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“Commerce feeds discovery. Would Queen Isabella have given Columbus his ships if she hadn’t believed there would be riches for her at the end of his journey?

The clink of coins is a siren call and I’m not such a fool that I want to go begging myself.

A balance can be struck that will give me both.

” He grinned. “As you can see, I’m an exceptionally greedy man. ”

He reached up and took the second scroll from the table and spread it out on the floor. “This is the plan for the round ship I’m building at the yard in Marseilles.”

She vaguely remembered he had said he was away in France when the Wind Dancer was stolen. “Why did you purchase a shipyard so far away?”

“There’s little interference from the local magistrates such as we suffer here, and the guilds are more concerned with the excellence of their members’ workmanship and less with their contributions to charity.

I’ve hired a fine shipwright there who will oversee the building of the ships.

I expect better production there within the year than in the yard at Pisa. ”

She hid a smile as he went on in depth with the problems of dealing with the guilds and sailmakers and caulkers.

He was so absorbed in describing his ships and the procedures for their construction that he seemed to overlook completely the fact she couldn’t possibly comprehend half of what he was explaining to her.

“Then you have to consider the problem of battle engagements. The galley is better built to withstand attack, but the round ship is better in the attack itself. You must weigh the two and decide which is best for you.”

“I shall do so,” she said solemnly. “As soon as I have the ducats to commission the building of either.”

He glanced up with a sheepish smile. “I think you’re laughing at me. I’m accustomed to it. Lorenzo finds my enthusiasm very amusing.”

It was not enthusiasm, it was a passion, and she was suddenly no longer amused but touched that he would share it with her. “I find it interesting but naturally a little confusing. You’re trying to teach me in one afternoon everything you’ve learned in two years.”

He nodded. “I told you I wasn’t a patient man.”

“I’ve noticed that lack in you.”

He frowned and then suddenly smiled. “You’re laughing at me again. I haven’t seen you amused since before Solinari.”

He was right, she realized with a start of surprise.

“You told me once that you wouldn’t let the threat of Caprino rob you of joy,” Lion said softly. “Don’t let what Damari did to you rob you either, Sanchia. You don’t want to give him such a victory.”

She gazed at him for a moment and then smiled brilliantly. “No, I don’t. I won’t let that whoreson take one more thing from me than he already has.” She looked down at the plan for the round ship. “Now tell me why this is shaped so differently from the galley.”

Lion’s gaze rested on her face for a thoughtful moment and then he too glanced down at the scroll and he began to answer her question.

Lion stayed for the rest of the afternoon, but not once did he touch her or betray any hint of intimacy in his speech or manner. When Piero returned to the house he conversed for a few minutes with the boy and then rose to leave.

“Your designs,” Sanchia reminded him as she scrambled to her feet and reached for the scrolls.

“Put them in that cabinet.” Lion nodded to the polished oak cabinet across the room. “I’ll return tomorrow.”

She smiled. “You wish to tutor me again in the craft of shipbuilding?”

“No, tomorrow I’ll bring something else to show you.”

She was lost in bemusement after he left. What an extraordinary afternoon it had been, and what revelations of himself Lion had permitted her. She felt more at ease with him than she ever had before and had been oddly reluctant to see him go.

“Shall I put them away for you, Sanchia?” Piero asked, his gaze on the scrolls in her hands.

“What?” She roused herself and smiled down at him.

“No, I’ll do it.” She crossed the room, opened the cabinet, and placed the scrolls very carefully on the shelf inside.

The scrolls were constructed not only of parchment and ink, but of Lion’s dreams. Dreams should be well taken care of in a world where so few were realized.

She closed the cabinet and, smiling, turned back to Piero.

“Did you enjoy your ride? Where did you go?”

At first glance she recognized the mahogany chest Lion carried. How could she possibly forget it?

“The Wind Dancer?” she whispered.

He nodded as he kicked the door shut behind him and carried the chest into the salon. He set the chest on the table and opened the lid. “You suffered much for it. I thought you’d like to see it.” He lifted the golden statue out of the box and carefully set it on the table. “The Wind Dancer.”

She could see why Marco had thought the statue was alive when he had first seen it as a child.

The muscles of the winged horse seemed to flex and flow with life beneath the burnished smoothness of the gold.

