"You must now wear your hair in a more elegant style, as it is a.s.sumed you are no longer a maid," Terza said softly to her mistress. Then she brushed out the long red-gold hair and affixed it into a chignon that sat low on her mistress's neck.

Francesca stared into the mirror. She suddenly looked older. And seductive, she thought. "I like it," she said.

"We'll just put this jeweled band on your head, and a wisp of veiling," Terza suggested, and her mistress nodded in agreement.

Roza was giddy with excitement as she held open Francesca's jewel chest for her mistress. The gemstones sparkled in the morning sunlight coming through the bedchamber windows.

"What would you choose?" Francesca asked the girl.

After a moment of initial surprise Roza immediately drew out a pair of sapphire and gold ear bobs. When Francesca nodded, the girl affixed them in her mistress's ears.

"What else?" Francesca said.

"Pearls," Roza replied. "The bodice of the gown is heavily decorated, my lady. The elegance of a long strand of pearls is more than enough."

"Indeed, girl. You have a good eye for this," Francesca approved, ducking her head slightly as Roza dropped the long creamy length of pearls over her lady's head.

Terza nodded her own approval, and Roza beamed proudly. She very much wanted to serve her new d.u.c.h.essa the best she could. Being chosen by Terza to help the upper servant with her mistress had been quite a coup for the younger woman.

Francesca slipped her feet into a pair of deep blue sollerets that had been made in Florence for her. The leather was soft and comfortable on her feet. She stood reaching out into the still-open jewel case for several rings she slid onto her fingers. Holding out her fingers, she looked and was satisfied. Even after a day, the cream Terza rubbed into her hands seemed to be helping to ease the roughness.

Roza ran to answer a knock on the outer apartment door. They heard her say, "Tell him that she is ready and will meet him in the courtyard." Then she hurried back to tell her mistress, "Your n.o.ble husband sent his serving man to see if you were ready."

"Of course," Francesca said as she walked from her apartment with Terza and Roza in her wake. The arrogant dog, she thought, irritated. He could not be bothered to come himself. Probably still suffering from the excesses of his overindulgence. She walked proudly down the stairs leading to the courtyard and stepped out into the morning. Terza handed her a pair of gold-colored leather gloves when she had been helped up onto her mount. Francesca glanced about and saw her husband.

Rafaello did not look like a man who had spent the night drinking. Indeed he looked quite healthy. His color was good. His hands did not shake. He nodded curtly at her in greeting. Francesca nodded back. He was garbed in blue and gold, as she was.

Duke t.i.tus came from the castle, and, mounting his horse, put himself between them. "Good morning, my children!" he said cheerfully. "I am happy to finally see this day come when I may lay down my duties, and you, my son, may take on a burden more suited to younger, stronger shoulders. And you will have your good wife by your side, which is a true blessing, and now we have the hope of heirs as well."

"I am honored that you would entrust me with even the small responsibility of being the d.u.c.h.essa of Terreno Boscoso," Francesca said before her husband might speak. "And with G.o.d's own blessing we will give you grandchildren all in good time, my lord."

She turned her head as she spoke to smile sweetly at Rafaello. "Is that not so, my lord?"

He is a worthy opponent, Francesca thought, as her bridegroom nodded at his father.

"In time, Father," he said, "it is hoped we will be blessed with children."

"Especially considering my mother's fertility," Francesca added. The wily dog must certainly do his duty by her tonight. If he avoided her bedchamber much longer, the whole castle would know, and they would talk. She had sent the man she loved away so she would not compromise her new family's good name. Her husband would get children on her if for no other reason than he did not want to disappoint his sire.

Francesca almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of the situation. She was young, beautiful, and came with a more-than-plump dower portion. The serving girl she had been was desperately desired by a simple hunter, yet the d.u.c.h.essa she was about to become was obviously not desired by her husband. What on earth was the matter with him, and why would he not speak to her? Certainly tonight he would rectify his omission of last night.

They rode again through the cheering crowds in the small town and ascended the steps to the cathedral once again. Inside t.i.tus Cesare abdicated his ducal crown in favor of his son, Rafaello t.i.tus. The red-gold headband was moved from the older man's snow-white head to the dark head of his only child. Prayers of thanks were given for the peaceful and prosperous reign of Duke t.i.tus. Prayers of hope were offered that Duke Rafaello's reign would be as auspicious and pacific. And then Francesca was crowned as Rafaello's wife, his d.u.c.h.essa. Prayers were offered for her fertility that the house of Cesare would prosper and continue.

