Virginia Henley (17 page)

“Go on your knees to me.”

For a moment she thought he was asking her to abase herself in homage. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs and he pulled her on her knees so that his mouth was in close proximity to her woman’s center. Then it was Marcus who was paying homage to her. He gently blew his warm breath on the golden tendrils that crowned her high mons. Then he began to kiss her. His hands cupped her bottom, his fingers splayed in the cleft between her cheeks, then he lifted her forward so his mouth could work its magic.

Diana was shocked at his actions. What he did was wicked and far too intimate even for lovers. But as his lips nuzzled her, then his tongue sought her tiny bud of pleasure, she lost all her prudish inhibitions and arched herself into his glorious, glorious mouth.

By the time he plunged his tongue inside her, she was
crying her pleasure with such wild abandon, it filled his sleeping chamber and echoed throughout the villa. When she reached her peak, she arched back onto the furs and then collapsed limply in a delicious sprawl, with her legs dangling over the end of the bed.

Marcus came over her in a heated passion. His needs had never been so great, yet he did not want to spoil her this night. His weapon could no longer be described as an arrow, it was now a gladius sword lusting for blood. He curbed his hunger with an iron will and thrust himself between her luscious breasts. His powerful hands came up to cup them and make a deep cleft where his marble-hard phallus could stroke in the velvet softness of her flesh. When he spent, his cries made hers seem like mere whispers.

Marcus brought scented water and bathed her breasts tenderly, then he lifted her beneath the covers. When he joined her, he pulled her against his side. “I don’t want to sleep, I want to hold you close all night so we can touch and talk and kiss.”

She sighed with contentment. “So this is
after?”

“Afterglow,” he corrected, burying his face in the perfumed tangle of her pale hair. “Mmm, you are so different from other women—so much finer, so delicately boned.” For a fleeting moment he was almost ready to believe she was a goddess. “Where did you really come from, Diana?”

“I came from the future, Marcus.”

“And what did you do in this Londinium of the future?”

“I lived with my aunt and uncle after my father died. He left me his house and the most wonderful library filled with books. I read everything I could get my hands on. History was my favorite subject. I’ve read a lot about when the Romans occupied ancient Britain. In modern times, Queen Boadicea is a great heroine.”

“Boudicca was a wild, uncivilized madwoman who incited
the Iceni to rebellion, once her husband died,” Marcus corrected her.

Diana raised her eyes to his. “She was driven to it by the Romans.”

Patiently, Marcus said, “Tell me what you have heard, then I will tell you what really happened.”

“Well, she was Queen of the Iceni, a wealthy Celtic tribe with much gold and silver. I believe it was the Procurator Catus who plundered their wealth. When poor Boadicea objected, he had her publicly whipped. His men raped her two daughters and enslaved her people, so they rose up in rebellion and burned London. She was so brave that she took her own life rather than be taken alive by the Romans.”

“First of all, Boudicca was not a queen. She was, however, married to the King of the Iceni. When Emperor Claudius came to Britain, he and the king came to peaceful terms and he agreed to allow the Romans to build and occupy military camps. For sixteen years we lived together in peace and prosperity. We built roads and towns whose populations were mostly Britons who had become civilized. The king outlived Claudius, then had the same arrangement with Nero. We increased trade so that people from all over the world came here to settle.

“When the king died, he bequeathed half of his vast wealth to Emperor Nero and the other half to his daughters. The monstrous Boudicca was so jealous that she paid some soldiers to destroy her daughters. Then she proclaimed herself queen and incited the tribesmen to revolt against Roman rule.

“My legion and the other three stationed in this region were fighting in the west country under Governor Paullinus. Only token garrisons were left behind. The wild Iceni overran the new administrative capital that was being built at Camulodunum. They set ablaze the half-built town and massacred two hundred defenseless stonemasons and builders.

“Having seen what they could do, they became gluttons for destruction. They looted the richest towns where defense was weakest. Paullinus brought the legions back at double speed, knowing the beautiful and wealthy trading port of Londinium would be her target. We arrived before the barbaric tribes, and rather than risk Londinium’s population, we evacuated them. It was a town of merchants, aristocrats, retired legionaries, administrators, and clerks. Many were left behind—the old, the sick, those too stubborn to leave their homes.

