The Wind Dancer

  "But you should have thought about it," he said fiercely. "Giovanni had no right to---Gran Dio, what am I saying? In another moment I'll be talking you into running away from me."He stood up. "Don't try it. I warn you that I'd find you and be most annoyed. And don't mistake a temporary madness brought on by the warmth of the fire and those huge eyes gazing at me for anything enduring. Your mother was right. Accept that you're mine and will stay mine."

  She was bewildered. "But I have accepted--Where are you going?"

  "To look to the horses." He was already at the door. "Antonio's son is a cowardly lout. The last time I was here he was too afraid of Tabron to unsaddle him."

  "So you're going yourself to see if he's been taken care of?"

  "A horse can be the difference between life and death to a man. It doesn't denote softness to see that an animal is well cared for." He scowled. "What are you smiling about?"

  She quickly wiped any trace of amusement from her face. "Nothing, my lord."

  "No? I'm getting very weary of being thought a weakling," he said with menacing softness. "First Lorenzo and now you. I think I must put an end to it." He paused. "I was stupid not to take what I wanted in the beginning and I'll wait no longer. When I come back I want to see you sitting on that stool wearing nothing but firelight. You understand?"

  "Yes." The air in the room was suddenly charged with the same stormy intensity as earlier. She moistened her lips. "I understand, my lord."

  "Good." He slammed the door shut behind him.

  Sanchia started to speak quickly as soon as Lion entered the room. "Letitia came and took the trenchers and left fresh wine. Was Tabron well?" Her hands were locked together on her lap and she flexed her fingers nervously, her gaze fixed on the fire. "Will we go straight to Solinari tomorrow or must we stop at another--"

  "Stand up. I want to look at you."

  Sanchia tensed and then rose slowly to her feet. She turned to face Lion, but still would not meet his gaze. "You've seen me before. In the bath. There's nothing more to see."

  "I disagree." His gaze ran over her naked body, lingering on the soft thatch guarding her womanhood. "There's always something more to see and... appreciate."

  A wave of heat tingled through Sanchia that had nothing to do with the fire burning in the hearth. Her nails bit into the flesh of her palms as her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She welcomed the sharp pain; it pierced the rigidity attacking her every muscle. "Shall I kneel on the floor now?"

  "No!" The sharpness of his voice caused her gaze to move to his face. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt as if she were suffocating. Lion's dark eyes were fierce, and the flesh drawn tight over the broad planes of his jaws hollowed his cheeks as if he were being consumed by a terrible hunger. "When will you learn I'm not Giovanni?" He took a step forward and she caught the clean scent of hay, soap, and crisp spring night clinging to him. "My name is Lion. Say it."

  She could feel the heat his body was emitting though he hadn't touched her yet. The muscles of her limbs felt suddenly heavy, weak, unable to support her weight. "Lion." The name trembled uncertainly from her lips. "My lord."

  "Just Lion." He reached out a gloved hand to caress her slender throat.

  She inhaled sharply and a shiver ran through her.

  He stopped with his hand still encircling her throat to gaze at her searchingly.

  "The leather is cold," she said quickly, seizing wildly at the first excuse that came to mind for her moment of revealing weakness.

  "Is it?" His smile was purely sensual. "Then we must do something to warm it, for I cannot trust myself to touch you without them right now." He turned to the fire and held out his gloved hands to the flames. "Do you know what I thought when I came through the doorway and saw you sitting naked on your stool?"

  Her gaze was fastened in helpless fascination on the heavy, scarred gauntlets he held before the warmth of the fire. They came almost to his elbows, the brass rivets shining in the firelight, each finger now limned in blue-orange flame. "No, my lo-Lion."

  "I thought what a stroke of fortune it was that brought me to Giovanni's shop."

  "It wasn't fortune; it was Caprino."

  "And that I want you to be like this always. I want to think of the fire shimmering on your flesh and shining on your hair while you wait for me to come to you." His gaze remained on the burning logs. "Come into you."

  Her heart gave a jerk and then began to pound wildly. Her thoughts were an incoherent jumble and she was only conscious of the raw vulnerability of her own nudity, the dominance of Lion's fully clothed body, the violence she sensed beneath those garments.

