He found what he sought and began to gently press and rotate.
Her eyes widened with shock as she gave a little cry.
He was a huge, dark shadow bending over her, his expression intent, his lips parted to take in more air as his massive chest labored with the harshness of his breathing. His face was a devil’s mask above her as the glow of the firelight lit only one side of his face leaving the other in darkness.
Darkness. Flame. Hunger.
She bit her lower lip to suppress a moan as the unbelievable ripples of feeling spread from his gloved finger to every part of her body. It was hunger, she realized dazedly, a hunger more terrible than any she had ever known. She couldn’t bear it. She instinctively tried to close her thighs.
“No!” He stopped her, moving her thighs even farther apart until she felt totally vulnerable, totally exposed. His finger continued to press gently as he gazed down at her. “I want to look at you.” His tone was almost guttural. “Beautiful …” His other hand moved down and he inserted one finger carefully within her. “Dio, you’re tight.” A second finger joined the first with some difficulty and he paused, his gaze lifting to her face. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
The seams of the leather gloves pressing against her, his fingers invading her, the burning hunger increasing every second. She shook her head helplessly. “I … can’t.” She gasped and instinctively arched up against him as he plunged deeper, withdrew and plunged again. “Please, my lord—”
“What do you feel?” he demanded.
Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. “Heat.” Her nails dug into the coverlet. “Hardness. The leather is …” The muscles of her stomach clenched as a third finger slipped into her. “Fullness.”
“And hunger?” He moved slowly, then faster, then slowly again. “You want this?”
“Yes.” The affirmative was a whisper. She was surprised she could speak.
“It’s pleasure?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good.” His fingers left her and he straightened and stepped back away from the bed. “Let’s hope you’ll soon know so, for I can’t wait any longer.” He drew off the leather gauntlets and threw them aside. “Santa Maria, I want to feel you.” He touched her breasts, his long fingers light and gentle on her flesh. A shudder ran through him. “I told you,” he whispered. “I knew it would be like this.” His callused palm cupping her breasts was nearly as hard as the leather of the glove, but it was infinitely different. His flesh was warmer, vibrant with life. “Your skin is like nothing I’ve ever touched before. It makes me—” He threw back his head, drawing in a great breath as if starved for air. “I’ll show you how it makes me.” He pulled her to a sitting position on the bed and began to strip off his clothing.
She crouched on her knees on the bed, her arms crossing her breasts in an attempt to still her trembling. “You’re undressing too?”
He didn’t look at her as he pulled off his boots. “As quickly as possible.”
“Giovanni never undressed when he took my moth—” She broke off as he cast her a stormy glance. “I can’t help comparing you. He was my master. Now you’re my master. My acquaintance is not so large that—” She stopped, her eyes widening as his rampant arousal sprang free when he pulled off his black hose. She swallowed and moistened her lips. He was not like Giovanni at all. Naked now, Lion was all iron muscles and brawny power. The triangle of springy dark hair thatching his chest ended in a V before it reached the flatness of his stomach, but another thatch surrounded his manhood. Where Giovanni was soft and flabby, Lion was taut and muscular. Where Giovanni was small, Lion was—
“You see?” Lion asked softly as his gaze followed her own. “This is what you do to me. Looking at you, touching you …”
“I see.” She couldn’t keep her gaze off him. She stated positively, “You won’t fit, you know.”
He chuckled. “I’ll fit very well. A woman’s body is marvelously accommodating. After the first time it won’t even hurt.”
She had grave doubts his assurances would prove true but, since there was clearly nothing she could do, it would be foolish to worry about possible pain until it happened. Besides, she was still feeling the tingling urgency between her thighs that tempered her fears with curiosity and excitement. “You look very … strong.”
“I notice you don’t call me handsome.” He threw the hose aside and stepped forward. “I know well I’m an ugly bastard. But, as you say, I’m strong as a bull and that can be of use in such jousts as this.”
“You’re not ugly.”
He smiled cynically. “You learn the arts of flattery quickly. However, sweet words are futile when I have a mirror to look into each morning.”
He didn’t believe her, Sanchia realized. “No, truly, I do not—” She broke off as he knelt on the bed facing her. He was so close her nipples brushed the thatch of hair on his chest.
He cupped her face in his hands as he gazed down at her with an expression that hinted at anger. “I don’t want this. I have no liking for taking virgins.”
“Then don’t do it.”
“Easy words.” His hands moved down to her shoulders and began to knead her flesh with yearning tenderness. “I must do it. From the moment I saw you I knew I must have you like this.”
“Not from the first moment. Only when you saw me in the bath and found I wasn’t as ugly as you thought.”
“Cristo, must you always argue with me?” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “I like you better when the only sounds you make are gasps and moans.”
Obediently, she kept silent. What was he waiting for? she wondered. She could feel the unbearable tension gripping his body and yet she also sensed reluctance.
“And don’t look at me like that.” He shook her. “I don’t want to hurt you, dammit. It will bring me no pleasure, but I must …” He pushed her back on the bed and moved between her thighs. His arousal nudged against the center of her womanhood as he muttered, “One stroke and it will be over.” He covered her lips with his palm. “One stroke …”
He drew a deep breath and lunged forward.
