The Wind Dancer (34 page)

She took the grape, and tart sweetness flooded her tongue. She should look away. The
heat tingling between them was thickening in intensity. She realized with desperation that
the soft linen of her undershift was abrasive against the sudden sensitivity of her nipples.

She looked down at the table. That was a mistake, too. His big hand still held the cluster
of grapes, and memories suddenly assaulted her of those broad, powerful fingers toying
with the jade queen, outstretched before the fire encased in heavy leather gauntlets,
jerking the neckline of her gown with frantic haste to bare her breasts....

"Your cheeks are flushed," Lion said softly. "Are you warm,
cara
?"

Not warm. Hot, melting. She felt as if the blood was running molten just beneath the
surface of her flesh. She quickly picked up her goblet and drank deeply.

"It's a warm evening and will grow warmer. Another grape?"

"No. Nothing." She sat her goblet down and it was immediately refilled by the lackey. "Is
it not time for the dancing to start again? It seems we've been at the table a long time."

"It seems a long time to me, too." His hand released the cluster of grapes and dropped
casually to his knee. "If we don't leave the table soon I'll have to find something to amuse
me. Do you know what I have in mind, Sanchia?" His hand disappeared beneath the
heavy damask cloth covering the table and pressed against her upper thigh.

She went rigid, her gaze flying to his face. He was looking straight ahead, his expression
bland, only the leaping pulse in his temple betraying his arousal.

The warmth of his palm burned through the layers of velvet and satin, and her limbs
began to tremble. Her hand was also trembling as she hurriedly reached for the wine
goblet again. "Take... your hand off my skirt," she hissed.

"Why? It gives you pleasure. You're quivering like a little bird. Shall I push the skirt of
your gown up and touch your flesh, rub those soft, tight curls? No one could see. The
table and the linen hides my hand. I could fondle you and bring you even more pleasure."
His palm was rubbing slowly back and forth. "Would you like that?"

"No." She could barely force the word past the tightness of her throat.

"I think you would. Of course, you'd have to be careful not to cry out when your pleasure
peaked." His nostrils flared and a flush mantled his cheeks. "Why don't we see if you
enjoy it? Part your thighs, cara, and I'll--"

"The
moresca
!" Lady Caterina was on her feet, motioning to the musicians and guests.
"Let us see if we can still manage to move after we've eaten and drunk so heartily."

The announcement was met with laughter and groans by the guests and the wild, spirited
strains of the
moresca
from the musicians in the gallery.

Bernardo was suddenly by Sanchia's side. "May I escort you to the floor, Madonna
Sanchia?"

Lion's hand on her thigh suddenly tightened. Warmth, strength, demand.

A demand she must not answer. "Yes." Her hand was still trembling as she set her goblet
down on the table. Would Lion move his hand and release her? "I love the moresca. Did I
not tell you?"

Lion's hand dropped from her thigh and he leaned back in his chair.

Sanchia rose hastily to her feet and fled down the long table and the three steps leading
from the dais to the floor. She had escaped. Or had she been permitted to escape? A hasty
glance over her shoulder revealed Lion still lolling at the table, looking dark, sensual, and
slightly sinister in his black velvet slashed jerkin. His expression was lazy, arrogant, as if
about to command a performance expressly for his pleasure.

Bernardo snatched four bracelets of bells from the overflowing tray the lackey was
extending toward them and slipped one over each of her wrists and then his own. The
hall resounded, shimmered, with the merry sound of bells and tambourines, music, and
laughter.

Bernardo ran to the other side of the room to join the men, and Sanchia took her place
with the women. Bianca was laughing excitedly and even Caterina's dark eyes were
glowing with exhilaration as she slipped the bracelets over her wrists, straightened her
scarlet velvet skirts and signaled the musicians to start again.

