My Cursed Highlander

By Kimberly Killion

A proud, tormented warrior...
Laird Taveon Kraig would do anything to recover a magical amulet powerful enough to break the curse that has plagued his clan for a hundred years—even marry a woman determined to hate him. But the beautiful—albeit boldly defiant—woman stirs his passion like no other. He never dreamed his quest would involve surrendering his heart.
A blind sculptress…
Having survived two ruthless marriages, Viviana Gorini Dè Medici has no desire to take another husband—especially one who wants her most prized possession: a magical amulet that provides her with the gift of sight. Despite her pleas, she is forced into the marriage and sent on a dangerous journey with a man whose charms melt her defenses, whose touch sets her on fire, and whose kiss stirs her body in a way she’s never known.
A wicked enemy…
Surrendering completely to an ecstasy that binds their hearts, neither of them foresees the sinister threat waiting to destroy both of their worlds. In a family torn apart by a centuries old curse, will love be enough to save them all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: ePublishing Works
• Release date: Jan 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781614171638

Book preview

My Cursed Highlander

by

RITA® Nominated

and

Award-Winning author

Kimberly Killion

Published by: ePublishing Works!

www.epublishingworks.com

ISBN: 978-1-61417-163-8

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FIRST EDITION

January 2012

Copyright © 2011 by Kimberly Killion. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

Visit Kimberly Killion online at: www.kimberlykillion.com

Cover and book design by Hot Damn Designs www.hotdamndesigns.com

eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com

Thank You.

The Curse

Scotland, in the year of our Lord thirteen-hundred and eighty

Kael? Elise whispered her husband's name and dropped a bouquet of purple saffron. She shook her head in disbelief and choked on the sob filling her chest.

Twilight glistened off Kael's sweat-slicked back as he held another woman against the ancient stone—their stone—and thrust wildly between her legs. The musky scent of sex blended with the salty aroma of the sea. Waves slapped a hideous melody against the shore at the base of the cliff. Elise stood immobile, unable to turn away from the scene before her.

The woman propped herself up higher on the free-standing boulder and clasped her ankles around his buttocks. She leaned to the side and bit Kael's ear, her lips curling into a wicked grin. Glowing green eyes leered at Elise from over Kael's shoulder.

Elise stared at her, confused by her appearance; pale hair, gold lashes, high cheekbones. Her image mirrored Elise. Who was she?

The man Elise had called husband for nigh six months held tight to the woman's hips and drove a final thrust. A deep throaty moan Elise had heard often enough prefaced the whimpers coming from the female snake intimately coiled around him. His muscles rippled and his head fell back as he spent himself inside her.

The woman laughed—a tinkling bell-like giggle that cut Elise's ears and sliced through her heart. She gripped the amulet Kael had given her the day of their wedding and yanked it free from her neck. He'd vowed to be faithful. He lied. He betrayed her.

Ye bastard! she yelled.

Drawing deep breaths, Kael whipped his head to the side. Dark brows dipped low above blue eyes filled with confusion and distance. He searched her face then offered a fleeting glance toward the woman he was still buried inside. Elise?

Seething with anger, Elise felt cool tears fall over her hot cheeks and wished her father had never given her to the leader of Clan Kraig. Damn ye and your clan! Ye are a liar. May you and all those who share your blood be cursed for eternity. She threw the amulet at him.

The woman shot out a hand and caught it in midair. Kael jerked out of her as she spread her naked form over the massive bolder and chanted words of the old language. Words of black magic. She arched her back and raised her hand above her. Purple rays of light beamed out of the fist wrapped around the amulet.

So shall it be done, dearest Elise, and may ye be forever blinded by the truth.

Part I

Chapter 1

Italy, in the year of our Lord fourteen-hundred and eighty-six

"Remove your garments, per favore."

