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She heard the scrape of his chair as he rose to his feet and then his footsteps as he lurched with evident difficulty toward the door. “It is a bright, new world, you know,” he said quietly. “Remember that, and be grateful, Sanchia.”

She didn’t answer and a moment later she heard the door close behind him.

————

“She’s awake.”

Lion turned quickly to see Lorenzo clinging desperately to the rail as he struggled toward the forecastle over the rain-slick deck.

“And I hope you appreciate the extreme discomfort I’m suffering to inform you of the fact.”

Lion’s hands tightened on the tiller. “She is…well?”

“If you mean, did Damari succeed in driving her mad while he tortured her, he did not.” Lorenzo drew his short cape about him to protect his nape from the cold, driving rain. “I didn’t think he’d be able to break her.”

Lion’s face was a savage mask. “Cristo , he tried hard enough. Did she talk about it?”

“No.” Then, as Lion continued to look at him, he shrugged. “She said something about a hammer.”

Lion felt as though he had been struck in the stomach with the same mallet. “Take the tiller,” he said to the seaman standing behind him. He moved to the rail beside Lorenzo, gazing blindly out at the tempest swept sea. “I should have gotten there sooner.”

“Three days to ride to Pisa, persuade Brelono to release his troop, and launch an attack on the palazzo smacks of miracles.”

Lion reached out to grip the rail with white-knuckled force. “I shouldn’t have waited. I should have thought of another way.”

“You’re becoming boringly repetitive. There was no other way.”

Lion hadn’t thought so at the time, but that didn’t help him to forget the moment when he had found Sanchia curled up unconscious on the floor of the cell. She had looked…broken.

And then he had seen her hand.

“I’m going to kill Damari.”

“I presumed as much. I suppose you wouldn’t let me do it for you?”

“No.” Lion released his grip on the rail and turned. “I’m going to the cabin to see Sanchia.”

“She’s probably asleep again.”

“Then I’ll wait until she wakes up.” He had a hunger to see her, to know she was no longer the pale, shattered child he had carried aboard the Dancer two days before.

“Lion.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“She’s not mad.” Lorenzo hesitated before finally finishing, “But she’s different.”

“In what way?”

“I’m not certain.”

“By all the saints, what do you mean?”

“I think she’s…” Lorenzo paused again, thinking about it. “I think she’s more than she was. There’s a strength…” He shrugged. “I could be wrong. Judge for yourself.”

“You leave me with no other choice.” Lion strode down the steps of the bridge and across the deck toward the cabin.

A moment later he stood beside the bed looking down at Sanchia’s pale, drawn face.

Strength? It must be Lorenzo who had gone mad.

Sanchia looked as delicate as the most fragile of blossoms. Rage seared through him as his gaze fell on her bandaged hand.

Damari. Dear God, he wanted that son of a bitch.

Sanchia’s lids twitched as if she had become aware that someone was watching her. She opened her eyes abruptly. Her gaze was totally alert and without fear.

Lion’s muscles locked with tension as her compelling gaze fastened on his face. She stared at him without speaking and Lion suddenly found himself uneasy. He reached out awkwardly and touched her cheek. “Lorenzo tells me you’re feeling better.”

“Yes.”

“Soon you’ll be well.”

She did not answer.

His hand dropped away from her face. “Is there anything I can get you? Are you thirsty?”

“No.” Her gaze moved over him indifferently. “You’re very wet.”

“It’s raining.”

“Then you’re foolish to be out in it.”

“It was necessary. It’s not a bad storm but there’s always danger. It took me two years to build this ship, and I dislike the idea of its sinking to the bottom of the sea because I am not at the helm.”

“I understand.” She was silent a moment. “Why are you here?”

The bluntness of the question startled him as much as that first piercing glance had done. “Because I wanted to see for myself that you were on the mend.”

“I don’t want you here. Will you leave?”

Surprise held him wordless for a moment and then he smiled. “And what will you do if I won’t?”

She failed to return his smile. “Nothing.” She closed her eyes. “I’m too weak to fight you…now.”

The last word held an odd quality of threat, Lion realized. Threats from Sanchia who had always been so frightened? So eager to please? “And later?”

“Later I will deal with you.” Her eyes remained closed. “Lion.”

She had not addressed him as my lord, as was her custom, but Lion. It was the address he had requested from her, but now his name came with no hesitation or prompting. She could not have shown more confidence and authority if she had been raised to be the lady of a great house.