Sanchia lifted her arms over her head, the bells on her wrists jingling. She found herself
laughing aloud with the same excitement as Bianca. No, it was not the same. Her
excitement was not only with the dance but with the way Lion was looking at her, the
way the blood was pounding in her veins, the feel of fabric touching her flesh as she
twisted and turned and stamped and whirled. The torches on the walls blurred into blue-orange flame before her eyes, and the bells and the tambourines rang and echoed not only
in her ears but in her heart and her body.

The excitement was growing as they all joined hands and circled faster and faster and
then broke and whirled by themselves again. The laughter bubbled up in her throat, and
she felt almost too breathless to release it. The men and women in the hall were only
streaks of violet, crimson, blue, and gold.

A hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her out of the whirling throng and behind a stone pillar.

"What..." She gazed up dizzily to see Lion's face above her. "No, I want--"

His lips were on hers, parting them with his tongue, plunging deep inside with a low
groan. His powerful body pressed her back against the pillar and she could feel the
tension of his muscles, his arousal rampant. He lifted his head. "This is what you want."
He rubbed yearningly against her. "Isn't it, Sanchia?"

She clutched desperately at his shoulders as a wave of heat surged through her. She
couldn't think. The bells, the tambourines, the music, the blood singing through her veins
were all too loud. "No, someone will see... "

"They're all dancing." His lips pressed quick, hard kisses on her temples and cheeks. "No
one can see us here. Open your mouth." She didn't realize she had obeyed him until his
tongue filled her mouth, toying wildly with her tongue. "I wanted to do this at the table,"
he muttered. "
This
is how I wanted to feed you."

She tried to stifle the moan trembling in her throat but he heard and lifted his head.
"Come with me. You need me. I'll give you what we need." He was already pulling her
toward the door.

She shouldn't go. But she found herself stumbling after him and could think of only one
protest. "They'll miss us."

"The
moresca
goes on forever, you know that." They were out in the corridor and he was
urging her up the stairs. "And what if they do miss us? They've suspected Marco of being
Bianca's lover for years. They'll think it only natural that I take my pleasure." He lifted
her in his arms as he started up the steps. "It
is
natural, Sanchia. Natural and beautiful and
right. Don't you know that?"

She didn't know anything anymore. Her mind was whirling as if she were still dancing,
and her heart was slamming against her ribs until she thought it would burst. She should
resist Lion and this lust cascading through her. It was madness to lie pliant and helpless
in his arms.

But she wasn't helpless. She could fight him if she chose.

Yet she knew with a sudden despair that she wouldn't fight him. Not tonight.

She murmured his name and closed her eyes as she buried her face against the black
velvet of his jerkin.

You appear to be looking for someone, my lady. May I be of some small service?"

Caterina whirled to face Lorenzo. "You know very well who I'm looking for, you demon
from hell. Where are they?"

"Lion and Sanchia? I have no idea. How many hundreds of chambers does this huge
castle contain? However, wherever they are I'm sure they're in no danger of being
disturbed. Lion is your son and would have provided against that possibility."

Caterina's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You saw them leave the hall?"

Lorenzo nodded. "I spared a glance or two for them when I wasn't looking at you. By the
way, you do dance the
moresca
splendidly. Your vigor gave the steps a certain
glorious--"

"I should not have danced at all. I should have been more watchful. I saw what was going
on between them earlier this evening."

"Do you really think you could have stopped Lion? You were fortunate he didn't act
sooner. We both know it was only a question of time until he broke free of the chains you
wound around him." He smiled faintly. "No, you should have done exactly what you did
do tonight: smiled and danced and made us all happy to see your joy."

She gazed at him, startled. "Happy?"

He looked surprised himself. "Did I say that? How very common of me." He thought
about it. "But perhaps it comes closest to what I was feeling as I watched you."

She frowned suspiciously. "Do you seek to distract me?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"No," she said slowly. "Never."

"Nor shall I ever." He turned. "And now I'm going for a walk in your lovely garden.
Would you like to follow me or do you intend to tear through the castle, searching
chamber to chamber for your missing offspring? It would do no good and make you look
exceedingly undignified."