Although, her forthrightness shocked him, Taveon Kraig had no intention of denying the beauty's request. Her nonchalance confirmed the lingering question that had pecked at him for nigh a sennight. Her association to the wealthiest families in all of Italy could no longer be denied. She was a courtesan to the Medici Empire.

Excitement, raw and feral, whipped through him as he released the clasps holding his burgundy doublet together, more than eager to be rid of the garment. Hell must surely lie directly beneath Firenze soil as he'd never known such sweltering weather.

There is a robe on the chair if you are modest. She gestured toward one of the few pieces of furniture in the chamber.

Modest? Taveon grinned. There wasn't a modest bone in his body. After removing his boots, he peeled his tunic off over his head and neatly draped his garments over the chair's back. Only briefly did he drag his eyes from her to glance at the renderings of serpents and cherubs carved into the wood. Everything at the Medici Palace was elaborately decorated—the furniture, the door panels... the women.

The coquette raised her ivory skirt, exposing bare toes, and gracefully floated across the chamber to push open shutters of an arched window. Eyes closed, lips pursed, she tilted her face upward and smiled. Light poured over her flawless skin. Long locks cascaded down her back like a veil of black silk.

Anticipating the moment he would tangle his fingers through the masses set his palms to itching. His bollocks pulsed inside his braies.

He couldn't peel them off quickly enough.

Do not get familiar with the girl, else she'll end up in the grave like the others. The soothsayer's warning stuck in his head, but he decided becoming familiar with the Italian lassie might be the best means of locating the amulet.

He freed himself of the last of his apparel without taking his gaze from her. She was exquisite, and the little minx intended to make merry in the full light of day in a room scarcely furnished. Is there no bed?

No. You will remain in an upright position. She turned, making his heart beat out of cadence. 'Twould take all his strength not to spend himself inside her, for if he failed his task, he would poison her womb with his cursed seed the same as he had Nessa.

I'm ready. Stripped to his skin and feeling quite vain, he held his arms out in presentation. When she yielded little reaction to his physique, he flexed his muscles and waited for her to pay heed to what he deemed a most impressive erection.

But her gaze never once detoured south.

He frowned. What was wrong with her?

I trust Messer Lorenzo explained to you how I work.

Aye, he lied. Taveon had skulked on rooftops and in corridors just to get to her. For two nights he'd awaited the opportunity to sneak past the handful of sentries guarding the palace.

She padded toward him and stopped a baw hair from his chest.

Sweet Venus! She was a curvy wee lassie, full breasts, narrow waist, flaring hips. Oh, she would be soft, supple; with an ample amount of flesh for him to dine on. He thought of all the ways he intended to wrap her body around him. Carnal desire raced through his veins. He'd yet to be this close to her and became entranced by her eyes. They were remarkable. An odd shade of violet—a smoky violet. An erotic mixture of honey and citrus coated his senses like liquid heat. The tickle of her velvet skirt against his shins made his nipples pebble and his cock jerk outward.

He was going to enjoy her and refused to allow her to rush through the process regardless of her expertise. Aye, he would taste her and show her all the ways a Scotsman could pleasure a woman.

One of her delicate hands reached out to touch him, and he braced himself for the contact. Cool fingers splayed over his chest. He staved off the need to flinch.

Her violet eyes widened.

She jerked back and gawked up at him. Her breaths came fast and furious along with a frown that pulled thin dark brows tight in the middle. She pulled the corner of her lip between her teeth and touched him again—this time with the tip of one finger on his breastbone.

She yanked her hand back. "Oh, cazzo! Cazzo!" Her words were delivered in her native tongue, but the emphasis told Taveon she was either cursing or praying.

Please, sweetling. Dinnae be afraid. He wrapped an arm around her waist and flanked her against him, pressing his erection against her belly.

Her head shook, her eyes pinched tight. Who are you?

I am the last lover ye will ever want. He bent low and descended on her glossed lips, hoping to ease her sudden discomfort.