“Boudicca and her wild tribes looted, burned, and beheaded everything in their path. When we went back in, we found they had destroyed the basilica, the forum, the baths and temples, but that was not the worst part. The rivers ran red with blood. We were a month picking up severed heads, and most of the victims were civilized Britons, not Romans. Put all romantic visions of
poor
Boudicca from your mind, Diana. She was huge and terrifying, with a loud coarse voice and a filthy mass of bright red hair.”

Diana clung to him. “This happened only a few months ago, Marcus? I thought Aquae Sulis such a beautiful place.”

“It was almost a year ago. Aquae Sulis is a beautiful place,” he told her firmly, “but some of the Celtic tribes are still unconquered. They have retreated into the west country and the legionaries are trained here before they go in after them.”

“Marcus, I’m afraid,” Diana whispered.

He kissed her and soothed her. “How can you be afraid with me beside you?”

“But I am afraid for you,” she said, clinging even tighter.

He began to tease her to dispel her anxiety. “You’ve seen the size of my weapon, little one, I’m invincible.”

She curled against him knowing he would protect her with his life. All life was uncertain; each day an unknown quantity. To be held warm and safe in someone’s arms was the best anyone could ever hope for.

Diana awoke and sat up in the bed. When she saw Marcus at his desk, she said, “Oh, I thought you had left me.”

Marcus came up the steps, sat on the edge of the bed, and took her hands in his. “I didn’t want to waken you and yet I couldn’t make myself leave.”

“It’s lovely to wake up and find you here.”

He enfolded her in his arms and gave her a lingering kiss. Her breasts were crushed against his metal breastplate and he whispered, “Damn, I cannot feel your soft flesh against mine. How will I get through the day without seeing you?” His fingers dipped inside his tunic and he drew the gold chain over his head. “Wear my Caesar coin today.” He slipped it over her head and saw the goldpiece rest in the valley between her breasts. He hardened instantly, recalling the feel of that deep and delicious valley intimately. “All day long I shall know that the coin that covers my heart is covering yours today.”

“It’s still warm from your body,” she murmured.

“Keep it warm for me and return it tonight.”

“Marcus, if I had a horse, I could ride out to you sometimes.”

“You know how to ride?” He could never remember seeing a woman on a horse. Horses were for cavalry and warfare. Women rode about in litters. “A horse could be
dangerous. They are very strong, Diana, and need a great deal of controlling. Have Kell bring you in his chariot. I must go.”

Below, as Kell picked up Marcus’ tunic in the triclinium, he raised his eyebrows. Never before had the general discarded his clothing before he reached the bath or the sleeping chamber.

At that precise moment, Nola picked up the crimson loin dress from the bottom stair. As the two met, each saw what the other held, and came to different conclusions.

Nola thought,
She holds him in the palm of her hand.

Kell thought,
He has claimed the prize.

They were both right.

By the time Diana bathed and had her breakfast, Marcus was back. “Get your mantle and come out to the courtyard. I have a surprise for you.”

As Diana stepped into the peristyle and pulled her red wool mantle about her shoulders, she saw Marcus leading a milk white steed. It had a saddle with four pommels, two in front and two behind, to aid a rider to stay put.

“It’s a mare with a fairly good nature. Do you think you can handle such a huge beast?”

“Oh, Marcus, she’s beautiful,” Diana said, taking the reins and stroking the mare’s muzzle. “Let me show you that I can indeed manage a horse.”

He lifted her into the saddle and watched her sit sideways rather than straddle it. He was impressed when she cantered about the courtyard with total confidence. She trotted the mare back to him and held out her arms so he could lift her down. He brought her against him so he could whisper in her ear. “I didn’t get you a stallion because the only male I want you to ride is me.”

Diana blushed almost as deep a shade as her mantle. “Thank you for such a lovely, thoughtful gift, Marcus.”

“I’ve ordered one of the stable slaves to ride beside you at all times. Will you come to me this afternoon? We will be on the heights at the chariot track.”

She reached up and offered him her lips. When at last he found the strength to withdraw his mouth from hers, she murmured, “You know I cannot stay away from you for an entire day.” She watched as he mounted his own stallion in a running leap and rode off into the wind, his scarlet mantle billowing out behind him.

