My Spartan Hellion (27 page)

“Armine is
very
special indeed and she deserves a special sword. Is that not right?”

Armine returned her smile and nodded again. “I need a
great
sword because when I grow up I shall become a great soldier just like father and—”

Armine stopped at the sound of Adonis’ laughter, and Lamia cringed, knowing already what Adonis was sure to say. For his sake she prayed he would temper his words, for she feared, if he angered the child, that Lamia would not be able to stop Armine before she took out his
other
eye.

“That is quite ambitious of you, but in Sparta girls cannot be soldiers.”

His tone was placating and Lamia inwardly sighed when Armine balled her fists against her lap. The girl was too astute not to know when she was being patronised.

“Yes, I can.”

He shook his head. “No, you canno—
Ouch
!”

“Armine!”

Adonis stared up at the scowling child. “Did you just kick me—?”

“Yes, because you are mean-spirited and you lie.”

Adonis shot Lamia a helpless look as if to say
How should I respond to that?
but she rescued him before he could dig himself into a deeper hole. Besides, Armine could not go around striking people just because they disagreed with her.

“Armine, apologise to Adonis this instant,” Lamia admonished, her voice firm.

“I am sorry,” she murmured, her arms folding across her chest as she bowed her head, duly chastised.

Adonis graciously accepted her apology, although Lamia noted with a measure of amusement that he deftly scooted away from them so he was out of the girl’s kicking range.

“While I disapprove of Armine striking you, I must admit, however, that I do not agree with you.” She put her sketch tablet aside, giving him the full weight of her attention. Spartan men could be arrogant and presumptuous and she did not care for anyone telling Armine that she could not be anything that she desired simply because she was a girl.

“I believe Armine can become whatever it is she desires when she reaches womanhood. And if she was still in our homeland, she
could
be a soldier.”

Adonis leant back on his hands and watched them both warily. “Everyone in your family seems to be prone to hitting people so I am afraid to speak.”

She chuckled softly. “I shall not strike you, Adonis, for having your beliefs, especially since I understand where they come from. Sparta is very progressive in many ways, except when it comes to warfare. Spartans seem to believe men are the only ones capable of being soldiers.”

“And I take it you disagree.”

She grinned good-naturedly. “Of course I do. I come from a place with a long and distinguished history of female soldiers, so I see no difference between the genders when it comes to battle.” She arched a single brow at his sceptical expression. “You do not believe me?”

“That you come from a long line of female soldiers? Yes, I believe that, having sparred with you myself. But that there is no difference between men and women on the battlefield?” He snorted in response.

A smug smile spread across her face and she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “I am certain you have heard of Alexander of Macedon.”

He shrugged. “Of course. Who hasn’t?”

“So you would agree he is one of the greatest military leaders in the history of Greece?”

“With the exception of Leonidas and Lysander, certainly.”

Lamia cast him a dour look. Of course he would think two legendary Spartan generals greater than Alexander.

“Well, can we at least agree that he was a formidable military leader?”

“One of the finest.” He nodded.

“Yes, he was, but apparently he doubted his abilities when he encountered the Queen of Meroe.”

Adonis’ brow creased with frown lines, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue.

“It is not widely known, but Alexander had no desire to invade Egypt. He actually coveted the far richer kingdom of Meroe but was forced to conquer Egypt instead of the lands to the south because he feared that, with her well-known acumen for battle and her impressive armies, the Queen of Meroe would easily defeat him and ruin his legendary reputation for being unbeatable. It is even said that, when he tried to march on Meroe, she met him with her army of both men and
women,
sitting astride a war elephant.

“It is amusing, don’t you think? One of the greatest generals in the history of Greece and he left Meroe untouched because he feared losing to a
woman
.”

* * * *

Adonis shook his head as he departed from Thanos and Lamia’s home.

