The Wind Dancer (14 page)

"I hadn't noticed that it was the sun that was hot," Lorenzo murmured. "But I'll accept
any falsehood, if it will get me off this animal."

Lion ignored him as he dismounted and strode over to Sanchia. "Get down." He reached
up, his big hands encircling her waist. "Hurry."

The urgency in his tone surprised her until she saw his face. Her eyes widened and she
suddenly lost her breath. Lorenzo was right; it hadn't been anger driving him. The
expression on Lion's face held the same intense hunger she'd seen last night.

He almost jerked her from the saddle before setting her down quickly. His hands on her
waist kneaded her flesh through the soft fabric of her gown. The heat of his body reached
out to her, claiming her. "You wish to--"

"Be quiet." His voice was hoarse as he backed her against the mare. "Don't talk. Just give
me what I need." He jerked her gown from her shoulders, baring her breasts.

She gasped and then collapsed back against the mare as his mouth enveloped her left
nipple. He sucked avidly, strongly, his teeth pressed against her while his hand cupped
her other breast and began to squeeze rhythmically. The same liquid burning she had
known last night tingled between her thighs. Her eyes closed as her throat arched back,
her head resting against the mare's saddle. "Here? But Messer Lorenzo--"

"Is politely averting his eyes," Lion muttered as he lifted his head. Color flushed the tan
of his cheeks, and his nostrils flared with every breath. "And is more than pleased." He
grabbed Sanchia's wrist and pulled her away from the horses, striding from the trail and
deeper into the forest.

"Where are we going?" She had to run to keep up with him.

"Not far."

He stopped a few yards farther into the forest and pushed her against the bole of a tree.

Rough bark pressing against the soft velvet of her gown, the pungent scent of earth and
leaves and the leather of his jerkin...

His fingers worked frantically beneath his jerkin at the points of his hose until his
aroused shaft sprang free. "Don't fight me," he ordered as he lifted her skirts and
undershift to her waist. "Do as I tell you." His palms were cupping her buttocks, raising
her, adjusting her body against his manhood. "Put your legs around my waist."

Her thighs obediently encircled him. "I won't fight--" She broke off as he entered her
with one wild, urgent plunge. Her head sank back against the rough bark of the tree as
she felt every ridge, every inch of the wild, hot length of him.

He cried out and stopped, flexing within her. His face held a pleasure and relief that was
nearly unbearable. "
Dio
! Yes... yes." Then he was driving, plunging with a force that
rocked through her. Her shoulders were pushed back against the bole of the tree as he
took and took and took...

She should have been frightened by the violence of his hunger, but she wasn't afraid. She
was somehow aware that he didn't want to hurt her but was driven by that voracious
appetite of which he had warned her.

"Give..." He muttered. "Hurry. Give."

He wanted her to give him not only her body but the response she had shown last night,
she realized dimly.

He reached between them and pressed, his thumb and forefinger plucking at her. She
cried out and arched up to him.

"Now," he groaned in a guttural tone. "Now." He plunged deep.

She gave him what he wanted, what she was helpless to deny him. She bit her lower lip
to keep from screaming as wave after wave of pleasure radiated through her.

"That's right," he gasped, his hot cheek resting against her temple. "That's what I
wanted."

She had pleased him, she realized hazily. How fortunate that in pleasing herself she could
also please him.

His hand was awkwardly stroking her hair as his other arm held her bound to him, even
now refusing to let her escape his possession.

After a moment he slowly stepped back and lifted her off him. "I didn't mean to be rough.
I waited too long," he said haltingly. Then, as if regretting the half apology, he added,
"But you must get used to my ways, and now is as good a time as later." He quickly tied
the points of his hose before straightening her gown. "When I need you, then you must
take me into you. There will be many occasions when I won't be able to wait until we
find a bed."

"I understand."

"Good." He turned away. "Refresh yourself at the brook and then let's be on our way. I
want to be at Solinari well before nightfall."

