The Wind Dancer (8 page)

"And because you admire her, you want to put her in my bed."

"It will give her a weapon. She has none against you now. The child has the ridiculous
belief that promises must be kept. You'd think she would have learned better leading the
life she has."

"She has no need for weapons," Lion said impatiently. "I have no intention of being cruel
to her."

"Oh yes, she'll need weapons." Lorenzo's index finger circled the rim of his goblet.
"When you take her to Mandara."

Lion stiffened. "I don't take my mistresses to Mandara."

"You'll take Sanchia. Because she belongs to you."

"No, per
Dio
, you know I never--"

"You will this time." Lorenzo cut in, lifting his gaze from the goblet. "I look forward to
seeing what will result."

"Because you enjoy watching all our lives thrown into a turmoil for you to savor."

For the first time the mockery faded from Lorenzo's face. "No, because that foolishness
at Mandara has gone on too long. It's time someone changed the course of events."

"Stay out of it, Lorenzo. It's my choice."

The mockery instantly returned to Lorenzo's face. "I don't think I could bear to do that.
Our last stay at Mandara offered me no amusement whatsoever. All that sweetness and
knightly restraint... It made me quite ill."

"How regrettable. I fear you must resign yourself to it. I take no bedmates to Mandara."

"We shall see." Lorenzo drained the last of his wine, set the goblet on the table and stood
up. "Now I bid you good night. Do tell me in the morning how you enjoyed your little
Sanchia." He moved toward the door. "Do you suppose she's a virgin? The possibility
never occurred to me until she told us of her ingenious perfume." His gray eyes gleamed
silver in the candlelight as he glanced back over his shoulder. "How splendid for you if
she is. Think how tight she'll be around you and how sweet to hear the little cries of
wonder and newfound delight." He added softly as he opened the door, "And that would
make her all the more yours, wouldn't it?" He started to close the door and then paused.
"Ah, Sanchia, how charming you look... " He sniffed experimentally. "And smell. Go
right in, Lion's expecting you." He threw open the door and stepped aside. "Buona sera,
ladies."

Sanchia and Giulia entered the room, stopped just inside the door. With a jerky motion of
her head Giulia indicated Sanchia. "Well, does she please you?"

Lion's gaze traveled slowly over Sanchia's small form. It was clear to Lion that Giulia
was not pleased with the intruder and less with Lion's response to her and had probably
given her the most humble garment in all the wardrobes in this house. The simple velvet
gown Sanchia wore was of a rich brown shade, but had no elaborate trim or embroidery.
The tight sleeves came to her wrists, and the line of the gown was straight and graceful
falling from the low square neckline of the bodice. Yet the darkness of the gown made
the olive of Sanchia's skin glow golden, and the low square neckline revealed the lovely
line of her throat and the swell of her small breasts against the velvet of the bodice.

Lion's gaze lingered on the bare golden flesh of her upper breasts and felt a stirring in his
loins so intense it approached pain. "Yes, she pleases me."

"It took three scrubbings to get that stench out of her hair." Giulia's lips tightened as she
noticed Lion's gaze was still on Sanchia. "I suppose you'll not want me tonight?"

"No."

Giulia whirled, her blue velvet skirt flying. "You're mad. If you wish a change, I can
supply you with ten women who are more beautiful than this... this... child!"

The door slammed behind her.

"I don't like her," Sanchia said flatly.

"Then I'm sure it won't bother you to know that she has the same feelings toward you."
Lion's gaze lifted from the delicate line of Sanchia's throat. "Your hair is still damp."

"I don't know why it should be. She and those two women nearly smothered me toweling
it dry."

The color of her hair was not the brownish red he had first thought, Lion realized. The
mixture she had put on it must have dulled its color along with its luster. Now, though it
was still water-darkened, the candlelight revealed the fiery shimmer of auburn. "Come
here and let me look at you."

She hesitated and then walked slowly toward him. She moved with grace, her shoulders
back, her spine straight. There was a militance about her stance reminiscent of a soldier
marching into battle, he thought suddenly.

She stopped before him. "She's right, you know." Her voice was breathless. "I'm not
comely. I'm too skinny, and I don't have that lovely pale skin that Elizabet and Giulia
Marzo have. You won't be pleased with me."

