The Wind Dancer/Storm Winds

  She would find a way to leave Mandara. A surge of dismay accompanied the thought as she looked at the high stone walls of the city. Escaping from Lion had proved impossible since they had landed in Pisa and might prove equally difficult now that she was to enter his own domain.

  “Give it up, Sanchia.”

  She turned to see Lion’s gazed fixed on her face. “You’ll not leave Mandara.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ll find a way.” Sanchia’s gaze shifted back to the castle. “You forget that I’m a very good thief. You’ll have difficulty keeping me locked up.”

  “I don’t have to keep you locked up. No keys are needed here. You’ll notice the moat and drawbridge and the city gates are guarded by my own men.” He smiled pleasantly. “And I’ll be careful to tell those guards that I’ll be forced to emasculate them if they allow you to step outside the gates of Mandara.”

  “I think that should prove more than persuasive,” Lorenzo said mildly. “Lion’s right. Give it up, Sanchia.”

  She didn’t answer as she spurred her horse down the incline toward the distant city.

  The gates of Mandara were flung open when they were still some distance away, and two riders rode out of the city. One rider on a huge gray horse immediately spurred ahead of the other and approached them at a hard gallop.

  “It seems we’re to be honored by a personal escort,” Lorenzo murmured. “The Lady Caterina.”

  Sanchia tensed, her gaze on the rider galloping toward them. She could not distinguish the woman’s features from this distance, but there was no doubt this was an illustrissima, a great lady. She rode with her spine straight, her carriage indomitable and with the same driving force and skill as her son, Lion. Since the lady was on horseback it was difficult to determine her size, but she appeared tall and slim, her shoulders broad beneath a crimson velvet cloak.

  “Courage, Sanchia.” Lorenzo’s gaze never left the approaching rider. “At least, she’s left her mace at home.”

  “Sanchia won’t need courage,” Lion said as he urged Tabron forward a few paces. “My mother will do her no harm.”

  Lorenzo snorted derisively but said no more.

  Caterina Andreas reined in her gray stallion a few yards from where Lion sat waiting and Sanchia unconsciously braced herself. Lion’s mother needed no weapons to impress and intimidate.

  The lady Caterina’s features were too strong to be considered beautiful, her jaw too long, her chin too firm, her brows a feminine version of Lion’s black slashing ones. She had the bold, authoritative manner of a man, yet there was nothing masculine about the sculptured beauty of her high cheekbones nor the dauntless spirit in her fine dark eyes. Her glossy black hair was threaded with silver but her face was firm and virtually unlined.

  Her keen gaze raked Lion’s face. “You are well?”

  Lion nodded. “Damari?”

  “He did not march on Mandara.” She shrugged. “The cur would not dare. He prefers to bribe others to do his villainy. Marco sent inquiries to Pisa and we received word that after Damari learned you had set sail for Genoa he left to seek out Borgia.” A sudden glint of humor appeared in her eyes. “No doubt to make excuses as to why he cannot produce what he promised. I’d like to have been there when he attempted to explain to his lord how he could not hold on to the Wind Dancer against only three men.”

  “And one woman,” Lorenzo added softly.

  Caterina’s gaze moved to Lorenzo’s face and she nodded formally. “Lorenzo.”

  He inclined his head in a mocking bow. “My lady.”

  Then Caterina turned to Sanchia. “You are the slave Sanchia?”

  Sanchia drew herself up. “I am Sanchia. I am no longer a slave.”

  Caterina glanced at Lion. “You freed her? Marco said you had no intention of freeing her.”

  “I didn’t free her.” Lion added dryly, “She appears to think saying the words makes it true.”

  “The debt is paid,” Sanchia said. “I am free.”

  “What does she do here?” Caterina asked Lion. “You were to leave her in Genoa. Marco said—”

  “She’s here and that’s the end of it,” Lion cut in harshly. “It will make no difference.”

  Caterina’s gaze narrowed on his face. “You do not bring her to the castle?”

  Lion shook his head. “She stays in the town.”

