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  He nodded. “Come. Let me get you to your steed. I am anxious to meet up with the others and gain word of my intended. Mount up,” he said to his remaining two men. Luca and the others were already up the cliff.

  Before I could say a word, he lifted me again in his arms and carried me to my horse. He set me down alongside the gelding, as gently as if I were made of glass. He straightened and then looked down at me.

  For a crazy moment, I thought he might kiss me.

  For a crazy moment, I wanted him to kiss me.

  But he only tucked a strand of hair behind my ear again and held one side of my face in his hand. “M’lady. I am so relieved.…”

  That I lived? That I was okay?

  “So grateful to you. If it weren’t for you, Lady Rossi might not have escaped.”

  My breath left me in a sigh of disappointment, but I forced a smile and shook my head as if it was no big deal. I cursed myself for my stupid romantic teenage fantasies. This guy was not in my league. By six hundred years, at least. Give it up, Gabi. Give it up! Keep your mind on getting home!

  But then he had his big hands on my waist. He bent down a little, getting ready to lift me to the saddle, just as I looked up at him. Our lips were so close, I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin.

  We froze. Neither of us moving, simply staring at each other, wondering if the other was going to move first.

  “You are,” he whispered, “uncommonly stirring.”

  He closed his eyes then, as if he had to in order to break the bond between us, then lifted me to the saddle and stared at the ground as he guided my feet into the stirrups.

  I wanted him to look up at me. I wanted to recapture that moment of heat, of connection again. I’d never experienced it before. But he was stronger than I. He took the reins of my horse and mounted his own, tying my reins to the back of his saddle. He led me through the tunnel of the forest. I had to duck and concentrate on keeping my seat in order to not fall to ground again. But it did not keep me from staring at his broad shoulders, shoulders that swept down to a trim waist. My eyes bore into his back, willing him to turn and look at me again. But he refused.

  His reunion with his lady was like a scene from a movie. Gaining sight of her, coming up a small dirt road that led to this more major thoroughfare we were on, Marcello hurriedly handed my reins to Giovanni and broke away in a gallop, pulling up just in time to dismount and run to the side of her borrowed horse, reaching up to grasp her hands in his, kissing them. She bent down with a tender smile and put her head to his.

  Whatever I had imagined behind me, it was just that. Wild imaginings. I might have “stirred” Marcello. But these two were clearly meant for each other. They had an understanding, a bond. I had no business even thinking of interfering. What was I going to do? Steal him away and fast-forward to the twenty-first century? I apparently left my brain back in modern times.

  Get ahold of yourself, Gabi.

  They spoke for a moment, then Marcello looked back at me, the first time he’d really looked at me since our moment in the clearing.

  He looked confused at her words, but nodded.

  “What happened to her lady? The one that was injured?” I mumbled toward Giovanni.

  “Ah, I had a man take her to a nearby villa. They are seeing to her injuries.”

  I thought that over for a moment, how easily it might’ve been me on the edge of death, left behind with strangers. The thought left me aching with longing for my family.

  When our two roads intersected, Lady Rossi came directly over to me. She reached over to grasp my hand and smiled into my eyes. “I owe you my life. My father will see to it that you are rewarded richly.”

  “Help me find my sister, Lady Rossi,” I said. “That is all the reward I need.”

  “Please. Call me Romana,” she said with a smile. “I will not rest until you are reunited. When my father hears that that is all that is required…be assured, men will be sent for miles, searching every corner for your loved one.”

  “Thank you,” I said, suddenly choked up with unexpected gratitude for this girl, of all people. I felt hope, real hope for the first time. If Lia was here, perhaps this woman could find her. “M’lady, I must get immediately to the fountain in Il Campo when we reach the city. My family agreed long ago that if we were separated, if one of us was lost, we were to go to the main fountain.”

  She stared at me as if this was obvious. I knew Siena had been pretty big, back in the day.

  “Of course,” she said. “My family lives on a palazzo on Il Campo. I will place you in a room where you can look upon Il Campo, day and night, if you wish.”