Tiny fingernails dug into his chest while her scream vibrated over his tongue. He released her and watched the fury alight her face with fire. What in the name of Zeus was wrong with her?

Angelo! Her hands curled into white-knuckled fists. Angelo, come this instant!

Who is Angelo? Taveon asked just as she reared back and punched him square in the nose. He faltered back a step and bent slightly at the waist as pain sliced through his skull. Shite! He stood upright, squeezed the bridge of his nose, and stared at the hellion through the spots now speckling his vision. Ye hizzie!

She swung another clenched fist wide, but missed him by an arm's length; nonetheless, he felt the breeze of her intentions over his abdomen.

The door flew open and a boy with gangly limbs too big for the rest of his body dashed into the chamber. 'Twas the same boy Taveon had seen attached to her arm on the Sabbath when she'd attended mass at their kirk.

The boy Taveon assumed was Angelo, latched on to her elbows and shook her. "Che cos'è, Mistress Viviana?"

Taveon pulled the robe on to hide his nudity. If her sharp hand movements didn't indicate her agitation, the way she ranted did. Though he'd studied the Tuscan dialect en route to Italy, the speed of her delivery made it impossible for him to decipher her words.

A clicking sound grew in volume and prefaced the entry of a huge gray dog. The beast slid into the chamber and nearly skidded into the empty hearth. It took a stance at Taveon's feet. Yap, yap, yap...

Short-haired and strongly built, the beastie's annoying bark didn't coincide with its size. The dog's instincts to guard her only added to the pandemonium erupting in the chamber. The blood left his erection and throbbed at his temple in time with the dog's persistent yelping.

Angelo left her side to retrieve an iron poker from the hearth then poised the weapon at a threatening angle. Taveon swallowed a chuckle. The laddie appeared determined to protect her and Taveon wouldn't insult Angelo's bravery.

"Cos'hai combinato? Angelo glared at him. What have you done to her?" he added in English when Taveon didn't respond immediately.

I did naught, Taveon defended. She asked me to remove my garments. I assumed she... well... I suspect— Taveon stammered, now realizing his Italian siren hadn't intended to make merry at all. He now wondered who the man had been leaving this same chamber just three days past. He'd been disheveled, righting his garments and grinning like a lone ram in a heard of ewes.

You thought me a courtesan? Outrage raised her voice an octave, but her gaze pinned to the floor and contradicted the strength in her words.

Yap, yap, yap... The beast's shrill bark pulsed through Taveon's head, making him want to pull his ears off.

Are you not the model Messer Lorenzo commissioned for me? She rubbed the knuckles she'd used to smash his nose into his skull.

Model?

"Sì. Model. Angelo clarified with temper. Mistress Viviana is a sculptor."

Understanding came to light, and Taveon suddenly found the situation comical. He grinned sheepishly, tightened the belt of his robe, and bent awkwardly to try and catch her eyes. Ye intended to sculpt me?

Not you. The stone. Angelo jerked a sheet off a partially carved statue in the center of the room. You were compensated to model as Goliath.

Heat curled around Taveon's ears. Forgive me, mistress. I misinterpreted your actions. Ye touched me, and I—

"She sculpts by feel, idiota, Angelo interrupted again. As she is blind."

Blind?

* * *

Miocchi's menacing growl made a gradual crescendo, and Viviana considered letting the dog bite the man. It would be no less than the goat deserved.

Yap... yap, yap...

Mistress, please call back your beastie.

Miocchi's high-pitch yelps beat a painful tune inside her head that pinched the back of her eyeballs. She loved her pet, but his bark could set a man's ears to bleeding. Positioning her pinkies at the tip of her tongue, she blew a quick whistle. Miocchi, cease. Come.

A whimper preceded the canine's toenails tapping across the floor until his cold nose nuzzled the palm of her hand. Without bending, she rubbed his ears and stroked his sleek fur, soothing his temper.

Ouish. The man blew a heavy breath. Thank ye.