  “Unless you want to honor her with an invitation as your guest,” Lorenzo said. “I’m sure Lion would give in to your urging. He’s such a dutiful son.”

  “No!” Lion said. “Stay out of this, Lorenzo. This isn’t your concern.”

  “Our Messer Vasaro seldom lets that consideration stop him.” Caterina asked with dangerous softness, “Is this your doing, Lorenzo?”

  Lorenzo merely smiled at her.

  “Why?” Caterina turned back to Lion. “If you’re grateful to her for her service to you, then free her, give her money, and let her be on her way. She has no place in Mandara.”

  “She has a place wherever I choose to give it to her,” Lion said. “Let be, Mother.”

  “I shall not—” She broke off as she heard the clatter of approaching hooves. “I will deal with this later. It is not ended.”

  “We didn’t think it would be,” Lorenzo said.

  Caterina shot him a lethal glance before wheeling her horse to greet the woman riding toward them. “You were slow, Bianca. You must show more eagerness or Lion will think you’re not happy to see him.”

  “I’m always happy to see Lion, as he very well knows,” the woman addressed as Bianca answered serenely. “Do you forget I am not so good a horsewoman that I would dare to ride at breakneck speed as you do?” She smiled warmly at Lion, her deep blue eyes glowing with affection. “Welcome back to Mandara, my lord. We have missed you.”

  She was possibly the most beautiful woman Sanchia had ever seen. Sunlight shone on the streaks of blond weaving through the ash brown braids wrapped around her small head and revealed the perfection of features that might have graced a statue of Aphrodite. No, not Aphrodite, Sanchia amended her thought with sudden certainty. This woman’s face was too innocent to be likened to the worldly goddess of love. She glowed with a childlike purity that was more reminiscent of Psyche.

  “I missed you as well, Bianca.” Lion smiled gently. “You appear to be flourishing. You have more color than the last time I saw you.”

  “Oh yes, I’m very well. Marco makes me spend hours in the garden posing for his paintings. I was quite reddened from the last week.”

  “Marco should take better care of you.”

  “But she won’t have to worry about Marco taking care of her now that you’re home, Lion,” Caterina said briskly. “You can—”

  “Aren’t you going to introduce Sanchia to Bianca, Lion?” Lorenzo interrupted. “Where is your courtesy?”

  “This is Sanchia?” An eager smile lit Bianca’s face. “Marco told me how brave you were in helping to get the Wind Dancer back. How proud I am to meet you. I know we’re going to become fast friends.”

  Sanchia was warmed by Bianca’s sincerity; her smile held the same gentle, loving quality Sanchia was accustomed to seeing on Elizabet’s face. “I’m most pleased to meet you, my lady.”

  “But you haven’t been introduced,” Lorenzo said. “I suppose I must be the one to perform the happy duty. Sanchia, may I present the Lady Bianca?” He paused. “Lion’s wife.”

  Why did she feel so stunned? Sanchia wondered wildly. Just because no one had mentioned that Lion was wed did not mean a marriage did not exist. She quickly forced a smile to hide the shock she knew must be revealed on her face and nodded her head. “My lady.”

  “Bianca.” Lion’s wife urged with another smile. “You must call me Bianca.”

  “Bianca …” Sanchia repeated numbly. She would not look at Lion. She would not let him see the pain twisting through her now that the first shock had passed. She felt betrayed … more so than she had in the dungeon when she had believed Lion had aband
oned her. How stupid and unreasonable she was to feel this way. She should not mind that he had a wife.

  “And I will call you Sanchia.” Bianca turned to Caterina. “Could we put her in the chamber close to mine? I would dearly like to—”

  “She’s a slave, Bianca,” Caterina cut in harshly.

  “Still?” A frown marred the smooth perfection of Bianca’s brow. “But I’m certain Lion has only overlooked the formality of freeing her. He has no liking for slavery.” She turned to Lion. “Is that not so?”

  Lion’s face was expressionless. “As you say, there are formalities. But the question of her status is irrelevant at the moment. Sanchia will not stay at the castle.”

