Free Francesca by Bertrice Small

demanded.
    “What mischief can I get into with a priest and two nuns by my side?” Francesca said. “You are ridiculous.”
    “I hear riotous laughter when you are closed up in your apartments. Asking what you do that causes you to laugh so is no intrusion,” he responded.
    “Oh, very well,” Francesca replied, sounding irritated. “We gamble. Annunziata just took her final vows, and Benigna soon will. They are not so far from the world yet that they have forgotten how to have fun, but as you surely know gambling is not allowed in the convent. We play cards and throw the dice for ridiculous wagers, like the Holy Father’s undergarments or the King of Naples’ throne. Sometimes
Padre
Silvio joins us, but his wagers are so innocent we laugh at him. Mostly he attempts to keep us honest in our play. There! Now you know my dark secret.”
    He was very surprised by what she had told him. He had not thought of her as a girl with a particularly active sense of humor. Her choice of activities was, however, very amusing. “I hope the good priest gives you all a proper penance for your unholy behavior,” he told her. “Are you good with the bones?”
    “I never lose,” Francesca said. “My brothers taught me well.”
    “It is but a game of chance,” he told her.
    “For some who do not know how to throw dice properly, perhaps, but not for me. I know how to control those little ivory squares.”
    “Then we shall dice together tonight, you and I. What shall we play for?” he asked her wickedly.
    “Kisses,” she answered him. “Since I shall win, you will get none, so I do not endanger my virtue by offering them.”
    Rafaello laughed heartily. “By evening’s end you will have been kissed most thoroughly,” he promised her. Then he set his stallion into a gallop, and Francesca, taken unawares by his actions, quickly galloped after him.
    She was surprised to find her heart pounding at his words. She had never been kissed but for one time in Venice when Enzo Ziani had angered her and she had flung herself at him and kissed him. He had not really kissed her back. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Rafaello Cesare. Well, she had to begin with someone who was at least interested in kissing her back.
    The day was warm, and a fine sheen of moisture formed on her face and neck. The air caused by the motion of her horse dried it, but when they came to a halt in a lovely forest clearing it bloomed again. He lifted her from her animal and, taking her hand, began to walk with her. At first he spoke not a word. Then he said, “I am taking you to one of my favorite places. No one will find us for a while. Valiant will know where we have gone, but he will keep Aceline away.”
    “Don’t you like her?” Francesca asked.
    “She has noble blood, but there is something that tells me it is the prospect of being my
duchessa
that pleases her more than being a wife to me. I expect if I were ugly and crippled she would still pay me court. Do I like her? I think not, and certainly not enough to wed her.”
    “Then it is Louisa you will choose. She is a fine choice, Rafaello. Gentle, loving, obedient. Everything a good wife should be. I have grown quite fond of her these past summer months. Aceline will be disappointed, I expect.”
    “Will you be disappointed, Francesca?” he queried her.
    “I did not expect you to choose me, Rafaello. I know what I am. Stubborn. Outspoken and quite determined to have my own way. I shall probably, as my mother predicts, end up as the family spinster.” But even as she said the words, Francesca realized that she found them distasteful. And yet did she really want to wed at all?
    “You are far too beautiful to remain a spinster,” he told her.
    “Is that all men look for in a woman?” she replied. “Someone beautiful? And after you have taken your pleasure is there nothing more a woman can offer to you? And if the chamber is dark, what matter if she is beautiful or ugly as long