She hesitated, glancing around the crowded room.

"They will not miss you as long as the wine is flowing and the musicians play." He added
softly, "And I will miss you if you don't join me, Caterina."

He turned, walked away from her and was soon lost to view in the throng.

Caterina stood very still. The hall was suddenly too hot, the music too loud, the company
far too boring to tolerate.

He would miss her if she did not come to him. Lorenzo had never before indicated her
company was important enough to him to miss.

She started slowly across the hall, nodding and smiling as she skirted the dancers on her
way to the garden where Lorenzo waited.

Lion set Sanchia down before turning and slamming the chamber door. He was breathing
heavily, his chest rising and falling as he leaned back against the door. "Dio, I think my
heart may burst. You're heavier than you look."

She gazed at him in astonishment and then burst into laughter. Those blunt, unvarnished
words were so typical of Lion. "You didn't have to carry me up those thousands of stairs.
We must be at the very top of the castle."

"We are." He turned and shot the bolt. "This is the tower where we keep the Wind
Dancer." He turned to face her. "And I was afraid if I made you walk up all those stairs
you might change your mind." He crossed to the stone fireplace and knelt to light the logs
laid in readiness. "You're already having second thoughts, aren't you?"

The wood caught, flared, revealing the broad, strong planes of his cheekbones, the
glittering darkness of his eyes as he turned to look at her. She drew a deep breath. "I don't
think I had a first thought. I wasn't thinking at all."

"That was my intention." He stood up and came toward her. "And I shall endeavor to
make sure you remain in that state."

She took a hurried step back. "Lion, this is not--"

"It is." His hands cupped her cheeks and he tilted her face up to look into her eyes. "Trust
me,
cara
."

She could see in his eyes twin flames reflected from the fire. She felt helpless in her
fascination.

"Is it so difficult to trust me?"

"Yes. I... I think I've had too much wine."

"You're not drunk." His lips feathered her temple. "
In vino veritas
."

But was that the truth? There was only chaos in what she was feeling. She was hot,
tingling, as dizzy as when she was dancing the
moresca
.

"I like your gown. I knew you'd look wonderful in that color." He pushed her away from
him and took a step back. "Jade queen, shall we start our play?"

"But you always win."

"Not this time." He took off his black velvet jerkin and threw it aside. "This time we both
win. Do you remember when I had you undress for me in the barn?"

She felt a tightening in her chest. "Yes."

"You were frightened." He took off his fine white linen shirt and dropped it on top of the
jerkin. He stood before her in only steel gray hose and calf-length black boots whose soft
leather molded his legs with the same delineation as the hose. "I wanted you to be
frightened. I wanted you to be so afraid that you'd never forget you belonged to me."

The dark hair thatching his chest looked soft and springy and she felt a tingling in her
hands. She wanted to touch him, run her fingers through that curly mat, explore the
powerful muscles cording his chest and shoulders.

He took off his boots and began to untie the points of his hose. "You don't look
frightened now."

But she was frightened. More frightened than she had been in the barn when she had
acted on his command. Because she suddenly knew he wouldn't command her now. What
she did would be by her own will.

The steel gray hose were gone now and he was naked. "Come to me,
cara
."

She couldn't move. Her gaze traveled down his chest to the tightness of his muscular
belly. Then down...

"You can't be shy." Lion stood with his legs apart, blatantly aroused, the essence of bold
masculinity. "Attack, Sanchia, I stand defenseless."

"But not weaponless," she murmured, her gaze fixed on him in total absorption.

"Then let me sheath my weapon." His eyes were suddenly glinting with humor. "You
have the means. Do I have to come to you?" He held out his hand. "Cara?"

She took one step forward, then another, and suddenly she was directly in front of him.

He took her right hand and raised it slowly to his lips. He kissed her palm lingeringly, his
gaze never leaving hers. "Square one, jade queen. Not so hard, was it?" He moved her
hand to his chest and she felt the pounding of his heart beneath her palm.