The Wind Dancer (23 page)

Her words finally dwindled, slowed and then ceased altogether.

"Is it over?" His voice was harsh, strained.

She nodded jerkily. "That's all." She turned her face away from him. She felt lighter, she
realized in surprise. As if in some mysterious fashion Lion had managed actually to lift a
portion of those hideous memories from her own mind and into his.

"Thank God!" He jerked her back into his arms and held her crushed against him, his
fingers buried in her hair. His chest was moving in and out as if he were running, but
there was no passion in his embrace. "I did notlike this. It hurt me."

She found herself laughing shakily. "It hurt me, too." The laughter brought its own easing
and diminished Damari's importance in her memory as nothing else would have done.

"I know," he said thickly, then he was pushing her away, his gaze on her face. "Can't you
see that it must not happen again? You belong to me and I must protect--"

"I don't belong to you." Yet even as she spoke she realized she felt more bound to him in
this moment than when she had held him within her body. She took a panicky step
backward. "I belong to no one but myself. I will--"

His hand quickly covered her mouth. "We will not talk about it now. Can you not be
still?"

She took another step back and turned her face to elude his hand. "I have no choice, if
you persist in covering my mouth with that huge paw," she said tartly. "If you do not
wish to hear me speak, then leave me."

He stood looking at her with a scowl. "I don't want to leave you."

Sanchia felt an irrational rush of relief. She found she no longer wanted to be alone and
Lion's presence was bringing its own rough comfort. "Then you must let me speak when
I wish to speak."

Humor banished the frown from Lion's face. "I've done little else but listen since the
moment I came on deck." He took her elbow and propelled her across the deck. "Come."

She tried to pull away from him. "Where are you taking me?"

"Here." He had stopped at the steps leading to the forecastle and now pushed her down
on the second step. "Sit." His smile held a hint of little boy mischief. "Did you think I
was dragging you to my bed? I'm trying to prove what a patient man I can be. You're safe
from me for now." He jerked his head toward the seaman at the tiller a few yards away.
"And, since I have no intention of sharing you, it would be cruel to him to take you here
in front of him."

She glanced at him curiously. "Have you ever shared a woman with other men?"

He shrugged. "Many times. There are never quite enough camp followers to go around."

He saw the distaste on her face and his own expression hardened as he dropped down on
the step beside her. "Yes, I've whored, and killed, and even taken women against their
will." He saw her go rigid and continued, "What did you expect? I'm no gentle courtier
like Marco. I'm only a rough soldier. When a town is taken, the women are part of the
prize."

"It still doesn't make it right," she said clearly. "How did you feel when you were doing
it?"

"You get used to it." He paused. "Most of it." He was silent for a moment, remembering,
before admitting, "Though only once did I take a woman when she wasn't willing. I was
fourteen and drunk with power and victory and hurting for a woman. She was a
merchant's wife I found hiding in a shop. I thought, why not? No one else hesitated to
take what was theirs by right. I had even seen my father ease himself with comely
women, apparently uncaring whether they were willing or unwilling." He hesitated for an
instant and then burst out, "But I had no liking for it. Her eyes were empty and she
wept.... I could not please her. I kept her with me until the condotti left the city and gave
her money when we parted. I let no one else touch her but--" He broke off and said
again, "I had no liking for it."

Sanchia said nothing.

He turned on her as fiercely as if she had attacked him. "I make no excuses. I am what I
am and I do what I have to do. I have little gentleness but I'm honest and return what I'm
given, be it good or evil. You must accept me as I am."

She was startled by his sudden intensity. "Why are you telling me this?"

Conflicting emotions darkened his face. "I don't know." He smiled crookedly. "You have
a strange effect on me. Lorenzo says I have a great need to go to confession. Perhaps I
want you to absolve what cannot be absolved."

Her gaze dropped from his face and silence fell between them again.

"You didn't like being a soldier?" she asked finally.

He shrugged. "I knew nothing else from the time I was a boy. I did it well. My father was
pleased with me."

"But you didn't like it?" she insisted. "Is that why you gave up your condotti and began to
build ships?"

