The Wind Dancer (22 page)

"So, in a way, it was my choice. It wasn't the broken promise that made me so angry."

His gaze was intent on her face. "Then what?"

"That I was in the maze with you at all."

He stiffened. "You chose to go. I didn't force you."

"Do you know the reason I went?" She laughed incredulously. "It was because you
smiled at me. Because I was so grateful you were treating me with kindness and a sort of
camaraderie that I would have gone anywhere, done anything to have you continue to
treat me so." Her gaze shifted to his face. "And I think you knew that if you were kind to
me, I would go with you and you need not feel accountable."

His lips tightened. "You believe me to be so ruthless?"

"Yes." She held his gaze steadily. "I think you would have done anything to get the Wind
Dancer back from Damari. In comparison, I had no real value to you. I was only your
slave to be used." She shrugged. "Perhaps you didn't even know you were doing it."

Could she be right? He had wanted the Wind Dancer desperately and he had needed her
help to retrieve it. Had he tried to woo her with kindness when his promise had kept him
from commanding her to come with him? If that were true, then his guilt was even
greater than he had thought. "You do have value for me."

"Do I? Now that you have the Wind Dancer back you have no need for a thief. Do you
intend to use my body and make me into a whore for your pleasure?"

Her words stung him. "A whore is paid and I have no intention of paying for your
services. Both you and Giovanni have already received quite enough from me." He
smiled caustically. "And why should I not use you? You didn't seem averse once I
showed you the way of it. I found you extremely eager to please. My pleasure was also
your pleasure."

The color rose to her cheeks. "You did give me pleasure but... " She stopped, searching
for words. "It was a false pleasure, a forced pleasure, because I did not choose it. You
took my body because you thought you owned it." Her eyes suddenly glittered with cold
rage. "You do
not
own it. You do not own me."

Shock ran through him, whatever he had expected it wasn't this complete rejection. "I
have a bill of sale that states otherwise."

"I don't care what your bill of sale says. It's wrong for a person to be able to own another
person. It should not happen. All my life I accepted being a slave because my mother said
I must. She told me I would always be a slave. She said Giovanni had a right to do
anything he wanted with us because he had bought us. Well, she was wrong, Giovanni
was wrong, and you're wrong. When I was in Damari's filthy dungeon I realized no one
has a right to make me do what I don't want to do because of a piece of paper." She drew
a deep breath and went on with a rush, "I'm no longer your slave and I won't obey you."

He went still. "The hell you won't," Lion said softly. "You may think of me as the devil
himself, but you belong to this particular devil and I'll tolerate no defiance."

"I have to defy you."

"Your memory is short. You gave me your promise of loyalty."

"Not because you bought me but because you helped Elizabet and the others. I paid that
debt in Damari's dungeon." She held up her bandaged hand. "You took your Wind
Dancer but I was the one who paid its ransom. We're even now, Lion."

He glanced away from her hand and out to sea. "Perhaps in your eyes but not the eyes of
the law."

"And in your eyes too," she said fiercely. "You know my debt is paid to you. Why do you
not admit it?"

"I do admit it. Your debt is paid," he said quietly. "But the bill of sale remains."

"Then tear it up. Free me."

He shook his head. "Why should I free you?"

"Because it's just," she said. "Dear God, there has to be some justice in the world or
nothing makes sense."

"You believe you want to be free now. But think about it. As my slave you're under my
protection. Life isn't easy for a woman alone."

"I know. I used to believe a slave was sometimes luckier than a free woman. But I was
wrong." She took a step closer. "A free woman has choices. I had none. What I suffered
in Damari's dungeon was only because I was your slave--doing what you willed. If I
ever have to suffer like that again, it will be because I believe what I'm suffering for is
worth the price of my pain." She shook her head. "You would give me no choices. I don't
want to be under your protection."

"How very unfortunate, since you most certainly are under my protection and will remain
with me."

"You will not free me, even though you know it's right to do so?"