  “You—your father is one of the Nine?” I asked. Few but Siena’s ruling party owned palazzos along the edge of the shell-shaped piazza. I remembered that much of the medieval Sienese history Mom and Dad had repeated to us.

  She nodded, as if I should’ve known that she was so important already. No wonder it was so vital for Marcello to marry her, I thought. A union with the daughter of one of the Nine…the Forellis’ connection to Siena would be golden.

  She pulled her horse alongside mine, and we traveled for a time together. “Is your mother quite a successful merchant in Normandy?”

  “She is quite successful at anything she turns her attention to,” I said, shifting on the saddle. I didn’t like to lie outright, but I’d have to continue to fudge a bit.

  “Pardon me,” she said, her eyes meeting Marcello’s. He was waiting for her, ahead.

  Beyond him, a group of men thundered down the road toward us. Soldiers of Siena, I wagered, patrolling the road. In minutes, they reached the front of our group and paused to speak with Marcello and Romana.

  They were strong, men at the height of physical perfection, like our modern Navy SEALs. The leader looked beyond Marcello and caught my eye.

  I stared back at him, intrigued with this breed of men who were so clearly male. Were they like this everywhere, in this time? Or was it just the ones I was running across?

  Marcello followed the captain’s gaze, and I saw the muscle in his cheek clench. What was that about? Protection? Jealousy? What?

  “This marriage between Lord Marcello and Lady Rossi,” I said lowly to Luca. “It is vital to both families, yes?”

  He slowly turned to me, but I did not look away from Marcello. “Yes, m’lady,” he said, looking from me to Marcello.

  I didn’t care that he was piecing it together. What did it matter, if he knew that I thought Marcello was All That? I needed to know the consequences of following through on my fantasies—it would help me bury them.

  “It has long been arranged,” he continued. “To go against his father’s wishes would mean that Marcello would bring terrible consequences down on his family. You’ve seen for yourself that we live on the front lines of the conflict. Without the Nine’s backing, I’m afraid the castello would fall.”

  I turned my gaze upon him. “Be at ease, Luca. I will not interfere.”

  He gave me a lopsided grin and cocked a brow. “I, myself, however, was not promised to a beautiful woman as a child.” His grin spread. “The benefit of being born to parents with a good name, but little land, and far less wealth.”

  I smiled too. He was handsome, no doubt. But he didn’t have any of the deep, primal pull that Marcello seemed to have for me. I sighed.

  It figured that I’d manage to fall for the unavailable guy.

  I glanced forward again, and my heart skipped when I discovered Marcello gesturing toward me, motioning for me to come forward. Luca and I moved to the front of the line together. As we got closer, I could more clearly see the uniforms of the patrol—dark leggings tucked into boots; long, stiff jackets with puffy sleeves and high necks. Those would be un-fun to wear…miles on the road, in the dust. I shivered, inwardly, at the thought.
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  Somehow, the captain, all handsome Italian hotness, managed to pull it off. I returned his small smile.

  “Lady Betarrini,” Marcello said, his tone a little sharp, like a scolding. I looked at him, and he cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet Sir Orlando Rossi, Lady Rossi’s cousin, and captain of this patrol.”

  “Captain,” I said with a small nod.

  “M’lady,” he returned. His green-brown eyes—so much like Romana’s—had a fun, mischievous glint to them. But then his face became more stern. “Tell me, m’lady, your attackers…were any of them not in the Paratore crimson?”

  I frowned, thinking. “I think they were all of the house of Paratore. But it happened so quickly…” I shook my head. “I cannot be certain.”

  “I understand,” he said, giving me another genteel nod. He looked to Marcello. “We will find them, and extract vengeance. Only the foolish dare attack a daughter of the Nine.”

  “Had she fallen into their hands,” Marcello said gravely, “she would’ve been a handsome tool of leverage.”

