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“But you should have thought about it,” he said fiercely.

“Giovanni had no right to— Gran Dio , what am I saying? In another moment I’ll be talking you into running away from me.

” He stood up. “Don’t try it. I warn you that I’d find you and be most annoyed.

And don’t mistake a temporary madness brought on by the warmth of the fire and those huge eyes gazing at me for anything enduring.

Your mother was right. Accept that you’re mine and will stay mine. ”

She was bewildered. “But I have accepted—Where are you going?”

“To look to the horses.” He was already at the door. “Antonio’s son is a cowardly lout. The last time I was here he was too afraid of Tabron to unsaddle him.”

“So you’re going yourself to see if he’s been taken care of?”

“A horse can be the difference between life and death to a man. It doesn’t denote softness to see that an animal is well cared for.” He scowled. “What are you smiling about?”

She quickly wiped any trace of amusement from her face. “Nothing, my lord.”

“No? I’m getting very weary of being thought a weakling,” he said with menacing softness.

“First Lorenzo and now you. I think I must put an end to it.” He paused.

“I was stupid not to take what I wanted in the beginning and I’ll wait no longer.

When I come back I want to see you sitting on that stool wearing nothing but firelight. You understand?”

“Yes.” The air in the room was suddenly charged with the same stormy intensity as earlier. She moistened her lips. “I understand, my lord.”

“Good.” He slammed the door shut behind him.

Sanchia started to speak quickly as soon as Lion entered the room.

“Letitia came and took the trenchers and left fresh wine. Was Tabron well?” Her hands were locked together on her lap and she flexed her fingers nervously, her gaze fixed on the fire.

“Will we go straight to Solinari tomorrow or must we stop at another—”

“Stand up. I want to look at you.”

Sanchia tensed and then rose slowly to her feet. She turned to face Lion, but still would not meet his gaze. “You’ve seen me before. In the bath. There’s nothing more to see.”

“I disagree.” His gaze ran over her naked body, lingering on the soft thatch guarding her womanhood. “There’s always something more to see and…appreciate.”

A wave of heat tingled through Sanchia that had nothing to do with the fire burning in the hearth.

Her nails bit into the flesh of her palms as her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

She welcomed the sharp pain; it pierced the rigidity attacking her every muscle. “Shall I kneel on the floor now?”

“No!” The sharpness of his voice caused her gaze to move to his face.

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt as if she were suffocating.

Lion’s dark eyes were fierce, and the flesh drawn tight over the broad planes of his jaws hollowed his cheeks as if he were being consumed by a terrible hunger.

“When will you learn I’m not Giovanni?” He took a step forward and she caught the clean scent of hay, soap, and crisp spring night clinging to him. “My name is Lion. Say it.”

She could feel the heat his body was emitting though he hadn’t touched her yet. The muscles of her limbs felt suddenly heavy, weak, unable to support her weight. “Lion.” The name trembled uncertainly from her lips. “My lord.”

“Just Lion.” He reached out a gloved hand to caress her slender throat.

She inhaled sharply and a shiver ran through her.

He stopped with his hand still encircling her throat to gaze at her searchingly.

“The leather is cold,” she said quickly, seizing wildly at the first excuse that came to mind for her moment of revealing weakness.

“Is it?” His smile was purely sensual. “Then we must do something to warm it, for I cannot trust myself to touch you without them right now.” He turned to the fire and held out his gloved hands to the flames.

“Do you know what I thought when I came through the doorway and saw you sitting naked on your stool?”

Her gaze was fastened in helpless fascination on the heavy, scarred gauntlets he held before the warmth of the fire. They came almost to his elbows, the brass rivets shining in the firelight, each finger now limned in blue-orange flame. “No, my lo-Lion.”

“I thought what a stroke of fortune it was that brought me to Giovanni’s shop.”

“It wasn’t fortune; it was Caprino.”

“And that I want you to be like this always. I want to think of the fire shimmering on your flesh and shining on your hair while you wait for me to come to you.” His gaze remained on the burning logs. “Come into you.”

Her heart gave a jerk and then began to pound wildly. Her thoughts were an incoherent jumble and she was only conscious of the raw vulnerability of her own nudity, the dominance of Lion’s fully clothed body, the violence she sensed beneath those garments.