Marcus Magnus was such a vital force, she had sudden misgivings that she would not be enough woman for such an all-powerful man. He seemed enchanted with her at the moment, but was not that because of her virginity? Perhaps once he had performed the mystic hymenal rites, he would lose interest in her.

In that moment, she wished with all her heart that she had more knowledge of sexuality. Unmarried Georgian women were deliberately kept in ignorance about the intimate behavior of men and women. Perhaps that was the reason there were so many unhappy marriages. Most wealthy titled men kept a mistress and perhaps this was because of the marked distinction between good women and bad women, imposed by society. If ladies were taught how to behave wickedly once in a while, perhaps their husbands would remain faithful.

Diana sighed and went back into the villa. She had no choice; Marcus would have to teach her about her own sexuality. At the moment, he seemed happy enough to do so. A frisson of excitement ran down her spine. Tonight he would probably teach her all there was to know.

“Nola, I have a problem. I want to ride the horse Marcus just gave me, but all my stolae are too tight. Some do have slits up the skirts, but that would bare my legs and they would be cold.”

“When the weather turns very cold, some legionaries, especially the cavalry, wear leather trousers, but most of them, including Marcus, wear the short tunic with long fur boots. But women don’t ride horses, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I do. Leather trousers are a wonderful idea. Have some sewn up for me. It’s not too cold yet, but it will be in winter. How will I keep my legs warm today?”

“We have woolen stockings,” Nola suggested.

“Oh good! I’ll wear them with a short tunic and some boots, if you can find any small enough.”

Nola brought her the stockings and turned the problem of the boots over to Kell.

“She will look scandalous!” Kell said with marked disapproval.

Nola rolled her eyes. “Only a male would object to such an outfit while totally approving a gown that bared a female’s breasts.”

“You should not encourage her to ride about like a man. She should have a litter or let me take her in my chariot.”

“Oho, Briton, you don’t like the idea of being usurped by a strapping young stable slave.”

“Get your mind from the gutter, Woman of Gaul. I know most females are faithless bitches, probably including yourself, but the lady is different.” Kell looked down his long nose at Nola and said with great superiority, “I happen to know she is virgin.”

“After finding their clothes strewn about the villa, I doubt that very much, Briton.”

Kell smiled smugly. “I know what I know.” He did not tell her how carefully he had examined the sheets when he changed them that morning.

By the time Diana pulled on the woolen stockings and the short tunic, Kell arrived with a pair of soft leather boots that came to the ankle and had leather thongs that wound up the calves. But he also brought her some fur leggings that wrapped about her legs and were held in place by winding the thongs about them. When Diana looked in the mirror, she laughed. “Oh, I look like a Viking!”

“You look very fetching,” Nola said.

“Retching!” Kell retorted. “Lady, I will come to the
stables and have a few words with the slave who escorts you.”

Diana threw on her mantle and preceded Kell, trying to keep from bursting into laughter at the faces Nola was making behind his back. When Diana entered the stables and saw the slave for herself, she thought wickedly,
If my grooms had looked anything like this one, I might have been tempted to a roll in the hay!
Then she realized how liberal her attitude toward men and sex were becoming. The slave wore a short leather tunic and leather wristbands. His brown hair came to his shoulders and was tied back with a thong. Tor had a merry face and laughing eyes.

“Wipe that damned smile off your face. You are being entrusted with the general’s personal favorite. If aught befalls her, I will personally castrate you!”

The young slave blanched white.

“Watch her every minute, but avert your eyes if the wind blows her mantle aside.”

Her young groom looked so confused, Diana felt sorry for him. “Kell, I’ll be just fine, but thank you. It feels good to know that you worry about me.”

“I worry only because you are the general’s property,” he informed her, but she knew better.

As Diana rode from the villa to the track where her unbelievable adventure had begun, she could tell just where Georgian architect John Wood would build his Royal Crescent and The Circus. Both were extremely Anglo-Saxon versions of the classic Roman style. When she passed the vineyards, the grapes were being harvested. She saw that the vines had all been planted facing south and realized with awe that some of them would still be flourishing in the eighteenth century.