  As Bianca started to protest Lion raised a hand to silence her. “Perhaps later. Sanchia has suffered greatly and needs solitude. I’ve made arrangements for her to occupy a house off the piazza where she can rest and recover her strength.”

  Bianca’s frown vanished as her gaze went to Sanchia’s bandaged hand. “I can understand,” she said softly. “You are right, my lord. She must have solitude so that she may commune with God and pray that he return her to full health.” She nodded. “I will pray too, Sanchia, and we’ll soon have you at the castle.”

  “Thank you,” Sanchia said faintly.

  “And I will bring cushions and coverlets from the castle,” Bianca went on. “Perhaps a servant. What think you, Lion?”

  “I’ll arrange for the servant,” Lion said. “And you must not trouble yourself, Bianca. Sanchia is my responsibility and I will see to her comfort.”

  “But I’m sure Bianca doesn’t consider it a hardship,” Lorenzo said. “Charity is God’s will, isn’t it, Bianca?”

  “Lion is quite right, Bianca,” Caterina said with an annoyed look at Lorenzo. “It’s not your place to defy him in this.”

  “Defy him?” Bianca’s eyes widened in distress. “I would never defy him. You understand, do you not, my lord? I only thought to—”

  “I know, I know,” Lion said with sudden impatience. “My mother’s words were too harsh. Just accept my will in this.”

  “Certainly, my lord. Whatever you wish,” Bianca said, relieved. “May I send her strengthening food from the kitchens?”

  “Send what you like,” Lion said between his teeth as he urged Tabron into a trot. “And now, may we end this chatter and continue to the city? I need to question Marco about Damari and speak to the guards at the gate.”

  The whitewashed house to which Lion led them was small but charming, with window boxes overflowing with coral-red geraniums on the balcony overlooking the piazza.

  “I know this house,” Caterina said slowly, her gaze lifting to the curtained doors leading to the balcony. She turned to Lion.

  Lion met her gaze and his face softened. “I had no time to find another place. It’s this house or the castle.”

  “I’m not quarreling with your choice. I find it very fitting.”

  “Mother, it’s not my choice. I would—”

  “I have no time to linger here. I presume you have the key?”

  “Since the house has been empty the key has been held by the shopkeeper next door.”

  “Then you will have no trouble. Come, Bianca, we must hurry and make sure there is sufficient for supper.” Caterina wheeled her stallion and trotted away with Bianca following close behind her.

  Lion cursed softly beneath his breath before turning to Lorenzo. “Will you get the key and settle Sanchia before you come to the castle? I must talk to my mother.”

  Lorenzo nodded, his gaze on Caterina, her back rigidly straight. “I gather the house belonged to your father and was used for the usual purpose?”

  Lion nodded. “Cristo, why did she have to come to meet me? She wouldn’t have had to know Sanchia was occupying the house.”

  “You thought to hide me?” Sanchia asked clearly. “If I’m proving inconvenient, you have the solution.”

  Lion gave her a fierce glance. “Don’t anger me, Sanchia. I’m having trouble enough without you pricking at me.”

  Lorenzo’s gaze was still on Caterina. “Yes, go after her and give her kind words. I think she has need of them.” He turned to smile at Sanchia. “We will deal very well together without you.”

  “Very well,” Sanchia repeated emphatically.

  Lion cast her a black look, wheeled his horse, and set out after Lady Caterina and Bianca.

  Lorenzo dismounted and came around to lift Sanchia from her mare and tie the horses to the gate post of the iron fence that surrounded the house. “Wait here and I’ll get the key.”

  He was back in a few minutes, not only with the key but with a plump, homely young woman whose sunny smile was only slightly quenched by Lorenzo’s chilling presence. “This is Rosa Lanzio. She’s the youngest daughter of the owner of the silk shop next door. She will serve you.”

  Rosa murmured something inaudible and gave Sanchia a quick curtsy.

  Sanchia gazed at her, stunned. It was incomprehensible to her that she, who had been a slave for her entire life, was now offered someone to serve her. “I need no servant.”

  “Lion evidently thinks differently.” Lorenzo unlocked the door and wrinkled his nose distastefully as he swung it open. “Come along, Rosa, the entire place needs airing out and a thorough cleaning.”

