My Cursed Highlander Read online

  “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 sister had been dead nigh eight years, Viviana still felt Fioretta’s presence within the walls of the Duomo. She could still smell her.

  “Bring Angelo with us. I promise to return ye before Christmastide.”

  “Four months? Angelo has only just begun his apprenticeship in the Platonic Academy. His father is a very influential leader in Firenze and would never allow it.”

  “Then he is not your kin?”

  “No. He is a practicing artist. I only made his acquaintance a few short months ago, but we are very close.” She couldn’t trust the Scot with their secret. He wouldn’t believe that she could see through Angelo’s eyes. Not even Lorenzo knew about the mysterious connection between her and Angelo. A connection she apparently also had with Laird Kraig.

  “No harm will come to ye. I will protect your life with my own. Ye have my solemn word.”

  A more gullible girl might be flattered by such an avowal, but not Viviana. Radolfo had promised to be faithful, but spent more time at the bordello than at home. And Luciano… well… Luciano had been a pig plain and simple. She trusted no man’s promises, least of all a silver-tongued devil like Taveon Kraig. “Scotland is on the other side of the world.”

  “Think of it as an adventure.”

  “I am blind. My every day is an adventure. You are without wit if you believe I would leave what is so familiar to me. I cannot agree to such idiocy.”

  “‘Tis not idiocy.” The gruff undertones in his voice made her wary and reminded her of Luciano. “My kin is destined to die.” He shook the shutters and swore, revealing a dark rage he’d kept hidden thus far.

  Miocchi jumped between her and the window and growled.

  “You should go. There is naught more for us to say.”

  “Ye are wrong. There is much more that needs said, but not this night. Not like this.” A shuffling of feet sounded but cut off short.

  “Viviana, ye have something that belongs to me—a scrap of cloth. Do take care to keep it safe until I find ye on the morrow. It means a great deal to s
omeone verra special to me.”

  “Your wife?” she asked, cursing herself for caring.

  “Nay. My daughter.”

  Chapter 3

  “Think ye it is wise to just walk into the garden in the full light of morn?” Remi followed Taveon up the stone steps into a courtyard brimming with activity.

  “How else am I to gain an audience with her?” Taveon knew walking into the Medici garden was unwise, but damned if he was going to skulk outside her locked window again. He should have taken the amulet on their first encounter and left. It was a miracle he’d managed to even find the damn stone. Admittedly, Noreen had been spot on with her description of Viviana right down to the color of her purple eyes.

  The soulful melody of a lute did little to hamper his nerves as he rounded a sculpture of a merman seductively tangled with a well-endowed selkie.

  Then he saw her, sitting on a bench beside a fountain; eyes closed, with lips blowing a sweet tune into a wind pipe.

  Sweet Venus! His breath snagged in his throat around the same time the scowl took over his face. Her gold and plum gown dipped far lower than he would have approved, pushing round globes of creamy temptation out of the top of her bodice. Only briefly did he notice her gold buttons were mismatched before his eyes locked on her breasts. They would easily fill his hands and, no doubt, be satiny, delicious, and—”

  “Ye gods and little fishes! The lassie isnae afraid to show off her tits, aye?” Remi exclaimed.

  Taveon twisted and glared at his kinsman, thinking he should have left Remi behind with Monroe at the bawdy house. “Your Meghan would not be pleased with ye.”

  Remi cleared his throat, blinked, and made a direct path toward Viviana. He blended into a throng of courtiers tapping toes to the melody of her song. The women danced in place with quick bobs while the men gawked at Viviana’s breasts. Taveon controlled the urge to growl and took a place beside Remi.

  Why should he care if the hizzie wanted to strip to her skin and prance about naked in the garden? It would undoubtedly be an erotic display, and Viviana would look spectacular—all curves and milky flesh dancing in the sunlight.