She saw the dust rising up from the track before she saw the chariots. There was no recreational racing today, however. The legionaries were being given a demonstration of how the Celtae used their chariots for warfare. These were small square vehicles with wicker sides, open at both
ends for easy access. As Diana watched, the men ran along the chariot poles, stood on the yoke to throw their spears, then got back in and rode off before the legionaries could retaliate.

The bloodcurdling cries of the Britons, combined with the noise of the wheels, were almost enough to inspire terror in the enemy. Diana’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw Marcus, without armor, run along a chariot pole to hurl javelins. If he slipped, he would be trampled beneath the hooves of the thick-set shaggy horses pulling the chariot.

“I can’t watch!” she cried, covering her eyes.

“It’s all right, lady, the general has leaped clear of the chariot,” the stable slave informed her.

She saw that Marcus was addressing the officers. “The Celtae combine the mobility of the cavalry with the power of the infantry. Their charioteers can control their horses at full gallop even on steep inclines. They bring in their men, who engage on foot, and meanwhile they line up their chariots for a quick retreat. Before the day is over, you will learn how to combat them so that they will be no more than an annoyance. Your first target will be the horses that pull the chariots!”

Marcus was aware of Diana’s presence and came to her once he had given the centurions specific tasks. They smiled into each other’s eyes. All seeing them knew they were pledged lovers. He came to her side and rubbed the mare’s nose. One black brow arched like a raven’s wing as he took in her attire. “You look nice and warm.”

She bent down from her saddle and whispered in his ear, “My legs are warm, but my bum is freezing!”

His black eyes glittered. “If we were more private, I would take you into my lap and warm you,” he murmured.

“If we were more private, you would rub me until I was hot.”

“You are a wicked lady,” he accused. He took the mare’s reins and led her a few paces away from her escort so he could speak privately. “We have a guest for dinner
tonight. A message arrived from the procurator that he will be in Aquae Sulis today.”

“The procurator is an important official of some kind?”

Marcus nodded. “He holds the highest office in Britannia. He is the administrator in charge of finances and all else. I don’t want him to know you are a slave. I’ll make up a plausible tale.”

“It won’t be a tale; I’m not your slave,” she teased.

His powerful hand came down possessively on her thigh. He turned hard as marble the moment he touched her.

She stopped teasing. “Would you like me to stay in my chamber, Marcus?”

“No. I want you beside me. If we have confidential business to discuss, you can withdraw. I’ve already sent a message to Kell. He will see to everything.”

When Diana arrived back at the villa, Kell had assembled all the household slaves and drilled them on everything from their dress to their specific duties. Nola was giving instructions to a group of female slaves. When the slaves went off to perform their assigned tasks, Diana said to Kell, “Marcus wants me to dine with him when he entertains the procurator, but he doesn’t want him to know that I’m a slave.”

“I see,” Kell replied.

Nola explained to Diana, “The procurator, Julius Classicianus, is like the emperor here. He is all-powerful. If he knew you were a slave, he could ask for you for a night, or permanently, and Marcus would have to oblige him.”

Kell said, “The procurator is no voluptuary. He has never used one of our slaves.”

Nola said dryly, “Nevertheless he is a man. Marcus realizes Diana’s temptation if you do not, Briton.”

Kell ignored her and addressed Diana. “Dinner will be served later than usual because they will enjoy the ritual of
the bath first. I will come for you when it is time to come down.”

“What do I do?” Diana asked helplessly.

“You will simply grace the triclinium,” Kell said, far too busy to explain further.

Nola said, “Come upstairs, I will answer all your questions.”

“You have more gall than grace,” Kell accused.

“And you have more arrogance than a Roman!” Nola replied.

“I am a Briton. I have more to be arrogant about.”

Diana laughed outright. “Kell won that round.”

“Just once I’d like the last word with that man!”

“Nola, take a lesson from me. You catch more flies with sugar than vinegar.”

“I have no doubt you have Marcus eating from your hand. Don’t hurt him, Diana. He is a good man. There is no evil in him.”

“I have discovered that for myself, Nola.”

Marcus and the procurator arrived together in a litter. Kell had set a slave with a torch as a door guard, and when they entered the atrium, they saw that it was filled with urns of late-blooming flowers from the garden. Both men gave a burnt offering to Vesta, Goddess of the Hearth, then Marcus took his guest out through the peristyle garden to his private bath suite.