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count. Now, give me Pio’s rope so I can keep track of you
both.”
Sensing that any further protest would be futile, I
meekly slipped the loop from my wrist and handed it to
him. Then, accepting the inevitable, I decided to make the
best of the situation and relaxed against his warm, hard
chest.
It was not the first time I’d been carried about by a man.
Once before, when I was in danger of succumbing to a knife
Portrait of a Lady
153
wound I’d suffered at the hands of a murderer, I had simi­
larly collapsed. Then, it had been the Master who had car­
ried me from one of the castle gardens all the way to Signor
Luigi’s shop. I remembered very little of that event, how­
ever, for I had been gravely hurt and senseless most of that
time. Moreover, the fact that it had been Leonardo who held
me had left me oddly unsettled, so that I could hardly rec­
ommend the experience.
But now, I could not help a slightly daring feeling of ex­
citement at being handled in such a fashion. To be sure, his
attentions were strictly professional, little more than an
extension of his duties in safeguarding the duke’s castle.
Moreover, both the Master and I had lingering suspicions
regarding the man, given his connection to two women who
had seemingly died at their own hands within days of each
other. Given that, why was I finding it so enjoyable now
simply to be in his presence?
Fearful lest I grow a bit too comfortable, I sought refuge
in conversation. “It was amazing, the way you were able to
kill that dog with only a knife,” I ventured. “How did you
manage such a feat?”
“Let’s just say that I had ample free time as a boy to learn
such skills,” was his rather cryptic reply. “I’m accurate at quite
a fair distance, but I didn’t want to risk the attempt until you
were on the ground and unlikely to jump in front of my blade
by mistake. Otherwise, I would have ended it sooner.”
“But what if you’d missed?” I asked in a small voice, once
more aware just how close Pio and I had come to a frightful
end.
Gregorio had no such doubts about his ability. “I never
miss,” he simply said. “And if the knife hadn’t done the
trick, I still had my sword.”
Unspoken was the likelihood that, in the time it would
have taken him to reach us with that weapon, both Pio and
I might have suffered grievous—perhaps even fatal—wounds.
I shivered at the thought. Certainly, I would be reliving one
version or another of that frantic flight in my future dreams.
154
Diane A. S. Stuckart
Something told me, however, that Gregorio would not
endure a similarly restless night.
“I’m surprised we haven’t met before,” he went on, seem­
ingly unaware of my fears. “You must have just arrived here
at the castle. What’s your name?”
I told him, giving him a truncated version of the story
Leonardo had concocted for me. “So I took my place among
the contessa’s ladies only yesterday. But how could you be so
sure of that? Surely you don’t know every woman at court.”
“I know all the pretty women. . . and some of them bet­
ter than the others.”
I could practically hear in his voice that same lazy grin
he’d turned on me a few minutes earlier. As before, I was
torn between being scandalized and feeling an undeniable
tremor of excitement at the implication. Ruthlessly tamp­
ing down that last emotion, I recalled myself to my proper
role. In as innocent a tone as I could muster, I asked, “Did
you know Bellanca, the servant whose place I took?”
I could feel a brief and almost imperceptible stiffening of
his grip at the question. “I spoke to her a time or two, but
that is all.”
There was no amusement in his tone this time. I sus­
pected he would answer no further questions about Bellanca
but, for the moment, it did not matter. We’d reached the
portico that led to the noble family’s wing of the castle. Un­
like the empty portion of the quadrangle near the stables,
here we encountered a steady stream of various servants and
tradesmen.
To a man and woman, they stared at the admittedly un­
usual sight of a young woman being squired about in the
arms of the captain of the guard, while a small hound trot­
ted at their side. Most wore expressions of varying levels of
disapproval. Only one toothless old woman in a nurse’s swad­
dled white headdress and sober gown clapped her hands to­
gether and grinned at me with good-natured envy.
Pio’s tiny nails clicked loudly upon the stone floors as he
followed us through the dimness of the castle toward Cate­
Portrait of a Lady
155
rina’s chambers. I might have wondered how Gregorio knew
what direction to go—though surely, as captain of the guard,
he was more than familiar with the castle’s layout—but for
the moment I did not care.
By now, the burning sensation along my forearm felt more
like a small raging fire, and I feared the prediction of a fester­
ing wound might come true. I could only hope that the con­
tessa’s relief when she learned of Pio’s safe escape outweighed
her likely outrage at me. If so, perhaps she would give me
leave to find one of the castle women to tend my injury.
But before we reached Caterina’s chambers, the young
contessa came rushing toward us with her other three ser­
vants trailing behind her. She halted, eyes wide, as her
frightened gaze took in the small hound with us.
“Pio!” she cried in relief, dropping to her knees.
Her pet gave an answering bark of joy. Pulling free of the
captain’s grasp, he scampered toward her, the rope trailing
after him like a slim gold serpent. And then, with catlike
grace, he bounded into her waiting arms.
“Pio,” she cried again, hugging him so tightly to her that
he yelped. “I feared you had been murdered most cruelly!”
“He is well, Contessa,” Gregorio dryly assured her, “though
I cannot say as much for your servant.”
She looked up from her dog to gaze up at us, as if only
now realizing that we were there, as well. “What is this?
What are you doing here, Captain, and why are you carrying
my maid about like that?”
“She was injured rescuing Pio from one of the stable
dogs. I suggest that you let me bring her to her quarters so
that one of your women can attend to her.”
“She saved Pio?” Her eyes grew wider still, and she stared
at me, seeming to truly notice me for the first time since I
had joined her household. Then she saw my bloody arm,
and her golden cheeks paled.
“Quickly, bring her to my chambers,” she declared, set­
ting down her small hound and leaping to her feet. “I shall
attend to her myself.”
156
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