, positioned another arrow on the string, and aimed.

“Tell me, Gabriella, what it is that keeps you from sleep,” he whispered.

I let the second loose, and it still was high, but a couple inches down from the first. I reached for another arrow and prepared for my next strike. “He kissed me, Marcello.”

His hand stiffened at my waist. Then, “Did you return it?”

“For a moment.”

He took several breaths. “Take your shot, m’lady,” he said then.

I squinted, aiming, but my eyes were filling with tears. I let it go, and it hit the outer ring of the target.

“So now we are getting closer to the heart of the matter,” Marcello said.

I nocked the next arrow as if I were a robot, automatically continuing my task regardless of what was going on. I aimed at the center of the ring, dark and red and representing—at the moment—every frustration I had. “I do not love him,” I said hoarsely. I let it fly, and it struck the second ring.

I paused, and Marcello bent to retrieve the next arrow for me. I put my hand on it but did not take it from him, waiting until he met my gaze. “I was moved by his friendship. His loyalty to you.”

Marcello let out a scoffing laugh. “Rodolfo is quite handsome. Powerful and wealthy. Winsome.”

“No more than you, m’lord,” I said. “I was under a great deal of duress. And when he… Marcello, you need to believe me… I allowed it, for a moment. But I was confused.”

“And that was it?” he asked, his tone deadly.

“One more time. He tried to draw me in, convince me to leave it to God. To attend that first ceremony at Lord Vivaro’s. See if you showed up in time.”

He paused for one breath, then two. “So he loves you.”

I dared to face him. His eyes went back and forth, searching mine, and I nodded. “He never said the words. Mayhap it was but a passing fancy—”

“Nay, I saw it in his face,” Marcello said lowly, stroking my cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You are no man’s passing fancy, Gabriella. You have a way…a way of stealing hearts. You and your sister. Mayhap it’s your Norman upbringing. But every man and woman around you recognizes you as different. Unique. Other. And that makes us all want to know you more.”

I paused, considering his words. “To be fair, Rodolfo was playing the role. Doing what was expected of him.”

Marcello stepped slightly away so he could look me fully in the face. “Surely you are not that naive.”

“Is he not one of your oldest friends?” I asked in irritation. “A brother?”

“That brotherhood ended when he attempted to draw you away from me. I just didn’t know it, when I saw him last.” He turned and strode away, but I raced past him and put a hand to his chest.

“Nay. Was it not he who made it possible for you to take on the robes and hoods of the noblemen at San Giovanni’s?” I was guessing, but it only made sense.

His pause told me I was right.

“If he was truly willing to sever your friendship, to walk away from you in order to have me, would he have made the way for you? Would it not have made far more sense to keep you out?”

“I would’ve found my way in via another entrance, without him,” he ground out.

“But you didn’t have to, did you, Marcello?”

“He wanted you to choose, Gabriella. He knew we were there, that I would hear it if you willingly accepted the vows.”

He looked away, took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. Too slowly. “So after you rejected him, he did not make any further untoward advances?”

I wasn’t sure what
untoward advances
meant, but I could guess from his tone. “Nay, Marcello, nay. He knew he had lost. That my heart beat for one alone.” I reached out and rested my hand against his chest. “You.”

I took the arrow from his hand, turned, and aimed at the center of the target, now an additional ten paces away. “Ever after, I tried to escape. At one point I went out on a ledge, three stories up and made my way around the corner—”

I went on to tell him of my leap to the other palazzo, the old servant helping me escape, Tomas’s arrival, and then of Vivaro’s men closing in.

Marcello stared at my arrow, stuck in the center of the target, and then turned back to me. “By sunup Captain Ruisi had cornered you and the priest.”

“And by nightfall, I was back in Roma.”

He kicked the toe of his boot against the hard-packed mud of the courtyard. “And then they took you to San Giovanni, where we found you.”

“Yes.”

He studied me. “I must know, Gabriella. You had a knife at your throat, so I would understand.” He reached out and touched my cheek. “Truly I would.” He took a breath. “But…were you ready to accept it? Had we not been there, would you have become…his?”

I shook my head. “Nay.
Nay
. Rodolfo knew it. He could see it in my eyes, the answer I was prepared to give, regardless of the threat. That is why he demanded my release.” I reached for his hand. “Why does it matter? He stepped aside, made a way for us. Gave us the only edge he had the freedom to give. Is it not enough?”

He didn’t answer. He simply reached for my bow, took an arrow from the basket, and aimed. He let go of the bowstring, and the arrow sailed across, hitting the center so close to mine that it cracked. “Not until I know he does not wish to claim what is mine,” he said, looking at me over his shoulder.

“But I
am
yours,” I said, putting a hand at his waist. “If there was anything good that came of those days in Sansicino and Roma, ’twas that.” I drew closer, so I could whisper in his ear. “That. That I’m yours, Marcello. Always and forever. That is why I’m here.” I reached around and put a hand on his chest, and he covered it with his hand. “Always and forever,” I repeated. “It’s why God brought me here, to this time, this place. Because I am meant for you, and you for me.”

He dropped the bow and turned in my arms, taking my face in both of his trembling hands. “And there is nothing in your heart for Rodolfo?”

“Oh, Marcello,” I said, looking into his eyes. “I care for Rodolfo. But I
love
you. You have my heart. What must I do to make you believe that?”

Slowly, never dropping his gaze from mine, he dropped to one knee before me. His intense expression made my heart pound. “Marry me, m’lady. Marry me as soon as we can obtain your father’s blessing.”

And Mom’s. That might take a while. Oh, and there’s the small matter of convincing them all to live here forever…

I pushed the hesitation out of my mind, not wanting him to sense any of it. He’d misunderstand. I smiled down at him, at the earnest, hopeful, little-boy look in his eyes, and tears rolled down my face. And I was glad for them, glad to be
feeling
again. Alive inside. “Yes, Marcello,” I said. “If we can convince my family, I shall marry you.”

He rose, grinning, and lifted me up in the air, twirling me and laughing. I could hear the low, approving laughter of the guards. If it weren’t for the hour, I knew they would likely be cheering.

Gradually he let me drop, and I felt the strength of his arms and chest anew. There, in that moment, I remembered a bit of my own strength, my own power. But I was most acutely aware of Marcello, as he seemed to be of me. He bent and kissed me, gently at first, then more hungrily, pulling me closer. Abruptly he broke off, stepped away, his face flushed. I knew mine was as well. He lifted a hand toward me as we circled each other. “We must convince your father soon,” he said.

“My father
and
mother,” I said, looking at him with as much passion as he was looking at me. “And Lia.
Very
soon,” I said. I edged closer and lifted my lips to him. He kissed me then, restrained. Deliciously restrained.

Then he took my hand, led me to the turret, up the stairs, down the hallway and into my room. I had hopes of more kissing, drawing closer to him in the privacy of my quarters, tossing aside restraint, but he put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes with a grin. “God help me, Gabriella, I cannot take but another second of being close to you. Not if I wish to maintain your honor.” He raised an eyebrow. “Stay here, She-Wolf. I must run to the well and dive in.”

With that, he turned and left me, firmly shutting the door.

And I giggled. Then laughed. Laughed so hard I cried, until my stomach muscles hurt. I fell on my back, atop the bed, and stared at the stars above me.

Oh, yeah, I’m back.

I. Am. Back.