ye." He took a warrior's stance; knees and elbows bent, eyes narrowed, senses alert. His muscles flexed, waiting for them to act first.
A droplet of sweat fell from the leader's temple. A breath later, an odd noise came from the back of the man's throat just before he advanced, sword drawn.
Taveon battled steel with the Medici guard, but only briefly as he was attacked from behind. A rope looped around his neck. He sliced his dirk in an arc, but before he could draw blood, he was rendered immobile. Human binds clamped his arms and legs. He struggled, pulling all four men into his chest, but a blow to his back brought him to his knees. A fist caught him in the jaw, vibrating his back teeth. Then a jab to his gut pushed the air from his lungs.
The slow rusty taste of blood pooled over his tongue as the Medici guards took turns playing havoc with his body.
"Enough." The wayward voice sounded distant, but was most welcome.
Chest heaving, muscles throbbing, Taveon raised his head and spit a mouthful of blood onto the tips of Lorenzo the Magnificent's expensive calfskin boots.
"Filthy savage." Lorenzo reached inside Taveon's doublet and retrieved the amulet. He held the stone in front of Taveon's face. "Viviana decided to accept your proposal. You will show up at Santa Reparata on the Sabbath, dressed in your finest garb. After you speak your vows, you may have the stone back as part of Viviana's dowry. I might add that it would be in your best interests to make her happy."
"And if I refuse?"
"You will not leave Italy alive." Lorenzo stood upright, spun on his heel, and left.
The Medici guards dumped Taveon onto the ground and followed their leader out of the stable.
"Ouish." He exhaled, moaned, and hugged his aching ribs.
He should have turned left.3
Chapter 5
"Ye look like Venus herself wrapped in a pool of buttermilk silk." Goliath's tone grated over Viviana's skin as Lorenzo handed her over to Laird Kraig at the altar.
"I would not know," she bit out between grinding teeth and dug one of the many pearl-tipped pins binding her hair out of her skull. Lorenzo had assured her Laird Kraig wouldn't abandon her at the altar. Why Lorenzo was so confident, she didn't know. The Scot had what he came for. It would have been simple to leave Firenze with the amulet and without the burden of an unwanted wife. Yet, here he was, holding her hand and speaking sweet words to her as if he'd courted her properly.
A final chord echoed throughout the dome of Santa Reparata and rang in her ears while the heavy train of her gown weighted down her shoulders. Lorenzo had spared no coin on the ceremony, regardless of the three days she'd spent begging him to cease the wedding.
Propriety, morality, and inappropriate conduct were a few of the choice words Lorenzo had tossed around while denying her undignified pleas.
The loud shuffling of attendants behind her told Viviana all of Firenze turned out to witness the lavish display of Medici wealth. The courtiers undoubtedly whispered their praise regarding Lorenzo il Magnifico's generosity. Their great patron was certain to be hailed for graciously finding his blind, barren ward yet another husband.
Viviana's limp fingers sat in the palm of Laird Kraig's hot hand while Bishop Sion di Paxiti warbled through the opening litany. This twenty-sixth day of August marked the third time she'd heard the familiar Latin words in less than four years.
A hush fell over the assembly. Viviana knelt and eagerly inhaled the potent scent of myrrh, thankful to have any odor to replace the smell of licorice burning her nostrils. She knew with the utmost certainty Laird Kraig had spent the remainder of his bachelor days at the bordello. Mayhap Madame Bianca entertained him before the ceremony as well, and Viviana wouldn't have to suffer the wedding bed. She wondered only briefly if the whores in Scotland were free of disease like Madame Bianca's girls.
Bishop Sion's voice came close, as did the
A droplet of sweat fell from the leader's temple. A breath later, an odd noise came from the back of the man's throat just before he advanced, sword drawn.
Taveon battled steel with the Medici guard, but only briefly as he was attacked from behind. A rope looped around his neck. He sliced his dirk in an arc, but before he could draw blood, he was rendered immobile. Human binds clamped his arms and legs. He struggled, pulling all four men into his chest, but a blow to his back brought him to his knees. A fist caught him in the jaw, vibrating his back teeth. Then a jab to his gut pushed the air from his lungs.
The slow rusty taste of blood pooled over his tongue as the Medici guards took turns playing havoc with his body.
"Enough." The wayward voice sounded distant, but was most welcome.
Chest heaving, muscles throbbing, Taveon raised his head and spit a mouthful of blood onto the tips of Lorenzo the Magnificent's expensive calfskin boots.
"Filthy savage." Lorenzo reached inside Taveon's doublet and retrieved the amulet. He held the stone in front of Taveon's face. "Viviana decided to accept your proposal. You will show up at Santa Reparata on the Sabbath, dressed in your finest garb. After you speak your vows, you may have the stone back as part of Viviana's dowry. I might add that it would be in your best interests to make her happy."
"And if I refuse?"
"You will not leave Italy alive." Lorenzo stood upright, spun on his heel, and left.
The Medici guards dumped Taveon onto the ground and followed their leader out of the stable.
"Ouish." He exhaled, moaned, and hugged his aching ribs.
He should have turned left.3
Chapter 5
"Ye look like Venus herself wrapped in a pool of buttermilk silk." Goliath's tone grated over Viviana's skin as Lorenzo handed her over to Laird Kraig at the altar.
"I would not know," she bit out between grinding teeth and dug one of the many pearl-tipped pins binding her hair out of her skull. Lorenzo had assured her Laird Kraig wouldn't abandon her at the altar. Why Lorenzo was so confident, she didn't know. The Scot had what he came for. It would have been simple to leave Firenze with the amulet and without the burden of an unwanted wife. Yet, here he was, holding her hand and speaking sweet words to her as if he'd courted her properly.
A final chord echoed throughout the dome of Santa Reparata and rang in her ears while the heavy train of her gown weighted down her shoulders. Lorenzo had spared no coin on the ceremony, regardless of the three days she'd spent begging him to cease the wedding.
Propriety, morality, and inappropriate conduct were a few of the choice words Lorenzo had tossed around while denying her undignified pleas.
The loud shuffling of attendants behind her told Viviana all of Firenze turned out to witness the lavish display of Medici wealth. The courtiers undoubtedly whispered their praise regarding Lorenzo il Magnifico's generosity. Their great patron was certain to be hailed for graciously finding his blind, barren ward yet another husband.
Viviana's limp fingers sat in the palm of Laird Kraig's hot hand while Bishop Sion di Paxiti warbled through the opening litany. This twenty-sixth day of August marked the third time she'd heard the familiar Latin words in less than four years.
A hush fell over the assembly. Viviana knelt and eagerly inhaled the potent scent of myrrh, thankful to have any odor to replace the smell of licorice burning her nostrils. She knew with the utmost certainty Laird Kraig had spent the remainder of his bachelor days at the bordello. Mayhap Madame Bianca entertained him before the ceremony as well, and Viviana wouldn't have to suffer the wedding bed. She wondered only briefly if the whores in Scotland were free of disease like Madame Bianca's girls.
Bishop Sion's voice came close, as did the
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