Lion leaned back in his chair. "You're wrong. As I told Giulia, I'm very pleased with
you." His gaze went again to the smooth flesh of her shoulders. "And I like the shade of
your skin. It reminds me of the gold of--" He stopped. He had been going to compare her
to the Wind Dancer, he realized with a sense of shock. It must have been Lorenzo's
remark that had brought the connection to mind. Possession. The Wind Dancer. Sanchia.

He lifted his goblet to his lips. "You know why you're here?"

"Yes." She moistened her lips with her tongue. "I knew when I saw you looking at me
when I was in the bath. It's the same way Giovanni looked at my mother. You want to use
my body."

The comparison irritated him. "I'm not Ballano," Lion said harshly.

"You had me bathed. You had me perfumed." She drew a quivering breath. "Do you want
me to take off this gown and kneel on the floor now?"

"No!" The explosive rejection surprised him as much as it did her. "There are more
pleasurable ways of taking a woman than if she were a bitch in heat."

"Yet the idea excited you," Sanchia said. "I saw that you were--"

"You see too much." A sudden thought struck him. "Are you trying to change my mind
by comparing me to Ballano? Lorenzo said you use every weapon you possess."

"But I have no weapons here," she said simply. "I gave you my promise that I'd obey
you."

No weapons. Lorenzo had said that, too, Lion recalled with frustration. She belonged to
him. It was his right to use her body as he chose, with either tenderness or brutality. She
knew this and accepted it. Why, then, was he feeling as if he had to make excuses for
bedding her? "It doesn't have to be as it was with Ballano. I'll give you pleasure and--"

"No." Her eyes widened with bewilderment. "Why do you lie to me? It's always the man
who has the pleasure. Women are merely vessels who accept them into their bodies and
take their seed. Never once did my mother have pleasure."

"Because she was treated like an animal." Lion set the goblet down on the windowsill
with a force that splashed the remaining wine on the polished wood. "I'll show you
ways... " He stopped as he saw she was looking at him with complete disbelief.

He smiled with sudden recklessness. "Ah, a challenge. Shall I make you a promise, my
doubting Sanchia? Suppose I tell you that I'll not use you as my 'vessel' until you beg me
to do it. Until you're willing to kneel and let me use you as Giovanni did your mother
because you yearn to have me inside you."

She looked at him in wonder. "Why should you make me a promise? You need not
consider my feelings. I belong to you. It doesn't matter if I feel nothing when--"

"It matters to me." His tone held exasperation as well as barely concealed violence. "God
knows why, but it does." He took her hand and pulled her to her knees before his chair.
"And I'll probably regret that promise a thousand times before this is over. Now lift your
head and look at me."

She obediently tilted back her head and she caught her breath at what she saw in his face.
His eyes held dark, exotic mysteries and the curve of his lips was blatantly sensual.

"What do you see?"

"You want me."

"Yes." His big hands fell heavily on her slender shoulders. "And whenever I look at you
from now on I'll be thinking of what I'd like to do to you." One callused hand released
her shoulder and began to stroke her throat. Her skin was as velvet-soft as it looked and
warm, so warm.... He felt hot lust tear through him, adding dimension to his manhood.
"I'm going to touch you whenever I like." He slipped the material of the gown off her
shoulders. "When it pleases me, I'll bare this pretty flesh and fondle you. No matter
where we are. No matter who is watching."

She was gazing at him as if mesmerized, the pulse fluttering wildly in the hollow of her
throat.

"Are you a virgin?"

She moistened her lips with her tongue. "Yes."

"Good." He felt a primitive jolt of satisfaction so deep it almost obliterated the memory
of Lorenzo's words. "Thank the saints for that obnoxious mixture, whatever it was."

"It was fish oil and garlic and chicken dro--" She broke off as his hand slipped beneath
the bodice of the gown and one hard palm touched the nipple of her breast. He could feel
the hard pounding of her heart beneath his fingertips. She closed her eyes. "I remember
now. You didn't want to know."

"I'd rather know why your breast is swelling so sweetly under my hand."

"Is it? I don't know why. Maybe I'm falling ill. I feel quite peculiar."

