The Wind Dancer (9 page)

She slowly began to unfasten the gown she had so recently donned, her gaze still fixed on
the panels of the door. What would he do when he returned? she wondered. His words
had been so queer. She had not meant to challenge him, but he appeared to think she had.
Was it because she was a virgin? How strange, when remaining untouched had always
meant very little to her.

She had known it was inevitable she would lose her virginity, either to Giovanni or to
some other man who might catch her unaware on the street. It had almost happened a few
months ago when she had been jerked into the alley by a seaman who'd been too wild for
a woman to notice the scent of her. She had known better than to waste her breath
screaming. Rape happened so often in those back alleys that it provoked no more than a
raised eyebrow and a quickening of pace away from the scene. Only luck and a kick in
the bastard's private parts had enabled her to get away from him.

Losing her virginity wouldn't have been as important to her as the unfairness of having it
taken without her consent. It had always seemed to her that a woman's virginity was
greatly overrated. She could see it would be important to ascertain whether a man's son
was his own through a wife's purity, but where marriage was not involved it was surely
stupid for men to obtain such pleasure from being first with a woman.

Yet Lionello Andreas was not stupid, and his face when he had learned she was a virgin
had expressed such intense primitive satisfaction it had given her a queer hot feeling in
the pit of her stomach. His hands on her body had evoked the same aching sensation that
fell somewhere between pain and hunger.

Hunger? She shook her head as she took off the gown and undershift and laid them
carefully on the chair by the table. Why had that word occurred to her? Hunger was for
food and rest and for the lovely words in books, not for a man's hands on her body. It
must be exhaustion that was making her so sluggish and dimwitted.

She pulled back the velvet spread and slipped beneath it. It was a pity she was too tired to
fully appreciate the softness of the mattress and the clean fragrance of pine resin and
laurel leaves that clung to the linens. She had never slept in a real bed before and wished
she could savor the luxury of the moment. She had always believed moments of pleasure
must always be lived to the hilt because the next might never come. During the bad
times, she could bring out the memory of a moment of beauty and suddenly the situation
would not seem so terrible that she could not get through it.

Sleep beckoned with an irresistible allure. She should really get up and blow out the
candle so Lord Andreas would not think she was careless and wasteful....

Cristo, what the hell was the matter with him?

Lion gazed down at Sanchia seething with frustration that almost exceeded the lust
hardening every muscle of his body.

Candlelight flickered over the rich auburn of Sanchia's hair and stroked the silky
smoothness of her bare shoulders above the coverlet. She was curled on her side, her
cheek buried in the pillow, her pink lips slightly parted. Why did he not wake her and tell
her she must take him into her body and let him use her to rid himself of his terrible
need? She was his property. She had given him her promise that she would obey him in
all things. She would yield her body to him without complaint.

Yield. He wished the word had not come to him, for it evoked memories of the many
cities that had yielded to his sword. Rape and pillage invariably followed those
surrenders. Looting and raping were the rewards a victorious army expected, his father
had taught, and Lion had grown accustomed to both over the years. In spite of Lorenzo's
mocking charge he knew well that chivalry was only for fools.

Yet he did not want Sanchia to yield to him because he owned her and she had no choice.

Santa Maria, what was the matter with him? He had been unable to muster any desire for
Giulia after he had left Sanchia, and the failure had shocked and outraged him. He had
stormed out of her chamber with every intention of satisfying the hunger that Giulia had
been unable to appease. A man was a fool to worry about challenges when he needed a
woman's body to put out the fires. Since his body was issuing this peculiar demand for
Sanchia alone, it was only sensible he should give it what it wanted.

He reached out and drew the coverlet down so he could see Sanchia from the top of her
shining hair to her small feet. She was a brilliant butterfly against the stark white linen
sheet, all velvet golden flesh and silky wine colored hair. Why did he find her slender
loveliness a thousand times more arousing than Giulia's more voluptuous beauty? He had
always preferred full-figured women...

Ah, this was better. The blood was pounding in his veins and the quickening in his loins
was gaining in intensity until it was almost unbearable. In another moment there would
be no question of stopping himself from mounting Sanchia.

