A throat cleared. “GospodinGospaFausti.”
She broke the connection first, blinking, shaking her head in such a subtle way that it was hardly noticeable.
“Oh.” She turned. “Hvala.”
I knew enough of the language to understand that meantthank you. The pink tint to her cheeks was easy enough to read. He had called her Mrs. Fausti.
I dismounted to help her out, taking control of the fluff in the back before we could follow another man through the castle. Her dress caught the light and shimmered like ice under the moon.
The attendant led us to our “bedroom chamber.”
The main castle situated inside the mouth of the cave was a continuation of the one located in the hidden forest—walls of stone, rocky and rough in some places, and nothing but torches to light our way.
How had Scarlett described it?Archaic in the simplest, most romantic way.She excelled at that, descriptions, and when she put them in a letter for me, I was thankful for the inspiration to create in my mind without having to see with my eyes.
The “bedroom chamber” continued the romance. Candles were lit from one end to the other, all in pewter holders. Some of them seemed to sprout from an intricately carved gigantic wooden beam in the room. The air smelled of roses and—
“Sandalwood,” she said, her eyes closed, taking a deep breath. “That’s rose and sandalwood.”
The fireplace had been lit, and the room was warm enough. A canopy bed sat in the middle, its timbers rising up to meet the ceiling, and its curtains of red velvet were pulled back to reveal a mattress wide enough for seven people.
Into the wall set before the bed, an oval-shaped window had been carved into stone. It glistened, every vein of ice revealed, traced by the darkness and highlighted by the light.
Scarlett rubbed her arms, standing by the fire. I came to stand behind her, placing my arms around hers.
“Jesus. You’re like ice.”
She shook in my arms, and I could feel the chill that ran deep into her bones. She nodded against my chest, laughing quietly.
“I’ll b-b-be al-l-l rrr-right. You’ll w-warm m-me. You burn like a fire.”
After some time had gone by, and she had two sources of heat, she settled, but not fully. I released my hold, taking a seat on the bed.
“Come to me,” I whispered. “Vieni da me, mia moglie.”
She glanced at me and then at the bed, more nervous now than she had been the first time. Beyond certain was the only way I could have described her then. In this moment, she seemed almost terrified.
“I don’t bite,” I said with a grin.
“Not now.” Her laughter trembled out.
“You like when I taste you.”
“Yes,” she sighed, “I do.”
She didn’t budge.
“I want to show you something,” I said, holding my hands out to her, palms forward.
Her feet padded, not a sound, carrying her secrets. Her dress made a slight whoosh as it swept the floor, a whisper. She placed her palms against mine and I closed the connection with my fingers.
“Are you cold?” she whispered. “You’re trembling.”
“No.” I let out a shaky, rough laugh. Quiet. “I’m not cold, baby. I feel it as much as you do. The connection between us.”
She licked her lips, her tongue running over the perfect shape, a home for my magnet. Her mouth parted before she said, “I’m nervous because I want this night to last forever. I—I don’t want it to end. I don’t want the sun to rise. I’m terrified—”
“Never,” I breathed. “You never have to fear, not a damn thing in this world or outside of it. Understand? I’m here. And I’ll never keep you waiting again, if it’s in my power.Tutto ciò che sono ti do. Tutto ciò che è mio è tuo.” I repeated two of our vows:All that I am I give to you. All that is mine is yours.