He smiled at her mockingly. "How do I know what is right? What is wrong? Is it right to
deprive myself of my own property? Would it not be wrong to take away my protection
when Damari would like nothing better than to lay hands on you again?" His mockery
faded to be replaced by grimness. "Don't seek to tutor me on what is right, Sanchia.
Rightness lies with the holder of power."

"Then I must find a way to obtain power, for I will not let you own me." She gazed at
him unflinchingly. "And I will not permit you to use either my body or my mind again.
You might as well release me, for I will give you neither pleasure nor service."

"You do not have to give. As your master I'm entitled to take." He paused. "If I so desire.
However, there is no hurry. I'll give you opportunity to grow accustomed to me again
before I summon you to my bed."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Did you not hear me? I will no longer serve you."

"I heard you." He turned away and strode toward the bridge. "But I've decided not to let
you anger me. You've suffered much for my sake and are entitled to a few harsh words."

"I'm entitled to my freedom."

"Then you will be disappointed, for you will not receive it. Go to your cabin. I won't have
you catching a chill and falling ill."

"You won't have--"

"No, I won't have it," he repeated deliberately over his shoulder as he started up the steps
of the forecastle. "Though you choose to think me as much a monster as Damari, I
suffered because Damari captured and hurt you. And you do have value for me."

"As property?" she asked scornfully.

"As... Sanchia."

Her eyes widened. She was startled by his revelation. As he motioned the seaman away
and took his place at the tiller, she quickly turned her back and gazed out to sea.

"She doesn't appear to be pleased with you," Lorenzo observed as he leaned on the rail to
look at Lion. "What did you say to her?"

"She wants her freedom. She says she's no longer a slave and wants me to tear up her
paper."

"Hmm, I'm not surprised." Lorenzo frowned. "Though I must admit I'm disappointed she
decided to strike her blow for freedom at this particular time. It would have suited me
better if she had continued to prove herself willing to render whatever you demanded of
her. I take it you didn't give her what she asked?"

Lion's grip tightened on the tiller. "No, I did not."

"Ah, there's hope for you yet. You're not totally lost to the dark joys of corruption."

"She's mine," Lion said harshly. "She has no right to leave me. She--" Sanchia's words
came back to him. She had said he had no right to hold her, but she was wrong. Even if
the papers didn't exist, a man had the right to win whatever prizes were within his power
and then hold on to them. So it had always been and so it would continue forever.
Besides, she'd be better off with him than without him. Too many hazards threatened a
woman alone in a world populated by men like Caprino, Damari, and Borgia.

And Lionello Andreas.

No, he was no threat to Sanchia. He quickly rejected the ridiculous thought. He would
care for her. He would give her gifts of great beauty and fill her life with pleasure.

And fill her body with himself, sate himself in that tight silken sheath until he was rid of
the obsession for only Sanchia.

And what was wrong with that? She had been learning all the ways of pleasure and he
could not mistake the response she had given him.

False pleasure she had called it.

"Then do you bed her tonight?" Lorenzo asked. "She's well enough. Look at her, there's a
bloom about her."

He didn't have to look at Sanchia to remember her clear, glowing beauty as defiance
reddened her cheeks. His loins ached as he recalled the sight of her standing naked in the
barn gazing up at him with frightened, wondering eyes. He could see her that way again,
enter her again, hear her cry out...

But she would fight him this time. She would not be too frightened or hesitant to strike
out at him, if he tried to force her. No matter what it cost, she would not give him what
he wanted from her.

And if he compelled her, he might hurt her.

"Well, she did give you pleasure, didn't she? You were wild enough for her before this
experience with Damari."

He was still wild for her. He should be feeling remorse and pity, not lust. Somewhere
within him he did feel both those emotions, but the lust was greater. He could not let her
go, so he had to find a way to convince her that remaining his slave was best for her.
"Yes, she gave me pleasure."

Forced pleasure.

The memory of Sanchia's words knifed through him.

