Page 37

She frowned. “Why do you say that? Why should I have remained faithful to him when he was not so to me?”

“You shouldn’t, but you probably were. You’re the rare creature who finds it impossible to break a vow.”

She was silent a moment and then said truculently, “I would have taken a lover, if it had pleased me. I just happened to find no one who roused my lust.”

“Until after your husband died and there was no vow to break?”

She suddenly began to laugh helplessly and turned to face him again. “Yes, you villain, but don’t gammon yourself that you’re the only man who has come to my bed since Carlo died.”

His expression was suddenly grave. “You were only generous enough to take me to your bed three years ago and your husband has been dead for many years. I’m glad if you had lovers who could please you in the time before.

I hope they brought you joy.” His long fingers gently caressed the line of her jaw. “You deserve joy, Caterina.”

She went still, gazing at him uncertainly. “Lorenzo?”

For an instant the gravity remained on his face and then he smiled. “And so do I.” His hand moved from her face to her throat, his fingertips teasing skillfully. “And I’ve just thought of yet another way we can both enjoy what we deserve.”

She shivered in anticipation. “Indeed?”

His caressing fingers trailed down her shoulders. “I was just pondering your charge that my twisted tongue gave you no satisfaction.” His fingertips grazed the very tips of her breast. “I think we must definitely remedy that, Caterina.”

“It’s time for you to go,” Lorenzo said softly. “It’s almost morning and the servants will soon be stirring.”

“What of it?” Caterina gazed sleepily up at him. “I don’t care what people say about me.”

“I do. Go now.”

She made a face as she slowly sat up, got out of bed and began to dress. “You know I’m still angered by your interference?”

“I know.”

“And that I will have my way in this?”

“I know you will try.”

Caterina quickly pushed her hair back and fastened it with the sapphire combs.

“Why can you not admit that I’m right? Bianca and Lion will deal very well together.

They’ll have mutual interests, children, and companionship.

Nothing else is important in a marriage.

It’s far more than most marriages offer.

” She smoothed the velvet skirt of her gown.

“We both know you’re being stubborn only to annoy me. ”

“Am I?”

Caterina moved across the room and opened the door. “Do not cross me, Lorenzo.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because it gives me pleasure to look at such a beautiful lady. Are you going to visit me again tomorrow night?”

Her gaze narrowed on his face. “Do you ask me to come?”

“No.”

“Then I will not come.” She glared at him belligerently. “Well?”

He was silent.

“I may come,” she said. “If I decide it suits me.”

She slammed the door behind her.

Lorenzo immediately closed his eyes tightly, striving to retain that last vision of her. Strong, fiery Caterina. Less fierce and more vulnerable than she would ever admit.

But he must not think of Caterina.

He was always careful not to think of Caterina when she was not with him, for then the loneliness always within him became unbearably intense.

He opened his eyes and gazed thoughtfully at the flame of the candle in the copper stand on the table.

He could not sleep now, but he had no desire to immerse himself in Dante’s journey into the inferno either.

He abruptly sat up, threw back the coverlet and got out of bed. He would dress and go for a walk on the battlements and look out over Caterina’s kingdom of Mandara. He would walk until he grew tired enough to return to his chamber and sleep.

But he would not think of Caterina.

“Sanchia.”

Sanchia jerked upright in bed with a low cry, her gaze wildly searching the chamber.

“Dio , it’s only me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Lion’s voice. Lion’s big frame silhouetted against the pearl-gray light streaming through the door leading to the balcony. Her relief was suddenly followed by tension. “What do you do here?”

“I’m going to Florence. I just wanted to make sure you were well.” His hesitancy in speaking, his awkwardness of movement puzzled her. “I’ll return within the week. Lorenzo will care for you while I’m gone and see to your needs.”

“I need no one to care for me and you may be sure I’ll make every attempt not to be here when you return.

” She clutched the coverlet to her chin, her tone hostile.

“Why shouldn’t I be well? You’ve put me in this fine house, filled with fine tapestries and silver ornaments.

You’ve given me a servant to see to my needs.

In payment all I have to do is kneel on the floor and let you thrust into me as Giovanni did my mother. How truly fortunate I am.”

“At the moment the thought of you on your knees brings me a good deal of pleasure,” Lion said harshly.

