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Six

N o!” Sanchia sat bolt upright in the bed, her arms flailing wildly. “Cristo! No, don’t—”

“Santa Maria , what in Hades is wrong with you?” Lion raised himself on one elbow, a frown darkening his face. “Are you ill?”

Sanchia gazed hazily around the room. This chamber was firelit and clean, not dark and vermin-infested. She raised her arms and dizzying relief soared through her. “I still have them.”

“Have what?”

“My hands.” She held her hands out before her, flexing the fingers. “I thought they were gone. I thought they’d caught me stealing and thrown me into the Stinche and chopped them off. But they didn’t…”

“A dream.” Lion’s voice was gruff as he lay back down again. “Go back to sleep.”

“A dream,” she repeated. She obediently lay down, but she didn’t want to release the warmth and safety of wakefulness and return to sleep where those hideous nightmares stalked.

She lay there, conscious of Lion beside her.

How strange to be in bed with a naked man.

She supposed she would get accustomed to it in time.

If she was given time. Who could know how long Lion would choose to fornicate with her? Nothing stayed the same in this world.

“Do you often dream of having your hands chopped off?” Lion asked in a low voice.

“Yes, I told you I wasn’t very brave.”

He was silent for such a long time, she thought he’d fallen asleep. “You cannot help your dreams, and it’s not cowardly to be afraid of danger. It’s intelligent.”

She laughed shakily. “Then I must be as wise as a seer. I’m almost always afraid. Ever since I saw a thief thrown out of the Stinche, his poor, bleeding stumps of arms waving as if begging someone to—”

“It will not happen to you.”

“I hope not,” she whispered.

“It will not. I must have the key, but no harm will come to you.”

He was angry. She should try to placate him, but she was suddenly too weary to make the effort. She turned on her side. “I’m sorry I woke you, my lord.”

“Lion.”

“I forgot.” Oh dear, he did sound fiercely impatient. Perhaps it would be better to return to the uncertain threat that lay waiting for her in sleep than face his displeasure. “I’ll try to remember. Forgive me…Lion.”

His only answer was a low imprecation.

She didn’t fall asleep for a long time, but as she finally drifted off, she realized Lion still lay rigid and wide awake beside her.

“What are you smiling about?” Lion snapped at Lorenzo as he lifted Sanchia onto her horse.

“Why should I not be smiling?” Lorenzo asked innocently. “It’s a bright, clear spring morning and I’ve had a good night’s sleep. You should not be churlish just because you can’t say the same. I’m sure you had compensations I didn’t enjoy.”

Lion didn’t answer as he swung onto the saddle and spurred the stallion into a gallop that left the stableyard of the inn behind him in seconds.

Lorenzo sighed. “I foresee a day like yesterday on the horizon. I had hoped for something better after Lion had appeased his lust for you.” He kicked his horse into a trot. “Come along, Sanchia, or he’ll be half way to Solinari before we catch up with him.”

Sanchia nudged her mare into a trot. “How did you—” She stopped. “You must know him very well.”

“Well enough to know he’d reached the end of his patience last night when I left you.” Lorenzo gazed at her objectively. “Lust can be a strong tie to bind a man, and you’ll need that bond to keep you safe at Mandara.”

“Safe? Why should I not be safe?”

A faint smile touched his lips. “The situation there is complicated. Lady Caterina will not be amused at your arrival.”

Sanchia tensed. “Caterina?”

“The Lady Caterina Andreas, Lion’s mother. She’s a virago when she’s displeased.”

“Oh.” Sanchia thought about it. “Then I’ll have to find a way to please her, won’t I?”

He chuckled. “You’ll find Lady Caterina a challenge.

There are still stories told of the way she defended Mandara when Lion and his father were away fighting in Tuscany.

Nicolino, a condottiere who decided Mandara was a rich plum ripe for the picking, laid siege to the city.

Lady Caterina rallied her troops to repel the attacking army, then led a foray into the enemy camp, captured Nicolino, and brought him back to Mandara.

She stood on the battlements and called down to Nicolino’s second in command that if they didn’t give up the siege she’d hang Nicolino.

Unfortunately, the officer didn’t believe she would do it and renewed the siege. ”

“What happened?”

“She hanged Nicolino. Then she lowered his body by a rope to dangle from the battlements in full view of his condotti. The army retreated at dawn the next morning.”

A sinking feeling fluttered in the pit of Sanchia’s stomach. It wasn’t enough she had to please Lion; now she’d also have his warrior mother to worry about. “She sounds very strong.”