Viviana pressed a hand to her bodice and felt the warmth of the amulet against her skin. Angelo. She held out her hand and awaited her young friend's familiar touch, eager to see the man through Angelo's eyes. The boy's fingers clasped hers and only a heartbeat later, her vision blurred then focused in shades of gray on the man before her.

Mannaggia! He was a giant. A beautiful giant with muscles cut of hewn stone, but a giant just the same. He could crush her and Angelo with one hand. His every physical trait was dark; hair, eyes, skin. He could easily pass for a native, but his thick brogue told her he hadn't been bred on Tuscan soil.

He took a step forward and waved a hand in front of her face. Ye dinnae look blind.

Back away, Goliath. Angelo sliced the poker between them. I'll summon a sentry, Mistress Viviana. Angelo released her hand, as the boy was wont to do, casting her back into darkness. The heavy weight of the poker suddenly filled her palm.

Do not leave me with him. Viviana's pleading was wasted on Angelo's footfalls fleeing the chamber. She blinked and strangled the handle with both hands then thrust the iron rod side to side.

A swift tug ripped the weapon from her hands, after which it hit the floor with a clank.

A gasp dried her throat. Her muscles tightened. Her fists curled as Alberto had taught her to do.

Miocchi growled beside her leg, and her heart slammed against her chest. She hated her weakness, had hated it for eight years since she lost her sight at the age of ten and three. If you value your life, you would be well advised to refrain from touching me.

I will not hurt ye, he said in a tenor voice beside her ear that sent a trill through her breasts.

Her head snapped to the side, twirling her hair around her neck. The Medici guards will be upon us in a trice.

I will be gone before they arrive.

The softest caress brushed her cheek, just before he cupped her jaw with a strong calloused hand. The moment his skin touched hers, light flashed, tingles ran up her spine, and a colorless image of herself formed behind her eyelids. She saw herself through his eyes the same as she did through Angelo's. Wide-eyed and panting through parted lips, she looked as terrified as she felt.

Panic ensued, causing her to tremble.

She jerked backward, separating herself from his touch. Blindness returned and the chaos swarming her senses sent her swaying. Angelo had been the only person she'd ever been able to see through... until now.

Part of her desperately wanted to know this man who shared Angelo's unique gift, but her instincts warned her to be wary.

His breath whispered over her face and turned her skin to gooseflesh. She honed in on her remaining senses. A hint of wine hid beneath the more dominant smells of mint and licorice. It was the same wicked smell that had always clung to Radolfo during their marriage. What do you want from me?

A tickle feathered over her collarbone only long enough for light to blink behind her eyes. The gold chain around her neck slid over her skin just before she felt the lift of the heavy stone between her breasts.

I want the amulet.

No! Her hands flew to her chest to protect the stone. She didn't dare reveal the talisman's power, lest he steal it from her. Messer Lorenzo will not part with it. The amulet belongs to the Medici family.

Nay. It belongs to my clan, and I must return it to Scotland.

The man was a Scot!

He tucked the stone intimately between her breasts which caused a frisson of pleasure to wrap around her nipples. Keep it safe for me until we meet again.

A rush of footsteps sounded in the corridor just as she was about to assure him they would not meet again.

Make haste! Angelo's voice rose amidst the commotion.

The man's closeness vanished and a rustle of clothing ensued. The soft velvet robe hit her in the chest then pooled at her feet. She tilted her head and awaited the next sound, the next smell, something to tell her where he'd gone, but the guards' entry overwhelmed the scent she'd had of him. They reeked of onions and ale, of cheap perfume and unwashed skin.

Where is he, Mistress Viviana? Angelo grabbed her wrist and this time she held tight to him with both hands.

She scanned the room through Angelo's eyes, but naught remained of the Scot. Even his garments were gone. Come with me to the window. She dragged Angelo across the chamber. Look down. Search the courtyard.