  And, most of all, the power of his leather-gauntleted hands held out before the flames...

  "You're very small." His gaze was still on the fire. "It will hurt you the first time."

  She didn't answer. She almost wished he would touch her and end the maddening tension between them. She felt as if the next breath she drew would shatter her composure.

  "I'll try to proceed slowly but--" He stopped and was silent a moment before continuing haltingly, "My appetites are great. Sometimes it's like a frenzy, a madness. You must not fight me or I might injure you. I don't want that to happen."

  "I will not fight you."

  Lion's hands closed slowly into fists. "I know. You will yield because I own you." He smiled recklessly as he turned to face her. "And why not? It's the way of the world." His gloved hands reached out to encompass her breasts. "Why do you gasp? The leather is no longer cold. I made sure of that, Sanchia."

  The leather was warm, almost hot, she thought hazily. The hard, seamed leather was strangely seductive against the smoothness of her flesh.

  His hands were cupping her, squeezing her gently while his gaze studied her face. "My hands are even warmer," he said softly. "But I dare not take off these gloves yet. The texture of your skin excites me and if I touch your flesh I will need you at once... and I will take you at once. It will go easier for you if I do not." His left hand slid down her abdomen to the thatch of curls surrounding her womanhood and began slowly to rub back and forth. "Such a pretty nest." His voice was hoarser, his nostrils flaring as he looked at her. "I want to move into you and feel those curls brushing against me. Part your limbs now, Sanchia."

  She was trembling so badly she wasn't sure she could move. His hand stroking her was igniting a strange burning sensation between her thighs.

  "Sanchia." The softness of his tone failed to veil the underlying command.

  She obeyed him, her gaze fastened blindly on the lacings of his leather jerkin.

  "Wider." Her gaze moved up to his strong brown throat, and she watched in fascination as the pulse in the hollow abruptly accelerated. "Ah, that's right. Now stand very still."

  His hand moved down between her thighs and she felt the warmth of his hand through the gauntlet as his palm moved against her, caressing, stroking. Everywhere he touched left a trail of that same moist burning sensation that was close to pain. She closed her eyes, swaying helplessly as sensation after bewildering sensation tore through her. "It... hurts."

  "No." His palm cupped, squeezed, released. "It's not pain, Sanchia. Hunger." His voice was uneven. "It's hunger."

  "I don't think so." She reached out to clutch desperately at his upper arms.

  He stiffened. "Don't touch me."

  She jerked her hands away. "I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't mean--"

  "Lion," he cut in through clenched teeth. "It's too soon for you to touch me. I can't hold off, if you do." He lifted her in his arms and started across the room toward the bed. "There are many kinds of hunger." He laid her down. "This is the best." He parted her thighs, his index finger searching. "And the worst."

  He found what he sought and began to gently press and rotate.

  Her eyes widened with shock as she gave a little cry.

  He was a huge, dark shadow bending over her, his expression intent, his lips parted to take in more air as his massive chest labored with
the harshness of his breathing. His face was a devil's mask above her as the glow of the firelight lit only one side of his face leaving the other in darkness.

  Darkness. Flame. Hunger.

  She bit her lower lip to suppress a moan as the unbelievable ripples of feeling spread from his gloved finger to every part of her body. It was hunger, she realized dazedly, a hunger more terrible than any she had ever known. She couldn't bear it. She instinctively tried to close her thighs.

  "No!" He stopped her, moving her thighs even farther apart until she felt totally vulnerable, totally exposed. His finger continued to press gently as he gazed down at her. "I want to look at you." His tone was almost guttural. "Beautiful... " His other hand moved down and he inserted one finger carefully within her. "Dio, you're tight." A second finger joined the first with some difficulty and he paused, his gaze lifting to her face. "Tell me what you're feeling."

  The seams of the leather gloves pressing against her, his fingers invading her, the burning hunger increasing every second. She shook her head helplessly. "I... can't." She gasped and instinctively arched up against him as he plunged deeper, withdrew and plunged again. "Please, my lord--"

  "What do you feel?" he demanded.

  Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. "Heat." Her nails dug into the coverlet. "Hardness. The leather is... " The muscles of her stomach clenched as a third finger slipped into her. "Fullness."

  "And hunger?" He moved slowly, then faster, then slowly again. "You want this?"

  "Yes." The affirmative was a whisper. She was surprised she could speak.

  "It's pleasure?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  "Good." His fingers left her and he straightened and stepped back away from the bed. "Let's hope you'll soon know so, for I can't wait any longer." He drew off the leather gauntlets and threw them aside. "Santa Maria, I want to feel you." He touched her breasts, his long fingers light and gentle on her flesh. A shudder ran through him. "I told you," he whispered. "I knew it would be like this." His callused palm cupping her breasts was nearly as hard as the leather of the glove, but it was infinitely different. His flesh was warmer, vibrant with life. "Your skin is like nothing I've ever touched before. It makes me--" He threw back his head, drawing in a great breath as if starved for air. "I'll show you how it makes me." He pulled her to a sitting position on the bed and began to strip off his clothing.

  She crouched on her knees on the bed, her arms crossing her breasts in an attempt to still her trembling. "You're undressing too?"

  He didn't look at her as he pulled off his boots. "As quickly as possible."

  "Giovanni never undressed when he took my moth--" She broke off as he cast her a stormy glance. "I can't help comparing you. He was my master. Now you're my master. My acquaintance is not so large that--" She stopped, her eyes widening as his rampant arousal sprang free when he pulled off his black hose. She swallowed and moistened her lips. He was not like Giovanni at all. Naked now, Lion was all iron muscles and brawny power. The triangle of springy dark hair thatching his chest ended in a V before it reached the flatness of his stomach, but another thatch surrounded his manhood. Where Giovanni was soft and flabby, Lion was taut and muscular. Where Giovanni was small, Lion was--

  "You see?" Lion asked softly as his gaze followed her own. "This is what you do to me. Looking at you, touching you..."

  "I see." She couldn't keep her gaze off him. She stated positively, "You won't fit, you know."

  He chuckled. "I'll fit very well. A woman's body is marvelously accommodating. After the first time it won't even hurt."

  She had grave doubts his assurances would prove true but, since there was clearly nothing she could do, it would be foolish to worry about possible pain until it happened. Besides, she was still feeling the tingling urgency between her thighs that tempered her fears with curiosity and excitement. "You look very... strong."

  "I notice you don't call me handsome." He threw the hose aside and stepped forward. "I know well I'm an ugly bastard. But, as you say, I'm strong as a bull and that can be of use in such jousts as this."

  "You're not ugly."

  He smiled cynically. "You learn the arts of flattery quickly. However, sweet words are futile when I have a mirror to look into each morning."

  He didn't believe her, Sanchia realized. "No, truly, I do not--" She broke off as he knelt on the bed facing her. He was so close her nipples brushed the thatch of hair on his chest.

  He cupped her face in his hands as he gazed down at her with an expression that hinted at anger. "I don't want this. I have no liking for taking virgins."

  "Then don't do it."

  "Easy words." His hands moved down to her shoulders and began to knead her flesh with yearning tenderness. "I must do it. From the moment I saw you I knew I must have you like this."

  "Not from the first moment. Only when you saw me in the bath and found I wasn't as ugly as you thought."

  "Cristo, must you always argue with me?" His hands tightened on her shoulders. "I like you better when the only sounds you make are gasps and moans."

  Obediently, she kept silent. What was he waiting for? she wondered. She could feel the unbearable tension gripping his body and yet she also sensed reluctance.

  "And don't look at me like that." He shook her. "I don't want to hurt you, dammit. It will bring me no pleasure, but I must... " He pushed her back on the bed and moved between her thighs. His arousal nudged against the center of her womanhood as he muttered, "One stroke and it will be over." He covered her lips with his palm. "One stroke... "

  He drew a deep breath and lunged forward.

  Pain. White hot. Lightning swift. Her cry was smothered by his hand but her eyes widened with shock and agony as they gazed up at him.

