The Shadowed Heart

“You promised you would pay me to use the sight.” There was no petulance, no whining in her voice, only a resolute tenaciousness.

“Listen to me!” He stopped in front of her. “Be grateful if all I do is not pay you.”

Chiara stared up at him. Rage had lived within her since she was a child, watching her father treat her mother worse than he would treat a servant. Now it sprang to life, just as a smoldering fire springs into flame at a breath of air. Her arm brushed against the dagger at her waist, but it did not even occur to her to reach for it. She had a better weapon for this toad of a man.

“It would not go well for you to cheat me.” Her voice lowering, she shifted closer to him. “Do you know what Gypsies do to those who cheat them?”

Paling, Manelli retreated from her, making the sign against il malocchio, the evil eye, with forefinger and little finger of his right hand. “I—if you promise to do what you are told, I will pay you.” His gaze shifted away from her face.

Chiara’s eyes narrowed. If he thought to cheat her, she thought, she would—

“Leave us, Manelli. I wish to speak to the girl.”

Like matching puppets, both whirled to face Luca.

“B-but, signore, Signora Giulietta—”

“Leave Signora Giulietta to me.” Although he was not aware of it, Luca’s chiseled features grew as cold as if they were carved from ice at the unaccustomed contradiction. “Out.” He tipped his head toward the door.

Manelli felt sweat begin to dribble down his back at the icy anger in Signor Luca Zeani’s black eyes. But still he hesitated to obey, for he knew well what cruelties Signora Giulietta was capable of.

Luca heard the door behind him open and turned to see Giulietta with Savini in tow.

“What are you doing here, Luca?” Giulietta demanded.

“I could ask you the same question, cara.” Even as he addressed her, his eyes skimmed over Savini. The man was staring at the Gypsy girl with undisguised lecherousness and Luca’s eyes narrowed as he returned his gaze to his mistress. “Or have you brought Savini here to take his pound of flesh from the girl for telling the truth?”

Chiara’s eyes widened as the terrible understanding of what was happening penetrated her mind, why she had been brought to this room. She understood that this scarecrow of a man with his protuberant eyes intended to take her body. And all these people standing around her intended to let him.

She suppressed the cry of protest and fear that rose in her throat. Like a wild animal circled by hunters, she remained perfectly still for one moment, her eyes darting from one to the other. Then she ran.

Luca had his back to the girl, but by some instinct he was aware of her intention before she ever moved. Spinning on his heel to face her, he blocked her way so that she slammed fully into his body. Capturing her in his arms, he held her relentlessly as she began to fight like a wild thing, twisting and turning within his harsh embrace.

Confident of his muscular body, toughened from years of seafaring life, Luca curbed his strength, not wishing to hurt her.

Grimly determined, Chiara fought on. He was a soft fop, she assured herself, with his silks and brocades and lace. He was evil and brutal, but he was a coward. He had run from her once before, after all.

Twisting her body around its axis, she raised her bent arm as high as she could and then drove it back, plowing her elbow into his middle.

Luca swore as the girl’s elbow struck his midriff, but he only tightened his grip. Still she fought him. Suddenly she bent like a poplar sapling in the wind and, before he realized what she intended, she had sunk her teeth into his wrist.

Dropping all pretense of civility, he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back. “Be still, damn it,” he growled into her ear. “I mean you no harm.”

“No!” Her voice rose. The memory of how his eyes had glittered so demonically that night almost two years ago enabled her to fight on even though her strength was flagging. “Let me go!” She managed to free one hand and, forming her fingers into claws, gouged deep scratches into his cheek before he captured her hand again.

His patience snapped and, unleashing his full power, Luca manacled her hands with his and twisted them behind her back, ignoring her cry of pain. Holding her wrists with one hand, he pressed his other arm against her throat, drawing her flush against him.

As he pinned her against him, Chiara stilled, the strength flowing out of her abruptly, as if he had severed some lifeline by pressing her against his body. The light surrounded her again. And warmth. She shook her head in disbelief, as she looked for the dark apparition, but this time it eluded her.

As she surfaced, she found herself staring directly into his eyes. They were the color of the night sky at its darkest hour, but there were tiny specks of gold strewn throughout the blackness, like points of light. She waited for the malevolent glitter, but it did not come. Then she realized that the eyes were smiling at her.

“Well?” he asked, his smile coloring his voice. “Have you decided to surrender?”

Because her life had taught her that it was sometimes wise to give up to be able to fight another time, she lowered her eyes in a gesture that could be taken for assent.

“I do not surrender,” she said softly. “But I cannot fight against your strength.”

“A wise decision. Now if I release you, will you remain still and not try to maim me?”

She gave a jerky nod.

“Look at me.”

Hesitating for a long moment, Chiara felt him push her chin upward with his arm. Reluctantly she lifted her lids. As their eyes met and held, she felt the hatred within her pall. Panicking, she tried to hold it, but all she could see was the light that rose from the recesses of her mind to surround the man who held her, until he seemed enclosed in a bubble of light.

Luca saw the panic in her eyes and felt something within himself soften.

“I won’t hurt you.” He lowered his arm slightly so that it lay just above her breasts. Cautiously he loosened the fingers that shackled her wrists.

When Chiara immediately tried to move away from him, his hands tightened again.

“Stay close until I’m sure that you’re not going to run.” His tone was mild, but the command there was unmistakable.

“You said you would release me.” Her voice was low, furious.

“And so I will.” He smiled. “Just humor me for a bit and stay close.” He lowered his arm. It brushed her breasts and he felt his body stir. He curved his hand over her hip, to make certain that she did not run and because it pleased him to touch her.

“What a touching scene.” Giulietta raised her hands and tapped her fingers against one another in a parody of applause. “If I had known you had a taste for violence, caro, I would have obliged you earlier. Now—” she struck her closed fan sharply against her palm “—I suggest that we return to business.”

“And I suggest that it is time for Signor Savini to retire,” Luca said smoothly. “I am told that the Great Council meets early in the morning.”

“But you promised—” Savini began, his voice rising to a whine.

“I’m sure you misunderstood.” Luca’s mouth curved in a smile that would not have looked out of place on a wolf. “Signora Giulietta only meant she shall endeavor that nothing that transpired here tonight shall become common knowledge.”

“The damage has been done and people will talk. You know that. Gossip is the favorite pastime in Venice.” Savini’s voice rose. “The least you can do is to—”

Luca felt the girl stiffen and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Buona notte, signore.”

Savini opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it with a snap. With a glare in Luca’s direction, he whirled to leave. Giulietta reached out to stop him, but he shook off her hand and swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Now look at what you’ve done.” Giulietta turned on Luca, her dark eyes snapping with displeasure. “What kind of game are you playing?”

“I dislike seeing those who cannot defend themselves coerced.” Suddenly conscious of the warmth of the girl’s body beneath his hand, the irony of his words occurred to him and he released her.

Chiara looked up sharply at him. What unspeakable gall, she thought, to speak like that when he was so good at coercion himself. She remembered only too well how she had come upon him holding her sister’s hands pinned above her head much as he had held her own behind her back. And she remembered Donata’s terrified eyes. The memory brought a comforting return of the hatred just as she felt his hand lift away from her hip, the tips of his fingers lingering for a moment before he released her completely.

“You’ve been reading too many philosophical treatises from France, caro. You seem to have begun to believe all that tripe about the purity of the savage and the rights of humanity.” The melodiousness of Giulietta’s voice could not hide the vibration of anger. “Now I suggest we let Manelli take her back to wherever it was he found her.”