The Wind Dancer (30 page)

It was more than liking, Sanchia realized. There was an intensity, an excitement in his
expression she had never seen there before. "But you talk of merchants and cargoes, not
explorations."

"Commerce feeds discovery. Would Queen Isabella have given Columbus his ships if she
hadn't believed there would be riches for her at the end of his journey? The clink of coins
is a siren call and I'm not such a fool that I want to go begging myself. A balance can be
struck that will give me both." He grinned. "As you can see, I'm an exceptionally greedy
man."

He reached up and took the second scroll from the table and spread it out on the floor.
"This is the plan for the round ship I'm building at the yard in Marseilles."

She vaguely remembered he had said he was away in France when the Wind Dancer was
stolen. "Why did you purchase a shipyard so far away?"

"There's little interference from the local magistrates such as we suffer here, and the
guilds are more concerned with the excellence of their members' workmanship and less
with their contributions to charity. I've hired a fine shipwright there who will oversee the
building of the ships. I expect better production there within the year than in the yard at
Pisa."

She hid a smile as he went on in depth with the problems of dealing with the guilds and
sailmakers and caulkers. He was so absorbed in describing his ships and the procedures
for their construction that he seemed to overlook completely the fact she couldn't
possibly comprehend half of what he was explaining to her.

"Then you have to consider the problem of battle engagements. The galley is better built
to withstand attack, but the round ship is better in the attack itself. You must weigh the
two and decide which is best for you."

"I shall do so," she said solemnly. "As soon as I have the ducats to commission the
building of either."

He glanced up with a sheepish smile. "I think you're laughing at me. I'm accustomed to it.
Lorenzo finds my enthusiasm very amusing."

It was not enthusiasm, it was a passion, and she was suddenly no longer amused but
touched that he would share it with her. "I find it interesting but naturally a little
confusing. You're trying to teach me in one afternoon everything you've learned in two
years."

He nodded. "I told you I wasn't a patient man."

"I've noticed that lack in you."

He frowned and then suddenly smiled. "You're laughing at me again. I haven't seen you
amused since before Solinari."

He was right, she realized with a start of surprise.

"You told me once that you wouldn't let the threat of Caprino rob you of joy," Lion said
softly. "Don't let what Damari did to you rob you either, Sanchia. You don't want to give
him such a victory."

She gazed at him for a moment and then smiled brilliantly. "No, I don't. I won't let that
whoreson take one more thing from me than he already has." She looked down at the
plan for the round ship. "Now tell me why this is shaped so differently from the galley."

Lion's gaze rested on her face for a thoughtful moment and then he too glanced down at
the scroll and he began to answer her question.

Lion stayed for the rest of the afternoon, but not once did he touch her or betray any hint
of intimacy in his speech or manner. When Piero returned to the house he conversed for a
few minutes with the boy and then rose to leave.

"Your designs," Sanchia reminded him as she scrambled to her feet and reached for the
scrolls.

"Put them in that cabinet." Lion nodded to the polished oak cabinet across the room. "I'll
return tomorrow."

She smiled. "You wish to tutor me again in the craft of shipbuilding?"

"No, tomorrow I'll bring something else to show you."

She was lost in bemusement after he left. What an extraordinary afternoon it had been,
and what revelations of himself Lion had permitted her. She felt more at ease with him
than she ever had before and had been oddly reluctant to see him go.

"Shall I put them away for you, Sanchia?" Piero asked, his gaze on the scrolls in her
hands.

"What?" She roused herself and smiled down at him. "No, I'll do it." She crossed the
room, opened the cabinet, and placed the scrolls very carefully on the shelf inside. The
scrolls were constructed not only of parchment and ink, but of Lion's dreams. Dreams
should be well taken care of in a world where so few were realized. She closed the
cabinet and, smiling, turned back to Piero. "Did you enjoy your ride? Where did you go?"

At first glance she recognized the mahogany chest Lion carried. How could she possibly
forget it?

"The Wind Dancer?" she whispered.