He had stayed for longer than he’d intended and, if he did not hurry and return to the barracks before curfew, he would be cited and fined a hefty tax. Despite his father’s position, Adonis himself was nothing more than a lowly
hoplite
in the greater hierarchy and would be without coins for a full moon if he had to pay the tax. Still, the threat of having no
drachma
for two fortnights was a small price to pay for the eventful eve he’d just had.

He’d spent over an hour listening to Lamia recount stories of her homeland, stories of warrior women just like her and that feisty daughter of hers. He chuckled to himself, recalling how stunned he’d been when she’d kicked him in the shoulder. For the rest of the eve, he’d tried to charm his way back into her good graces, but it hadn’t worked. He’d insulted her with his ‘mean-spirited lies’
and she was not going to be so quick to forget that. He smiled at the thought. There were few members of the fairer gender, young or old, who weren’t susceptible to his effortless charm, but apparently she was one of those few.

He shook his head again as he thought of the child. He should pity Thanos and Lamia. She was a pretty girl and from the looks of it she promised to blossom into quite a beauty when she grew older. He had no doubt that men would one dawn flock to her, but with her fiery spirit, she would prove quite a handful for the man who took her to wife. The more he thought on it, the more he doubted that any man possessed of a sane mind would be up for the challenge, no matter how beautiful she turned out to be, for it wasn’t just her fiery nature to contend with, but in her eyes he’d glimpsed a wildness that refused to be tamed. Not even in Sparta—where men lived to conquer and many would appreciate her spirit—did he imagine there was a man who would be quite up to the challenge of taming
that
one.

“What are you doing at my home?”

Adonis halted, drawing up short before he could collide into Thanos. With careful steps, he backed away from the fearsome general, just far enough so that if the older man threw a punch he would have time to counter, unlike last time. He needed to be able to see
out of at least
one
eye if he hoped to make it back to the barracks in time.

“I stopped by to apologise.” That was only a half truth. He’d wanted to apologise to Thanos for his disrespect but hadn’t come by that eve to do it. He’d actually stopped by to see Lamia, but he didn’t think it wise to tell Thanos that he had a crush on his wife, especially since Adonis wanted to live.

“But you weren’t home, so I visited with Lamia and your adopted daughter for a while. Your daughter—quite a charmer,” he said with a wry grin. “Seems you taught her a couple of moves.” When Thanos’ brows peaked above curious eyes, Adonis added, “She kicked me.”

“I shall have to buy her a gift then.” Thanos grinned. “Besides, you probably deserved it.”

 He didn’t bother responding to that. “Well, it is almost time for curfew. Again, I apologise for my words earlier.” When Thanos nodded, a silent gesture that he accepted his apology, Adonis moved to walk around him and leave, but stopped after taking only one step.

Spinning around, he met Thanos’ questioning gaze, knowing that it was none of his business and that the older man would probably pummel him for overstepping his boundaries
again
, but he felt he had to say something. Lamia was his friend, and he had not missed the sadness lingering in her eyes every time one of the servants entered the courtyard and she realised it wasn’t Thanos returning home. Adonis wasn’t a frequent guest in their home, but the times he’d visited he’d noticed that Thanos was never there.

“I know it is not my place to say this, but I hope you realise there are many men here who would kill to be in your place and they would treat her far better than you if they were.”

He didn’t stick around to see if his words had taken root. He was in a hurry and had no wish to die that eve.

* * * *

Basha stared out of the window in her bedchamber, her heart thundering in her chest.

The door creaked open, followed by the dull thud of it closing shut.

“You must have heard,” said Ulysseus and she didn’t miss the weariness in his voice as she spun around, tearing her gaze from the silver moon that hovered in the dark eve sky.

“Everyone has heard.” She crossed the room to stand before him, and before she thought of what she was doing, she fell into his arms. They had not made love since that dawn in the courtyard, both far too stubborn and angry to cast aside their pride, but there was no place for pride before war.

He held her close, and she let her eyes drift shut as she listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear. They had much they needed to discuss, but neither seemed to wish to ruin their tenuous truce.

