"He came to visit today, as he does every day, with his demands. He doesn't like my clothes. He wants my hair differently. I don't know enough about art. The list of my shortcomings goes on and on, and he doesn't even know about the most d.a.m.ning of all." A sob escaped. Tasha wrapped her arms around Antonietta and cried into her shoulder as if her heart were breaking.

Antonietta held her. Even Celt pushed against Tasha's legs in an attempt to comfort her. "You did tell that man to go to h.e.l.l, I hope."

"That's why he hit me. He was furious when I gave him back his ring. He said he refused to allow me to break the engagement. He said horrible things to me." Lifting her head, she pulled Antonietta's hand to her hip. "He hit me so hard I fell, and then he kicked me right here."

Fury welled up out of nowhere. Antonietta shook with it. She didn't know if it was her own anger or if she was so deeply merged with Byron she was feeling his anger. The combination was deadly. "I'd sell the palazzo before I would ever let that horrible man near you. Nonno would feel the same way, as well Franco and Paul. I'd like to do a little violence to Christopher myself."

She cupped the side of her cousin's face, concentrated on finding the power inside of her. Byron, help me. She knew he would help her, that his healing power was great, and combined, they would take away every ache. She felt him moving through her. Gathering strength, reaching for Tasha. Antonietta heard soft chanting, words in a language she didn't recognize, when she knew so many.

Tasha drew back when the terrible throbbing in her face lessened and nearly vanished. She touched her face. "It feels better.

Grazie, Toni." She paced across the room, pus.h.i.+ng her hand through her hair in agitation. "Christopher can make trouble for us.

For Nonno. He said he'd cause a scandal. Our family can't afford any more scandals."

"Scarlettis were born to be embroiled in scandals. I think we should call your handsome captain and press charges against Christopher Demonesini. Maybe we can have the rat spend a few hours in jail."

"I just want to forget I ever had anything to do with him."

"It doesn't surprise me he was abusive. Christopher grew up thinking he was ent.i.tled to anything he wanted. I'm sorry he hurt you, Tasha, but truthfully, I'm grateful you broke it off with him."

"I wish you'd break it off with Byron. I'm not comparing Christopher to Byron, Toni, really, I'm not. But he frightens me in a way Christopher never could. I want you to promise me you'll be careful. Something's not right about him. Why don't we know anything about him?"

"His family is coming for dinner tonight. His sister, her husband, and their son. We can ask all sorts of questions."

"Tonight?" Tasha's voice rose. She covered her face with her hands. "How could this happen now, Toni?" She wailed it. "I want to meet his family. I can't very well sit at a table with my face like this. Do you have to have them for dinner tonight? Have them wait a week or two."

"Tasha, they're visiting the area. You know very well I can't ask them to wait. You always wanted to be in the middle of a drama. We should invite the captain for dinner, too. It's the perfect opportunity. And I need to get dressed. I want to look special tonight. I don't want to ask Justine to help me."

Tasha caught Antonietta's hand. "Of course I'll help you. But don't invite Diego. I don't want him to see me like this."

"I haven't told Paul about dinner yet, and I need to talk to Helena. I want to check that everything is perfect."

"I'll ring Helena and have her meet us in your rooms. Paul's gone. He left right after Christopher arrived."

A chill went down Antonietta's spine. Byron? She reached for him, needing the comfort of his presence.

I am here, cara. I am always with you. Paul is often gone. It does not prove anything one way or the other.

Antonietta listened to her heartbeat. The fear beating at her subsided. Grazie, Byron. You always manage to say the right thing.

"We'll have to hurry." Tasha took another look at her face in the mirror. "It doesn't hurt very much anymore, but it sure looks awful. Come on before I change my mind. Let's go find you the perfect outfit."

Antonietta hurried through the palazzo and up the stairs, Celt at her side and Tasha leading the way. Helena was waiting at her door, doing her best to hide her exasperation with Antonietta's interference.

"I'm certain everything is fine, signorina."

"Fine then," Tasha snapped. "She was just checking, Helena. Go do whatever it is you do."

"That was rude," Antonietta said as the housekeeper hurried away.

"She was rude. She should know you never fuss. This must be important to you, or you wouldn't be so concerned."

"I am not fussing."

Yes you are.

Antonietta opened her door warily, allowing Celt to go ahead of her. When the borzoi didn't give the alarm, she entered with more confidence. No one asked you.

His soft laughter poured over her.

"Toni, the window." Tasha rushed to one of the large plates of stained gla.s.s. It was pushed inward. "What happened?"

"That cat tried to get in. Byron's out looking for it now."

"How frightening. Did you call Diego?"

"No, I didn't even think about calling the authorities. I ran out of the room."

