Virginia Henley (13 page)

As the sun blazed down, the heat became almost oppressive. The general knew how much the men sweated beneath their armor and iron helmets. He divided the field into quadrants to practice various offensive and defensive skills. One group practiced with the seven-foot pilums or javelins. He designated half the group as attackers, the
other half as targets. Before now their javelin practice had been limited to hitting wooden butts. The human targets became immediately drenched with sweat, from fear now, rather than heat.

Marcus Magnus moved on to the next quadrant. “Remove your armor,” he commanded. Every man was eager to relieve himself of the heavy bronze breastplate, cuirass, and iron helmet until the general issued his next order. “Half of you buckle on your pugio, the other half your gladius. You will fight each other without the protection of armor. You will be amazed how quickly your defensive skills become honed.”

He ordered half of the third quadrant to strip naked and practice their wrestling skills. “The wild tribes to the west fight naked. You had better get used to it. They are more vulnerable to your weapons, of course, but they move like greased lightning. Those still wearing armor will discover just how much it impedes you and slows you down when your enemy is totally free of all encumbrance.”

The men of the fourth quadrant were issued weapons they had never used before. Long swords called spatha, usually given only to cavalrymen, and bows and arrows were distributed by mule-drawn carts. Then Marcus Magnus and the two Celtic tribesmen gave them a lesson in archery followed by a demonstration in the correct use of the spatha. Straw dummies were set up at the far end of the quadrant.

“First, you will learn to put an arrow through the center of every head, then you will learn to sever each head from its body with one slash of the spatha.”

Marcus knew that by the time the legionaries left the field they would be dog-tired. He glanced at the western sky and saw thunderheads gathering in the distance. If the storm was heavy enough to swell the river and make it rage, tomorrow might be a good time to give them their swimming lesson. If not, they could practice mounting and dismounting from high-speed war chariots.

Marcus was impatient for the light to fade from the sky, though he did not allow it to show. The anticipation of his evening with Diana set up a heavy pulsebeat that made his blood throb. He was careful to mask his mounting excitement and his towering impatience before the Roman soldiers he trained. They deserved his total attention. His pride would not allow him to give them half-measures when it came to survival tactics. With an iron control, he put all thoughts of his beautiful female slave aside, until he could give her his complete and undivided appreciation.

When they arrived home, Diana followed Kell into the kitchens. Both males and females were employed in preparing the evening meal, working at long scrubbed tables beneath copper utensils that hung from beams.

“Why are you here?” Kell asked sternly.

“I want to make sure everything is perfect for him.”

“Do I not do that every day of my life?” he asked with
hauteur.
“You need rest; take it while you may.”

Diana blushed prettily. It had indeed been a long day, but she felt so alive, so filled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement, that she knew she could not lie down and sleep.

“It is so hot in here. Go out into the peristyle, the garden. It will fill you with tranquillity. Just stay out of the master’s private bathing pool; slaves are not allowed in it.”

The gardens were lush with scented flowers and lovely shade trees. As she strolled down its winding paths, she came upon small yew arbors with stone seats, sundials, and ornamental ponds. As well as oaks, there were towering walnut and chestnut trees and smaller, fruit-bearing trees of pear, quince, apricot, and damson. Red squirrels dashed about gathering acorns, crested kingfishers swooped over the ponds, while thrushes grubbed for insects beneath the flowering rhododendrons.

As she rounded a bend in the stone path, a pale aquamarine
bathing pool stretched out before her. At the far end, water spouted from great stone dolphins, and when she drew closer, she saw that the pool had a border of jade mosaic water lilies and water hyacinths. A long wooden bathhouse stood on one side of the pool covered by climbing purple wisteria and ornamental grape vines. If Marcus Magnus had designed this oasis, she realized he must have a deep appreciation of the beauties of nature. Diana sat down on a carved stone bench and allowed the tranquillity of her surroundings to calm her.

An older woman in a plain linen toga came toward her carrying a cool drink. Diana smiled her thanks.

“I have decided to look after your needs, child.”

She was a motherly woman with a comfortable, rounded figure and graying hair. Diana felt guilty. How could she accept the services of a slave? “Thank you, but I can look after myself.”

“My name is Nola. I shall ease your way and you shall ease mine, if you accept me.”

“Please sit down, Nola. I cannot accept the services of a slave. It is against my beliefs.”