"The sea has always been in our blood. It was not until my family came from Persia to
Italy over a hundred years ago that we moved inland away from the coast." He made a
face. "We are not farmers by nature and did not prosper. So my great-grandfather took up
the sword. War suited us much better than tilling the land, and we grew rich on it."

"But you gave it up."

"We were rich enough, and I was tired of noblemen who paid me to do battle for them
one day and then hired someone to steal my fee the next." He leaned back against the
step, his gaze on the sails billowing in the wind. "Then one day I was on the docks in
Venice watching a ship from Madagascar sail into port. I had spent the morning
squeezing the last half of my fee from the signory coffers and I was sickened to death of
the Serenissima."He smiled reminiscently. "The wind was lifting the sails, and I could
smell the scent of the sea and the cargo of cinnamon being unloaded and suddenly I
knew--" He broke off and turned to face her. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

"It's unlikely." She paused, her eyes never leaving his. "Knew what?"

He stood up and reached down to pull her to her feet. "I knew it was time that we
returned to the sea where we belonged."

"But why shipbuilding? Why not exploring or trading?"

He shook his head. "We've talked enough. Go to bed."

Sanchia felt a sharp thrust of disappointment. For the first time since she had met him,
Lion was becoming more human and less the powerful enigma to her. She was reluctant
to let that fleeting glimpse of him out of her sight for fear it would fade away. "I'm not
sleepy."

"Neither am I." He added bluntly, "But my body is readying and if you don't want to take
me, then leave me now." He smiled faintly as he saw her eyes widen. "Did you think I no
longer lusted for you? It's always with me when you are near. You must accept that too."

"I must accept only what I wish to accept."

"What you choose to accept," he amended with soft emphasis. "I can make you 'wish' to
accept me."

She gazed up at him, feeling a familiar stirring between her thighs. No, she would not
feel like this. She was no longer his leman and must not yield him any response or he
would seize on it. "Then I choose not to accept you. I don't want--" She broke off as she
met his knowing gaze. "Release me, Lion."

"Come to my bed, Sanchia."

"I cannot."

"And I will not."

She felt a surge of desperation as she looked at him. His expression was without mercy,
completely implacable. She wished she had gone to her cabin as he had bade her when he
had first come on deck. Before he had shown her comfort, before he had let her glimpse
the raw brutality of the life that had carved those jagged edges and helped to make him
what he was. Now, though she could not condone, she could understand and, through that
understanding, she was drawn to him. "I won't stay in Genoa, you know. I'll run away
from you."

He stiffened. "Don't be foolish. You'll be safe in Genoa. Damari won't trouble himself to
go so far to seek you out, and I'll make sure you're settled in comfortable lodgings before
I leave."

"And when you return?" Sanchia shook her head. "If you want a strumpet, go back to
Giulia Marzo and free me."

"I won't free you."

"Then you'll have to send someone to hunt me down. I won't be here when you return."
She gazed at him beseechingly. "Why will you not free me? You said you wouldn't be
able to bear slavery yourself, that you would run away."

He stiffened. "You know the punishment I could mete out for such a crime?"

"You think I'm afraid of punishment?" She smiled bitterly. "I've learned to deal with
pain; Damari was an excellent tutor." She shook her head. "And you would not hurt me."

"You're very sure."

"Yes, so do not threaten what you won't execute, Lion. I do not fear you any longer."

Lion's expression reflected both anger and frustration. "Perhaps I'll have to change my
ways. I've obviously become too predictable." He turned on his heel and strode across the
deck. "You're a very troublesome woman." He yelled to the seaman at the tiller, "Turn
the ship around, dammit. We're returning to Pisa."

"Pisa." Sanchia gazed at him with the same astonishment shown by the sailor at the helm,
who was hurrying to do Lion's bidding. "We're only a day away from Genoa."

"And you've just told me you'll run away from Genoa as soon as I sail out of the harbor."
His lips tightened. "So I'm keeping you with me."

"In Pisa?"

