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she is yours to wife,” Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo said, almost choking on the words as he said them. How could he do this? And yet if he did not, his eldest son—their family—would be ruined by this vile, powerful man.
    “I am overwhelmed by the exquisite beauty and purity I see in your daughter’s face. Her presence as my wife will bring great honor to my house, and I will gladly have her to wife,” Sebastiano Rovere said. Then, suddenly reaching out, he took up the girl’s small hand, kissed it almost reverently, asking her, “And will you have me for your husband, Bianca Pietro d’Angelo?”
    No! No! No!
she wanted to shriek, but she knew what was expected of her. “I am magnified that you would have me,
signore
.”
    He kissed her hand again, this time a bit more enthusiastically. “We will walk together in your father’s garden,” he said without even bothering to ask her parents for their permission.
    Startled but not knowing what else to do, Bianca turned away with him. He led her from their sight deeper and deeper into the greenery and floral beds until finally they came to a single marble bench set amid some rosebushes. He drew her down, seating himself next to her. Bianca was a little frightened. She had never before been alone with a man. She wasn’t very comfortable. “I think we should go back to my parents,” she said nervously. Her heart was thundering.
    He laughed softly and lowly, which frightened her further. “You have never been with a man before, have you? Of course you haven’t,” he said with a chuckle. “Do you realize that I am the only man you will ever be allowed to be alone with, Bianca? I am to be your lord and your master. You will obey my every wish.”
    She was silent but suddenly angry at his presumption.
    “Look at me! I want to see your eyes, Bianca,” he told her. His fingers grasped her small chin and almost forced her head up.
    She was going to have to look directly at him. She felt brief nausea but swallowed it back. She could not, would not, be afraid of this man. Fear gave the instigator of that emotion power over his victim, and while she must wed him, she would not give him the privilege of controlling her heart, her mind, or her soul. Bianca raised her lashes and looked directly into the dark eyes of the man she was to marry. It was like looking into black ice. “The color of my eyes is said to be unique,” she told him quietly.
    Sebastiano Rovere stared, amazed by the beauty and clarity of the girl’s eyes. He would find aquamarines to match their color and have a necklace and ear dangles made for her. He would have her wear them naked with her hair down. Blue, ivory, and ebony. The mental picture in his mind was almost too much to bear as he considered her spread upon his bed, ready for him. His male member ached painfully. “Will you give me a kiss, Bianca?” his voice rasped.
Slowly, slowly,
he cautioned himself. She was innocent.
    Bianca was startled by the bold request. “
Signore
, I do not believe such a thing would be considered proper by my parents.”
    “The betrothal agreement has already been signed,” he told her. “You are mine but for the wedding ceremony, Bianca. Your beauty, your manner have all pleased me.”
    He grasped her by her slender shoulders. “I
must
taste your lips!” And he put his lips on hers, his lust communicating itself quite clearly to the girl.
    Bianca was horrified. The kiss. Her first kiss screamed with his need to possess her totally. She struggled against him, yanking her head away from the marauding mouth that assaulted her.
“Signore!”
she gasped, and then breaking away, she fled from him into the thick greenery of the gardens.
    He immediately gave chase. He could not permit her to return in tears to her parents. He would look like a lustful fool. She had stopped in her flight, obviously listening to see if he was still behind her. “
Dolce
Bianca, I beg you to forgive my eagerness. I apologize for