A Dangerous Game Read Free Page B

inherited his father’s home and title. She, for one, was grateful her father had not acknowledged her. Her life had not been entirely bad. In fact, she at least had the freedom to make her own choices from an early age—something unheard of for a woman. There would be no arranged marriage for her, no life full of needlepoint and tea parties, where a husband dictated everything she did.
    She shivered at the thought of marrying for money and prominence instead of love, which in turn made Nicolette wonder if Elizabeth truly loved Darian. Despite the sidelong glances she threw Salvatore last weekend, it certainly seemed as though Elizabeth were besotted with her intended.
    Poor thing.
    Thoughts of Elizabeth evaporated when the manor’s entry doors opened and an elegantly dressed footman wearing powdered wig and too much rouge bowed to the floor. Nicolette looked past the servant to the foyer with its stark marble columns, and the sweeping staircase made of dark, polished wood, which gleamed under the sun filtering through the skylight overhead.
    An aging butler approached. His weathered face speaking of his advanced years, his smile warm and genuine as he bowed stiffly. “Good afternoon, Mr. Casale and Miss Rockwell, your rooms are ready for you. Will you please follow me?”
    The butler’s slow gait allowed her time to take in the surroundings. Her fingers skimmed the polished banister as they ascended the staircase to the second floor where pictures of Kedgwick ancestors hung. She noted how Salvatore’s gaze skipped over the portraits quickly, finally settling on the one of his father sitting beside a stern-faced brunette, and a young boy sitting at their feet—Darian, the late earl and his countess. The countess paled in comparison to Salvatore’s mother, a stunningly beautiful woman of Greek descent, and a daughter of gypsies who enjoyed dancing for her lovers. The earl had adored her...until she became pregnant with Salvatore. He had immediately abandoned her and their unborn child.
    The butler stopped before a cherrywood door and opened it. “Miss Rockwell, a footman will be along with your bags shortly.” He turned and opened the door across the hall. “Mr. Casale, this is your room.”
    With a promise to see Salvatore soon, Nicolette shut the door behind her and took in her surroundings. The room was spacious and warm, with a fire already blazing in the grate. The white marble fireplace was a work of art in itself. The smiling cherubs and gold embellishments must have cost a small fortune.
    The large bed was canopied, with white gossamer panels surrounding it. There was a wardrobe, one high-backed chair, a gorgeous light blue velvet settee, vanity, and assorted tables where vases of freshly cut flowers set, filling the room with their scent.
    Crossing the room, she threw open the balcony doors and was met by a setting that would make any gardener green with envy. There were manicured hedges along graveled paths, rose bushes of every color, and an enormous fountain in a courtyard where statues stood in each corner. Nicolette leaned on the wrought iron railing, taking in the splendor. Poor Salvatore...he had been deprived of such a beautiful home.
    With her partner uppermost in mind, Nicolette went to him.
    His room was as large as hers, yet instead of feminine touches, it was filled with heavy furniture made of dark wood. Amongst such finery sat Salvatore, sitting as still as the statues that graced the courtyard. He didn’t bother to turn when she closed the door behind her. She walked to him and without looking at her; he reached out and took hold of her hand, his long fingers curling around hers.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. His hatred toward his father would never leave him. Being in the man’s home would make the week ahead most difficult.
    He glanced up at her, and the pain reflected in his eyes made her heart lurch. “I hate that my anger nearly strangles me every