"I'm going to Pisa only to dock. I can't stay there. I have to make sure Damari hasn't
launched an attack on Mandara."

"But Lorenzo said that was extremely unlikely."

"Mandara belongs to me. I have to be sure."

"Then you're taking me to Mandara?"

"You've given me no choice."

The moonlight was strong and full on his face, and Sanchia had never seen a more grim
expression on it.

"Yes," he said, "I'm taking you to Mandara."

"There's Mandara, Sanchia." Lorenzo reined in his horse and leaned forward in the
saddle, his gaze intent on the walled city in the distance. An odd eagerness warmed the
usual remoteness of his features. "It's not as far as it looks. We should be there within
thirty minutes."

Lion cast him a less than pleased glance over his shoulder. "Which should make you
exceedingly happy."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it does bring me a good deal of satisfaction." For once there was
no mockery in Lorenzo's voice. "Though I'm not at all sure there is any such emotion as
happiness." He shrugged. "But there are many words that have no meaning for me."

"It's beautiful." From this slight rise in the foothills Sanchia could see both the walled
city of Mandara and, to the north, a large vineyard in the valley. Her gaze shifted to the
castle that dominated the city. Her grip unconsciously tightened on the reins and the mare
tossed her head in protest. Sanchia deliberately forced herself to relax. She should not be
intimidated at the thought of meeting Lion's mother. The woman posed no threat to her.
Lion had told Sanchia that she was not even to go to the castle but to occupy a small
house in the town itself. It would be obvious to the Lady Caterina that Sanchia's place in
Lion's life was too minuscule to be of any importance to her, and she would doubtless
ignore her.

She would find a way to leave Mandara. A surge of dismay accompanied the thought as
she looked at the high stone walls of the city. Escaping from Lion had proved impossible
since they had landed in Pisa and might prove equally difficult now that she was to enter
his own domain.

"Give it up, Sanchia."

She turned to see Lion's gazed fixed on her face. "You'll not leave Mandara."

"You're wrong. I'll find a way." Sanchia's gaze shifted back to the castle. "You forget that
I'm a very good thief. You'll have difficulty keeping me locked up."

"I don't have to keep you locked up. No keys are needed here. You'll notice the moat and
drawbridge and the city gates are guarded by my own men." He smiled pleasantly. "And
I'll be careful to tell those guards that I'll be forced to emasculate them if they allow you
to step outside the gates of Mandara."

"I think that should prove more than persuasive," Lorenzo said mildly. "Lion's right. Give
it up, Sanchia."

She didn't answer as she spurred her horse down the incline toward the distant city.

The gates of Mandara were flung open when they were still some distance away, and two
riders rode out of the city. One rider on a huge gray horse immediately spurred ahead of
the other and approached them at a hard gallop.

"It seems we're to be honored by a personal escort," Lorenzo murmured. "The Lady
Caterina."

Sanchia tensed, her gaze on the rider galloping toward them. She could not distinguish
the woman's features from this distance, but there was no doubt this was an illustrissima,
a great lady. She rode with her spine straight, her carriage indomitable and with the same
driving force and skill as her son, Lion. Since the lady was on horseback it was difficult
to determine her size, but she appeared tall and slim, her shoulders broad beneath a
crimson velvet cloak.

"Courage, Sanchia." Lorenzo's gaze never left the approaching rider. "At least, she's left
her mace at home."

"Sanchia won't need courage," Lion said as he urged Tabron forward a few paces. "My
mother will do her no harm."

Lorenzo snorted derisively but said no more.

Caterina Andreas reined in her gray stallion a few yards from where Lion sat waiting and
Sanchia unconsciously braced herself. Lion's mother needed no weapons to impress and
intimidate.

The lady Caterina's features were too strong to be considered beautiful, her jaw too long,
her chin too firm, her brows a feminine version of Lion's black slashing ones. She had the
bold, authoritative manner of a man, yet there was nothing masculine about the
sculptured beauty of her high cheekbones nor the dauntless spirit in her fine dark eyes.
Her glossy black hair was threaded with silver but her face was firm and virtually
unlined.