  "Close your eyes," he commanded roughly as he eased farther into her tight passage. "Don't look at me."

  Her lids fell and she was in darkness. The pain was fading, and she was conscious only of an exquisite fullness and a sense of something lost that had been found. She could feel the soft prickle of the hair dusting Lion's thighs brushing the smoothness of her own and heard the harsh sound of his breathing above her.

  He was still, filling her completely but not moving. "It's done." His palm petted her, smoothing her around him. "Dio, you've taken all of me. I wasn't sure you'd be able to do it. You're so tiny... " His finger began to press and circle that bewitching place he'd fondled before. A hot shiver ran through her and she could feel the muscles of her stomach clench. A moment before she had felt pinned, staked to Lion's body and content only to accept, but suddenly now she felt the need for something more. "May I... move?"

  He froze. "I cannot stop." His voice was savage with frustration. "I'll try to hurry but I cannot promise."

  "That wasn't what I meant. I wished only--" She broke off as he drew out and then plunged forward. Pleasure streaked through her. This was what Lion had meant, she thought dazedly as he began a wild, pounding rhythm. This must be the pleasure men felt when they fornicated with a woman. She wished Lion hadn't condemned her to darkness. She would have liked to watch his face to see if he was feeling the same pleasure as she.

  Yet he must be enjoying her body for he was shuddering, trembling as he moved, his breath coming in sharp gasps that resembled sobs. The intensity of his need filled her with a heady excitement and increased her own hunger tenfold. It was as if he were feeding her his frustrated desire for completion and somehow making it her own.

  He was petting her again, his big hands trembling, urgent. "Take me," he muttered. "Help me. I want all of you."

  He sounded like a man in agony, she thought with a rush of maternal tenderness. What must it be like to feel desire with such overwhelming intensity? She clenched around him and heard Lion give a low groan.

  "Sweet... That's right. Hold me. Only a little longer."

  She tried to hold him but he was too wild, out of control, almost lifting her from the bed with the force of his thrusts. She was suddenly conscious
of something building within her, growing stronger with every movement. Something... strange, coiling toward fever heat.

  Lion was moving her, shifting her, trying to take more of her. The hotness pouring through her was a clear stream of pure desire. Then the stream merged with Lion's until there was only one river, one entity striving to reach... to reach what?

  Then she knew!

  The knowledge broke over her in a release of rapture that left her gasping and shivering in the shimmering aftermath.

  Lion cried out thickly as if strangling on a surfeit of pleasure.

  The silence in the room was broken only by the crackle of burning logs in the fireplace and Lion's harsh breathing above her.

  "May I open my eyes now?"

  She heard his breathing become arrested and then he muttered a low curse beneath his breath. "Gran Dio." Then he was moving off her. "Of course you can open your eyes. Why the hell shouldn't you?"

  Her eyes opened to see him striding across the room, the muscles of his tight buttocks rippling as he moved toward the washstand. Slowly she sat up and gave a wistful sigh. He was angry again. She wished she'd been allowed a few moments more to enjoy this odd sweet languor before having to gather herself to try to understand what was troubling him. "Because you told me you didn't want me to look at you."

  "That was because I didn't want to see your--" He broke off and kept his gaze averted as he dipped a cloth into the water in the basin and wrung it out. "I didn't mean you had to keep them closed. Have you no sense?"

  "I don't know you well enough to always know what you want from me," she said simply. "I thought perhaps it made your pleasure greater if I didn't distract you by looking at you."

  "No, it wasn't that." He averted his gaze as he turned and came back to the bed carrying the damp cloth. He sat down on the bed and moved the cool cloth between her legs. His gaze remained fixed on the cloth as he asked in a low voice, "Does it still hurt?"

  "There's a little soreness." She shrugged. "I thought it would hurt much more. You're right; a woman's body is very accommodating."

  "Yes." His hand moved caressingly and she could feel the warmth of his flesh through the coolness of the cloth. "I've never known a body as sweetly accommodating. You're so small it was like handling a child and yet you're a woman here." He abruptly threw the cloth aside, pushed her back on the bed and stood up. "Sleep. I won't want you again tonight."