“Yes.” Lorenzo glanced at her. “But you have your own strength. She’ll respect you, if you don’t give in and let her ride over you.” He smiled. “And if you do give in, you deserve to be trampled and Lion will be well rid of you.”

“I won’t be trampled.” Her brow furrowed as she considered this new factor complicating her life. “For some reason you want me to fight her, don’t you? Will you help me?”

“No. I merely position the chess pieces on the board; I don’t interfere with the play itself.”

“Never?”

He met her gaze. “Never.”

Sanchia’s hands tightened on the reins. She felt very much alone. “He may not even take me to Mandara. He’s angry with me this morning.”

“It’s not anger. You’ll have to learn to read him better.” Lorenzo’s gaze shifted to Lion’s broad back several yards in front of them. “He suffers the same malady that afflicted him last night. It’s not a horse he wants to be riding right now.”

“You mean—”

“Exactly, my dear Sanchia.” Lorenzo’s tone was definitely more cheerful as he kicked his horse into a lope. “Which gives me hope that we may stop before we reach Solinari after all.”

They halted at noon beside a tiny brook twisting through a forest glade.

One moment Lion was riding several hundred yards ahead of them on the trail, and the next he was wheeling Tabron and galloping back to them. “We’ll stop here until the sun is less hot,” he said curtly.

“I hadn’t noticed that it was the sun that was hot,” Lorenzo murmured. “But I’ll accept any falsehood, if it will get me off this animal.”

Lion ignored him as he dismounted and strode over to Sanchia. “Get down.” He reached up, his big hands encircling her waist. “Hurry.”

The urgency in his tone surprised her until she saw his face. Her eyes widened and she suddenly lost her breath. Lorenzo was right; it hadn’t been anger driving him. The expression on Lion’s face held the same intense hunger she’d seen last night.

He almost jerked her from the saddle before setting her down quickly. His hands on her waist kneaded her flesh through the soft fabric of her gown. The heat of his body reached out to her, claiming her. “You wish to—”

“Be quiet.” His voice was hoarse as he backed her against the mare. “Don’t talk. Just give me what I need.” He jerked her gown from her shoulders, baring her breasts.

She gasped and then collapsed back against the mare as his mouth enveloped her left nipple.

He sucked avidly, strongly, his teeth pressed against her while his hand cupped her other breast and began to squeeze rhythmically.

The same liquid burning she had known last night tingled between her thighs.

Her eyes closed as her throat arched back, her head resting against the mare’s saddle. “Here? But Messer Lorenzo—”

“Is politely averting his eyes,” Lion muttered as he lifted his head. Color flushed the tan of his cheeks, and his nostrils flared with every breath. “And is more than pleased.” He grabbed Sanchia’s wrist and pulled her away from the horses, striding from the trail and deeper into the forest.

“Where are we going?” She had to run to keep up with him.

“Not far.”

He stopped a few yards farther into the forest and pushed her against the bole of a tree.

Rough bark pressing against the soft velvet of her gown, the pungent scent of earth and leaves and the leather of his jerkin…

His fingers worked frantically beneath his jerkin at the points of his hose until his aroused shaft sprang free.

“Don’t fight me,” he ordered as he lifted her skirts and undershift to her waist. “Do as I tell you.” His palms were cupping her buttocks, raising her, adjusting her body against his manhood. “Put your legs around my waist.”

Her thighs obediently encircled him. “I won’t fight—” She broke off as he entered her with one wild, urgent plunge. Her head sank back against the rough bark of the tree as she felt every ridge, every inch of the wild, hot length of him.

He cried out and stopped, flexing within her. His face held a pleasure and relief that was nearly unbearable. “ Dio ! Yes…yes.” Then he was driving, plunging with a force that rocked through her. Her shoulders were pushed back against the bole of the tree as he took and took and took…

She should have been frightened by the violence of his hunger, but she wasn’t afraid. She was somehow aware that he didn’t want to hurt her but was driven by that voracious appetite of which he had warned her.

“Give…” He muttered. “Hurry. Give.”

He wanted her to give him not only her body but the response she had shown last night, she realized dimly.

He reached between them and pressed, his thumb and forefinger plucking at her. She cried out and arched up to him.

“Now,” he groaned in a guttural tone. “Now.” He plunged deep.

She gave him what he wanted, what she was helpless to deny him. She bit her lower lip to keep from screaming as wave after wave of pleasure radiated through her.

“That’s right,” he gasped, his hot cheek resting against her temple. “That’s what I wanted.”

She had pleased him, she realized hazily. How fortunate that in pleasing herself she could also please him.