It issued an irresistible invitation to be touched.

Marco had forgotten to tell her the emerald eyes were faceted in such a way that they shimmered as if with an ever-changing expression.

She gazed at the Wind Dancer in silent absorption for several moments before moving slowly across the room to stand before it. She touched the base of the statue with a tentative finger. “It’s…beautiful. What are these carvings?”

He shrugged. “Some sort of ancient script. It’s said there was once a clay tablet that accompanied the Wind Dancer and that one of my ancestors carved the message from the tablet onto the base of the statue after the tablet was broken.”

“What does the writing mean?”

“No one knows. Perhaps we’ll never know.” Lion affectionately touched one filigreed wing. “Perhaps he doesn’t want us to know.”

Lion was again speaking of the statue as if it were a living being and his touch had been a caress. She gazed with helpless fascination at the breathtakingly beautiful object on the table, and the emerald eyes of the Wind Dancer seemed to be gazing directly back at her.

Lion’s gaze shifted to her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I suppose it reminds me of Solinari. For some reason, I feel frightened when I look at it.” She shrugged uneasily. “Will you put it back in the chest?”

Lion nodded slowly. “Certainly.” He started to pick up the statue. “I never meant to—”

“What is that?” Piero stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed curiously on the Wind Dancer. “May I see it?”

Lion nodded and set the statue back on the table. “It’s a statue of a horse called the Wind Dancer.”

“Why is he called that?”

“Because he’s a magical horse who dances on the wind and the clouds. Sanchia thinks he’s a little more intimidating than your pony.”

“Does that mean frightening?” Piero crossed the room and gazed gravely at the statue. The Wind Dancer and the small boy were almost on eye level, giving Sanchia the uncanny impression they were measuring each other. “He doesn’t frighten me. Look, he’s smiling.”

Sanchia had thought the teeth of the Pegasus were bared, but now she could see how that parting of the lips might be interpreted as a smile. “Aren’t you going for your ride this afternoon?”

Piero nodded, his gaze still on the statue. “I came to tell you good-bye. Donato is waiting outside.” His index finger poked playfully at the Wind Dancer’s muzzle. “I like him. Are we going to keep him?”

“No,” she said quickly. “He belongs to Lord Andreas.”

Piero looked at her in wonder. “He does frighten you. But why? He’s beautiful, Sanchia, and he smiles…”

Sanchia nodded. “Yes, he’s quite beautiful. Now why don’t you hurry along? You’re keeping Donato waiting, and it’s very warm outside today.”

Piero moved reluctantly toward the door. “We’re going to ride out to the vineyard this afternoon. Goodbye, Lord Andreas.” He paused as he opened the door for one last look at the Wind Dancer and then turned and was gone.

“Children always love the Wind Dancer. I did myself.” Lion picked up the statue and carefully placed it back in its velvet lined container. “Time will dim the memory of Solinari, Sanchia.”

She tried to smile as she avoided looking at the box on the table. “It’s already dimming.” She turned away. “Would you like a cup of malmsey? Rosa left a pitcher on—” She broke off as she felt his big hands fall on her shoulders.

“I want no malmsey.” His voice was rough.

“And I’m sorry I brought the Wind Dancer if it frightens you.

It’s always been a part of my life, and I thought it only fair I share it with you.

” He paused. “As I want you to share my life.” One hand shifted the weight of her hair to one side, his lips lowered to touch the sensitive flesh at her nape with his tongue.

“Your skin reminds me of the Wind Dancer. Golden, smooth, infinitely precious. The first time I saw you naked at Guilia’s I thought of the Wind Dancer. ”

“Let’s not speak of that time.” She quickly stepped forward and away from his grasp. “I put away your designs as you bade me. Would you like me to get them?”

“No. Why are you running away from me?”

“I’m not running away. I only wondered—” A shudder ran through her as she felt his hands on her shoulders again. “Please, don’t touch me.”

“Why not? I like the feel…”

Her laugh held a hint of desperation. “You said that about building your ships.”

“It’s not the same.” His hands moved up to her throat and his thumbs rubbed slowly, sensually, at her nape. “Turn around, Sanchia. I want to see your face so I can fathom your thoughts.”