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Four

C risto, what the hell was the matter with him?

Lion gazed down at Sanchia seething with frustration that almost exceeded the lust hardening every muscle of his body.

Candlelight flickered over the rich auburn of Sanchia’s hair and stroked the silky smoothness of her bare shoulders above the coverlet.

She was curled on her side, her cheek buried in the pillow, her pink lips slightly parted.

Why did he not wake her and tell her she must take him into her body and let him use her to rid himself of his terrible need?

She was his property. She had given him her promise that she would obey him in all things.

She would yield her body to him without complaint.

Yield. He wished the word had not come to him, for it evoked memories of the many cities that had yielded to his sword.

Rape and pillage invariably followed those surrenders.

Looting and raping were the rewards a victorious army expected, his father had taught, and Lion had grown accustomed to both over the years.

In spite of Lorenzo’s mocking charge he knew well that chivalry was only for fools.

Yet he did not want Sanchia to yield to him because he owned her and she had no choice.

Santa Maria , what was the matter with him?

He had been unable to muster any desire for Giulia after he had left Sanchia, and the failure had shocked and outraged him.

He had stormed out of her chamber with every intention of satisfying the hunger that Giulia had been unable to appease.

A man was a fool to worry about challenges when he needed a woman’s body to put out the fires.

Since his body was issuing this peculiar demand for Sanchia alone, it was only sensible he should give it what it wanted.

He reached out and drew the coverlet down so he could see Sanchia from the top of her shining hair to her small feet.

She was a brilliant butterfly against the stark white linen sheet, all velvet golden flesh and silky wine colored hair.

Why did he find her slender loveliness a thousand times more arousing than Giulia’s more voluptuous beauty?

He had always preferred full-figured women. …

Ah, this was better. The blood was pounding in his veins and the quickening in his loins was gaining in intensity until it was almost unbearable. In another moment there would be no question of stopping himself from mounting Sanchia.

He bent closer, his gaze on the pinkness of her distended nipples. Her breasts were truly magnificent. The mere thought of touching them sent his heart slamming against his rib cage. He would have to have gowns made for her that would reveal the beauty of her bosom and—

Sanchia stirred, sighed, and rolled over on her back.

Dio , she was small. She looked like a child except for those erotic breasts and the soft thatch of hair protecting her womanhood.

But she was no child, he quickly reminded himself.

She had said she was sixteen; most women had been wedded and bedded for at least two years by the time they had reached her age.

His mother had given birth to him when she was fifteen.

He should feel no guilt about Sanchia’s age, and not a single compunction because of her helplessness to resist him.

Sanchia murmured in the inarticulateness of sleep.

Lion’s gaze flew to her face. Her long lashes cast dark shadows on the curves of her cheeks.

But there was another shadow high on her right cheek, he noticed suddenly.

Then he realized it was not a shadow but a faint bruise where Giovanni had struck her.

He remembered Sanchia’s head snapping back with the force of the blow and the fierceness of the anger that had torn through him.

He had wanted to kill the whoreson. How dare that bastard touch his property?

Couldn’t he see how tiny and helpless Sanchia was, how easily she could be bruised and hurt?

If that blow had been a little harder, it could have killed her or at least—

No, by God, he wouldn’t think how vulnerable she was, but only how much he desired her. He deliberately summoned the image and feelings that had assaulted him when he’d first drawn down the coverlet to reveal her naked body.

A brilliant butterfly. All color and soft velvety textures.

But butterflies were the most fragile of creatures.

Butterflies could be broken and destroyed with only the careless brush of a man’s hand.

And he was not Giovanni.

He could wait until she recovered from this exhaustion and felt more secure under his rule.

After all, the woman was vital to him as a thief. She would bring him what he needed and any additional pleasure he took in her would be only secondary.

He straightened and then reluctantly drew the coverlet up to Sanchia’s chin. Yes, he could wait.

Perhaps.

He turned away and blew out the flame of the candle.

But he could not stay away from her if he remained in this bed…

or even in this room. He moved silently toward the door while considering his options.