He nodded as he kicked the door shut behind him and carried the chest into the salon. He
set the chest on the table and opened the lid. "You suffered much for it. I thought you'd
like to see it." He lifted the golden statue out of the box and carefully set it on the table.
"The Wind Dancer."

She could see why Marco had thought the statue was alive when he had first seen it as a
child. The muscles of the winged horse seemed to flex and flow with life beneath the
burnished smoothness of the gold. It issued an irresistible invitation to be touched. Marco
had forgotten to tell her the emerald eyes were faceted in such a way that they shimmered
as if with an ever-changing expression.

She gazed at the Wind Dancer in silent absorption for several moments before moving
slowly across the room to stand before it. She touched the base of the statue with a
tentative finger. "It's... beautiful. What are these carvings?"

He shrugged. "Some sort of ancient script. It's said there was once a clay tablet that
accompanied the Wind Dancer and that one of my ancestors carved the message from the
tablet onto the base of the statue after the tablet was broken."

"What does the writing mean?"

"No one knows. Perhaps we'll never know." Lion affectionately touched one filigreed
wing. "Perhaps he doesn't want us to know."

Lion was again speaking of the statue as if it were a living being and his touch had been a
caress. She gazed with helpless fascination at the breathtakingly beautiful object on the
table, and the emerald eyes of the Wind Dancer seemed to be gazing directly back at her.

Lion's gaze shifted to her face. "What's wrong?"

"I suppose it reminds me of Solinari. For some reason, I feel frightened when I look at
it." She shrugged uneasily. "Will you put it back in the chest?"

Lion nodded slowly. "Certainly." He started to pick up the statue. "I never meant to--"

"What is that?" Piero stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed curiously on the Wind Dancer.
"May I see it?"

Lion nodded and set the statue back on the table. "It's a statue of a horse called the Wind
Dancer."

"Why is he called that?"

"Because he's a magical horse who dances on the wind and the clouds. Sanchia thinks
he's a little more intimidating than your pony."

"Does that mean frightening?" Piero crossed the room and gazed gravely at the statue.
The Wind Dancer and the small boy were almost on eye level, giving Sanchia the
uncanny impression they were measuring each other. "He doesn't frighten me. Look, he's
smiling."

Sanchia had thought the teeth of the Pegasus were bared, but now she could see how that
parting of the lips might be interpreted as a smile. "Aren't you going for your ride this
afternoon?"

Piero nodded, his gaze still on the statue. "I came to tell you good-bye. Donato is waiting
outside." His index finger poked playfully at the Wind Dancer's muzzle. "I like him. Are
we going to keep him?"

"No," she said quickly. "He belongs to Lord Andreas."

Piero looked at her in wonder. "He
does
frighten you. But why? He's beautiful, Sanchia,
and he smiles... "

Sanchia nodded. "Yes, he's quite beautiful. Now why don't you hurry along? You're
keeping Donato waiting, and it's very warm outside today."

Piero moved reluctantly toward the door. "We're going to ride out to the vineyard this
afternoon. Goodbye, Lord Andreas." He paused as he opened the door for one last look at
the Wind Dancer and then turned and was gone.

"Children always love the Wind Dancer. I did myself." Lion picked up the statue and
carefully placed it back in its velvet lined container. "Time will dim the memory of
Solinari, Sanchia."

She tried to smile as she avoided looking at the box on the table. "It's already dimming."
She turned away. "Would you like a cup of malmsey? Rosa left a pitcher on--" She
broke off as she felt his big hands fall on her shoulders.

"I want no malmsey." His voice was rough. "And I'm sorry I brought the Wind Dancer if
it frightens you. It's always been a part of my life, and I thought it only fair I share it with
you." He paused. "As I want you to share my life." One hand shifted the weight of her
hair to one side, his lips lowered to touch the sensitive flesh at her nape with his tongue.
"Your skin reminds me of the Wind Dancer. Golden, smooth, infinitely precious. The
first time I saw you naked at Guilia's I thought of the Wind Dancer."

"Let's not speak of that time." She quickly stepped forward and away from his grasp. "I
put away your designs as you bade me. Would you like me to get them?"

"No. Why are you running away from me?"