Angelo did as she instructed and together they inspected the garden. The courtiers, draped in ells of fabric, posed beside the fountain for the young garzoni to sketch. A lute player walked among them, filling the air with song. Lorenzo's perfect world remained in harmony. And a naked Scotsman would most certainly have caused an upset.

He is not there. Angelo pushed away from the sill.

Viviana pulled him back. Look up. Search the outer walls.

I see naught, mistress.

Mannaggia! He was gone.

Viviana blew a frustrated breath through her nose and pressed her palm against her chest, safeguarding the amulet. The man lacked a brain if he thought she would just give it to him. It wasn't hers to give, and Lorenzo would not part with it so easily.

Viviana turned to face the guards and spoke in their native tongue. "Thank you for your assistance, Alberto. Inform Messer Lorenzo of what has transpired, per favore. Have the roof secured and install a lock on this window as well as the two windows in my personal chamber."

"Sì, Mistress Viviana. I will place two sentries outside your door for your safety as well."

"Sì. Grazie. Viviana thanked him but doubted two guards would be enough. She held fast to Angelo's arm when he tried to follow the guards. The click of the door latch announced their departure. Stay a moment, Angelo."

Her young friend sighed, but she had little patience for his mood. Viviana set Angelo in front of her with his back to her front. Scan the chamber.

A quick glimpse passed through her head. Viviana rolled her eyes beneath her lids and held on to her frustration. "Slower, per favore."

There. She stopped him. What is that? She followed Angelo back to the window and picked up a small scrap of stained cloth from the floor beneath the sill. A flower was embroidered onto its center and stitched words formed a circle around. Viviana focused on the letters and wished she could remember Sister De Rosa's teachings, but she hadn't been literate since she lost her sight. The words. What do they say?

It is Latin. It says, 'Love is the reward for bravery.'

Chapter 2

Weel?

Weel what? Taveon intended to choke Remi until his eyes bulged out of his red head if the eedgit badgered him again.

Is she the one Noreen spoke of? Remi scrambled to his feet, his boots clattering against the tiled roof, and untied the tunic he'd been wearing around his head to keep the sweat from his eyes.

Aye. She's wearing the amulet. Taveon pulled on his chausses and laced up his braies, then repositioned two dirks inside their leather sheaths around his waist. Using his tunic, he wiped the sweat from his neck and wished just one cloud would pass by. Had there been a fourth floor to the Medici Palace, he'd be a stone's throw from the sun's center. He missed Scotland and her cool air.

Remi blinked his eyes repeatedly—as was his annoying tic—and splayed his hands at his sides. Weel then, where is it?

She claims the stone belongs to Lorenzo de' Medici. He is like a king here in Firenze. They call him Lorenzo the Magnificent. He holds the loyalties of not only the nobles, but of grocers and fish mongers as well. The Medici family's political power is not one I intend to battle. Taveon poked his arms into his tunic and gathered his guts to peek over the roof's cornice to see if perchance the Medici guards possessed the brawn to scale the wall.

The ground tunneled away from him, making him queasy, but the wall was vacant, which didn't surprise him. In his opinion, the Medici fortress lacked proper security. Any man toting a wind instrument or an artist's brush was granted entry into the courtyard, and Viviana's chambers were only a few corridors away.

He balanced along the peak and stumbled over the tiles as he worked his way toward the western wing of the palace. A tiny lizard darted into a crack in the roof. He nearly slipped trying to avoid squashing the wee varmint.

Did ye tell her about Noreen? Remi's innocent question further proved the man's lack of genius.

Taveon gawped at him. Remi was one of the clan's finest kinsmen, not another was more loyal. Nonetheless, he was a wee bit short on wit. Think ye the woman is going to just hand over the amulet because a soothsayer deemed it so?

Did ye offer her anything for it? Remi pulled on his tunic and matched Taveon's steps.