He deliberately turned and sat down in the chair against the wall. “I will stay. You may need me.”

“I don’t need you. I’ll never need you.” She deliberately turned on her side. “But stay if you like. Your presence or absence mean nothing to me.”

She had closed him out. She had stepped away from him to a place he couldn’t follow, Lion realized with a queer twisting sensation in his belly.

Nothing could be more clear from the crystalline coldness of her manner toward him.

Why should he be surprised that she blamed him for all that happened to her?

He knew the fault rested squarely on his shoulders and she was right in her anger.

She had suffered and she deserved his patience.

“It means something to me,” he said gently. “I’ll stay by your side, Sanchia.”

She didn’t answer, and he realized she had stepped even farther away from him into the realm of sleep.

“I brought Sanchia up on deck to get some air. Really, Lion, I’m not the woman’s nursemaid.

” Lorenzo added plaintively, “Though anyone would draw that conclusion from the way I’ve bathed, dressed, and tended her these last days.

If you wanted her cosseted and cared for, you should have brought a servant on board before we left Pisa.

” He paused. “Or done it yourself. You haven’t set foot in her cabin since the first day she woke. ”

“You know I had no time to find a maid for her with Damari on our heels.”

“I notice you don’t address my second suggestion.”

“She had no desire for my presence.” Lion’s grip tightened on the tiller. “She made that clear.”

“So you meekly run and hide away from her lest your offensive self distress her.”

“She’s ill, damn you.”

“Not any longer.” Lorenzo’s gaze went to Sanchia, who stood at the rail several yards away.

The strong afternoon sunlight stroked her auburn hair with flame as gusts tossed it about.

Her face was raised as if she were drinking in both the warmth of the sun and the vigor of the wind.

“She has her strength back and she’s come alive.

Damari did no real damage, except to her hand, and it’s healing nicely.

She’s in a far from delicate state.” He nodded toward Sanchia. “Go see for yourself.”

Lion looked quickly at her, then away. “For God’s sake, quit prodding me. Do you want her in my bed so badly you’d yank her into it when she’s still not well?”

“Did I mention bedding?” Lorenzo asked innocently.

“Could it be your thoughts aren’t as pure as you’d have me believe?

She’s changed, you know. We both noticed it.

Tell me, Lion, has it not occurred to you that it would be like bedding someone else entirely now?

The same sweet body but there would be certain differences.

You’ve always had such a curious mind. Would you not like to explore those differences? ”

Lion averted his face. “No, it hasn’t occurred to me.”

“Lies.” Lorenzo chuckled. “You’ll have to go to confession when you get back to Mandara and be absolved of that sin. Do you think Sanchia will like Mandara?”

“She won’t get the opportunity to like or dislike it. She’s staying in Genoa, as you well know.”

“And we arrive in Genoa the day after tomorrow?”

Lion’s lips twisted. “Not enough time for you, Lorenzo?”

“I would prefer more, but it should prove sufficient. However, since you’re displaying an unusual amount of resistance, I shall stop being subtle.”

“Subtle?”

Lorenzo ignored the sarcasm in Lion’s tone.

“I will have nothing more to do with Sanchia while we’re on board the ship.

She’s your property and you must care for her as you see fit.

” He frowned thoughtfully. “Except to change her bandage. I’m having enough trouble contending with these idiotic feelings of responsibility you’re experiencing without having you go squeamish.

I might never get you to see sense.” He turned away.

“You notice the wind has come up and Sanchia does not have her shawl. She could take a chill.”

“But she’s not at all delicate,” Lion ironically repeated Lorenzo’s words.

Lorenzo shrugged as he walked over to the rail and leaned his elbows on it. “Perhaps she’s more fragile than I thought. Who am I to say? I’m no physician.”

And he proceeded to gaze placidly out to sea, ignoring both Lion on the forecastle and Sanchia on the deck.

Lion stayed on the forecastle for another fifteen minutes before he said sharply to the seaman behind him, “Take the tiller.” He strode past a grinning Lorenzo, down the steps, then across the deck to where Sanchia stood at the rail.

“The wind is sharpening. Go back to your cabin,” he said tersely.

“Soon.” She didn’t look at him. “I like it here. I feel as if I can see forever. What’s beyond the horizon?”

His gaze followed hers to the point where the sea met the sky. “It depends on how far you travel. Until recently most men believed that there were only dragons waiting to devour you as you fell off the edge of the earth.”