Antonietta, move it! I know you are coming as slowly as possible.
Franco rushed into the entryway, caught sight of his wife covered in blood and sagging against Byron’s restraining hands as he held her up. Franco didn’t even pause. He charged Byron, flailing at him with fists, nearly hitting Marita in the head when she bobbed in his way, trying frantically to grab him.
“Enough.” Byron uttered the command between clenched teeth. His voice was ultralow, but the power and force of it swept through the room, could be felt all the way to the highest reaches. Vases rocked. Pictures on the wall shuddered and went still.
There was instant silence. No one moved or spoke. A wind swirled through the room, a rising howl of protest. Antonietta swept into the entryway, Celt close to her side. “Byron, do shut the door. The air’s so cold, and poor Marita is in shock. Helena, quickly, see to it that Marita’s bath is run. Franco, take her upstairs at once while I inform the authorities of the terrible tragedy in our grove.”
The world narrowed and curved until his vision tunneled and the room was gone. The women disappeared. Franco was gone. There was only Antonietta coming toward him. Byron couldn’t help staring at her. Her voice had always carried confidence, but now her tone was even more compelling. She seemed to glow. His Carpathian blood in her body was already enhancing her natural beauty. She carried authority like a mantle, dignified and unafraid while chaos reigned around her. She left him soft inside. Happy. At peace. Whole.
Her family responded to her voice. Marita collapsed in her husband’s arms. Paul and Justine arrived together, breathless and wide-eyed. Tasha hovered near the archway, regarding Byron with suspicion.
“He saved me.” Marita buried her face against Franco’s chest. “I can’t bear to have this man’s blood on me. It was horrible.”
Franco looked up at Byron. “
Grazie
. I owe you.”
Byron walked straight, purposefully, to Antonietta. In front of her entire family he pulled her into his arms, held her close to him until their hearts picked up the same rhythm. There was pure possession in his posture, a clear signal to the others that he was with Antonietta to stay. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around him and turning her face up for his kiss.
He bent his head to hers. Her lips were warm and soft and welcoming. Her mouth was hot and moist and exotic. For a moment everything and everybody receded to a distant place. Antonietta tasted of honey and spice. Of love and laughter.
“Funny how he always shows up right when one of us is in danger,” Tasha muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. She glared at Byron.
Byron lifted his head to look at her, his black eyes burning red, his fangs exposed when he smiled. He had enough of Cousin Tasha and her ugly games with Antonietta. If she wanted to play with no rules, he was more than willing. She often made Antonietta’s life very uncomfortable. It wouldn’t hurt the woman to have a taste of her own medicine.
Tasha gasped and stepped back, crossing herself. When she blinked, Byron’s smile was normal, his face handsome. The red flames flickering in the depths of his eyes were merely a reflection of the many burning candles scattered around the entryway.
Tasha shivered, but she deliberately walked straight to her cousin’s side, her huge, dark eyes angry. “How did you happen to come upon Marita and a dead body, Byron?” There was a challenge in her voice.
“Thank the good
Dio
you found her, Byron,” Antonietta said. She touched Tasha briefly. “You must call the authorities at once. Say there has been a dreadful accident in the grove. Ask the good captain to come. Tell him our people are already used to his presence, and with everyone so nervous, I would appreciate it if he were to come personally.” I sense her uneasiness. What are you doing to her?
What am I doing to her? She practically accused me of assaulting Marita.
Antonietta made a small gesture of acceptance.
That is just her way, to strike out when she is upset or afraid.
Byron set his teeth.
Cousin Tasha needs manners.
Tasha nearly leapt for the phone, forgetting her determination to save Antonietta from her own folly in the hopes of seeing the handsome captain. “Of course, Antonietta.”
“Paul, go to
Nonno
and let him know what is happening. I don’t want him any more upset than necessary.”
Franco led a sobbing Marita away, with Helena clucking soothing nonsense and promising a bath immediately.
That was it, Byron decided. Antonietta was blind, yet she knew who was in the room, and she took instant command. She was incredible. His heart was beating loud, and he calmed it. Pride for her. It both amused him and alarmed him that he could read her thoughts of confusion in her relationship with him. She believed they would have a short-term affair, he would go on his way, and she would continue her life. She was slowly coming to the realization that she didn’t want him to go, but she still expected it. Neither of them had a choice, but she had no way of knowing it, and he had no intention of compounding her resistance by enlightening her.
Antonietta moved closer to him, fitting her body into his, resting on his strength in the midst of the hysterics. She rubbed her face along his chest, went ramrod stiff, and stepped away from him.
You’ve been with another woman.
The accusation was a statement of fact, the words shimmering in his mind, orange red with flames. It was another betrayal, and it shattered her. He could feel the waves of anger mixed with a ferocious grief.
There will never be another woman. Never. Not for me.
He used his purest tone, one unable to utter an untruth.
“Antonietta,” Justine said. “We have to talk, all of us. Paul, you, even Byron and me. We can’t let this continue.”
Antonietta lifted her chin, her body slightly swaying toward Byron’s as if for protection or comfort. The small, telltale gesture turned his insides to mush. Byron put his arm around her and gathered her beneath the protection of his broad shoulder, sheltering her from the pain of Justine and Paul’s treachery. He could feel Antonietta wanting to believe him, struggling against the purity of his tone and her own senses.
“This is hardly the time for me to try to make sense of what you did, Justine. I am too angry and hurt to listen to either of you. As for Paul shooting us, I still have no idea what to do. I suggest he stay out of the way of the authorities when they arrive.” There was that faint haughty note in her voice that Byron was beginning to recognize as more of a defense than an offense.
I still can smell her on you.
He bent and kissed the tip of her nose.
My sister has arrived from my homeland. She has taken a villa with her lifemate and son near the city overlooking the sea. I believe we discussed Josef and his peculiarities. He wishes to paint, so they are allowing him the opportunity.
The suspicion in her mind cleared at once. Antonietta flung her arms around his neck.
I’m sorry. I don’t know why I doubted you. Betrayal is a way of life in your family, Antonietta. It is not in mine. I say that only to reassure you. It is a natural conclusion when you wake alone, and I return with the scent of another woman on me.
Justine planted her body firmly in front of Antonietta even as Paul hurried off to his grandfather’s room, carefully avoiding Byron’s gaze. “Antonietta. I made a terrible mistake, but you can’t just throw away thirteen years of friendship. You know you’re my family. My only family. This is painful.”