Isabella lifted her chin defiantly, but she felt that silence would serve her better than angry words. It is for your own safety.' This time there was a distinct warning note in the sweet voice. If the Master says you must, you cannot disobey. 'No, signorina, you must stay in your room. The thought of the horse being eaten by savage beasts was horrifying. Isabella's brother had given her the mare on her tenth birthday. The roars she had heard were not those of wolves, but whatever made the noise sounded dreadful, hungry, and doubtless had very sharp teeth. 'Will my horse be safe?' Without the animal, Isabella had no hope of covering the many rugged miles between the palazzo and civilization. The Master wants you to be comfortable.' Her voice was very persuasive. A fire is burning in your room, a warm bath is being prepared, and the cook is sending food for you. 'There is nothing to be done but to make you comfortable. The servant knew things she did not and obviously feared for Isabella's safety. The wealth of compassion in the woman's faded eyes only increased Isabella's terror. I have to leave immediately,' Isabella explained in her most authoritative voice.

Really, I must see him, and if I don't leave soon, the pass will be closed, and I won't be able to get out. It took me far longer than I expected to reach this place. She could not fail her brother his life was at stake. She could not quit now, could not allow fear to defeat her at the last moment. Now she had found the lair, and she had entered it. She had persevered because she had no other choice. Time and time again her inquiries had been met with silent shakes of heads and signs of the cross. Others had come back to her facedown on the back of a horse, with hideous wounds much like a wild animal might inflict. One by one the men she had sent out had turned back and told her it was impossible to continue. And she had done what all others had failed to do.

She had come here for a purpose, risked everything to get to this place, to see the elusive don. Isabella could feel terror welling up inside her, sharp and strong, but she forced herself to breathe through it. I will have to lock you in for your own safety.'

Lair of the Lion by Christine Feehan