“I will not kneel to you. Go home to that poor woman you call wife. She seems eager to do your bidding.”

He stiffened. “Bianca has nothing to do with what is between us. It’s foolish even to speak of her.”

Sanchia felt a sharp pang knife through her. “Why not? She seems a sweet, kind lady. Do you not feel shame at bringing me here to hold her up to humiliation?”

“I had no choice.”

“You had a choice. You have it now.” The words tumbled from her lips in a wild, fierce stream.

“Let me go. Do you think I don’t know what the men of your family use this house for?

I’m not an ignorant child like your Bianca.

I understood what Lorenzo meant. Your father used this place to house his whores and now you use it to house yours. Well, I’m not a whore and I won’t be—”

“Hush.” He was suddenly kneeling beside the bed. “Cease, I tell you.” His hands gripped her bare shoulders and the sudden hard warmth of his palms sent a shiver through her. “You are not my whore.” His voice was hoarse, tormented, “You are my…” He stopped.

“What? Your slave?”

“Cristo , I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know anymore. But I must have you near. I don’t think I would have left you in Genoa even if you hadn’t threatened to run away.” His hands kneaded her bare shoulders yearningly. “Let me look at you. God, it seems a long time since I looked at you.”

She caught her breath as a wave of heat tingled through her. “No.”

“Yes.” One hand left her shoulders to jerk the coverlet down and away from her body and then returned to her shoulders to hold her immobile while his gaze ran lingeringly over her. “Do you remember in the barn when I came into you and—”

“I’ll fight you.” She could feel her breasts swelling beneath his gaze, ripening, the nipples hardening. No, she must not feel this. In that direction lay a captivity more certain than the bill of sale he held in his possession. “Loose me, Lion.”

“In a minute.” His head bent slowly to her breasts.

“Look how hard and sweet these buds are now. They want attention.” His lips enveloped her left breast and he drew on it gently and then more strongly.

She gave a low cry, swayed, held upright only by the hands on her shoulders.

His lips moved to the right breast and he gave it the same attention.

His head lifted, his lips releasing her. “Mine.”

“No.”

He rubbed his broad cheek back and forth across her breasts with a yearning movement. “Yes.” His left hand moved down her body to cup between her thighs as he had in the barn at the farm. “Always.”

She closed her eyes as the warmth exuding from his callused hand caused the muscles of her stomach to clench and spasm. He began to rub slowly, teasingly. “Do not do this. It is not my will.” She added haltingly, “You…shame me.”

His hand stilled. She heard the harsh sound of his breathing in the silence of the room. Then his hand was no longer between her thighs and he was releasing her.

Her eyes opened to see him rise to his feet, a massive shadow in the predawn gloom. He moved swiftly across the room to the door and tossed harshly over his shoulder, “Cover yourself.”

She drew the coverlet over her, her gaze fixed in bewilderment on his broad back. He had wanted her. She had been sure he would ignore her words and take her. Why had he not done it?

“My mother may come here and try to drive you away.” He opened the door. “She does not want you here for reasons of her own. You must not let her words hurt you. I will deal with her when I return.”

“It’s natural that she wishes to protect Bianca.”

His lips twisted cynically. “It’s Mandara she wishes to protect.” He turned at the door. “I cannot blame her for fighting for what she wants. Life has not been easy for her. We all must…” He trailed off, looking at her. “Will you wish me a good journey?”

“You don’t need my good wishes.”

He flinched, and then shrugged. “You’re right. I have done very well without them until now.” He started to turn. “Goodbye, Sanchia.”

A thread of pain ran beneath the carelessness of his words, waking a strange echoing ache within Sanchia. Her hands gripped the coverlet hard to keep back the words he’d asked of her. They came anyway. “Good journey, Lion.”

He stopped and stayed framed in the doorway for an instant. Then he quickly shut the door behind him.

Sanchia sank back against the pillows and turned on her side, gazing at the door leading to the balcony.

Her breasts were swollen, the aureoles of her nipples still distended and aching.

Santa Maria, she didn’t want to feel lust burning through her.

It was as unwelcome as the tenderness she felt for him.

As unwelcome as the impulse she’d had to call him back.

Sweet Jesus, how she had wanted to call him back.

The winds of dawn blew crisp and cold on Lion’s face as he rode out of the gates of the city.