Lorenzo was reclining lazily beneath a tree beside the path and pulled a face as he saw
them coming out of the woods. "Already? You were hotter than I thought, my friend. I
was hoping for a longer respite." He rose to his feet, meticulously dusting off his gray
velvet jerkin. "But perhaps we'll have another rest later." A ghost of a twinkle glinted in
his light eyes. "It's such a very hot day."

"We won't stop. Not until we've reached Solinari." Lion swung onto the stallion and
started down the trail.

"
Now
he's angry," Lorenzo said as he lifted Sanchia onto the mare. Then, as her gaze
flew down to his face in alarm, he shook his head. "Not with you. With himself. He
allowed you to distract him from his quest for the Wind Dancer. Not for long, but he still
considers it a weakness in himself that he won't tolerate. Personally, I find it a very good
sign for the future."

"Why?"

He gazed at her a moment, as if trying to decide whether to answer. "Because Lion's
sense of responsibility has become a form of bondage. He regards himself not only as the
guardian of the Wind Dancer but of everything in his particular world. I suppose it's not
surprising. I understand his father instilled that belief in him from the time he was hardly
more than a babe. In a way, the statue is a symbol of that bondage."

"Bondage? He's a great lord. Responsibility is not bondage."

"In some men it is." Lorenzo shrugged. "So keep him so aroused he can't think of
responsibilities, Sanchia. It's the best thing for both of you."

"I don't know how to keep him wanting me." Sanchia's cheeks felt hot. "And I don't know
if I'd want to make him forget his responsibilities. Surely it is only honorable to--"

Lorenzo groaned as he mounted his horse. "Santa Maria, another acolyte burning incense
at the temple of honor and glory. I thought you had more sense." He shook his head. "Oh
well, perhaps that's what draws him to you. Like to like."

Sanchia stared at him incredulously. "We're not at all alike."

"Yes, you are. But you, Sanchia, are also like me. It will be interesting to see which
aspect of your character triumphs in the end." He turned to look at her with cool
appraisal. "Power can be very heady. It may occur to you that it would be to your
advantage to use the passion Lion feels for you to rise in the world. I have nothing
against ambition, but I won't have Lion used. If you show signs of doing so, I will have to
remove you."

"I have no power over him."

"Continue in that belief and you'll remain in robust health."

"You care about him." The knowledge that a man as chillingly objective as Lorenzo
could care for anyone filled her with wonder. "Why?"

"Who knows?" His smile was self-mocking. "Do you wish me to mouth some maudlin
drivel about Lion being the man I would have been in other circumstances? Or even the
son I might have sired?" He shook his head. "What makes any man feel anything? Life is
filled with strange, exotic emotions, with great mysteries. Which is what makes it
tolerable." His horse moved forward at a faster clip as he touched his spurs to the
animal's sides.

It was late afternoon when they approached a small farmhouse on the edge of a clear blue
lake.

"We go no farther," Lion said as he reined in Tabron. "The village is only a short distance
from here, and Solinari lies just beyond it. I don't want word of our arrival to be carried
to the palazzo, so we'll wait here for Marco to come to us. I'll talk to the owner of this
farm and make arrangements for us to stay the night in his house."

"Who is Marco?" Sanchia asked.

"My brother." Lion dismounted and strode across the barnyard and into the small sod
farmhouse.

Another surprise. She really knew nothing about Lionello Andreas, she thought. Was this
brother as fierce as Lion and the mother who had borne them both? It was more than
probable. She experienced a sudden longing for blessedly familiar Florence where every
danger was at least known.

"Marco is not at all like Lion." Lorenzo's assurance came as if he had read her thoughts.
He dismounted, then helped her to do so too. "You may find him charming. Most women
do."

"It's not her place to find him charming." Lion had returned and was standing on the step.
"I have no intention of sharing Sanchia with him."

"How ungenerous of you," Lorenzo said. "Not to mention surprising. Why are you so
miserly with Sanchia when you're so willing to share--"

"The house looks clean enough," Lion interrupted. "I've paid the farmer for a night's
lodging, and he and his wife will go to his father's farm a few miles from here to shelter
tonight. The man will walk to the village to seek out word of Marco and give him a
message that we're here while the woman heats water for bathing."