Francesca appeared demure and dignified as the old bishop with shaking hands set the smaller crown upon her veiled head. She rose and, turning with her husband, faced the crowded cathedral. Both of them were smiling upon their guests and subjects.

"Long live the duke! Long live the d.u.c.h.essa!" The cries rang out first inside, and then as they came outside again to stand at the top of the cathedral steps, the shouts and good wishes echoed from all the people crowded into the square. Without even being instructed to do so Francesca raised her hand and acknowledged the cheers with a wave of her elegant gloved hand. There was applause now along with the cheers.

"You know how to play to the crowd," Rafaello growled low at her.

She turned a dazzling smile upon him, and, reaching up, touched his face. "I was born to be your d.u.c.h.essa," she told him.

He caught her hand and kissed it. "I can play the game too, darling."

The crowds below them went wild with their delight at this show of affection between the newly wed and now newly crowned duke and his d.u.c.h.essa bride.

"If you do not come to me tonight I shall complain to your father," she told him sweetly. "He wants grandchildren, and it will be difficult to give them to him without some cooperation on your part, darling," she purred at him. "Give me a half-dozen or so of sons and daughters and you may go back to your mistress or whatever it was that kept you from our bridal bed."

"And you may go back to your rough woodsman, then, for all I care," he answered her coldly, though his lips were smiling for the benefit of the populace.

Francesca gasped with her surprise, but then she said, "I am no wanton, my lord. You will find me a virgin if you will bother to get into my bed and do what you should. I never betrayed you with another man, nor would I even, given the opportunity. Like you, I have my pride. I will never allow doubt to taint your heirs. If you had taken the time to know me instead of just choosing me because the French girl was such a b.i.t.c.h and Louisa was in love with another, you would have known it. But you picked me for your bride only because I appeared to be the only unblemished fruit in the basket you were offered!"

He led her down the cathedral steps, setting her back upon her palfrey before mounting his own animal. Her words stung him because they were true. His father had forced him into choosing a bride because G.o.d only knew Rafaello wouldn't have himself, for he was having too much fun as a bachelor. A man without a wife could hunt and wench and drink until dawn. A man with a wife could hunt as long as he brought home game for dinner, and before dusk. He couldn't wench with anyone but his wife unless he was a complete cad, which Rafaello wasn't. And as for drinking with boon companions until the sun came up, well, a married man had to bed his wife and beget heirs.

Born late to his parents, he had been spoiled and indulged. When his mother had died he and his father were even closer. Rafaello was glad of that, for Duke t.i.tus was an intelligent man and a great wit. It had pleased his son to emulate him. But his father knew him too well, which was why he now found himself with a beautiful wife who hadn't wanted to marry him at all, much to his surprise. Girls always wanted to marry him. Francesca hadn't, however. She had even run into the forest to escape him and their shared fate. Only good fortune had kept her from a wretched end, and she had come upon the huntsmen's winter inn. As they now rode through the town returning to the castle and another day long feasting on too-rich foods and too much wine, Rafaello Cesare considered what had followed when they had learned Francesca was safe.

"She doesn't want to wed me," he had told his father. "Send her back to her family. I'll find a wife eventually."

"Hah!" his father had said scornfully. "I know you better than that, Rafaello. No, we made a mistake in rushing the girl. She is proud and strong, but like all women she wants to be appreciated for her finer qualities."

"I appreciated her pretty b.r.e.a.s.t.s and sweet lips," he had answered his sire, only to receive a cuff to his head.

"She is like any other girl, my son. She wants to be courted and perhaps even fall in love. But if she doesn't fall in love, at least let her know you like her, you enjoy her company, you are proud to take her as your wife."

And it was then Rafaello Cesare had taken it upon himself to spend the winter months at the inn in a persona he had sometimes affected since his late teens, when one day he had joined a party of his father's huntsmen as Carlo, who usually lived so deep in the forest he was more legend than truth. Now and again over the years that followed Carlo would appear among the woodsmen, always welcome, for he easily fit in with them. He could bring down a deer with a single arrow, a skill they all admired. He paid his small gambling debts with them and was an honest friend to all.