Pain. White hot. Lightning swift. Her cry was smothered by his hand but her eyes widened with shock and agony as they gazed up at him.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded roughly as he eased farther into her tight passage. “Don’t look at me.”
Her lids fell and she was in darkness. The pain was fading, and she was conscious only of an exquisite fullness and a sense of something lost that had been found. She could feel the soft prickle of the hair dusting Lion’s thighs brushing the smoothness of her own and heard the harsh sound of his breathing above her.
He was still, filling her completely but not moving. “It’s done.” His palm petted her, smoothing her around him. “Dio, you’ve taken all of me. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do it. You’re so tiny …” His finger began to press and circle that bewitching place he’d fondled before. A hot shiver ran through her and she could feel the muscles of her stomach clench. A moment before she had felt pinned, staked to Lion’s body and content only to accept, but suddenly now she felt the need for something more. “May I … move?”
He froze. “I cannot stop.” His voice was savage with frustration. “I’ll try to hurry but I cannot promise.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. I wished only—” She broke off as he drew out and then plunged forward. Pleasure streaked through her. This was what Lion had meant, she thought dazedly as he began a wild, pounding rhythm. This must be the pleasure men felt when they fornicated with a woman. She wished Lion hadn’t condemned her to darkness. She would have liked to watch his face to see if he was feeling the same pleasure as she.
Yet he must be enjoying her body for he was shuddering, trembling as he moved, his breath coming in sharp gasps that resembled sobs. The intensity of his need filled her with a heady excitement and increased her own hunger tenfold. It was as if he were feeding her his frustrated desire for completi
on and somehow making it her own.
He was petting her again, his big hands trembling, urgent. “Take me,” he muttered. “Help me. I want all of you.”
He sounded like a man in agony, she thought with a rush of maternal tenderness. What must it be like to feel desire with such overwhelming intensity? She clenched around him and heard Lion give a low groan.
“Sweet … That’s right. Hold me. Only a little longer.”
She tried to hold him but he was too wild, out of control, almost lifting her from the bed with the force of his thrusts. She was suddenly conscious of something building within her, growing stronger with every movement. Something … strange, coiling toward fever heat.
Lion was moving her, shifting her, trying to take more of her. The hotness pouring through her was a clear stream of pure desire. Then the stream merged with Lion’s until there was only one river, one entity striving to reach … to reach what?
Then she knew!
The knowledge broke over her in a release of rapture that left her gasping and shivering in the shimmering aftermath.
Lion cried out thickly as if strangling on a surfeit of pleasure.
The silence in the room was broken only by the crackle of burning logs in the fireplace and Lion’s harsh breathing above her.
“May I open my eyes now?”
She heard his breathing become arrested and then he muttered a low curse beneath his breath. “Gran Dio.” Then he was moving off her. “Of course you can open your eyes. Why the hell shouldn’t you?”
Her eyes opened to see him striding across the room, the muscles of his tight buttocks rippling as he moved toward the washstand. Slowly she sat up and gave a wistful sigh. He was angry again. She wished she’d been allowed a few moments more to enjoy this odd sweet languor before having to gather herself to try to understand what was troubling him. “Because you told me you didn’t want me to look at you.”
“That was because I didn’t want to see your—” He broke off and kept his gaze averted as he dipped a cloth into the water in the basin and wrung it out. “I didn’t mean you had to keep them closed. Have you no sense?”
“I don’t know you well enough to always know what you want from me,” she said simply. “I thought perhaps it made your pleasure greater if I didn’t distract you by looking at you.”
“No, it wasn’t that.” He averted his gaze as he turned and came back to the bed carrying the damp cloth. He sat down on the bed and moved the cool cloth between her legs. His gaze remained fixed on the cloth as he asked in a low voice, “Does it still hurt?”
“There’s a little soreness.” She shrugged. “I thought it would hurt much more. You’re right; a woman’s body is very accommodating.”
“Yes.” His hand moved caressingly and she could feel the warmth of his flesh through the coolness of the cloth. “I’ve never known a body as sweetly accommodating. You’re so small it was like handling a child and yet you’re a woman here.” He abruptly threw the cloth aside, pushed her back on the bed and stood up. “Sleep. I won’t want you again tonight.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t think you would. Giovanni never took my mother more than once a day.”
“Then I fear your lot will not be as easy as that of your mother.” He moved back to the hearth to stare into the depths of the fire. “I told you I was different.”
And she was learning those differences, she thought drowsily. He gave pleasure as well as took it and, since she was to become his leman, she was glad it was so. Perhaps after she learned the way of it she could perform this duty as well as she had the tasks she had been given by Giovanni. It was important to have pride in your work.
Sleep persisted in closing in around her, but she forced her lids to remain open to ask, “I did not displease you?”
He was silent a moment, gazing into the fire. When he spoke his voice was muffled. “No, you didn’t displease me.”