"I'm not running away. I only wondered--" A shudder ran through her as she felt his
hands on her shoulders again. "Please, don't touch me."

"Why not? I like the feel... "

Her laugh held a hint of desperation. "You said that about building your ships."

"It's not the same." His hands moved up to her throat and his thumbs rubbed slowly,
sensually, at her nape. "Turn around, Sanchia. I want to see your face so I can fathom
your thoughts."

"I'm thinking that this is a mistake." Her voice was shaking. "I told you that you couldn't
change my mind. I cannot come to Pisa--" She broke off as she felt his lips on the cord
at the side of her neck. The caress felt far more arousing than it should have. The long,
hard muscles of his body were pressed against her back and the heat of him enveloped
her. She swayed back against him. "It's a mistake."

"No." He turned her around, his gaze on her flushed cheeks and trembling lips. "I'm
closer than you believe to persuading you to my way of thinking." He reluctantly released
her and stepped back. "And I will most certainly continue. Do you play chess?"

She didn't answer at once, surprised by his change of subject. "No, you forget I had no
opportunity to learn such games."

He made a face. "Nor did I, until Lorenzo came into my life. He delights in chastising me
regularly at the board. I think it only fair that I pass the punishment on to you. Tomorrow
I'll teach you the rudiments of chess." He turned away and picked up the Wind Dancer.
"Chess has very interesting tactics both of attack and defense. I believe you'll find it
rewarding."

"Attack."

Lion's voice was soft as he moved his ebony knight forward, his gaze lifting to meet
Sanchia's across the board.

She braced herself, staring blindly down at the chess board. "I don't believe I like this
game. I seem to be always on the defensive."

"That's because you lack concentration." Lion sat back in his chair and smiled. "Why is
that, I wonder?"

The smirking devil knew very well why she couldn't concentrate, she thought crossly.
Lion worked very hard at making sure her thinking was blurred by her responses to him.
Each time he had visited her in the last week it had been the same. He scarcely touched
her, but the atmosphere between them was so charged with emotion and memories of
what had gone before she had grown increasingly more tense with each passing day.
Now, as she looked up and saw him watching her knowingly, she realized she must either
surrender or put an end to it.

"Then I obviously should not play." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "And I will
not play. You must go back to Lorenzo if you want another game."

He pulled a face. "But Lorenzo trounces me soundly. I'm the one who is on the defensive
there." He smiled beguilingly. "Do you not feel pity for me? A man should triumph in at
least one arena of endeavor."

She felt a melting within her and quickly averted her eyes from the roughhewn
fascination of his face. When had she stopped thinking Lion's face hard and impassive?
Of late she had found it was a game to try to catch the sparks of humor, the sudden
alertness when something aroused his interest or curiosity, the intensity of his narrowed
eyes when he was deep in thought. It was another dangerous sign of the growing
disturbance he was capable of arousing in her. A sign she should have heeded long
before.

"Not this arena." She turned and moved a few paces away from him, putting distance
between them. He hadn't moved from his chair and yet she felt he was in relentless
pursuit. "I've decided that you should not visit me any longer."

"Have you? I don't agree." He reached out and picked up her jade queen from the
chessboard, his blunt, powerful fingers closing gently about it. "Why do you never wear
green? I believe it would become you." His thumb rubbed slowly back and forth,
exploring the intricately carved hollows, the smooth texture of the chess piece. "A gown
the color of jade."

She gazed in helpless absorption at his fingers caressing the piece. His touch on the
queen was light, skilled, infinitely sensual. She found to her surprised dismay that her
breasts were suddenly swelling, the nipples peaking, pushing against the material of her
undershift. She quickly looked away and crossed her arms over her chest. "Lorenzo chose
a length of green velvet and ordered a gown made up of it, but it's far too fine to wear
every day. I told him I'd have no use for such a gown, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"It's a fault of Lorenzo's." Lion looked down at the chess piece. "Do you know that some
noblemen play chess with human pieces? They lay out their gardens as giant chessboards
and choose the most attractive of their servants or loved ones to play the different
pieces."