"You're not ill." His palm moved back and forth on her breast, stroking it as if it were a
favorite kitten. "You'll always respond like this when I touch you." He squeezed her
breast gently.

Sanchia's eyes flew open and wild color stained her cheeks. She looked down at his big
hand covering her breast. "This gives you pleasure?"

"Oh yes, as much pleasure as it gives you."

"It doesn't give me pleasure. It makes me feel hot and I ache... "

Lion squeezed her breast again, running his thumbnail over the rosy tip. "So do I. That's
how pleasure starts." His thumb and forefinger began to pull teasingly at her pointed
nipple. How would it feel in his mouth when he sucked and teethed it? he wondered. The
thought caused his fingers to tighten with unconscious cruelty.

A shudder trembled through her and her gaze flew to his face.

His fingers instantly released her. "That was a mistake. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't. It just felt... odd."

Lion looked down at her. He knew he had gone far enough for now. Not nearly far
enough for him, he thought ruefully, but if he didn't leave her at this moment, he wouldn't
leave her for the night.

Cristo, why was he leaving her when he was rock hard and burning to be inside her sweet
tightness? So she wasn't ready for him, he would be gentle and--His lips tightened as he
realized he was lying to himself. He was too hungry for her and he could never control a
hunger such as this if he were between her thighs. He would go wild and drive and
plunge in a frenzy of lust until she would think him the same rutting dog as Ballano.

The comparison to Ballano caused him to reluctantly release her breast and draw his hand
from the velvet bodice. "Stand up," he said hoarsely.

Bright flags of color burned in her cheeks as she gazed at him in confusion.

"Stand up. It's done." His lips twisted in a smile. "For now."

She scrambled to her feet and took a step back. "You're not going to touch me anymore?"

He stood up and started for the door. "Undress and go to bed."

"Where?"

He gestured to the bed across the room. "Did you think I meant for you to sleep on a
blanket on the floor as Ballano did?"

"But that's your bed," she stammered.

"All the more reason for you to occupy it. My bed, my slave. Lorenzo says I have a very
possessive nature. If that's true, then I should enjoy seeing you in my bed when I return."

"Where are you going?"

"To Giulia's chamber." Lion's smile held a hint of cruelty. "I need a woman, and Giulia is
always accommodating. Unlike you, she knows how to take pleasure as well as give it.
She doesn't care what arouses me as long as I pleasure her enough. She'll even be grateful
to you."

"I don't think so." Sanchia frowned. "And perhaps she only pretends pleasure. I've heard
whores do that."

He looked at her blankly. He had never even considered that possibility. Could Giulia
really be...

Sanchia started to laugh.

Cristo, the little devil was needling him, he realized with astonishment. First she had
shown the most abject compliance, and now her face was alight with mischievous
laughter. A laughter so infectious that a reluctant smile appeared on his own lips. "I'll ask
her." His gaze met hers. "If you'll ask yourself if you were pretending."

Her laughter vanished as her long lashes quickly lowered to veil her eyes. "I told you--"

"That it wasn't pleasure," he finished for her. "Think about it when you're lying in bed
while I'm gone. I believe you'll discover it was pleasure you felt tonight." His voice
lowered to sensual softness. "And as you lie there know that I'm giving Giulia even more
pleasure, the pleasure you could have had." He turned to leave. "Sleep well, Sanchia."
The door closed with a firm click behind him.

Sanchia gazed wonderingly at the panels of the door. What a strange man he was. He had
wanted to take her in the same animal way Giovanni had used her mother. Nothing had
been clearer to her as he had sat there watching her while she was in the bath. Why had
he not done it? Women were always fair prey to a man whether they were slaves or free
women. Sometimes she had thought being a slave was even a little better. At least slaves,
as property, were usually provided food and a blanket to cover them. A free woman, if
she was comely, as often as not ended up in one of Caprino's brothels. If she was ugly,
she might starve in the streets.

When she had awakened to see Lord Andreas standing in the doorway of the storage
room, she had been filled with the greatest terror she had ever known. Not only because
of her fear of retribution, but because she could not read him. She sensed enormous
power and could not guess in which way it might be directed. His motives and actions
were an enigma, and that frightened her. She had always believed that to understand was
to conquer or at least survive, but without knowledge she was helpless.