Only Alonza knew his true ident.i.ty, for she had once been a castle servant and had tenderly cared for Rafaello's mother when she lay dying. Duke t.i.tus had been grateful to the faithful Alonza and had offered her anything she desired. On her suggestion he had seen the inn in his forest constructed to shelter his huntsmen in winter, and because she asked it of him, Duke t.i.tus had put her in charge of the inn. Alonza explained to her master that she had had an older brother who had once been one of the duke's huntsmen. Caught in a bad winter storm with no shelter to be found, he had died, his decaying body not found until the following spring. But thanks to Alonza, the duke's huntsmen now had a safe shelter for the winter months.

And last winter the mysterious Carlo had joined them at the inn, where Alonza had a pretty new servant helping her. Rafaello had been fascinated to see the proud Francesca he had so briefly known shed her lofty persona as she learned to cook and clean. She even seemed to enjoy what she was doing. He was particularly impressed when Alonza had fallen ill and without any complaint Francesca had nursed her while managing the inn by herself. And his companions, always eager to bed one of Alonza's helpers, had shown only respect for the feisty girl, while he had fallen in love with her.

He might have considered himself fortunate, for she had returned his affections, but he had not been able to decide how to reveal his ident.i.ty without drawing her anger.

And she would have been angry at having been tricked. Women, he had learned, did not enjoy having their delicate emotions toyed with by anyone, let alone a man.

The Francesca who had wed him so dutifully yesterday did not love Rafaello Cesare, her husband. She loved Carlo, a poor huntsman, and the new Duke of Terreno Boscoso couldn't figure out a way to reconcile the two for her. He had thought to reveal himself when he had crept into her bedchamber last night in his disguise, but instead he found a dutiful woman who would not betray her lawful husband even for the man she loved. Part of him was well pleased at her sense of honor, but as he exited her chamber through the window to get back to his own chamber, he found himself also disappointed. He had considered making pa.s.sionate love to Francesca, revealing himself at the crucial moment as he captured her sweet innocence. But then he actually considered the sense of shame and betrayal she would feel at having yielded to her would-be lover only to discover he was actually her husband. Jesu! What was he to do?

They clopped over the castle drawbridge and into the courtyard, where a servant had Francesca down from her saddle even before Rafaello could dismount his own stallion. He helped his father instead. Inside the hall his new mother-in-law was preening as if she had been crowned d.u.c.h.essa and not Francesca. He wondered how soon they would leave Terreno Boscoso to return to Florence. It would be rude to ask, of course. He suspected that Francesca would not object to seeing her parents depart.

The days seemed to drag, unlike their wedding day, when everything had gone so quickly. At one point Rafaello had slipped from the hall and found his way into his father's gardens. To his surprise he saw his wife sitting quietly upon a marble bench near a small fish pond. He quietly joined her, saying, "The hall is too noisy and full of stinks."

"I like the smell of the gardens better too," Francesca answered him, "but I think I liked the forest best of all. The air is cleaner, and the sounds natural, purer."

"I suppose while we are so newly wed no one would mind if we went off to be by ourselves for a short while," he told her. "My father could manage for us. Don't you think? He certainly has the experience."

Francesca turned her head to look at him. "You like the forest?"

"Very much," he replied. "I have been running off into it ever since I was a boy. I like the freedom of it."

"As duke you will not have much freedom now," Francesca noted.

"I know, which is why I believe we should take this opportunity," he said.

"Run away?" Her green eyes twinkled with humor.

"Why not? I am the duke. Can I not do as I please?"

"I'm not sure," Francesca admitted. "I've never been wed to a duke. I think you must first consider what is good for the duchy before you act upon your own impulses."

Rafaello laughed aloud. "I think it would be a very good thing for our duchy if you and I slipped away after our long separation. My father has a little hunting lodge deep in the forest. We might go there for a few days. Just you and I. No servants."

"How will we eat?" she asked him.

"I will hunt. You will cook," he said.

Now it was Francesca's turn to laugh. "Perhaps we can bring some food with us. Bread, cheese, meats already roasted, wine. Enough for three days and nights. Would you not rather spend your time with me than out in the forest, hunting our supper? Would you leave me alone by myself?"