Force meant pain and he could not inflict more pain when she had already suffered so
much for his sake.

"I'll not bed her tonight. Though I know it will disappoint you, it will do no harm to show
a little patience."

Lorenzo started to say something, but thought better of it, and merely commented,
"You're right, of course. It will do no harm and it might do a great deal of good. By all
means, take as long as you like. I'm sure the practice of self-restraint will be wonderfully
beneficial to the development of your character--and we both know how abstinence
affects you, don't we, Lion?"

He didn't wait for an answer but strolled down the steps of the forecastle, a smile of
satisfaction returning to his lips.

The dream came again that night.

Sanchia lay in the darkness, willing her heart to steady its wild cadence. It was only a
dream, she told herself over and over. She wasn't in the dungeon, she was on Lion's ship,
hundreds of miles away from Solinari. It was only a dream.

It did no good. The walls of the cabin were too close and seemed to be drawing closer
with each breath she drew. She had to get out.

She got up and began to dress with frantic speed. She would go out on deck and look at
the sea and breathe the sharp, clean air and think about what lay beyond the horizon.
Freedom and adventure...

And perhaps the blessed absence of dreams.

A few minutes later she was standing at the rail looking out at the moonlight-dappled sea.
Yes, this was what she had needed. She could feel the peace flow into her, banishing the
tumult, blurring the memories she could not forget.

"What are you doing out here? Do you realize it's the middle of the night? You persist in
trying to make yourself ill."

Her feelings of serenity were splintered as she recognized Lion's voice. Dio, she didn't
want him here. Tonight she desired peace and he brought only turbulence. "I'm wearing
my shawl." She drew the wrap closer about her. "I'll go in shortly."

He moved to stand beside her at the rail. "Now."

"No!" Then she tried to temper the sharpness of her voice. There must be no conflict
now. Peace. Serenity. "I cannot sleep. Leave me and I promise to go in within the next
hour."

"Bargains?" A note of surprise colored his tone. "You must already be ill. You were
considerably more defiant this afternoon." He suddenly frowned. "Why can't you sleep?
Does your hand hurt? Lorenzo said it was healing well."

"My hand doesn't hurt. It grows better every day. I'm just restless."

She could feel his gaze on her face. "Dreams?"

"What difference does it make? Go away. You disturb me."

"You disturb me too." His tone was abstracted. "The same dream? About the thief thrown
out of the Stinche?"

"Not the same dream."

"Then what do--"

"Why do you not leave me alone?" She whirled to face him. "I dream of Damari's
dungeon, not the Stinche. I dream that the hammer is a sword and Fra Luis is cutting off
my fingers one by one. That's what he was going to do, you know. But first they wanted
to let me think about it, so they played with me. They brought out the wooden block and
put my hand on it and--"

"Hush." She was suddenly in Lion's arms, her cheek pressed against the leather of his
jerkin, his fierce voice vibrating low beneath her ear. "Don't talk about it. Don't think
about it."

"And after they had finished with me for the time they would take me back to the cell for
a few hours so that I could recover and think of the next time they would--"

"I said no!" Lion's palm was suddenly covering her lips. "I don't want to hear any more. I
want you to forget it."

She shook her head to rid herself of his hand. "I can't forget. I don't have that capability. I
remember everything and, when I refuse to think of it during the day, I dream of it at
night." She smiled bitterly. "But I will cease talking about it, if it troubles you."

"It does trouble me. I... feel it." Lion gazed down at her, his dark eyes glittering in the
moonlight. "Tell me," he demanded suddenly. "Everything. From the first moment you
were captured until I came for you. Everything they did to you. Everything you felt."

"Why? You said you didn't want to hear it."

"
Gran Dio
, I don't, but I have to share it. It was my responsibility you were there and I'll
not leave you alone with it."

"It will do no good to--"

"Tell me."

And she told him, haltingly at first and then with a feverish rush, releasing all the
memories, giving them to him.

And he listened, his expression impassive, his gaze locked to hers. Accepting.