  Orlando’s horse danced beneath him, anxious to be on his way. “We will go and remind them that such a tactic should never be considered again.”

  He had just turned when Romana said, “Take care, Cousin.”

  “I shall.” He paused and met my eye again, just for a moment, then on to Romana. “There is a ball to attend in two days’ time. It is my hope that all your guests shall be in attendance.”

  Okay, so what was the deal? In my time, guys barely gave me the time of day. Here, I caught the eye of everyone I met. It was hardly fair. Of course, that had all been part of my father’s plan—to keep me and my sister surrounded by geeks more interested in treasures in the dirt than any bounty aboveground. Still, it was a bit overwhelming. My head buzzed with all the attention. Maybe they sensed I was different somehow, and that intrigued them.

  The soldiers thundered off, leaving six to serve as our rear guard, leaving no room for further attack.

  “Luca,” I said lowly once the captain was out of sight, “do you dance?”

  “Are you asking me to accompany you, m’lady?” he brought his hand to his chest and fluttered his eyelashes.

  “No,” I said, stifling a smile at his messing around. “I am asking if you can teach me the proper steps of the dances of Toscana. I am certain they are far different from those of…Normandy.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Certainly. It would be my pleasure, m’lady.”

  “Thank you,” I said, hating the blush that crawled up my neck. Would he think I had the hots for him too? “It comforts me,” I rushed on. “Your friendship.”

  He studied me with his steady, green eyes. “And I am at your disposal.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Traffic on the road increased as we got closer to the city—wagons on carved wooden wheels, chickens in twig cages, small boys driving tired milk cows—but it was Siena and her high, red walls that captured my attention. She looked pristine, clean, grand, and I gawked at her many towers, which I knew no longer stood six hundred years later. In this time, families with power all built towers, from which they could shoot at any intruders—even if those intruders were their own neighbors, turned against them. The closest thing we’d toured in modern times was San Gimignano, but even that city had but a fraction of the towers that stood here. There were hundreds, drastically changing the skyline of the city. Again and again I tried to connect what I remembered of Siena—my favorite of Toscana’s towns—with what I was seeing now.

  The new wall had recently been built—I could tell because it was another shade of red—with new buildings inside it to make room for the growing city. We rode forward, ignoring the pigs and goats that were nearly trampled in our wake, as well as their irate keepers. The people divided before us, as if they knew that one of their nobles approached, and on we climbed, curving up the cobblestone street.

  I smiled in recognition. Siena was one of the finest preserved examples of a medieval city that we still had; that meant that a lot of it felt familiar to me. My parents had spent a summer here once, when we were little, teaching Italian archeology students. They always said it was the worst summer of their lives; Lia and I remembered it as the best.

  If she was here, she would be at the fountain. My heart surged with hope and excitement. It took everything in me to maintain my place in line and submit to the dull, clopping rhythm of our train. I wanted to press my horse into a full gallop and ride past the others. I closed my eyes, fighting against the pull of it.

  What if she was there, now? Giving up on me? Wandering off, deciding to try somewhere else?

  Stay there, Lia. If you’re here, stay there. I willed her to fight against the impulse to give up, urging her to remember what our folks always said: “If you’re lost, stay where you are. We will find you. If you keep moving, that will be harder to do.” The fountain, Evangelia. Stay at the fountain.

  We turned on a major street, and I smiled at the sign. Via di Banchi. The road of the banks. This would take us just one street away from the massive piazza. So close! So close!

  “M’lady, are you well?” Luca asked, peering over at me.

  “I am eager to get to the fountain,” I confessed. “Would you kindly accompany me?”

  “After we greet Lady Rossi’s family,” he said. “We’ll be off immediately.”

  I looked at him in horror. “No, I don’t think you understand. I am beside myself with worry over my sister. I must know right away, if she’s there, awaiting me.”

  He studied me. “And if she’s not?”

  I pulled back a little. Not there? If she wasn’t here, where could she be? I wasn’t ready to deal with the idea that she hadn’t made the jump at all. To think I was all alone here, with no one to help me figure out a way back.