“I’ll get better at it.” Her eyes closed and she turned and curled up on her side. “I learn quickly. Show me how and I’ll find ways to please you. Show me …”
She had drifted off to sleep. Lion didn’t have to turn his head to know she was no longer with him. His senses were still so acutely attuned to her physical responses that he believed he was aware of the actual second when she slid from the state of wakefulness to the depths of sleep. Why in Hades should this be so when he had never been similarly attuned to any other woman? Yet, in some mysterious fashion, he had experienced her pain when he had robbed her of her virginity, he had felt her yielding and then the first stirring of response. It was as if he had somehow absorbed her into himself. Sweet Mary, it was all madness.
Show me, she had said. His lips twisted in a mirthless smile as he remembered the plea. There would be no question he would show her all the ways a man could take a woman. Even now he was stone hard and yearning to be back in the tightness that had cradled him and made him never want to leave. He desperately wished to wake her now and move once more between her thighs. There was no reason he should not do it, he told himself. She wanted to please him. She would not complain if he used her a score of times this night.
She would not complain because she was not free to complain.
She wanted to please him because to please him was to survive.
He whirled and strode back to the bed. He lay down beside Sanchia, stretching out full length, careful not to touch her. He stared straight ahead, his muscles locked, his groin aching and heavy. Perhaps the soreness she was feeling would be gone in the morning.
He would lie beside her and think of all the ways he would take her tomorrow.
For he knew well that he would not sleep tonight.
“Solinari.” Caprino’s brow furrowed in a thoughtful frown. “You’re sure he said Solinari?”
“I’m sure.” Giulia turned and lifted the lid of the exquisitely carved ivory box on the table and dropped the five ducats into the velvet-lined interior. “I seldom make mistakes when it means ducats.”
“You waited long enough to tell me. I may not even be able to use the information now.”
She avoided his gaze as she seated herself beside the table. “I was busy.”
“Or soft?” Caprino suggested silkily. “It couldn’t be that you wanted your ducats and to give Andreas his chance too?”
“I was busy,” she repeated. Her gaze lifted to his face. “You know who is lord of Solinari?”
“Yes, and so do you. Francisco Damari. You should remember the name. We did some business with him some nine months ago.”
“Oh, yes, I remember Damari, it was the name of his palazzo I’d forgotten. You handled the negotiations and the transporting.” She grimaced. “If I’d known it was Damari, I might not have summoned you at all. You promised me he’d send Laurette back in six weeks. It wasn’t easy to replace her.”
“Accidents happen.” Caprino shrugged. “You knew there was a risk when you let him have her, but he paid enough for his pleasure to persuade you to take that chance.”
“I notice you didn’t send him one of your whores.”
“Damari wanted only the best, as is common in these condottieri who raise themselves up from the peasantry. He would have been insulted if I’d sent him one of my women. Besides, I had none so uniquely qualified as your Laurette. Most women are regrettably squeamish about having pain inflicted on them.”
“He had no right to kill her. As you say, she was unique.” Giulia made an impatient movement with her hand. “But I suppose there’s no way to force him to recompense me now. Solinari is where you sent her? I knew I’d heard the name before.”
Caprino nodded. “Solinari is his palazzo, but he has lodgings in Pisa as well. The question is where to find him now.” He was silent a moment, thinking. “I’ll send Santini with a warning to the palazzo first, but if he isn’t there, tell him to go to find Damari in Pisa.”
She looked at him in surprise. “A warning? When have you ever given a warning that was not p
aid for?”
“Since you gave me no time to negotiate.” A snarl edged Caprino’s tone. “I’m not going to forgive you for that, Giulia.”
“If you have nothing to gain, why bother to send a messenger?”
“Oh, but I do have something to gain. Damari will be in my debt, and it’s always valuable to have a man who is on the rise in the world owe you favors.”
Giulia laughed. “You trust Damari to honor a debt?”
“Perhaps.” He smiled. “But if he doesn’t, I’ll still win if he captures little Sanchia. And you’ll win, too, Giulia. Rumor has it that you weren’t pleased about your hulking lover’s acquisition of my little thief. What do you think Damari will do when he lays hands on her?”
Giulia knew very well what a man of Damari’s perverse tastes would do to a woman who angered him. For a moment she felt a remote sympathy for Lion’s slave. The anger Giulia had felt toward Sanchia had vanished when she had set aside her attachment for Lion. One emotion could not exist without the other, and she would allow neither to get in the way of what was important to her. “You hate her so much?”
“Hate?” He looked astonished. “She’s not worthy of my hatred, but she must be made an example. If word got out that she’d bested me, it would cause endless trouble in the streets. I’m not like Damari, who loves punishment for punishment’s sake. For me, revenge must have purpose or it’s not worthwhile.” He turned away. “I bid you a profitless night, Giulia, and may the man to whom you give your favors have the same tastes as Damari. I’m not at all pleased at your delay.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the man who occupies my bed tonight is gentle as an untried boy and trembles at my every frown.” She smiled sweetly as she stood up. “And in the morning he will gift me with a jewel that will make you drool like a street mongrel in front of the butcher’s shop.”
“Very different from Andreas.” Caprino opened the door. “How fortunate for you.”
The Wind Dancer/Storm Winds Page 10