He bent closer, his gaze on the pinkness of her distended nipples. Her breasts were truly
magnificent. The mere thought of touching them sent his heart slamming against his rib
cage. He would have to have gowns made for her that would reveal the beauty of her
bosom and--

Sanchia stirred, sighed, and rolled over on her back.

Dio, she was small. She looked like a child except for those erotic breasts and the soft
thatch of hair protecting her womanhood.

But she was no child, he quickly reminded himself. She had said she was sixteen; most
women had been wedded and bedded for at least two years by the time they had reached
her age. His mother had given birth to him when she was fifteen. He should feel no guilt
about Sanchia's age, and not a single compunction because of her helplessness to resist
him.

Sanchia murmured in the inarticulateness of sleep.

Lion's gaze flew to her face. Her long lashes cast dark shadows on the curves of her
cheeks. But there was another shadow high on her right cheek, he noticed suddenly. Then
he realized it was not a shadow but a faint bruise where Giovanni had struck her. He
remembered Sanchia's head snapping back with the force of the blow and the fierceness
of the anger that had torn through him. He had wanted to kill the whoreson. How dare
that bastard touch his property? Couldn't he see how tiny and helpless Sanchia was, how
easily she could be bruised and hurt? If that blow had been a little harder, it could have
killed her or at least--

No, by God, he wouldn't think how vulnerable she was, but only how much he desired
her. He deliberately summoned the image and feelings that had assaulted him when he'd
first drawn down the coverlet to reveal her naked body.

A brilliant butterfly. All color and soft velvety textures.

But butterflies were the most fragile of creatures.

Butterflies could be broken and destroyed with only the careless brush of a man's hand.

And he was not Giovanni.

He could wait until she recovered from this exhaustion and felt more secure under his
rule.

After all, the woman was vital to him as a thief. She would bring him what he needed and
any additional pleasure he took in her would be only secondary.

He straightened and then reluctantly drew the coverlet up to Sanchia's chin. Yes, he could
wait.

Perhaps.

He turned away and blew out the flame of the candle.

But he could not stay away from her if he remained in this bed... or even in this room. He
moved silently toward the door while considering his options. He couldn't return to
Giulia's chamber. She had been most irate when he had left her. Only one solution
occurred to him given the lateness of the hour.

He grimaced as he realized he would have to go to Lorenzo's chamber and face his raised
brows and faintly malicious amusement.

Oh yes, Lorenzo would take an unholy joy in Lion's predicament.

"Wake up." Giulia's hand on Sanchia's shoulders was less than gentle as she shook her.
"Get up. They're waiting for you downstairs."

Sanchia opened drowsy eyes to see Giulia Marzo's flushed face above her. Giulia was
angry again, she realized hazily, almost as angry as she had been last night when she had
left Sanchia with Lion. "I'm awake." She sat up in bed, and blinked as the early morning
sunlight streaming through the window assaulted her with its brilliance. "What time is
it?"

"Nearly eight o'clock."

Eight o'clock! Sanchia couldn't remember when she had slept past dawn. She scrambled
out of bed, reaching frantically for the clothes she'd laid on the chair the night before. "I
didn't mean to sleep this late. Is Lord Andreas displeased with me?"

"You'll have to ask him." Giulia moved toward the door. "He's not a man who likes to be
kept waiting." She glanced back over her shoulder as she opened the door. "There's wine
and fruit on the table. Eat quickly and join Lord Andreas downstairs in ten minutes."

"Five." Sanchia was dressing hurriedly. "I don't need to eat. Messer Lorenzo bought me
bread and fruit yesterday at the baker's. I can--"

"Eat." Giulia's beautiful features were set with a less than attractive hardness. "Lion told
me to make sure you broke your fast before you started the journey. He won't be any
more displeased with you now than he will be five minutes from now." Giulia smiled
with a hint of malice. "Or perhaps you feel you need to curry favor after last night? I told
Lion he'd find no pleasure with you."

