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Lorenzo lifted a brow. “She said you told her you were taking her there.”

“That was before I…” Lion trailed off, his dark brows knotting in a fierce frown as he took a long swallow of wine.

“Before you decided to take her to your bed?”

Lion met his gaze. “Yes.” The intention that had been forming since the moment he had seen Sanchia in the hip bath was suddenly made. “Why not? As you say, she belongs to me.”

“There’s no reason at all why you shouldn’t take her.” Lorenzo looked down into the ruby depths of his wine. “I thoroughly approve.”

“Which should immediately make me wary. Why do you want Sanchia to become my mistress?”

“I admire her.”

Lion gazed at him in astonishment. He couldn’t remember the last time Lorenzo had indicated he felt anything positive for a stranger. True, admiration wasn’t liking, but the confession was still out of the ordinary.

Lorenzo noticed his surprise. “No, it’s true.

She reminds me of myself when I was growing up in the streets of Naples.

She fights with every weapon she has to survive and invents new ones when the old ones don’t win the day.

” He shrugged. “It’s a pity she has such a soft heart.

It’s a weakness that will probably destroy her. ”

“And because you admire her, you want to put her in my bed.”

“It will give her a weapon. She has none against you now. The child has the ridiculous belief that promises must be kept. You’d think she would have learned better leading the life she has.”

“She has no need for weapons,” Lion said impatiently. “I have no intention of being cruel to her.”

“Oh yes, she’ll need weapons.” Lorenzo’s index finger circled the rim of his goblet. “When you take her to Mandara.”

Lion stiffened. “I don’t take my mistresses to Mandara.”

“You’ll take Sanchia. Because she belongs to you.”

“No, per Dio , you know I never—”

“You will this time.” Lorenzo cut in, lifting his gaze from the goblet. “I look forward to seeing what will result.”

“Because you enjoy watching all our lives thrown into a turmoil for you to savor.”

For the first time the mockery faded from Lorenzo’s face. “No, because that foolishness at Mandara has gone on too long. It’s time someone changed the course of events.”

“Stay out of it, Lorenzo. It’s my choice.”

The mockery instantly returned to Lorenzo’s face. “I don’t think I could bear to do that. Our last stay at Mandara offered me no amusement whatsoever. All that sweetness and knightly restraint…It made me quite ill.”

“How regrettable. I fear you must resign yourself to it. I take no bedmates to Mandara.”

“We shall see.” Lorenzo drained the last of his wine, set the goblet on the table and stood up.

“Now I bid you good night. Do tell me in the morning how you enjoyed your little Sanchia.” He moved toward the door.

“Do you suppose she’s a virgin? The possibility never occurred to me until she told us of her ingenious perfume.

” His gray eyes gleamed silver in the candlelight as he glanced back over his shoulder.

“How splendid for you if she is. Think how tight she’ll be around you and how sweet to hear the little cries of wonder and newfound delight.

” He added softly as he opened the door, “And that would make her all the more yours, wouldn’t it?

” He started to close the door and then paused.

“Ah, Sanchia, how charming you look…” He sniffed experimentally.

“And smell. Go right in, Lion’s expecting you.

” He threw open the door and stepped aside. “Buona sera , ladies.”

Sanchia and Giulia entered the room, stopped just inside the door. With a jerky motion of her head Giulia indicated Sanchia. “Well, does she please you?”

Lion’s gaze traveled slowly over Sanchia’s small form.

It was clear to Lion that Giulia was not pleased with the intruder and less with Lion’s response to her and had probably given her the most humble garment in all the wardrobes in this house.

The simple velvet gown Sanchia wore was of a rich brown shade, but had no elaborate trim or embroidery.

The tight sleeves came to her wrists, and the line of the gown was straight and graceful falling from the low square neckline of the bodice.

Yet the darkness of the gown made the olive of Sanchia’s skin glow golden, and the low square neckline revealed the lovely line of her throat and the swell of her small breasts against the velvet of the bodice.

Lion’s gaze lingered on the bare golden flesh of her upper breasts and felt a stirring in his loins so intense it approached pain. “Yes, she pleases me.”

“It took three scrubbings to get that stench out of her hair.” Giulia’s lips tightened as she noticed Lion’s gaze was still on Sanchia. “I suppose you’ll not want me tonight?”

“No.”

Giulia whirled, her blue velvet skirt flying. “You’re mad. If you wish a change, I can supply you with ten women who are more beautiful than this…this…child!”