"Excellent," Lorenzo said. "And since you're so fond of these four-footed beasts, I know
you won't mind taking care of the horses while I rest." He prudently didn't wait for a
reply but strode into the farm house.

Lion smiled lopsidedly as he gazed after Lorenzo. "He'd be very disappointed to realize
that I don't mind." He took the reins of the horses and led them toward the small barn.
"The hut has only one room, and there's going to be little privacy until we leave Solinari."
He glanced over his shoulder. "Why are you just standing there? Come with me to the
barn."

She finally understood and hurried after him. "You wish me to lie with you again?"

"If we can find a pile of hay or a blanket free of vermin." He opened the door to the small
barn, led the horses inside, and tied their reins to an empty stall. "Otherwise we'll have to
be content with a post to lean against." He suddenly stopped and turned to face her in the
shadowy barn. "It makes no difference. Nothing matters but this." His hands reached out,
moving over her shoulders as a great shudder ran through him. His gaze raked the barn
with frantic urgency until he saw a small heap of hay beside one of the stalls. "I wanted
you again not ten minutes after we left the brook. I ached with it. I ache now." He led her
quickly to the pile of hay and pushed her to her knees. "Make it stop." His voice was low,
fierce with frustration and anger. "Santa Maria, make it stop!"

He pushed up her skirt and took her with even more wildness than he had shown earlier
that afternoon and had scarcely reached the peak when he took her a second time,
drawing her with him into a vortex of fiery pleasure.

Lion moved off her, lying beside her on the hay, his chest laboring as he tried to catch his
breath. She was also panting, still trembling helplessly from the emotional storm through
which Lion had swept her.

"I hate this." Lion thrust his arm over his eyes, speaking through clenched teeth. "It won't
last, you know."

"I don't know. I don't know anything about this," Sanchia whispered. "But it seems to me
that if you hate it, you wouldn't do it." He didn't answer and she continued uncertainly,
"Is it any different with me than it is with Giulia Marzo?"

His arm fell away from his face to reveal dark eyes still glittering with resentment. He
smiled cruelly. "Of course; she's much better at it. Do you think I'd bother with you if she
were here?"

She felt a wrenching pain that took her off guard. "I'm sorry you don't find me adequate.
Perhaps if you'd tell me what I'm doing wrong... "

"What are you doing wrong?" His voice was suddenly savage as he jumped to his feet
and began unsaddling Tabron. "You're too tight around me, your nipples are too rosy and
pointed, your skin is too soft." He jerked the saddle from the stallion's back and dropped
it to the earthen floor. "And you stare at me as if I were going to devour you until I
cannot stop myself from doing it." He stood with his back to her, his head averted. "Take
off your clothes."

She gaped in amazement. He surely couldn't want her again already.

"Stand up and take off your clothes!"

She scrambled to her feet and hurriedly pulled off her gown, slippers, and undershift.

"Come here."

She walked toward him, her gaze fixed anxiously on his averted face.

He turned his head and his gaze went over her body searching out every curve and
hollow, every secret place. "Mine," he said hoarsely, his nostrils flaring. "Every bit of
you is mine for as long as I care to keep you. Do you understand?"

She nodded quickly.

His hands reached out and cupped her breasts. "Mine. No one is to touch you. You will
not let anyone lay his hand on you." His hands moved to the tight curls protecting her
womanhood. "Never. You will give no other man so much as a smile unless I bid it."

His voice was so fierce she could do nothing but stare up at him helplessly.

"Say it. You belong to me."

"I... belong to you."

"No man will ever touch you but me."

"No man will ever touch me but you."

He seemed curiously tormented as he stared down into her face. Then his hands dropped
away from her body and he turned away. "Now you can stop looking at me with those big
frightened eyes and get out of here. Put on your gown and go to the house."

She stumbled back away from him and swiftly started to dress. "I could help you with the
horses."

"Go to the house."

She walked across the earthen floor and glanced back over her shoulder as she reached
the door. Lion hadn't moved; his spine was taut with tension. "I'm not really frightened of
you any longer. I was at first, but I don't think you mean me harm."