“You know eventually we will need to talk,” he said with a sigh, giving voice to her thoughts.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze. It was obvious that the problems between them weighed heavily upon him, just as they weighed on her. She was usually the one who wanted to talk, not Ulysseus, so she thought it a bit ironic that he would even broach the subject. She knew he deserved to know the truth, just as they both needed to come to an agreement about the future of their marriage, but now was not the time for such a discussion.

“When you return we can—”

“Basha—”

“Please, Ulysseus.” She cut him off, not wanting to hear him say the dreaded words.

He seemed to want to pour out his heart so that his soul would find peace in the afterlife should he not come back to her alive, but she didn’t want to hear any declarations, any last words, not when they could be said upon his return. Just giving voice to his thoughts gave them power, injecting seeds of doubt within her heart. She didn’t believe in last words, or lofty declarations—had promised herself she wouldn’t make them—but, in that moment, Lamia’s words suddenly came back to haunt her.

The reality of the life she shared with Ulysseus was that she’d been his wife for four
annos
, and yet she’d never once told him she loved him, had never let him even speak the words to her, even when he’d tried. She’d convinced herself that his love was fickle, false, just as fleeting as her father’s love, but Lamia had been right that dawn. Ulysseus was not her father, and every time he went off to battle there was the very real possibility that he would not come back.

How had she lived this long without telling him how she felt? How could she ever imagine living with herself and the guilt she would carry inside her if Ulysseus were to die without knowing what lay buried inside her heart?

“Ulysseus, I—I…” She forced out a breath when the words stuck in her throat. Trying again, she blurted out in a rush before she lost her nerve, “I love you.”

He stilled, his eyes rounding. “What did you say?”

Her gaze dipped to the floor. She was unable to meet the intensity of his stare now that she’d opened herself up to him, now that she’d made herself vulnerable.

“Say it, Basha,” he demanded with a slight shake. “I want to hear you say it again. I want to know that I did not imagine it,” he whispered and a sharp knife of pain sliced through her heart at the look in his eyes.

So much time had passed without her telling him she loved him that he’d come to believe she never would—that the reason why she didn’t say it was because she simply
didn’t
love him.

She read it right there on his face, and it almost broke her heart, realising that for so long she’d been so afraid of being hurt that she’d ended up hurting not only him, but herself as well.

“I love you, Ulysseus.” The words came out on a faint whisper, but she knew he’d heard every one of them as his hands cupped her face, lifting it so that he could crush his lips to hers, branding her with the heat of his kiss.

She melted into him, weaving her arms around his neck to clasp him within her embrace as he deepened the kiss, drawing her into his web of unyielding warmth.

His shaft hardened against her, his hard flesh digging into her belly, and she moaned as her body responded in kind, trembling with the need of him, the folds of her intimate space growing heavy and slick with desire.

“Basha…” Her name was a hoarse cry on his lips, and she wound herself tighter around him, holding him closer. She didn’t want to let him go, not physically, and certainly not off to war, not with so much still left unsaid between them, so she tried her best to tell him with the words of her body.

Their hands tore at their garments until their clothing lay in a tattered mess, strewn about the floor.

She tugged her lips from his to meet his gaze, sliding her hands across his chiselled torso. His muscles flexed beneath her fingers, his breathing harsh as his entire body vibrated against hers.

She loved touching him, the feel of him beneath her palms confirming that he was real, that he was alive. She lifted on her toes to beg for his kiss, and he eagerly gifted her with his lips, plunging them headfirst into the tempestuous storm of desire.

He hoisted her into his arms to lay her across the bed, covering her body with his. He captured her lips again, his tongue probing deep inside her mouth, as it swept between her parted lips, dragging hoarse sighs from her throat, only to be muffled by the press of his insistent mouth.

He raised his head, and for a moment their eyes met. The love they felt inside their hearts shimmered between them, just as clear and radiant as a sunny dawn in the middle of spring.