Ouish, Remi! Viviana— Taveon paused, realizing he didn't know her surname, —is apparently a ward of the Medici family. The gown she is wearing would feed our entire clan for a sennight. I dinnae possess the amount of coin it would take to buy it from her or from Lorenzo.

Ye might have offered her something else. Remi's smile curved his eyes into half moons and his eyebrows did a little jig. The man was a dunderheid.

The mon we saw leaving her chamber was a model. The woman is not a courtesan as we suspected but a sculptor. She had no interest in making merry.

Ye can snag her with that face o' yours.

'Tis unlikely as she claims to be blind.

Blind? Remi's red face scrunched together. We've watched her nigh a sennight. How did we not know this?

I'm not certain I believe it. Taveon pressed the pad of his thumb against his nose. The hizzie managed to smash her knuckles into my nose with the utmost accuracy.

Ye gods and little fishes! Remi burst into laughter. Not just a chuckle but a belly laugh that bent him at the waist. I suspect ye will have to woo the lassie with sweet words and not your dimples.

I'm glad ye find this entertaining. Taveon tempered his bad mood, swallowed, and craned his neck to inspect the grounds over the edge of the palace. Their mounts were tethered just as they'd left them. Monroe is supposed to be guarding the horses. Where is he?

Remi straightened and wiped his eyes. He went back to the bawdy house. I fear he is sweet on the Grand Madame.

Aye. Bianca is fine of face, Taveon agreed. But I prefer those bits of black candies she gives the drabbers to her attentions. Bianca's beauty didn't compare to Viviana's and he admitted he might enjoy charming Venus. Sweet words he could derive and mayhap even a song or two. I will return in a few days after she cools.

M'laird, I mean no disrespect, but can ye make haste with the wooing? I want to go home. I cannae bear the heat, and I miss my Meghan and my bairns. And Cora-Rose is—

Ye need not remind me of my sister-in-law's timeliness. I promised Keegan I would return to Ravenhurst before his wife delivered his first bairn, and I intend to keep that promise. Taveon wiped the sweat from his forehead on his arm. The moment I get my hands on the amulet, we head for home.

Think ye can get the lassie to give it to ye?

The amulet belongs to Clan Kraig. If she does not give it to me, then I will take it. If the soothsayer speaks the truth, 'tis the only way to break the curse and save our women.

* * *

The shutters rattled inside the window frame.

Miocchi growled, his body warm at Viviana's feet.

She shot upright in bed, awakening from what was a restless slumber at best. Her eyes were wide, her senses alert. She pushed off the single sheet covering her and ran a hand over her dog's smooth fur. Shh, Miocchi.

The same rattle rumbled the shutters of the window closest to her bed followed by a frustrated grunt.

Shite.

Her heart rapped a furious beat against her ribs. It was him.

She cautiously placed her feet on the floor and pulled on a thin robe. Miocchi's toenails hit the wooden slates, and his tail slapped the backs of her knees.

Viviana. Her whispered name sent her hands to trembling. Release the lock.

Her jaw dropped. Are you mad? She clutched the bedpost and stared wide-eyed in the direction of the window. As if she would actually let the Scot into her bedchamber.

Please. I only wish to speak to ye.

There are two sentries outside my door. I have but to scream and they will be upon you in a trice. She took the familiar steps toward the window.

Then ye are in no danger.

She heard the reassurance in his voice, but she learned long ago not to trust anyone, especially a man lurking about her window during the blackest hours of night. If you wish to speak with me, then you must go through Messer Lorenzo. He is my guardian. She took another step and laid her hand on the sill. Call the guards, her inner voice told her, but her curiosity stilled her tongue. She'd thought of little else over the past two days since their initial meeting.

I'm here now. 'Twould be rude to awaken the mon from his sleep at such an ungodly hour.

She hooted. You awoke me. Her palm slid over the seam where the shutters met. A combination of apprehension and excitement sent her stomach spinning.

Forgive me for pulling ye from your bed. If ye release the lock, I would be happy to tuck ye back in.