Nola beamed at her. “You are a Christian; I knew it! I shall mother you. Everyone needs mothering, even the great man himself. He is no more than a boy, really. His responsibilities make him stern and harsh. But sometimes in the evening he sheds his cares with his armor. I’ve seen him chase about with his dogs and play in the pool like a boy. He is lonely, though he does not even realize it. Will you assuage his loneliness?”

“I … I will try,” Diana said, realizing she had learned that he was vulnerable. It could be a powerful weapon. “How can you feel affection for him when he owns you?”

Nola laughed. “He freed me long ago. I stay from choice. Who else could keep him in line and protect him from the machinations of Kell?”

Aha, Kell and Nola are obviously adversaries. Perhaps I can use this to my own advantage.

When Diana tasted the drink, she was surprised. “This is cider. It’s good!”

“Romans drink wine incessantly. Some of it tastes no better than vinegar. Britons prefer cider.” Nola studied Diana’s face as she sipped her drink. “You have a most impetuous nature. It has been held in check for far too long. It is as if you have been sleeping, waiting for the moment when you could emerge from your cocoon, spread your beautiful wings, and fly. That moment is at hand.”

“How do you know these things?” Diana asked, recognizing the truth of her words.

“I know all—deep down in my bones. You are longing to throw off your clothes and splash in the bathing pool. Learn to indulge your desires, child. I will get you a towel to wrap up your pretty hair. I will hold your lovely stola and keep the slaves away from the pool while you refresh yourself.”

“It sounds like heaven, but Kell forbade me to use the pool.”

“A little power and it has gone to his head. Marcus allows me to use it anytime I wish and I invite you to be my guest. Water is magic. It will help shed your cares and inhibitions. Promise me you will bring him here often to play.”

For the life of her, Diana could not picture a playful Marcus Magnus, yet when she considered for a moment, had his hands not been playful when he picked her up by the bottom cheeks this afternoon? Perhaps she
could
succeed in finding the boy in the man. Then she might truly have him under her spell—and in her power.

Marcus Magnus could not remember a twelve-hour day that had lasted longer. He often walked home, climbing the hills that stretched from the fortress to his villa, but tonight he rode one of his white stallions. Bruise-colored clouds were piled one on top of another and low thunder had begun to rumble by the time he reached his own stables.

Always, he tended his own animals as any career legionary worth his salt would. Yet tonight he turned Trajan over to the care of a stable slave. “Have a care,” he warned. “Trajan bites and the approaching storm will make him restless.”

As he had ridden, the very rhythm of Trajan’s hooves had drummed out Diana, Diana, Diana. When he entered the atrium, he curbed his impatience that it was not she who greeted him.

Kell bowed his head. “I hope you had a productive day, General.”

“Yes, it was most fruitful.”

Kell kept a straight face as Marcus said, “I’ll bathe in the villa tonight. The storm will break any minute.”

Kell often disagreed with the master, simply on principle. “I believe it will build slowly, then climax with a bang.” He added silently,
You being the thunder, she the lightning!

The pointed analogy was not lost on Marcus Magnus. “Would it be asking too much to have you serve us tonight?” he asked Kell.

“Such was my intent.” Usually the bath took at least an hour, sometimes two. Tonight, however, Kell thought he had better bring the lady to the dining room in about thirty minutes.

As Diana sat before the polished bronze mirror in her own chamber, she said to Nola, “I don’t think I will change my gown. Marcus seemed quite taken with the violet silk.”

“Did you know that the color purple is magic?” Nola asked. “That particular shade changes color with the light. In the shadows it is almost black, but in the lamplight it glows rich and vibrant. It will lend you power, as will the amethysts about your throat. You need violet-scented oil between your breasts and at the base of your spine.”

“I have never applied perfume there before.”

“It will not go to waste, trust me.”

“Last night I wore Egyptian musk.”

“Musk can be cloying. Tonight the violet is better.”

When Nola opened the door to a light tap, Kell stood at the portal. “I see you have wasted no time currying favor, woman of Gaul. I have come to escort the lady to him.”

Nola’s eyebrows elevated. “This morning you called her slave, tonight you call her lady. I am delighted you took my advice to show her respect. You can learn a lot from your betters.”

“One Briton is worth ten women of Gaul.” Kell pushed his way into the chamber and spoke to Diana. “Are you ready?”

