The Wind Dancer

by Iris Johansen

  Lust seared him, twisting through his groin in a scalding tide as he realized that the man in his imagination, the man at whom she was gazing, the man she was ready to receive into her body, was not Giovanni Ballano.

  It was himself.

  He abruptly rose to his feet. "Wash her hair," he muttered as he turned away. "And then bring her to my chamber."

  Lorenzo followed Lion from Giulia's room, down the hall, and into Lion's chamber. He strolled to the table across the room and poured a stream of red wine from a silver pitcher into two goblets. "Have a little wine." He turned to hand one of the goblets to Lion, his gaze flicking mockingly to Lion's lower body. "I think you need cooling."

  "Is that why you took me to 'intercede'?" Lion sat down in the large chair by the window. "What game are you playing at now, Lorenzo?"

  "I don't know what you mean." Lorenzo gazed at him with limpid innocence. "Your little street urchin seemed very concerned about learning what and who you are, and I thought it would be a kindness to throw you both into a situation where revelations would naturally occur." He smiled. "Which they did. I had no idea Sanchia would be so alluring. She has truly exquisite breasts."

  "Yes." Lion's hand tightened on the stem of his goblet as the memory of Sanchia clad only in wisps of steam and cloudy water returned to him. "But I didn't buy her to occupy my bed."

  "I know. Which makes the possibilities all the more intriguing." Lorenzo dropped onto the embroidered cushions of the chair by the table and raised his goblet to his lips. "I look forward with great anticipation to watching developments between the two of you."

  "You mean you look forward to watching us writhe on the stake you're trying to skewer us with," Lion said dryly. "I doubt if we'll furnish you with as much pleasure as you hope. I don't know why you foresee my bedding Sanchia to be in any way unusual when I've had more women than I can count in these last years."

  "Ah, but there's one difference. You own Sanchia. She belongs to you." Lorenzo's gaze narrowed with satisfaction on Lion's face. "And no one in this world is more possessive than you, Lion. You can't bear to let anything you own be taken away from you. Look how you're moving heaven and earth to get the Wind Dancer back, and it's only a statue."

  Lion's fingers tightened on the stem of the goblet. "It's more than a statue."

  "To your family perhaps." Lorenzo shrugged. "To you it's some kind of holy relic you guard and protect. To me it seems more like a beautiful siren luring men to destruction."

  "Sanchia isn't the Wind Dancer."

  "No, but as your property she's bound to arouse the same instincts." Lorenzo sipped his wine, smiling at Lion over the rim of the goblet. "What do you think will happen when you take her to Mandara?"

  "I'm not taking her to Mandara."

  Lorenzo lifted a brow. "She said you told her you were taking her there."

  "That was before I... " Lion trailed off, his dark brows knotting in a fierce frown as he took a long swallow of wine.

  "Before you decided to take her to your bed?"

  Lion met his gaze. "Yes." The intention that had been forming since the moment he had seen Sanchia in the hip bath was suddenly made. "Why not? As you say, she belongs to me."

  "There's no reason at all why you shouldn't take her." Lorenzo looked down into the ruby depths of his wine. "I thoroughly approve."

  "Which should immediately make me wary. Why do you want Sanchia to become my mistress?"

  "I admire her."

  Lion gazed at him in astonishment. He couldn't remember the last time Lorenzo had indicated he felt anything positive for a stranger. True, admiration wasn't liking, but the confession was still out of the ordinary.

  Lorenzo noticed his surprise. "No, it's true. She reminds me of myself when I was growing up in the streets of Naples. She fights with every weapon she has to survive and invents new ones when the old ones don't win the day." He shrugged. "It's a pity she has such a soft heart. It's a weakness that will probably destroy her."

  "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, t
he 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.

  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.