  I didn’t answer Luca’s question, but I began checking out every blonde or near-blonde I saw, knowing, just knowing that I would soon spot her. Perhaps she was on her way to the fountain even now, perhaps on this very street. I sat up straighter when I saw a girl about Lia’s height, her hair tucked into a knot and net, that same wheat color.…

  “M’lady?” Luca asked. I ignored his worried tone.

  My eyes were on the girl. She had a basket on one arm and was weaving in and out of the crowd. She was the right height, with the same figure, I was sure of it. We were getting close to the cutoff where Romana would lead us away and around the piazza and to her home—one of the grand palazzos on the piazza. Here, at this corner, I was as close to the entrance and the fountain as I was going to get. The blonde was weaving away from me now, heading to Il Campo.

  “Lia!” I cried. “Evangelia Betarrini!”

  Several in the crowd before me stared at me, their heavy brows furrowed at my outburst, then looked away when they decided I was just whacked.

  “Lia!” I tried again. She was getting farther away. “Lia!”

  I kicked my feet from the stirrups and slid to the ground, landing on my bad leg. I cried out and leaned hard against the brick wall of a shop.

  “M’lady,” Luca said, separated now from me by a portion of the crowd. “Wait.”

  “I cannot,” I muttered, shaking my head. I limped after her, in a sort of lurching gallop, heading down the small street that led through a tunnel and out into the piazza. It spewed us forth like water from a hose, and I pulled up short, trying to make sense of the piazza I thought I knew so well.

  In my day, the “clam” was lined with shops and restaurants, its basin filled with tourists and students licking gelato cones or sitting and staring at the beautiful Palazzo Pubblico and towering campanile.

  Here, now, Torre del Mangia—the campanile, or bell tower—appeared to be half-built. Bricks had yet to be laid in the fishbone rays that represented the Nine. It was all a uniform cobbles
tone. The entire piazza was full of row upon row of vendors, selling vegetables, fruits, woolens. And I couldn’t see the lovely white marble of the Fonte Gaia.

  I spotted the blonde and moved out after her again. She was looking around, admiring the merchants’ wares—so like Lia—and my heart surged with hope. I pressed on after her as she ran her hands over one length of cloth after another. “Lia!” I called. “Lia!”

  I was five feet away when she turned to face me.

  It wasn’t her.

  I pulled up short and brought a hand to my mouth, trying to make sense of it. I had been sure, so sure it was her.

  “M’lady! Lady Betarrini!” Luca said, arriving at my side. A moment later, Marcello was beside me too, panting.

  I stared hard at the girl, as if I could morph her into my sister, make her be who I wanted her to be. My eyes welled with tears as she cast me a confused look, turned, and walked hurriedly away.

  “It wasn’t her,” I said to Marcello, my tone as empty and lost as I felt, an echo of me.

  His eyebrows knit in worry. “Did you not believe you would find her here? And there has to be more than one blonde in a city as vast as Siena, yes?”

  I clung to his words with the tiniest measure of hope. Luca took my arm—I guessed because Marcello wished to beg no questions in Lady Rossi’s own city—while Marcello parted the crowd for us, leading us to a massive well. I tried to reconcile what I was seeing; obviously the big fountain was yet to come.

  It was busy at the well. There were many there to fetch water for drinking, washing, cooking—resolved in my day by indoor plumbing. It made it hard to approach now. Might that keep Lia away? I looked around, so frenzied now that I could barely focus on each face.

  I was hot, dizzy, as if suffering a fever, but I continued to turn.

  “M’lady,” Marcello said. “M’lady,” he whispered, gripping my forearm and stilling my incessant circling.

  He looked to Luca with a help me expression, and the other man came and took my arm. We left Marcello behind. Over and over he said mi scusi, edging us closer to the well. Once there, he flipped a coin to a man, and he pulled out a bucket and ladle. “Drink,” Luca demanded of me, brooking no argument.