Diana knew a moment of total, blinding panic. She felt like a prisoner being taken to her own execution. How could she do this thing? How could she subjugate herself to a dictator? How could she abase herself to a master? The ancient tale of Scheherazade came to her rescue. Had that female not kept the sultan enthralled for a thousand and one nights?

All I need do is negotiate. I shall simply trade innocence for power. A fair exchange when all is said and done.
Yet deep down, in the depths of her mind where reason didn’t quite reach, she knew she had to do more than negotiate. She must enchant, enthrall, enslave!

Diana smiled her secret smile and held out her hand to Kell. “I am more than ready.”

He placed her small hand upon his arm and took her downstairs. His gray eyes hid a smile as he saw Marcus was already in the oval triclinium. Kell took her through the pillars. “Lady Diana,” he announced with far more ceremony than she had received when she had been announced at court, a lifetime ago.

Marcus came forward to greet her. His black eyes touched her everywhere. Diana kicked aside her small train dramatically, then took one token step toward him, with her head held proudly high. Marcus clasped her small hand firmly, then chided, “You obey my orders regally, like a goddess bestowing a favor.”

“That is because you issue them arrogantly, like a master ordering a slave.”

“That is precisely what I am.” His grip tightened painfully.

“Unfortunately, I am not a goddess. I am mortal flesh and blood. Will you crush my very bones?” she asked softly.

Her reminder that she was flesh and blood did wanton things to him. “Are you ready to accept that you are my slave?” he demanded huskily.

She reached up to run her fingertips along his jaw where he had just shaved and said intimately, “I came to amuse you. If it amuses you to play master and slave girl, you must teach me the game.”

His eyes glittered. “It is no game.”

Diana looked at his mouth, then ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip. “Marcus, between a man and a woman, it is always a game.”

His erection lifted the linen of his tunic.

He had not given her permission to use his first name, yet it sounded wondrous on her lips. No one ever called him Marcus, and he realized he was hungry for such intimacy.

“This afternoon you said you would yield to me tonight.”

Diana slanted him a teasing glance from beneath her lashes. “I said no such thing, as you very well remember.”

“You
intimated
that you would yield to me!”

She laughed up at him. “Do you delude yourself every night, or is tonight special?”

He showed his teeth like a wolf and growled, “You are doing it again.”

“Doing what?” she asked innocently.

“Alluding, hinting, intimating that tonight will be special and it cannot be any such thing unless you capitulate and yield to me!”

“That’s part of the game. Alluding, hinting, intimating is how men and women play, I believe. What I said was:
When we have dined, I have a proposition to lay before you.”

“And what I said was:
You will lay before me.”

Diana placed her hand in the center of his chest and splayed her fingers. She could feel the gold coin beneath his tunic. It was warm from the heat of his body. She moved slightly closer to him. “And what was my reply?” she asked huskily.

“Perhaps,
was your reply,” he said, devouring her mouth with his black eyes.

“A tantalizing word filled with promise, is it not? If I told you
no,
it would anger you and make you bend me to your will. If I told you
yes,
it would take away all the anticipation, all the speculation. So I tell you
perhaps,
and that preserves the mystery, draws out the suspense, and heightens the desire.”

He was riven with the need to taste her. Her lips, so temptingly close, whispering such arousing words, made
him want to fill her mouth with tantalizing desire. He claimed her lips, slanting his mouth against hers, slowly exploring the softness, the lushness, tasting her sweetness, drawing the tip of her pink tongue into his mouth.

Something hard touched her belly, making her gasp. He shuddered as the head of his shaft touched her silken body. She lifted her lips so they were a pulsebeat away. “Are you hungry, Marcus?” she whispered.

“Ravenous!”

The thunder crashed above their heads.

Kell entered the room carrying a heavy serving tray. Diana took immediate advantage of the interruption and put space between her and the Roman. Now she would test her power. She would see how long it took her to make him close the space between them.

“Kell has had your favorite dishes prepared. You are so fortunate to have him. He is a marvel of efficiency.”

“Thank you, Kell,” Marcus said low.

“Mmm, the aroma of the food is tantalizing.”

All Marcus could smell was violets until Kell removed the heavy silver covers. “Would you like me to carve?”

“I’ll do it, Kell.”

As Kell left the triclinium, she said, “Dining in such a fashion is new to me.”

Marcus was beside her immediately, his hands lifting her to the couch opposite his. “Let me show you. Recline on your side so that you face my couch. Now tuck this small pillow beneath your elbow.”

