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Damari was reassured. Borgia wanted the statue enough to take the risk, and everyone knew his influence over his father was growing stronger with every passing day.

“Perhaps you could emphasize the legendary powers of the Wind Dancer?”

“No need to prod him. He’s already mad to have it.

In his last communication to me he was babbling about some equestrian statue at the Ponte Vecchio in Florence where Buondelmonti was slain and supposedly started the feud between Guelph and Ghibelline.

He’s sure our fate rests with the Wind Dancer.

” Borgia sat down at the desk and drew out a piece of fine parchment from the middle drawer.

“No, he’s eager enough to possess the statue, but he’s an old man and grows cautious with his years.

I must stress that your plan can be accomplished without any real danger of discovery of his part in it.

” He glanced over his shoulder. “And your plan is not quite complete, Damari. I can add a few embellishments that will better please my father and myself.” He picked up his quill pen and dipped it in the onyx inkwell.

“You’re right. Were my father’s part in the scheme to overcome those at Mandara become known, he could be forced from the Vatican.

” He began to write. “Therefore there must be no knowledge of it.”

A lackey came into the room in answer to Borgia’s summons and he said without glancing up, “I want a messenger at once to take this to His Holiness.”

Damari leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

It was truly a brilliant plan and one that would bring him immense enjoyment.

What a pity he must wait for word back from that doddering old villain in Rome.

He had been tempted to proceed with the venture without informing Borgia but had thought better of it.

Both Borgias must be fully involved, fully committed.

“You’re very pleased with yourself.” Borgia had looked up and was gazing at him with a faint smile. “And well you should be. I could not have thought of a more effective stratagem myself.”

“High praise, Magnifico.”

“Truth.” Borgia began writing again. “I had a young Florentine as my guest here this winter who would appreciate your ingenuity as much as I. Unfortunately, he’s been recalled by the Signory. At the earliest opportunity, I must remember to introduce you to Messer Machiavelli.”

Lion was watching her again.

After that first quick glance at him Sanchia averted her eyes and turned to smile at the younger Della Rosa.

“I’ve never seen such a magnificent scene.

” She waved a sweeping hand around the great hall, indicating the chandeliers blazing with hundreds of candles, the richly garbed guests, the liveried lackeys rushing back and Forth filling silver goblets. “So much color. And the music…”

“You speak as if you’ve never attended a festivity of this nature before,” Bernardo Della Rosa said. “It’s true that Lady Caterina presides splendidly over the table, but I’ve seen much more lavish food in Ferrara, and this music is merely tolerable.”

“It seems wonderful to me.” Sanchia added simply, “And it’s true that I’ve never attended such a gathering before.

This whole past week has been like a marvelous dream.

” She threw back her head and laughed joyously as she put her goblet to her lips and drank deeply.

“And I think you lie when you say the music is not excellent. Surely no musicians this side of heaven could make sweeter sounds, Bernardo.”

He gazed in bemusement at her luminous face before admitting, “Perhaps I was overcritical. In Ferrara the musicans are—”

“I don’t want to hear about Ferrara. I want to think only about Mandara and the music and—” She hurriedly set her empty goblet on the tray of a passing servant. “The pavane. Escort me to the floor, Bernardo. I should like to dance.”

“You always want to dance.” Nevertheless he set his own goblet down on the table next to him and took her hand. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that you also never danced before you came to Mandara? You must have led a very sheltered life in Florence. Were you brought up in a convent?”

“Not exactly.” She wondered what he would say if she told him the truth.

She could imagine the distaste on his face and his instant withdrawal.

Sanchia Salmano of good family, daughter of a kinswoman of the illustrious Lady Caterina’s, was acceptable for flirtation and light-hearted dalliance but the slave-thief, Sanchia, would be instantly ostracized.

Still, she refused to dwell on such thoughts now.

After she left Mandara, she knew, there would be no more days of richness and splendor, so she must enjoy every moment.

They joined the ladies and gentlemen on the floor and began to tour the hall in the stately steps of the pavane. It was not Sanchia’s favorite dance, but the music was lilting, the movements rhythmic, and Bernardo Della Rosa was staring at her as if he thought her beautiful.