The door slammed behind her.

“I don’t like her,” Sanchia said flatly.

“Then I’m sure it won’t bother you to know that she has the same feelings toward you.” Lion’s gaze lifted from the delicate line of Sanchia’s throat. “Your hair is still damp.”

“I don’t know why it should be. She and those two women nearly smothered me toweling it dry.”

The color of her hair was not the brownish red he had first thought, Lion realized. The mixture she had put on it must have dulled its color along with its luster. Now, though it was still water-darkened, the candlelight revealed the fiery shimmer of auburn. “Come here and let me look at you.”

She hesitated and then walked slowly toward him. She moved with grace, her shoulders back, her spine straight. There was a militance about her stance reminiscent of a soldier marching into battle, he thought suddenly.

She stopped before him. “She’s right, you know.” Her voice was breathless. “I’m not comely. I’m too skinny, and I don’t have that lovely pale skin that Elizabet and Giulia Marzo have. You won’t be pleased with me.”

Lion leaned back in his chair. “You’re wrong.

As I told Giulia, I’m very pleased with you.

” His gaze went again to the smooth flesh of her shoulders.

“And I like the shade of your skin. It reminds me of the gold of—” He stopped.

He had been going to compare her to the Wind Dancer, he realized with a sense of shock.

It must have been Lorenzo’s remark that had brought the connection to mind. Possession. The Wind Dancer. Sanchia.

He lifted his goblet to his lips. “You know why you’re here?”

“Yes.” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “I knew when I saw you looking at me when I was in the bath. It’s the same way Giovanni looked at my mother. You want to use my body.”

The comparison irritated him. “I’m not Ballano,” Lion said harshly.

“You had me bathed. You had me perfumed.” She drew a quivering breath. “Do you want me to take off this gown and kneel on the floor now?”

“No!” The explosive rejection surprised him as much as it did her. “There are more pleasurable ways of taking a woman than if she were a bitch in heat.”

“Yet the idea excited you,” Sanchia said. “I saw that you were—”

“You see too much.” A sudden thought struck him. “Are you trying to change my mind by comparing me to Ballano? Lorenzo said you use every weapon you possess.”

“But I have no weapons here,” she said simply. “I gave you my promise that I’d obey you.”

No weapons. Lorenzo had said that, too, Lion recalled with frustration.

She belonged to him. It was his right to use her body as he chose, with either tenderness or brutality.

She knew this and accepted it. Why, then, was he feeling as if he had to make excuses for bedding her?

“It doesn’t have to be as it was with Ballano. I’ll give you pleasure and—”

“No.” Her eyes widened with bewilderment. “Why do you lie to me? It’s always the man who has the pleasure. Women are merely vessels who accept them into their bodies and take their seed. Never once did my mother have pleasure.”

“Because she was treated like an animal.” Lion set the goblet down on the windowsill with a force that splashed the remaining wine on the polished wood. “I’ll show you ways…” He stopped as he saw she was looking at him with complete disbelief.

He smiled with sudden recklessness. “Ah, a challenge. Shall I make you a promise, my doubting Sanchia? Suppose I tell you that I’ll not use you as my ‘vessel’ until you beg me to do it.

Until you’re willing to kneel and let me use you as Giovanni did your mother because you yearn to have me inside you. ”

She looked at him in wonder. “Why should you make me a promise? You need not consider my feelings. I belong to you. It doesn’t matter if I feel nothing when—”

“It matters to me.” His tone held exasperation as well as barely concealed violence. “God knows why, but it does.” He took her hand and pulled her to her knees before his chair. “And I’ll probably regret that promise a thousand times before this is over. Now lift your head and look at me.”

She obediently tilted back her head and she caught her breath at what she saw in his face. His eyes held dark, exotic mysteries and the curve of his lips was blatantly sensual.

“What do you see?”

“You want me.”

“Yes.” His big hands fell heavily on her slender shoulders.

“And whenever I look at you from now on I’ll be thinking of what I’d like to do to you.

” One callused hand released her shoulder and began to stroke her throat.

Her skin was as velvet-soft as it looked and warm, so warm.

… He felt hot lust tear through him, adding dimension to his manhood.

“I’m going to touch you whenever I like.

” He slipped the material of the gown off her shoulders.

“When it pleases me, I’ll bare this pretty flesh and fondle you.

No matter where we are. No matter who is watching. ”