"Let us go now while all the rest of our guests are more involved in eating our food, drinking our wine, and gossiping," he said. "And when we return they will all be gone. Perhaps even your mother and father."

"Oh, especially my mother," Francesca said. "My father I can tolerate, but my mother must return to Florence, where she may regain her strength and then begin to consider an even richer and more important husband for my next sister, Lucianna," Francesca said mockingly. Then she continued, "We must tell your father that we are going so he will not worry about us, and we must arrange for the food to sustain us in the next few days, and we must dress appropriately, for I have no intention of going into the forest in my coronation gown. As for any beasties you would hunt, they would laugh themselves to death at you in your fine blue and gold ducal garments. How near is this hunting lodge? It is already afternoon."

"If you can dress quickly, my d.u.c.h.essa, then we shall just be able to reach it by sunset," he promised her.

Francesca rose from the marble bench where they had been conversing. "I will meet you in the stables," she said. Then, turning, she hurried away from him.

Rafaello remained on the bench, considering what had just happened. Perhaps all was not lost. Was it possible that alone together in the forest, they might reach some sort of detente? Or would she be thinking of her huntsman? Was that the real reason she wanted to return to the woodlands? In hopes of finding her lover? But of course Carlo hadn't really been her lover at all, and he was Carlo. How was it he was jealous of himself? It was ridiculous. If he daren't tell her of the ruse he had played on her, then he would simply have to turn her girlish pa.s.sion away from Carlo and to him. Rafaello laughed aloud at the ludicrous position in which he found himself. There is no fool, he thought to himself, like a man in love.

Returning to the castle he avoided the noisy hall and hurried upstairs, calling to Fidelio, his manservant, so he might change his clothing. He signaled to Matteo and when the servant came quickly to his side, he said, "Go and find my father in the hall. Tell him I would speak discreetly with him now. Then escort him back to me."

"Yes, my lord duke," Matteo said, and Rafaello looked startled briefly. Matteo grinned cheekily at him.

Rafaello laughed. "I am, aren't I?" He chuckled as Matteo ran off. Fidelio was awaiting him, and said nothing when his master asked for hunting clothes. "My bride and I are going to the forest lodge for a few days before we take up our duties," he said. "Pack lightly. There will be no servants accompanying us."

"Of course, my lord duke," Fidelio responded, as if this were an everyday request. "Shall I send Piero to notify the stables you will want two horses saddled and ready?"

"Yes, and tell them not to put a sidesaddle upon my wife's horse. She will want to ride astride," he said, hoping that he was right, for when she had run off into the forest she had been astride. The forest was no place for a woman to be dainty. Even as good a horsewoman as he knew Francesca to be.

He dressed quickly in woolen breeches, a chemise that served as a shirt, a sleeveless leather doublet. He pulled on his boots over woolen socks. Tucked a sharp knife in the leather knife case attached to his belt.

Fidelio handed him a cloak. "It could rain," he said. "Piero has taken a saddlebag with your essentials to the stables."

The apartment door opened and Duke t.i.tus appeared. "My wine is so good that your absence has gone unnoticed, except by Signora Pietro d'Angelo, who has complained to me that she did not raise her daughter to be rude to her guests," the older man said.

"Francesca and I have decided to go to the forest lodge," Rafaello said. "We will remain a few days."

"Have you told her?" Duke t.i.tus asked his son quietly.

Rafaello shook his head. "No, and I don't really know how to tell her. She fell in love with Carlo, and now I must turn her love from the huntsman who doesn't really exist to me, because I love her."

Duke t.i.tus nodded, chuckling. "I must tell you, Rafaello, that I find your situation quite comical. Even I know if you tell her the truth right now she will be furious with you for perpetrating such a jest upon her. I think it is better you make her fall out of love with Carlo and in love with Rafaello. Francesca was ripe for seduction when she ran off last autumn, and a rough hunter certainly offered her something different than a civilized and proper suitor. Perhaps you need not be so mannerly with her now that she is your wife. Overwhelm her with the pa.s.sion you feel for her. Push aside her maidenly fears, for despite her Florentine sophistication Francesca is still a virgin, my son."

"You know women far too well, Father," Rafaello teased his parent.

