The Scarletti Curse by Christine Feehan Read Free Book Online Page B

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 shall not marry but stay free to do
what I was born to do."
    The little girl looked up at her, puzzled. "You do not want to have
bambini
and a husband, a
famiglia?"
she asked. "You will be all
alone."
    "I will not be alone, Ketsia. Do not look so sad," Nicoletta
assured her, affectionately ruffling her hair. "I will always have you and
your children, and Maria Pia, and your mother, and all the others in the
villaggio.
You all are my
famiglia.
I have all of you and my plants and the
outdoors. I could not ask for anything else to make me happy."
    The wind rustled, a mere whisper of sound, but Nicoletta instantly spun
around. "Where did you say my shoes were?" She looked around the
ground strewn with flowers of every description, pushing a hand through her
hair in agitation.
"Subito,
Ketsia, we must find them at
once."
    Ketsia laughed again, the childish sound joyful. "Maria Pia is coming
up the trail," she guessed sagely. No one else could get Nicoletta to be
concerned over her lack of footwear. Her present shoes didn't even fit
properly. Ketsia's mother had donated an old, worn pair to Nicoletta when she
returned shoeless from the palazzo. Ketsia didn't question that Nicoletta
sensed Maria Pia nearing them; Nicoletta knew things others did not, though no
one spoke of it. When she had tried to tell her mother of the wondrous things
Nicoletta could do, her mother shushed her severely.
    "Yes, you little imp, it is Maria Pia coming. Now where along the stream
are those shoes?" Nicoletta was torn between desperation and laughter. If
Maria Pia caught her barefoot again after the incident at the palazzo, which
everyone thought terribly