To think that you’d take time to assist me—” She brought a hand to her throat, apparently too choked up to continue.
“We shall do another row after we break to take our noon meal,” Marcello said, smiling at her kindly. “But first, Signora, I beg you to be a judge of these two pallets of grapes. Which is best? Which will fill the most jugs with your best wine?”
The woman looked from him to the wagons. She walked around each and began to pull bunches from one—because the grapes were too small or not yet ripe—and set them aside. She worked with the calm assurance of years of experience, sorting. In three minutes, she had gone through the guys’ entire pile. In a few more, she had sorted ours.
Sweetly, with hands folded, she bowed in our direction as the guys sputtered in disbelief and mock outrage.
I smiled at Marcello as Lia folded her arms and jutted out her chin, mimicking Luca’s prematurely victorious stance. “I think we shall enjoy our meal this day,” she said, “more than any other.”
Luca frowned and gestured toward Signora Giannini as if she had surely misjudged. Marcello laughed under his breath, a low, rumbly, warm sound that made me smile even more broadly. We pranced past them, heading toward the hill, anticipating a leisurely hour ahead of us. When I glanced back, Luca lifted his head, sighed in defeat, and followed behind Marcello.
We were halfway through our meal, accepting another cup of watered wine, which tasted only vaguely of fermented grapes, when Marcello and Luca leaped to their feet, sensing the approaching riders before we did. Their hands went to the hilts of the swords they wore at their sides as Lia and I rose, standing slightly behind them.
I only took a full breath when I realized it was Sienese soldiers that approached. But they were riding hard. It was the handsome captain from Siena, Romana Rossi’s cousin, at the front. His eyes moved from me to Marcello and back again. There was none of the interest I’d felt from him before, at the city wall, then at the dance. Probably crossed some line when I stole his cousin’s man, I decided. Family loyalty was huge in modern Italy. In this era it was practically a religion.
“Sir Marcello, do you think it wise to be so distant from the castle’s gates?” he asked, his horse dancing beneath him. “Especially with the Ladies Betarrini alongside you?”
Luca and Marcello took a step closer, as if they were protecting us. I shared a look with Lia.
“We shall not be prisoners in our own home,” Marcello said. There was an edge to his voice, and he was suddenly all I’m-the-Boss-Here in his stance. He clearly didn’t like it that Captain Rossi was slow to dismount and show deference. Neither did Luca.
“Better to be a prisoner in your own castle than in the dungeon of your enemy.” His eyes flicked to Lia.
Luca took a step, but Marcello reached out a hand, cautioning him to stand down. More weird family politics?
“Our people are in need,” Marcello said. “We will not stand by, idle. I suggest you encourage your men, as have I, to assist them. We do the greatest damage to our enemies by drawing together, bringing in the harvest, storing up for the winter ahead.”
Captain Rossi glanced away from him dismissively. Again with the attitude. I didn’t know why I ever thought the dude was cute. He was as caught up in himself as his cousin was. He dragged his eyes over me and Lia before meeting Marcello’s gaze. “I suppose you are right, m’lord,” he said with a slight nod he clearly wasn’t feeling. “Siena’s people will soon demand that you present the ladies to their republic. They’ve gone too long, wondering about them. And when they hear that they were out beside you, assisting the needy…Why, their legend will merely grow.”
Marcello and Luca were really ticked now. I could see the tension in their shoulders. A muscle twitched in Luca’s cheek.
“Is there a purpose for your visit,
“We shall do another row after we break to take our noon meal,” Marcello said, smiling at her kindly. “But first, Signora, I beg you to be a judge of these two pallets of grapes. Which is best? Which will fill the most jugs with your best wine?”
The woman looked from him to the wagons. She walked around each and began to pull bunches from one—because the grapes were too small or not yet ripe—and set them aside. She worked with the calm assurance of years of experience, sorting. In three minutes, she had gone through the guys’ entire pile. In a few more, she had sorted ours.
Sweetly, with hands folded, she bowed in our direction as the guys sputtered in disbelief and mock outrage.
I smiled at Marcello as Lia folded her arms and jutted out her chin, mimicking Luca’s prematurely victorious stance. “I think we shall enjoy our meal this day,” she said, “more than any other.”
Luca frowned and gestured toward Signora Giannini as if she had surely misjudged. Marcello laughed under his breath, a low, rumbly, warm sound that made me smile even more broadly. We pranced past them, heading toward the hill, anticipating a leisurely hour ahead of us. When I glanced back, Luca lifted his head, sighed in defeat, and followed behind Marcello.
We were halfway through our meal, accepting another cup of watered wine, which tasted only vaguely of fermented grapes, when Marcello and Luca leaped to their feet, sensing the approaching riders before we did. Their hands went to the hilts of the swords they wore at their sides as Lia and I rose, standing slightly behind them.
I only took a full breath when I realized it was Sienese soldiers that approached. But they were riding hard. It was the handsome captain from Siena, Romana Rossi’s cousin, at the front. His eyes moved from me to Marcello and back again. There was none of the interest I’d felt from him before, at the city wall, then at the dance. Probably crossed some line when I stole his cousin’s man, I decided. Family loyalty was huge in modern Italy. In this era it was practically a religion.
“Sir Marcello, do you think it wise to be so distant from the castle’s gates?” he asked, his horse dancing beneath him. “Especially with the Ladies Betarrini alongside you?”
Luca and Marcello took a step closer, as if they were protecting us. I shared a look with Lia.
“We shall not be prisoners in our own home,” Marcello said. There was an edge to his voice, and he was suddenly all I’m-the-Boss-Here in his stance. He clearly didn’t like it that Captain Rossi was slow to dismount and show deference. Neither did Luca.
“Better to be a prisoner in your own castle than in the dungeon of your enemy.” His eyes flicked to Lia.
Luca took a step, but Marcello reached out a hand, cautioning him to stand down. More weird family politics?
“Our people are in need,” Marcello said. “We will not stand by, idle. I suggest you encourage your men, as have I, to assist them. We do the greatest damage to our enemies by drawing together, bringing in the harvest, storing up for the winter ahead.”
Captain Rossi glanced away from him dismissively. Again with the attitude. I didn’t know why I ever thought the dude was cute. He was as caught up in himself as his cousin was. He dragged his eyes over me and Lia before meeting Marcello’s gaze. “I suppose you are right, m’lord,” he said with a slight nod he clearly wasn’t feeling. “Siena’s people will soon demand that you present the ladies to their republic. They’ve gone too long, wondering about them. And when they hear that they were out beside you, assisting the needy…Why, their legend will merely grow.”
Marcello and Luca were really ticked now. I could see the tension in their shoulders. A muscle twitched in Luca’s cheek.
“Is there a purpose for your visit,
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