The Wind Dancer

by Iris Johansen

  "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 vinois 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?"

  Chapter Eleven.

  The flames of the smoking torches affixed to the stone walls on either side of the tall front doors of Mandara cast an eerie orange-red light on Lion's dark hair. He strode out of the pools of light, hurrying across the courtyard to Lorenzo.

  "Cristo, you took long enough." Lion motioned for the lackey to take the reins of Lorenzo's horse as he dismounted. "She's settled?"

  "As much as she'll let herself be settled. Did you talk to Marco?"

  "Yes, Damari is definitely with Borgia. He rode for Cesena directly from Pisa."

  "Which means you can't touch him yet without pulling Cesare down on Mandara. You'll have to be patient."

  "I don't feel like being patient. I may not be able to touch Damari, but I can drag down Caprino. I leave for Florence tomorrow at dawn."

  "Then do you go to Sanchia tonight?"

  "No." Lion turned abruptly and started up the stone steps. "Not tonight."

  "Ah, I understand. You wish to spend the evening in the arms of your sweet wife."

  "Lorenzo, someday I'll--" Lion stopped. "You have what you wanted, but I'll not give you total victory."

  Lorenzo followed him into the great hall. "But the victory will be yours. That will be the beauty of it." He started up the wide oak stairs. "But I admit I'm weary of all this destiny shaping. Even God rested on the seventh day. Do what you wish tonight. I intend to spend the hours before sleep wandering with Dante in his inferno. He doesn't truly understand the nature of hell, but it comforts me to know that someone believes there's a Hades other than the one we make for ourselves. It strikes a certain balance in the universe."

  "Sleep well, Lorenzo."

  Lorenzo looked down at him from the landing and a rare smile lit his face. "Thank you, my friend, and may your own sleep bring you counsel. It's all so simple, if you would but see it." He continued up the stairs to the chamber he had made his own for the thirteen years he had been with Lion.

  It was more than two hours later when the door of Lorenzo's bed chamber was thrown open and Caterina Andreas marched into the room. She wore a splendid midnight blue velvet gown with a low round neckline bordered in sapphires set in filigree silver. Combs ornamented with sapphires held her dark hair smoothly in its bun on her nape and she looked very much the grand lady of the castle. Which had probably been her intention, Lorenzo thought in amusement as he closed his book and leaned back in his chair.

  "It was your doing, wasn't it?" She slammed the door behind her. "Lion has never brought a woman to Mandara before. I won't have it. Do you hear me? I won't have it, Lorenzo."

  "Good evening, my lady. I trust you had a pleasant evening? I was sorry to miss the joyous homecoming repast." Lorenzo pushed his chair away from the desk. "Sanchia and I had to make do with bread and cheese at the trattoria. Sanchia was content, but then she's not accustomed to anything else." He gazed at her in reproach. "Do you not feel guilty in depriving the poor child of a better life here at the castle?"

  "I do not. Let her make a better life away from Mandara. Lion spends little enough time here as it is. I won't have him distracted from his duty."

  "Duty? Ah, the impregnation of the lovely Bianca. You'd think, considering Lion's appetite for that sport, he would have a dozen offspring by now, wouldn't you?"

  "Stop playing, Lorenzo. I will have a grandson and Mandara will have an heir. This foolishness has gone on too long."

  "My exact words to Lion. It's gone on far too long." He shook his head. "And you know he won't touch Bianca. He regards her as a little sister now."

  "That could change." Caterina drew two steps closer, glaring at him. "She's very beautiful."

  "She's dull."

  "She's gentle and obedient."

  "She's a child."

  "She's almost as old as Lion, far older than that red-haired urchin you persuaded Lion to bring here."

  "In years, perhaps, but Sanchia's upbringing has given her a maturity Bianca will never have. You know that as well as I do." He met her gaze. "And I did not persuade Lion to bring Sanchia here. You should know your son well enough to realize words would not sway him. Circumstances conspired to bring Sanchia here."

  "With your help?"

  "I certainly offered every encouragement. Sanchia may be the answer to Lion's quandary. She has courage and intelligence and I think they suit very--"

  "Sweet Mary, you're surely not telling me he could love her?" Caterina gazed at him in astonishment. "Good God, have you lost your senses? Passion, perhaps, but he's no fool to mistake lust for those mawkish emotions mouthed by troubadours."

  "No, he's no fool." Lorenzo smiled. "And we both know love is a word for fools and children. Still, it could do no harm for him to have a woman who could offer him a mind as well as a body to enjoy."