He couldn’t return to Giulia’s chamber. She had been most irate when he had left her.

Only one solution occurred to him given the lateness of the hour.

He grimaced as he realized he would have to go to Lorenzo’s chamber and face his raised brows and faintly malicious amusement.

Oh yes, Lorenzo would take an unholy joy in Lion’s predicament.

“Wake up.” Giulia’s hand on Sanchia’s shoulders was less than gentle as she shook her. “Get up. They’re waiting for you downstairs.”

Sanchia opened drowsy eyes to see Giulia Marzo’s flushed face above her.

Giulia was angry again, she realized hazily, almost as angry as she had been last night when she had left Sanchia with Lion.

“I’m awake.” She sat up in bed, and blinked as the early morning sunlight streaming through the window assaulted her with its brilliance. “What time is it?”

“Nearly eight o’clock.”

Eight o’clock! Sanchia couldn’t remember when she had slept past dawn. She scrambled out of bed, reaching frantically for the clothes she’d laid on the chair the night before. “I didn’t mean to sleep this late. Is Lord Andreas displeased with me?”

“You’ll have to ask him.” Giulia moved toward the door. “He’s not a man who likes to be kept waiting.” She glanced back over her shoulder as she opened the door. “There’s wine and fruit on the table. Eat quickly and join Lord Andreas downstairs in ten minutes.”

“Five.” Sanchia was dressing hurriedly. “I don’t need to eat. Messer Lorenzo bought me bread and fruit yesterday at the baker’s. I can—”

“Eat.” Giulia’s beautiful features were set with a less than attractive hardness.

“Lion told me to make sure you broke your fast before you started the journey. He won’t be any more displeased with you now than he will be five minutes from now.

” Giulia smiled with a hint of malice. “Or perhaps you feel you need to curry favor after last night? I told Lion he’d find no pleasure with you. ”

Sanchia stared at Giulia in bewilderment. The woman was a wasp trying to sting her with hurtful words, but how could they wound when they made no sense? After all, Lion had spent the night in Giulia’s bed. “That’s what I told him too. He didn’t appear to believe me.”

Giulia’s hand tightened on the knob of the door. “Insolence.”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“You may please him for a few weeks, but he’ll grow tired of bedding a child with no more meat on her bones than a scrawny foul.” Giulia’s blue eyes blazed. “And then he’ll come back to Florence and to me. You’ll never be able to hold him.”

“The question will never arise,” Sanchia said quietly. “You forget, I belong to him. He holds me.”

For some reason her answer only seemed to make Giulia more angry. She muttered an obscenity and slammed the door.

Sanchia flinched, then thrust her feet into slippers and finished fastening her gown.

She cast a wistful glance at the apple quarters and cup of wine on the silver tray on the table.

A real apple. She’d had a taste of one a few years before, but this one certainly looked riper and more juicy. Perhaps she could have just one bite.…

She sighed and started for the door. Lion was too much the unknown quantity for her to risk angering him. She could put no store in Giulia’s assurance that he would not be irritated if she kept him waiting longer since the woman obviously wished her ill.

Sanchia hesitated at the top of the stairs when she heard voices.

Caprino was standing in the hall below talking to Lion.

Her hand tightened on the marble bannister.

However, her astonishment and wariness were quickly submerged in fierce satisfaction.

She had no reason to be afraid of Caprino.

He could not touch her; he could not hurt Elizabet.

Serenely she now started down the stairs.

Caprino glanced up as she reached the third step from the bottom.

“Ah, Sanchia, how charming you look.” His gaze traveled appraisingly over her.

“I had no idea you’d clean up so well or I might have hesitated about making you a present to the magnifico.

” He held up a leather purse and smiled smugly.

“I fear I’ll just have to be satisfied with young Elizabet.

I believe I’ll pay a visit to Giovanni after I bid you good journey. ”

Sanchia smiled back at him. “I’m sure Giovanni will be happy to see you. I’ve always thought you had many qualities in common. However, Elizabet is no longer with Giovanni.”

Caprino stiffened, his gaze narrowing on her face. “And where is she?”