Free Cascade by Lisa Tawn Bergren Page B

would’ve been so bad at…but would’ve figured out soon enough. I think he would’ve liked Marcello. Liked how he got all protective around me. And listened to me. And looked at me like he thought I was fascinating.
    When I caught sight of Marcello waiting for me in the main hall, I couldn’t stop staring at him. His curly hair was neatly tied back. He wore a white silk shirt that was kind of loose, but over it was a finely woven tunic with a fair amount of gold thread in it, obviously to represent the house of Forelli. It made him look all the more buff. Leggings encased his thighs and were tucked into new leather boots.
    He smiled at me with that grin…and I floated across the floor to him, my handsome prince.
    He met me halfway and took my hand, bent, and tenderly kissed my knuckles, sending shivers of delight up my arm and neck. He straightened but still held my hand in his. “You, m’lady, look more beautiful than ever in Forelli gold.”
    “Thank you,” I said. I was sure I was blushing. But I didn’t feel like an idiot. I felt all giddy-ish. Light. Like my lungs were full of perfectly clean air. It was like I could breathe, really breathe, and it made everything sharper, clearer around me. See every detail with better than my normal twenty-twenty vision.
    Like I told Mom. I was living fully, for the first time or something.
    I’m down with this love thing, I thought, sneaking another look at my man.
    I tried out that L word again, silently in my mind, as we paraded as a group through the piazza and down to the larger building. Men and women, commoners and nobles, bowed and curtsied when we passed as if we were royalty.
    It was cool. But I hoped the whole heroine-worship thing wouldn’t last forever. We were just two girls in the right time, at the right place. I chuckled to myself over my lame joke. Right time, right place.
    “What is humorous?” Marcello asked, leaning toward me.
    “It is nothing,” I said. “I simply amuse myself at times.”
    “It is so good to see you smile, beloved,” he whispered in my ear, and his warm breath and sweet words made me want to haul him into a dark, secluded corner and kiss him like crazy.
    I managed to squelch that desire—I swear, it was like when you want to pull a fire alarm—but just barely. “I can’t stop smiling, m’lord,” I returned, staring into his eyes. “Not when I’m with you.”
    We stood there for a moment, people swirling around us, laughing, greeting one another, kissing on both cheeks in Italian fashion. And our deep stare into each other’s eyes was as intense as a kiss of our own. It was like he was speaking to me, singing to me, all through that long, silent, sexy-as-all-get-out look.
    “Sir Forelli,” said a man—maybe for the second time—and we both started and looked in his direction. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. I felt Marcello’s arm tense beneath my hand.
    “Lord Rodolfo Greco,” he said, his tone careful, curious. He paused for a second and then said, “May I present to you Lady Gabriella Betarrini?”
    I sensed other men moving in our direction, caught sight of Luca, his mouth grim, when Marcello lifted one hand.
    Lord Greco clearly sensed their presence, but his eyes remained on me. He took my hand and leaned down to slowly, elegantly kiss it. “As beautiful as it has been rumored,” he said, still holding my fingers in his.
    “Agreed,” Marcello said, sliding his hand into mine, making Greco release me.
    “May you know that not all in Firenze are your mortal enemy,” Lord Greco said softly. Then, with a slight bow, he moved away, cutting through Marcello’s men, who now had formed a double circle around us.
    “M’lord,” said a servant, nervously clearing his throat—and we all looked in his direction. He was standing on his tiptoes, trying to see us over the shoulders of Marcello’s men. Marcello waved them away. “Yes?”
    The small servant bowed, and the corners of his mouth curved in a knowing