Carpathian 00 - The Scarletti Curse by authors_sort Read Free Book Online Page B

him with finality.

Chapter Three
    "Nicoletta! You left your shoes by the stream again." The childish voice was giggling, bubbling over with laughter. "Maria Pia said to watch you. You left your real sandals at the palazzo. She said—"
    "You are never going to let me forget that, are you, Ketsia," Nicoletta interrupted, laughing. She placed a garland of flowers on the little girl's head. "I cannot believe she told everyone. That was so mean!" But Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    her dark eyes were dancing with shared merriment.
    Ketsia giggled again. "You are so funny, Nicoletta." The little girl danced around, spinning in circles, her arms held out wide to embrace the crisp mountain air. Wild flowers exploded in a riot of color, and overhead, birds sang out, each attempting to outdo the other with trilling melodies.
    Nicoletta whirled and swayed beside Ketsia, her wide skirts flaring, her long hair flying in all directions, her bare feet tapping out a rhythm in the grasses. She began to sing softly, her voice melodious as she danced, limping just a little. Her leg was still sore, but the swelling had gone down. She bathed it daily in the cold stream, applying poultices to speed the healing.
    It had been several days since she had been called to the palazzo. The memory of the don hadn't faded at all. Instead, she found herself uneasy, often thinking of him. At night she dreamed of him. A tall, solitary man with dark, hypnotic eyes. He whispered to her, called to her, his soft voice insistent, aching. She dreamed erotic dreams, things she knew nothing about; she dreamed of love and death. Lately, the only time she had felt at peace was when she was far from the village, surrounded by the peace of the mountains. Young Ketsia often accompanied her into the hills while the girl's mother worked at her weaving. The villagio women were renowned for the weaving of beautiful cloth, much in demand by the aristocrazia and surrounding settlements.
    When the wild dance was ended, the pair collapsed together, laughing at their silliness, Ketsia putting an arm around Nicoletta. "I love to be with you," she admitted in the guileless way of children.
    "I am so glad, Ketsia, because I love spending time with you." Nicoletta had been mixing flower petals together in an attempt to come up with a new dye for the cloth of the village. The weavers depended on her experiments to produce things unique enough to please those in the palazzo and to barter in the neighboring towns. Ketsia proved helpful in gathering the flowers for her. The child liked being the assistant, remembering where Nicoletta had left her shoes and seeing to it that she remembered to eat the bread and cheese she carried but often forgot.
    "Cristano was looking at you again, Nicoletta," Ketsia pointed out slyly.
    Nicoletta shrugged her slender shoulders. "Though he vows to wed me one day, I do not have the shape he is looking for. He has told me my waist is too small, as are my hips. I would not make buoni bambini."
    Ketsia was outraged. "He said that to you?"
    Nicoletta nodded, hiding her smile at the child's indignation. "Yes, he did, and he also said I was too wild and he would insist on taming me and making me cover my hair and wear shoes at all times. Now, in truth, Ketsia, should I even consider marrying a man who would expect me to remember where my shoes are?"
    Ketsia thought about it solemnly. "Cristano is very handsome, Nicoletta. And I think he likes you very much. He is always looking at you when he thinks you are not aware of it."
    "He is handsome," Nicoletta conceded, "but it is more important that a man likes a woman as a person, Ketsia. And I should like him as a person, not just how he looks. Cristano will make some girl a good husband, but not me. He will want me to cook and clean for him and stay all day inside. I would wither and die. I belong here." Nicoletta spread her arms wide to encompass the mountains. "I