The corners of her mouth lifted with feminine satisfaction. Once Kell had left the room, it had taken only a heartbeat before his hands were on her. Diana rolled onto her tummy, resting her weight on both elbows.

Marcus traced the curve of her back with his calloused hand until it rested lightly on her bottom.

“How wise Nola is,” she whispered.

“Nola?” he murmured thickly.

“She told me to dab perfume at the base of my spine. She said it wouldn’t be wasted.”

His fingers moved in small circles until he found the spot exactly. The scent of violets made his nostrils flare wide.

“The food cools,” she murmured. “My lust does not,” he said bluntly. “The sooner we eat, the sooner we can negotiate,” she reasoned.

Before he removed his hand from her bottom, he pressed down hard so that her pubis rubbed against the cushion. A frisson of her first sexual arousal spiraled between her legs.

Outside, the brilliant lightning flashed and was immediately followed by a crash of thunder that made the very roof shake.

Marcus moved to the serving table set between the two couches. He carved the haunch of roast boar, selected the most perfect artichokes, the tiniest green peas, the thinnest spears of asparagus, along with a pot of warm herbed olive oil, and placed it close by her hand.

Also on the table, Kell had set out salad greens with cresses, fine lettuce, and edible mallows. A huge platter of cheeses, olives, grapes, and nuts sat in the center of the serving table. Marcus moved a finger bowl and towel beside her before he reclined upon the opposite couch.

They lay facing, with their bodies curved toward each other. Small gold cushions were propped beneath their elbows. The storm within raged as wildly as the storm without.

Marcus had a man’s healthy appetite, doing justice to everything set before him, but if he hadn’t been informed that he was being served his favorite wild boar, he would have had no idea what he ate.

His dark eyes were on Diana throughout the meal, seeing the graceful movements of her hand, watching her delicately lick her fingers and sip her wine. He saw how the
violet silk clung to the curve of her hip and molded the swell of her breasts. Above all else he thought about her maidenhead. If he hadn’t proved to himself that she was still intact, he would never have believed it. She was so seductively feminine and wise in the ways of women. She was ripe for lovemaking.

Diana dipped her fingers into the scented water and dried them on the towel.

“Have you finished?” he asked impatiently.

She picked up a ripe plum and bit into it lustily.

Marcus shifted on the couch to ease his arousal.

“Finished? I’ve only just begun,” she purred.

Marcus decided she had teased him long enough. “I am ready,” he stated emphatically.

“I won’t ask you to show me the proof of that. I’ll take your word for it.”

He was momentarily shocked at her erotic innuendo, then he threw back his head and laughed. The column of his neck was corded with muscle. A crack of thunder prevented him from hearing her swift intake of breath.

“So, I do amuse you. I almost despaired of making you laugh.”

He swung his legs to the floor.

“No!” she cried, putting out her hand. “I want the table between us until we have concluded our bargain.”

His black eyes glittered their challenge, but then he reclined back on his elbow, waiting, banking the fire in his blood.

When she licked the juice from her plum, Marcus closed his eyes and grit his teeth against the sudden pulsing of his phallus.

She began quietly. “You want me to acknowledge that I am your slave. You want me to obey you implicitly. You want me to yield to you willingly. You want me to gift you with my virginity.”

An eerie silence filled the chamber. Marcus could hear his own heartbeat as he waited for her answer.

“I am ready to acknowledge that I am your slave. I will obey you implicitly. I will yield to your orders willingly,
but
…” Diana paused for emphasis and Marcus held his breath. She continued,
“But
only in front of others. When we are alone, you will treat me as a lady, not a slave.”

He stared at her as if she had lost all reason. “In other words, you will only
pretend
to be my slave?” He was dangerously close to violence.

“For all intents and purposes I will be your slave, your property. Every legionary, all of Aquae Sulis, and your entire household will know me for your slave, but when we are completely private, our relationship will not be that of master and slave. Our relationship will be that of a man and a woman … of lovers.”

Marcus could see no difference. It was a woman’s duty to obey the man, whether she be slave or concubine. The man’s will must always prevail, else he would not be a man! He noted that she had left out the part about gifting him with her virginity. Whether she was agreeing to
willingly
join her body with his or not was still unclear, and when it came right down to the fine point, this was the crux of their bargain.

“Do you agree to
willingly
yield your body to me?” he demanded.