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love to the villaggio. The children adored her and followed her everywhere. "Why are you afraid, Nicoletta?" She didn't understand the conversation, but she could feel the intensity of emotion shimmering between the two women.
Immediately Nicoletta smiled at the child, her dark eyes dancing with mischief. "I have an idea, Ketsia.
You should marry Cristano. He can wait until you are sixteen. It is only a few more years, and by then he might have made his fortune."
Ketsia thought it over. "He is handsome, but he is already old. Probabilmente he is already too old even for you, Nicoletta."
Maria Pia coughed delicately behind her hand. "I must go now to the palazzo. It will not do to keep the don waiting too long. Mirella will come with me, but you stay out of sight. The hills have spies, Nicoletta.
The don is a powerful man, and many wish to have his favor. If he has interest in you, someone will answer his inquiries."
"You are right," Nicoletta agreed. Those who lived in the tiny villaggio depended on Nicoletta's strange gifts for a good portion of their livelihood. But they lived on land owned by Don Scarletti, and he was a good and generous protector and provider, though they were expected to work hard at their farms and crafts and to be somewhat self-sufficient. Unlike other dons, Don Scarletti did not take the lion's share of their profits, so the people were loyal to him, but they loved Nicoletta. She healed their sick, determined the richness of the earth for their crops, and she concocted the unique colors that kept the aristocrazia coming to them time and again for fine cloth.
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Scattered over Don Scarletti's vast holdings were many other villaggi and farms, yet few of them held the importance to the don that theirs did. Nicoletta's villaggio was tiny in comparison to many others, but they had made a certain name for themselves and were the most prosperous of all. They were a closed group, wary of outsiders. They were all aware that other children much like Nicoletta had been born to different families throughout their history. Each of them had ancestors who had been burned in the not-so-distant past as witches or devil-worshipers, so they carefully maintained their image as a devout, pious people completely loyal to their don.
"Be cautious, Maria Pia. The don is…" Nicoletta trailed off, unsure how to put her feelings into words.
She suspected the don was as "different" as she was—not in the same manner but in ways far more dangerous than the older woman could conceive.
"I have heard the rumors and have met his famiglia. I do not speak unless spoken to, and Mirella will be too frightened to open her mouth. She is much older and remembers the days gone by."
"What does she remember?" Nicoletta asked, curious. Among the villagers it was very difficult to separate fact from fiction, rumor from the truth. The Scarletti family history was shrouded in curses and dark mysteries spoken of only in whispers.
"It is said that Don Scarletti's grandfather strangled his wife with his bare hands." Maria Pia whispered the words softly so the wind could not whisk them to other ears. "Mirella knew her well, served her faithfully. She is convinced the crime was committed and the don's padre covered up the evidence. Three murders in less than two years, all women, and no one did anything."
Nicoletta had heard the dark whispers of the don's grandfather strangling his wife yet never being punished. The woman had died around the same time as Nicoletta's mother and aunt, and many believed the elder Scarletti had committed more than one crime. But the don's family had closed ranks, and no one was powerful enough to cross them. Nicoletta could almost believe such things of the eldest Scarletti; he certainly seemed to despise females. She could not imagine any woman being chained to such a terrible man.
'The good Madonna will look after us, Nicoletta,
Immediately Nicoletta smiled at the child, her dark eyes dancing with mischief. "I have an idea, Ketsia.
You should marry Cristano. He can wait until you are sixteen. It is only a few more years, and by then he might have made his fortune."
Ketsia thought it over. "He is handsome, but he is already old. Probabilmente he is already too old even for you, Nicoletta."
Maria Pia coughed delicately behind her hand. "I must go now to the palazzo. It will not do to keep the don waiting too long. Mirella will come with me, but you stay out of sight. The hills have spies, Nicoletta.
The don is a powerful man, and many wish to have his favor. If he has interest in you, someone will answer his inquiries."
"You are right," Nicoletta agreed. Those who lived in the tiny villaggio depended on Nicoletta's strange gifts for a good portion of their livelihood. But they lived on land owned by Don Scarletti, and he was a good and generous protector and provider, though they were expected to work hard at their farms and crafts and to be somewhat self-sufficient. Unlike other dons, Don Scarletti did not take the lion's share of their profits, so the people were loyal to him, but they loved Nicoletta. She healed their sick, determined the richness of the earth for their crops, and she concocted the unique colors that kept the aristocrazia coming to them time and again for fine cloth.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Scattered over Don Scarletti's vast holdings were many other villaggi and farms, yet few of them held the importance to the don that theirs did. Nicoletta's villaggio was tiny in comparison to many others, but they had made a certain name for themselves and were the most prosperous of all. They were a closed group, wary of outsiders. They were all aware that other children much like Nicoletta had been born to different families throughout their history. Each of them had ancestors who had been burned in the not-so-distant past as witches or devil-worshipers, so they carefully maintained their image as a devout, pious people completely loyal to their don.
"Be cautious, Maria Pia. The don is…" Nicoletta trailed off, unsure how to put her feelings into words.
She suspected the don was as "different" as she was—not in the same manner but in ways far more dangerous than the older woman could conceive.
"I have heard the rumors and have met his famiglia. I do not speak unless spoken to, and Mirella will be too frightened to open her mouth. She is much older and remembers the days gone by."
"What does she remember?" Nicoletta asked, curious. Among the villagers it was very difficult to separate fact from fiction, rumor from the truth. The Scarletti family history was shrouded in curses and dark mysteries spoken of only in whispers.
"It is said that Don Scarletti's grandfather strangled his wife with his bare hands." Maria Pia whispered the words softly so the wind could not whisk them to other ears. "Mirella knew her well, served her faithfully. She is convinced the crime was committed and the don's padre covered up the evidence. Three murders in less than two years, all women, and no one did anything."
Nicoletta had heard the dark whispers of the don's grandfather strangling his wife yet never being punished. The woman had died around the same time as Nicoletta's mother and aunt, and many believed the elder Scarletti had committed more than one crime. But the don's family had closed ranks, and no one was powerful enough to cross them. Nicoletta could almost believe such things of the eldest Scarletti; he certainly seemed to despise females. She could not imagine any woman being chained to such a terrible man.
'The good Madonna will look after us, Nicoletta,
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