Lorenzo was suddenly before her in the set. “You look enchanting tonight. A veritable Circe. You should always wear green.”

“I’ve never seen you dance in public, Lorenzo.

” She glanced down at her jade green velvet gown with its cream satin undershift embroidered in shimmering gold thread.

“And you should recognize this gown. You gave the seamstress every detail you wished to see in the execution of it. Do you not remember those first days at Mandara?”

“But the conception palls before the realization. You glow like a torch.” He paused. “But I’d hood my flame when I smiled at young Della Rosa if I were you. I don’t like the look on Lion’s face.”

“I like Bernardo. He makes me feel young. I’ve never had a chance to dance or play games before.” She made a face. “Don’t harp, Lorenzo. I’m happy tonight.”

“I don’t know why I’m bothering to try to save you.

It would suit me very well to have Lion lose his patience with the game the two of you have been playing all week.

” He pointed his toe and led her forward with faultless grace.

“But I find I’m reluctant to expose you to needless violence. Is that not peculiar?”

“Very peculiar.” She cast a swift glance to the corner where Lion stood.

Someone had approached him and he was no longer looking at her.

Relief streamed through her, and she was immediately angry at herself.

Lion could not hurt her by watching her, which was all he had done since that first evening in the garden.

Caterina had kept her surrounded and occupied every waking moment of the last week and made sure she was escorted to Bianca’s chamber each night.

“But you need not be concerned. Lion has not—” She inhaled sharply as Lion glanced up and met her gaze across the room.

The color flamed in her cheeks and she looked away.

“You see?” Lorenzo asked softly. “Do not anger him more or he will snap, Sanchia.” He smiled. “But perhaps that’s your aim in dallying with Della Rosa. Perhaps you’re weary of being without the sport Lion introduced to you.”

“No!” She smiled determinedly. “I do not miss him. I do not want…Oh, go away, Lorenzo. Tonight I will be happy and pretend I have no more worries than those pretty girls sitting together near the hearth and giggling at everything one of them says.”

“As you command.” He shrugged. “But you’re not like them. In a fortnight you’ll be bored with this masquerade. You’ve dealt too long with reality to be tolerant of make-believe.” The next moment the music signaled a change of set and Lorenzo was gone. Bernardo once more took her hand.

She would not think of Lorenzo’s words. He was wrong.

She had no wish for Lion to approach her and it certainly was not lust she was feeling toward him.

She carefully squelched every thought that came to mind of their time together, and every day she was drawing farther and farther away from him.

Soon she would not even notice whether he was staring at her or not.

The music stopped with a little flourish and she turned to Bernardo with a smile. “That was splendid. Now will you go ask them to play the moresca? That’s so much more lively.”

Bernardo nodded and started to move across the hall to where the musicians sat in the gallery.

“Hold.” Lion was beside them. “You can dance later. It’s time to sit down to supper.” He smiled mockingly. “We mustn’t spoil my mother’s arrangements. I’m sure she’s planned something spectacular.”

Bernardo frowned. “But there’s been no announcement.”

“There will be.” Lion signaled across the room to a servant and a gong was immediately struck. He turned to Sanchia. “Permit me to take you to your chair.”

“She’s promised me that honor, my lord,” Bernardo said quickly.

Lion ignored him as he took Sanchia’s hand and led her toward the table.

“But Lord Andreas, I was given—” Bernardo broke off as Lion turned and fixed him with a cold stare and then continued lamely, “I only thought not to deprive your lovely wife of your escort.”

“My wife has an escort and, as you see, Madonna Sanchia has an injured hand.” He turned and looked down at Sanchia before adding silkily, “As her host, I feel it my duty to share my trencher with the poor lady and help her in any way I can.”

“I need no help.” Sanchia moistened her lips as she tried to withdraw her hand. “I’ve learned to make allowances for my clumsiness.”

“See how she protests?” Lion shrugged. “What a truly noble lady she is to struggle in silence with her infirmity. But I really can’t allow her to sacrifice herself.”

He seated Sanchia in a chair at the long table on the dais and then sat down beside her before motioning Bernardo away with a wave of his hand. “Enjoy your meal, Della Rosa.”

Bernardo hesitated and then turned and stalked down to a chair at the far end of the table.