Sanchia stared at Giulia in bewilderment. The woman was a wasp trying to sting her with
hurtful words, but how could they wound when they made no sense? After all, Lion had
spent the night in Giulia's bed. "That's what I told him too. He didn't appear to believe
me."

Giulia's hand tightened on the knob of the door. "Insolence."

"No, I didn't mean--"

"You may please him for a few weeks, but he'll grow tired of bedding a child with no
more meat on her bones than a scrawny foul." Giulia's blue eyes blazed. "And then he'll
come back to Florence and to me. You'll never be able to hold him."

"The question will never arise," Sanchia said quietly. "You forget, I belong to him.
Heholds me."

For some reason her answer only seemed to make Giulia more angry. She muttered an
obscenity and slammed the door.

Sanchia flinched, then thrust her feet into slippers and finished fastening her gown. She
cast a wistful glance at the apple quarters and cup of wine on the silver tray on the table.
A real apple. She'd had a taste of one a few years before, but this one certainly looked
riper and more juicy. Perhaps she could have just one bite....

She sighed and started for the door. Lion was too much the unknown quantity for her to
risk angering him. She could put no store in Giulia's assurance that he would not be
irritated if she kept him waiting longer since the woman obviously wished her ill.

Sanchia hesitated at the top of the stairs when she heard voices. Caprino was standing in
the hall below talking to Lion. Her hand tightened on the marble bannister. However, her
astonishment and wariness were quickly submerged in fierce satisfaction. She had no
reason to be afraid of Caprino. He could not touch her; he could not hurt Elizabet.
Serenely she now started down the stairs.

Caprino glanced up as she reached the third step from the bottom. "Ah, Sanchia, how
charming you look." His gaze traveled appraisingly over her. "I had no idea you'd clean
up so well or I might have hesitated about making you a present to the magnifico."He
held up a leather purse and smiled smugly. "I fear I'll just have to be satisfied with young
Elizabet. I believe I'll pay a visit to Giovanni after I bid you good journey."

Sanchia smiled back at him. "I'm sure Giovanni will be happy to see you. I've always
thought you had many qualities in common. However, Elizabet is no longer with
Giovanni."

Caprino stiffened, his gaze narrowing on her face. "And where is she?"

"With Messer Benedetto and his good wife. As I was forced to leave Elizabet, I thought it
wise to have her future settled." Her smile deepened with mockery. "I'm sure you can
sympathize with such a decision. I remember you were quite eager to have her settled
yourself. She's to marry Alessandro within the month."

"Marriage! But she can't--" Caprino whirled to Lion. "I've been cheated. The money you
paid for Sanchia is not enough."

"It was enough two minutes ago." Lion's tone was icy. "The arrangement stands,
Caprino."

"But that was when I thought--" Caprino broke off as he met Lion's gaze. He was silent,
struggling to subdue his anger. Finally he turned back to Sanchia. "You think you've
bested me."

"I didn't try to best you. I intended only to protect Elizabet."

"From me," he snarled.

"From everything and everyone." She gazed at him directly. "But yes, from you most of
all."

"You need not worry. Your Elizabet is no longer important to me." Caprino's voice was
so soft the underlying malevolence was only barely discernible. "But you and your future
are going to be of great interest to me, Sanchia. I don't like to be cheated of something I
want."

A chilly finger of fear touched her spine. He couldn't hurt her or Elizabet, she reassured
herself, but still she felt his menace. "You won't know my future. I'm leaving Florence."

"I can wait. I'm good at waiting."

"Leave, Caprino." Lion gestured toward the door. "Our business is finished."

"Good day, Magnifico."His voice sounded of nothing but politeness now. "I wish you joy
in your purchase. May Sanchia bring you what you seek." He opened the door and
slanted them a faint smile over his shoulder. "But you'd best hasten in your use of her.
Young girls such as she are fragile blossoms that sometimes wither and perish
overnight." He gave them no chance to answer as he closed the door behind him.

The tension eased from Sanchia's rigid muscles and she forced herself to release her grip
on the banister. "I'm sorry I overslept, my lord. I'm ready to leave."