"We'll have to get this repaired. In the meantime, maybe we should have bars put up for safety." Tasha threw open the doors to the wardrobe. "Something feminine but not too s.e.xy."

You are s.e.xy in anything you wear.

Not tonight.

She knew she wasn't really dressing for Byron's family. She was dressing for him. She wanted to look feminine and beautiful.

She wanted to look the way the woman in the mirror had looked.

"Your long skirt, the royal blue silk with the little blouse and pearl b.u.t.tons," Tasha decided. "It's the perfect image. Pianist, businesswoman, and yet ultrafeminine."

Long skirt, Byron. Not s.e.xy at all.

At dinner tonight I will be thinking of that little lace bra that does not cover a thing, and the thong. That wonderful little thong that preys on my mind my every waking minute.

You worry me. But it worries me even more that I like the way you think. Did you find the jaguar? Paul isn't here, but Tasha and Franco both are.

The cat has been prowling around the cove and down near the caves where the entrance to the tunnel is. The trail led away from the palazzo and back again. The water has removed all traces of the scent. Hurry now, and dress. Your housekeeper, by the way, is taking her ire out on the chef.

The jaguar had deliberately used the water to confuse the scent. Byron could not find a clear trail leading from the cove.

Many human scents were mingled together, impossible to pick out any that might have been a s.h.i.+fter. He masked his presence and soared upward to Antonietta's balcony, sending a quick rea.s.surance to Celt so the borzoi wouldn't go on guard and alert the women. The damage to one window was enormous. The jaguar had tried to force its way into the room. It had definitely wanted to attack Antonietta.

Byron gripped the bal.u.s.trade tightly. Antonietta was out of time. He could no longer afford to wait when such an enemy was stalking her. She had to be with him.

What is it? You're so sad. Come to me and stop thinking about things that make you sad. Nothing happened to me, and nothing will. You gave me Celt, remember?

Her voice filled him with happiness yet tore at his heart. He had to find a way to make her understand. He wanted her to choose his life. To love him enough to choose him. Her family and her music were her world. There had to be a way to give her everything and still share in and protect her life.

Byron, what is it? I share my troubles with you. Share with me.

Hurt had crept into her thoughts. Byron straightened. Later. After you meet my family. We will have plenty of time to talk. I'm coming.

He used the cracks in the window to seep through, mist pouring into her bedroom and then under the door to gain the hallway so when she stepped out, he was waiting. He even remembered to dress in a suit for her.

Tasha turned her face away and for once said nothing to him. He could see the color sweep under her skin as she squeezed Antonietta's hand and then rushed away. He simply stood there, staring at his life mate. In that moment he knew he would always feel that first moment of wonder each time he saw her. Of joy at her existence. She stood there dressed in some blue creation that clung to her curves and swirled and moved as if alive when she walked. He was speechless, unable for a moment to think.

"Is the chef really upset?"

He cleared his throat, feasting his eyes on her. She obviously had no idea how she affected him, and that might be a good thing. "Listen; you can hear him arguing with the housekeeper and his a.s.sistant."

Antonietta found she could. She simply had to want to hear it. An argument was raging in the kitchen. She sighed. "Nothing is ever easy, is it?"

Byron took her hand. Celt fell in beside her. They made their way downstairs to the large kitchen. Several workers were chopping and cutting, and the smell of bread and broth permeated the room. Everyone fell silent when they entered.

Antonietta forced a smile. "Surely there is no problem here. We have very little time to pull this dinner off. Our guests will be arriving any minute, and everything must be perfect. I sent the revised menu and asked for the Irish lace tablecloth and our best china. The palazzo must be spotless. If you have to ask the maids to work overtime, please tell them they will be compensated accordingly." For a moment she hesitated, so used to having Justine at her side taking care of details, she was unsure how to proceed. In truth, she rarely went beyond giving Helena orders.

Helena's face flushed a dull red. "I'm capable of attending to these matters, signorina." Her voice was stiff. "Have you lost confidence in my capabilities to handle the staff?"

"No, of course not, Helena," Antonietta said hastily. "It's just that this dinner is very important to me. I heard the chef possibly objected to the menu-"

Cara, bella, truly, my family will be happy with whatever you choose to serve. It matters little to them. They are coming to meet you. Byron rested his hand on Antonietta's shoulder, searching for a way to ease her nervousness at the idea of meeting his family. They are so happy I found you. And they will welcome you into our family. Eleanor was so pleased when she heard we were bound.

It matters to me. She was clearly distracted and not paying attention to him.

Byron slid his hand down her arm until their fingers tangled, intertwined.

"Signorina..." Helena s.h.i.+fted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. "The Irish lace has gone missing. Earlier I told the maids to put the cloth on the formal dining table, and they reported it is gone. The Medici lace is quite beautiful."