  "Let him have her then," Caterina said. "But not here. I must have an heir for Mandara."

  "You could marry again. You're young enough to bear another child."

  She suddenly averted her face. "I like my life well enough as it is without bringing in a man to call lord, and perhaps, covet what is Lion's."

  "Lion does not want Mandara. He guards it because duty is his nature, but he cares only for that precious shipyard of his in Pisa."

  "That's only a whim. He'll tire of it and return to Mandara."

  "No, you're wrong. He's found something there he was lacking and from now on he'll return to Mandara only when he must. Mandara is what you want, not what Lion wants. He has no wish to continue your dynasty."

  "I desire no dynasty. I want only to keep what I've built here." Her dark eyes blazed at him. "Who do you think protected and nurtured Mandara while my husband and Lion were away fighting their battles? Carlo took Lion from me when he was little more than a baby, and Marco was always absorbed in his painting and music. I have no--" She broke off and then continued with steely determination, "Mandara is my child. It must go on."

  "Then you must look elsewhere for the means."

  "You will not help me?"

  "Are you asking me for help?"

  She lifted her chin proudly. "No."

  "That is good. I'd hate to refuse such a grand and noble lady. By the way, that gown is truly superb. Was it meant to overwhelm me with your consequence?"

  "Yes."

  "You've succeeded. I stand abased and chastened."

  "You lie." She gazed at him silently for a minute. "Well, aren't you going to ask me to take it off and come to bed?"

  "No."

  "Do you want me in your bed?"

  "Oh, yes." A brilliant smile warmed the coldness of his face as his gaze moved over her caressingly. "Yes, my dear Caterina, it's my most earnest desire."

  "Why do you never come to me?" Caterina rubbed her cheek against Lorenzo's naked shoulder with catlike contentment. "Why must I always come to your chamber and ask to be taken to your bed?"

  Lorenzo gently stroked her silky hair. "You're a great lady. I would not have your name bandied about by your servants." His index finger moved to lazily trace the straight line of her brow. "And then, too, my self-love is very fragile. What if I should ask and you refuse? I should be devastated."

  "I should have known I'd get no satisfaction from that twisted tongue of yours." She raised herself to gaze down at him with a smile. "It's just as well you give me such satisfaction with another part of your anatomy or I would not bother sinking my pride to come to you."

  "Such bawdiness." He lifted his head and kissed her lips. "Should the lady of the cast
le conduct herself so?"

  She stiffened and then rolled away from him. "I'm not a bawd. Just because I come to you like this does not mean that I fornicate with all who ask me."

  "I did not say it did," Lorenzo murmured. "I jest. You are overly sensitive tonight."

  "Yes." She was silent a moment, gazing into the darkness. "It was the house."

  "I thought it might be."

  "It was the house Carlo kept for his mistresses. I wasn't supposed to know about it." Her voice harshened. "How could I help but know about it? There were always those ready to taunt me with the knowledge of Carlo's latest woman." She paused before continuing fiercely, "There was never affection between us, but I was his wife and he should have spared my pride."

  And she had such great pride, Lorenzo thought, as great as the splendid spirit that matched her equally splendid body. "You had no affection for him?"

  She shook her head. "There was lust at first. But after the children were born and he had his heirs, he no longer came to my bed. He easily grew tired of a woman and wanted variety."

  "A most foolish man."

  "I didn't care. I was never so stupid as to think he would be faithful to me. Men are not constant by nature."

  "How wise of you to realize and accept our faults." He could feel the rigidity of her muscles against him and sensed the painful tumult the memories had resurrected within her. "Would you turn over? There's a lovely hollow between your shoulder blades that intrigues me."

  She turned over on her side with a chuckle. "My shoulder blades?"

  "You have magnificent shoulders." He pressed his lips to her right shoulder. "And I could write an ode to your shoulder blades." He brushed his lips against her left shoulder. "And a sonnet to this cunning hollow between them." His lips nuzzled the hollow affectionately. He could feel the tautness ebbing from her stiff muscles and deliberately kept his tone careless. "Go on, you were telling me of this idiot, Carlo. Though why we're bothering to discuss the boring fellow I don't know. I'm almost sorry I helped Lion dispose of his murderers. He obviously deserved that knife between his ribs." His lips moved down the hollow of her spine. "I suppose you were equally foolish and remained faithful to him?"

  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 maycome," 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 war
mth 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."