  Rosa gave him a frightened glance and then fled wordlessly into the house.

  “At least she doesn’t chatter,” Lorenzo said blandly. “I detest a jabbering woman.” He glanced at Sanchia. “Though I should have no complaints about you. You’ve scarcely uttered a word since I introduced you to Bianca.”

  “I was … surprised.”

  “I gathered that.” Lorenzo smiled. “A lovely child, Bianca, and as good as she is lovely.”

  “Yes.”

  “You notice how kind and patient Lion is toward her?”

  Sanchia felt a queer jolt of pain. “It’s not out of the ordinary for a man to be kind to his wife. He must love her very much.”

  “Oh yes, everyone loves Bianca.”

  Sanchia turned to face him. “You didn’t want me to know about her until I arrived here.”

  “I certainly thought it better that you remain in ignorance as long as possible.”

  “Better for whom?”

  “All concerned. You’ll understand once you’re acquainted with the situation.” He looked intently at her.

  “But I think you’ve had quite enough to absorb for the time being.”

  “I won’t be here to come to understand very much about Lord Andreas and his family.”

  “Oh, I believe you will. Lion will take all the necessary precautions to assure your stay. He’s not gone through all this turmoil to see you flit away from him now.” He smiled. “So why not enjoy yourself? A pretty house, someone to wait on you, nothing to do but rest. Tomorrow we will look at fabric, and I’ll order you gowns so exquisite that Giulia Marzo would gnash her teeth with envy. Are you not tempted?”

  “No.”

  Lorenzo frowned, then his face brightened. “I forgot for a moment you weren’t brought up to appreciate the usual female pleasures. Books. I’ll bring you several books from the castle to amuse you until I can order your own. There’s a skilled young scribe here in Mandara who does both swift and beautiful work and you may choose whatever works please you for him to execute.”

  “Books?” Sanchia could not keep the eagerness from her tone. A book of her very own! What a delight it would be to possess the magic of words, not only in her mind but on fine parchment, to touch lovingly and keep forever.

  “Bound in fine crimson leather,” he said persuasively. “With gilt edges.”

  Sanchia suddenly smiled. “You’re surely an emissary from Satan, Lorenzo.”

  He nodded. “That’s what I continually tell Lion, but he prefers not to believe it. So you will take the books and—”

  “If I accept the books, it will not keep me from trying to run away,” she said quickly. “I must be honest wi
th you.”

  “Then I am fair warned.” Lorenzo shrugged. “Now come with me to the trattoria across the piazza and we will have wine and cheese while we wait for Rosa to clean your house. I cannot abide this smell.”

  “It’s not my house,” Sanchia said as she fell into step with him.

  “It could be, if you’d stop worrying about being free and start worrying about how to please Lion.”

  Sanchia’s lips tightened. “He has a wife to please him.”

  “True. Sweet, gentle Bianca.”

  Sanchia walked in silence for a moment before asking abruptly, “Have they been wed long?”

  Lorenzo nodded. “Since before I met Lion. I believe he was sixteen and Bianca fourteen. She was Bianca Garlondo, a connection of the Baglioni, and the merging of the families was considered very beneficial to Mandara. The marriage was arranged by Lion’s father and, as is the custom, they never saw each other before the contract was signed.”

  “Are there children?”

  “No.” Lorenzo smiled. “What a pity. No heir for Mandara. But then Bianca appears almost too beautiful to be subjected to the desecration of childbirth, doesn’t she?” His gaze suddenly narrowed on Sanchia’s face. “Tell me, what was your first impression when you saw her?”

  “Psyche,” she answered without thinking.

  He looked at her blankly and then chuckled. “You never cease to amaze me. What an interesting comparison.”

  They had reached the trattoria, and he pulled out a chair for her to sit and snapped his fingers for service. “The vino is excellent here, much better than in Florence. Mandara is growing famous for its vineyard.” He dropped into the chair opposite her. “Now let us speak on a subject that brings us mutual delight. Which books do you most wish to acquire?”