His lusty comment rounded her eyes on nothingness. Wicked barbarian! She should be appalled, but her body reacted to his comment like a rush of fire. Pearls of perspiration curled around her spine while her damp palms balled into fists. Call out for the guards, you fool. She shot backward and landed on Miocchi's paw.

The dog yelped.

Wait. Please. 'Twas a jest. I mean you no harm. His voice came lower on the shutters by her ear, and she swore she heard him swallowing. He was squatting on the ledge. Would you have me fall to my death? Please, release the lock.

Viviana straightened. This was ludicrous. The man was obviously a few olives short on the branch. You cannot possibly think I will let you into my bedchamber. I do not even know your name. She crossed her arms over her chest.

A short thud prefaced two full breaths. I'm Laird Taveon Kraig. I live off the northeastern coast of Scotland near Devenickshire.

You are the leader? she asked, impressed by his status.

Aye, I'm the chieftain of a cursed clan.

Cursed?

Miocchi followed her back to the sill. Viviana leaned close, inhaling the scent of pine and mist.

Aye. A woman named Elise Kraig was jilted by one of the leaders of my clan many years ago. She cursed him and all those who carry his blood.

And this curse has brought you all the way to Italy?

Aye. It has brought me to you. The tone of his voice took on a silky timbre.

Pish! The man was trying to seduce her through the shutters, but she was not so gullible. I am blind. Not stupid. You want the amulet, not me. And you will get neither.

Mayhap I want both. The shutters jiggled. Let me in, and I'll show ye how much.

Heat settled between her legs. She sucked in air. This Taveon Kraig was filled to his eyeballs with chicken dung. She wouldn't call him a liar, even though that is exactly what he was. Keep wanting, Laird Kraig, but you will never have me or the amulet.

He chuckled and, God save her, but it was the most seductive sound she'd ever heard.

The amulet is riddled with a hundred years of bad luck. Why would ye even want it?

Viviana shook her head and grasped the talisman lying between her breasts. She never took it off. After eight years of blindness, the amulet now provided her with a means of light. I do not believe in luck; good, bad or otherwise.

Nay? Have ye ever wondered why misfortune follows ye? Why all those in your life die so verra young?

Fioretta. Viviana thought of her sister and how young she'd been at the time of her death.

Mayhap your mother died when ye were just a babe or mayhap ye have lost a husband.

Or two, she thought without the least bit of remorse. Radolfo's and Luciano's deaths had been a blessing not a curse. As for the woman who gave birth to her, Viviana held no affection for a mother who abandoned her daughters at the portico of Spedale degli Innocenti. Sister De Rosa had been the only mother figure in their lives after that. The nun's image stuck in Viviana's head; smooth skin, brown hair, haunting green eyes... She'd cared for them, loved them, then she, too, abandoned them.

Are ye still there, Viviana?

She nodded, lost in his words.

Viviana?

I am here. She pressed her hand to the wooden slates and touched the nails of his fingers. A thick heavy pull filled her chest while fluttering sensations erupted inside her. A haze of purple washed away the pitch, but the black of night prevented her from seeing anything. She desperately wanted to see him, wanted to know the color of his eyes, the length of his lashes.

The amulet ye wear is said to hold Elise's heart. If it is returned to Scotland then my clan's curse will be broken.

Her head shook as her hand left his fingertips. The amulet is not mine to give nor can I ever part with it.

Then mayhap ye should come with me to Scotland.

What? she said a little louder than their whispered words and couldn't control the slew of curses erupting in her mind. The thought of leaving the Medici Palace terrified her. There are twelve steps from my bed to the window. Twenty-seven stairs to reach the kitchens. The courtyard spans more than one hundred steps. I know which stairs squeak and the distance between one crackling torch and the next. On the days I venture to Santa Reparata for mass, I'm blessed to have Angelo to guide me. I cannot leave him or Italy. Or Fioretta, she added mentally. While her