And, most of all, the power of his leather-gauntleted hands held out before the flames…

“You’re very small.” His gaze was still on the fire. “It will hurt you the first time.”

She didn’t answer. She almost wished he would touch her and end the maddening tension between them. She felt as if the next breath she drew would shatter her composure.

“I’ll try to proceed slowly but—” He stopped and was silent a moment before continuing haltingly, “My appetites are great. Sometimes it’s like a frenzy, a madness. You must not fight me or I might injure you. I don’t want that to happen.”

“I will not fight you.”

Lion’s hands closed slowly into fists. “I know. You will yield because I own you.” He smiled recklessly as he turned to face her.

“And why not? It’s the way of the world.

” His gloved hands reached out to encompass her breasts.

“Why do you gasp? The leather is no longer cold. I made sure of that, Sanchia.”

The leather was warm, almost hot, she thought hazily. The hard, seamed leather was strangely seductive against the smoothness of her flesh.

His hands were cupping her, squeezing her gently while his gaze studied her face.

“My hands are even warmer,” he said softly.

“But I dare not take off these gloves yet. The texture of your skin excites me and if I touch your flesh I will need you at once…and I will take you at once. It will go easier for you if I do not.” His left hand slid down her abdomen to the thatch of curls surrounding her womanhood and began slowly to rub back and forth.

“Such a pretty nest.” His voice was hoarser, his nostrils flaring as he looked at her.

“I want to move into you and feel those curls brushing against me. Part your limbs now, Sanchia.”

She was trembling so badly she wasn’t sure she could move. His hand stroking her was igniting a strange burning sensation between her thighs.

“Sanchia.” The softness of his tone failed to veil the underlying command.

She obeyed him, her gaze fastened blindly on the lacings of his leather jerkin.

“Wider.” Her gaze moved up to his strong brown throat, and she watched in fascination as the pulse in the hollow abruptly accelerated. “Ah, that’s right. Now stand very still.”

His hand moved down between her thighs and she felt the warmth of his hand through the gauntlet as his palm moved against her, caressing, stroking.

Everywhere he touched left a trail of that same moist burning sensation that was close to pain.

She closed her eyes, swaying helplessly as sensation after bewildering sensation tore through her. “It…hurts.”

“No.” His palm cupped, squeezed, released. “It’s not pain, Sanchia. Hunger.” His voice was uneven. “It’s hunger.”

“I don’t think so.” She reached out to clutch desperately at his upper arms.

He stiffened. “Don’t touch me.”

She jerked her hands away. “I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t mean—”

“Lion,” he cut in through clenched teeth.

“It’s too soon for you to touch me. I can’t hold off, if you do.

” He lifted her in his arms and started across the room toward the bed.

“There are many kinds of hunger.” He laid her down.

“This is the best.” He parted her thighs, his index finger searching. “And the worst.”

He found what he sought and began to gently press and rotate.

Her eyes widened with shock as she gave a little cry.

He was a huge, dark shadow bending over her, his expression intent, his lips parted to take in more air as his massive chest labored with the harshness of his breathing. His face was a devil’s mask above her as the glow of the firelight lit only one side of his face leaving the other in darkness.

Darkness. Flame. Hunger.

She bit her lower lip to suppress a moan as the unbelievable ripples of feeling spread from his gloved finger to every part of her body. It was hunger, she realized dazedly, a hunger more terrible than any she had ever known. She couldn’t bear it. She instinctively tried to close her thighs.

“No!” He stopped her, moving her thighs even farther apart until she felt totally vulnerable, totally exposed.

His finger continued to press gently as he gazed down at her.

“I want to look at you.” His tone was almost guttural.

“Beautiful…” His other hand moved down and he inserted one finger carefully within her.

“Dio , you’re tight.” A second finger joined the first with some difficulty and he paused, his gaze lifting to her face. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

The seams of the leather gloves pressing against her, his fingers invading her, the burning hunger increasing every second. She shook her head helplessly. “I…can’t.” She gasped and instinctively arched up against him as he plunged deeper, withdrew and plunged again. “Please, my lord—”

“What do you feel?” he demanded.

Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. “Heat.” Her nails dug into the coverlet. “Hardness. The leather is…” The muscles of her stomach clenched as a third finger slipped into her. “Fullness.”