"And now that it is you who are the duke of this wee country, I shall again indulge my taste for variety. Discreetly, of course, but I am not dead yet, by any stretch of the imagination, my son. I will give you a week-no more. Then you must return and pick up the reins of your government, Rafaello, so I may have the time to enjoy my old age." Duke t.i.tus bowed to his son, and then, turning abruptly, departed his presence.

The young duke laughed. He had seen his father eyeing the ladies of their small court these past few days. There were some very toothsome widows he had no doubt his father would soon be approaching for companionship. They were ladies of means who would understand what the duke sought of them and be quite willing to share themselves with such a virile and charming gentleman.

Rafaello bid his servants a brief farewell and went directly to the stables, where he found Francesca awaiting him. She was garbed in tight leather breeches and a silk shirt. "No, not the white palfrey," he heard her say. "I want the storm-gray gelding with the black mane and tail. Ah, here is my good lord. Quickly now!" She turned to greet him.

"They wanted me to ride that sweet dainty creature I parade through the town on, but she is not for the forest, my lord."

"I agree," he said. "The gelding is st.u.r.dier and will not suffer in the rougher terrain, madam." Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the stable boy was hesitating, waiting for his master's approval. "Did you not hear the d.u.c.h.essa, boy?" he said sharply.

"Do not dally. Fetch the gray. When your mistress gives you an order, you obey it."

"Yes, my lord!" The boy ran off to quickly restable the white mare and saddle the big gray gelding Francesca wanted.

"Thank you," she said.

"You are to be obeyed in all reasonable matters," he told her.

"What if I am unreasonable?" she teased him.

"We will thoroughly discuss any unreasonableness on your part, madam," he said to her seriously. "I prefer discussion. I do not want to have to beat my wife."

Francesca looked genuinely startled by his declaration. "You would beat me?"

"You will never, I am certain, drive me to such uncivilized behavior," he said with a wicked smile. "Will you, Francesca?"

She found herself shaking her head and saying meekly, "No, my lord, I will not drive you to barbaric behavior, for then I might have to respond in kind."

Rafaello found himself laughing at her response. He had forgotten how quick-witted she could be, and remembered the many times she had bested the poor Aceline du Barry. He wondered briefly if her father had found a husband for her. She was a girl who needed a man's guidance, unlike his new d.u.c.h.essa, who would have her own way, he suspected, in all she did.

The gray gelding was brought from the stables, and Francesca quickly, without any help, sprang into her saddle. "How much easier it is without all those skirts," she said, gathering the reins in her hands and urging her horse forward.

Together they clopped across the thick wooden drawbridge, and cantered into the forest upon a narrow but quite visible path. Francesca remembered that was how she had come last autumn when she had impulsively run away from an impending wedding she hadn't wanted. It had made no difference, however. They had just waited for her temper to cool, and now she was wed to the young duke.

They rode together for some time within the forest, the dappled sunlight pushing through the trees to enhance the beauty of the nature surrounding them. She followed Rafaello without asking questions, realizing after a time that they seemed to be going uphill. Ahead all she could see were trees. Behind them the forest seemed to close itself so that the path they traveled was no longer visible.

"How do you know where we are going?" she finally broke the silence to ask him.

"I've come this way ever since I was a boy," he replied. "I was five the first time my father brought me. My mother was not fond of the forest. It frightened her. She preferred the open s.p.a.ces of the land around the castle, where she might easily see the sky," he explained. "I hope you aren't afraid."

"I don't think I am afraid," she answered him, "but having been lost in this place I have a healthy respect for your forest. Is it much farther?" They had been traveling for at least two hours now, according to the position of the sun, Francesca noted. The duke's huntsmen had taught her to tell time by the sun the previous winter when she lived among them. It was, she decided, a good skill to possess.

"No, it is not far now," he told her. Then the trees began to thin just slightly, and they found themselves upon the sh.o.r.es of a lovely lake. "Look on the far side of the lake, nestled in the hills. Can you see it, Francesca?"

She peered carefully, and then the lodge became visible to her eyes, but had he not told her where to look, Francesca wondered if she would have ever seen it at all. The construction of the small building was such that it blended in to the landscape around it.

They rode around the lake and then up a barely visible narrow path to where the lodge stood upon a promontory jutting out from the hillside and over the lake itself.