"Gone? What is wrong with everyone? How could the Irish lace be gone? It was my mother's."

Byron tugged until she was beneath his shoulder. She was acting out of character, fussing at her staff because she was nervous about meeting his family. And he saw immediately the importance of the tablecloth to her.

"I'm sorry, signorina, I understand, and I'll try to have it found, but if we can't, there must be something else." Helena sounded a bit desperate.

"I want everything to be perfect, Helena. I can't have Byron's family show up for dinner and not have the Irish lace tablecloth."

"I'm sorry, Signorina Antonietta, I'll check the laundry at once." The housekeeper signaled to the chef and his a.s.sistant frantically.

"This family, your special guests," Esteben said suddenly, "are they business a.s.sociates or friends? Perhaps both?"

Alfredo broke into a torrent of rage, waving his arms and clipping Esteben sharply about the ears. "You never ask such a thing from the signorina."

Antonietta heard the dull thud of his fist making contact, and she winced. "Alfredo!" she reprimanded sharply. "I don't believe in striking another person. Please keep your hands to yourself in my home. Surely you know I don't allow my people to be treated in such a manner."

"I thought it would make a difference in the menu, Alfredo," Esteben apologized. Forgive me, signorina."

"There is nothing to forgive, Esteben." Antonietta put her hands on her hips. "Can you pull this dinner together for me, Alfredo? Yes or no?"There was a distinct challenge in her voice. Byron also heard a hint of desperation. The dinner didn't matter at all to his family, but it did to Antonietta. He narrowed and focused his gaze on the chef. For a brief moment, the flames of the demon flickered in his eyes.

Alfredo looked from Antonietta to Byron. His face cleared. He spread his hands out in a pa.s.sive gesture. "Of course, signorina, if you wish to change the menu, I'll be most happy to oblige."

"Good. Grazie, Alfredo. You have no idea how important this is to me. I'll get out of your way." She turned with a swish of her long skirt, catching Byron's hand. "I'm so glad that's settled. I'm so nervous."

Byron brought her hand to his mouth and nibbled on her knuckles. "There is no need. Eleanor will love you immediately. How could she not? Vlad is a very calm, even-tempered man. He adores Eleanor and gives her most anything she wants."

"Is he a jeweler, such as yourself? An artisan?"

"In his way. I have a special knack for finding gems, for calling them to me. The perfect gem for the piece I envisage. Vlad does not like to design jewelry. He enjoys sculpting. His work is highly prized. Eleanor was so pleased he was in the crafts. She could never have been happy with a hunter."

"Hunter? What do they hunt?"

He should have known she would catch that mistake. He was growing too comfortable with her. Antonietta was so connected to him, he hardly knew where he began and she left off. He was beginning to realize just how close life mates were. "I should have used the term enforcer. Much like Captain Diego. I'll explain it when we have more time."

Antonietta lifted both hands to his face, her sensitive fingertips mapping his expression, feature by feature. "Yes, I think you will have to explain this to me, Byron. Not only are you frowning, but I feel your reluctance in my mind. We have a lot to talk about, don't we? Things like boundaries."

He winced. "I was looking out for your safety."

"That's not what I want to hear."

"Our mind link is becoming a nuisance."

"Only when you try to hide things from me. I can't wait to meet your family," Antonietta said. "Especially your sister. She can tell me wonderful stories of your childhood. She can tell me whether you will ever understand the term boundary or not."

He groaned. "Eleanor is p.r.o.ne to making things up."

Antonietta laughed. "You're lying to me. She probably doesn't need to make things up. I can't wait to find out what you were like as a child."

"Antonietta, I would hate to have to throw you over my shoulder in front of our two families and carry you upstairs. One mention of my childhood, and that is bound to happen."

Joy swirled in her. How had she ever managed without the excitement of sharing? Without the sheer fun of Byron in her life?

"You wouldn't dare. I happen to be a famous concert pianist. I'm very respectable, and things like that aren't done."

"You happen to be a world-famous concert pianist, and that is exactly what will happen to you if you dare to embarra.s.s me."

"If you're going to be a baby about it, I'll just wait until your sister and I are alone to ask her all the little humiliating details of your childhood. I'm also going to tell her your penchant for being bossy and demanding your way. Perhaps she will give me tips on how best to control that little flaw you have."

Byron took her hand again. He had no intentions of allowing Eleanor ever to be alone with Antonietta. "Have I told you I love the way you look in that skirt?"

"No, but you can if you'd like to. I wanted to look nice for your family."

"You look beautiful. Tempting. I could carry you off right now," he said hopefully. Deliberately, he conjured up a picture in his head, paying great care to detail: Antonietta stretched out naked on the bed, her hair a silken cloud over the pillow. His head pressed between her thighs while she writhed with pa.s.sion.