Virginia Henley (19 page)

He arched his great body over hers and entered her from behind. As before, her muscles spasmed upon him and actually drew him deeper. He paused to let her get used to the fullness and experience the new sensations of his position. When Marcus began to thrust, she cried out her pleasure immediately. The head of his shaft kissed her sensitive bud each time he stroked in. The sensations felt entirely different than when she lay on her back. His cock slid so much farther forward, rubbing her bud with a sleek rhythmic friction that made her build so quickly, she felt wildly uninhibited. Diana had seen a stallion cover a mare once and realized Marcus was taking her in the same way.

He was able to unleash his great sexual energy without restraint in this position. Marcus knew if he thrust too savagely, Diana was free to pull away. She did not, however. She arched herself to match the curve of his lithe body, so that he could surge into her with powerful strokes. She built to such a pitch of excitement, she clawed at the bedcovers,
thinking her need was unquenchable. Then Marcus bit her neck exactly as the black stallion had done and Diana climaxed with an eruption that sent tremors down to her toes.

The moment he felt her contract upon him with her pulsations, Marcus exploded inside her. He rolled on his side, taking her with him, and they lay curled together experiencing the “little death” that always follows a magnificent mating.

When Diana could again think coherently, she asked, “Marcus, won’t you be missed at the fortress today?”

“I’ll send a message telling them I am doing a report for the Procurator.”

When Kell brought breakfast, he was loath to disturb them for something as mundane as food, but a naked Marcus proclaimed he was famished and gave him a message to be sent to his highest-ranking officer. Kell kept his eyes from the high bed where Diana perched with the covers pulled high beneath her chin. Without setting his eyes upon her, he knew she was blushing deliciously.

Marcus brought the tray to the bed, set it down between them, and proceeded to feed Diana, making her try everything that had been brought.

“Your food is the best I’ve ever tasted. The Prince of Wales would kill to have your cooks.”

“The Prince of Wales?” Marcus questioned, quaffing from a goblet of honeyed mead he had just held to her lips.

“Our king’s son. The heir to the throne always holds the title Prince of Wales. Wales is the western country that gives you so much trouble. It was eventually conquered, but not for hundreds of years.”

Marcus cocked a quizzical brow. “Your stories fascinate. I almost want to believe you are who you say you are.”

“Almost, but not quite,” she teased, taking the goblet back from him and setting her lips to the spot where he had drunk.

“What is this prince like?” Marcus demanded.

Diana laughed. “He’s fat and parades about in military uniforms because of his frustration at never being allowed to fight in a war. His father, the king, is mad as a March hare and the prince is holding his breath until they make him regent. In the meantime he wears satins and lace, paints his face, writes silly letters to his mistress, and plays ridiculous practical jokes with his equally ridiculous friends.”

“Males who wear lace and paint their faces are not men, Diana. They are playthings for the debauched. There are many such at the emperor’s court in Rome. What are normal men like in your London?”

“The young ones slavishly copy the style set by the prince. ’Tis the fashion to wear tight satin knee breeches and powdered wigs. They are extremely effeminate and that is why I refused to consider marrying any of them.”

He pulled her down into his arms. “You are making all this up so I won’t be jealous of the men you know.”

With the tip of her finger she traced the vicious scar that slanted down to his cheekbone. “It’s all true. I spent my entire life dreaming of the real men of other ages.”

“Like Romans?” he asked, taking her breasts into his possessive hands.

“No, I never daydreamed of Romans. That’s why I find it so strange to have been transported to your time in history. I would have loved to have gone back to Elizabethan times or the medieval period.”

“Tell me about these medieval men you daydreamed about,” he growled with mock ferocity.

“Well, it’s a long story and I’d love to tell you all the intimate details, but why don’t we wait until after?”

“After?” he asked huskily, hoping she meant what he thought she meant. Happily for both of them, she did.

When Diana opened the shutters, sunlight flooded into the chamber. “Oh, it’s a beautifully warm autumn day.”

Marcus came up behind her, wrapped his arms beneath her breasts, and dropped a kiss on top of her head. “And here are we, wasting it in bed,” he teased.

“You need a rest; you work too hard.”

“Yes, you are rather exhausting,” Marcus teased.

“You Roman devil, I meant a rest from your legionaries.”

“You promised to tell me about these medieval men you dream about.”

She leaned back against him. “They were great warriors, just like you. They invaded Britain in the year 1066 from France, the place you call Gaul, and that was the last time this island was ever conquered.”

“So, you were enslaved by the Gauls?”

“No, no, they didn’t enslave us. The kings, a dynasty of Plantagenets, and their nobles, ruled for over three hundred years.”

“If there were no slaves, whom did they rule?”

“The peasant class. It was a feudal system where the nobles fought the battles and the peasants worked the land.”

“In effect, they were slaves,” Marcus pointed out.

“In a way, I suppose they were, but medieval men certainly did not buy and sell people.”

“You have great admiration for these men,” Marcus said wistfully.

“The reality of those times was no doubt horrendous, but the legends of those Middle Ages have been romanticized in books and songs. It was an age of chivalry where a knight pledged himself to a lady, not only to protect her but to remain faithful to her, even though most times they could only love from afar.”

“Lip service,” Marcus scoffed. “They pledged constancy, then fucked the first female they encountered under a hedge.”

Diana ignored his coarse comment. “Their armor was very different from yours.”

“How?”

“Well, their helmets had visors on the front to protect the face.” She touched his scar. “It offends you,” he said.

“Oh no, Marcus. I consider it a badge of honor. It adds to your attraction, though it’s wicked of me to think such a thing.”

“Did they not fight with shields and swords?”

“Yes, and they had archers who used bows and arrows. But knights covered their entire bodies with steel armor.”

“How could they maneuver in hand-to-hand combat?” he asked skeptically.

“Not very well, I’m afraid. They progressed to chain mail shirts with a coif to protect the neck and replaced the visor with a fixed nose guard on their helmets.”

“Mmm, a nose guard isn’t a bad idea,” Marcus acknowledged.

“They were magnificent builders. They changed the face of Britain, and their great castles are still standing after a thousand years.”

“Castles?”

“Let me show you.” Diana took pieces of parchment
and charcoal from his desk and brought them to the steps that led up to the bed. She perched on the steps while Marcus lounged beside her and Diana proceeded to draw a castle. “They were huge, built of stone, much like your fortress. The walls could be fifty feet high and ten feet thick. They were built around an open bailey or courtyard. They had either round or square towers at the corners and the whole thing was surrounded by a deep moat of water. There was only one entrance for defensive purposes, with a bridge across the moat that was drawn up every night.”

“This is where the king and nobles lived, but what about the other citizens?” he asked with interest.

“Well, the peasants had only thatch huts, and when an enemy threatened, they went into the castle bailey for safety. But merchants and craftsmen lived in towns and built shops, much like we have here in Aquae Sulis.”

“They copied from us,” Marcus said with satisfaction. “Our temples and our forums are probably still standing after nearly two thousand years.”

She looked at him and wondered if she should tell him. Almost gently she said, “No, Marcus, they are not.”

“This is where your story falls apart! Are you saying that nothing we Romans built remains in your Britain?”

“Your roads remain and your baths. The rest are ruins that are being excavated by people called archaeologists. We know that beneath a lot of our modern cities, Roman cities lie buried. Beneath London is Londinium; beneath Bath is Aquae Sulis.”

“Is that all that remains of the world’s greatest civilization?” he demanded arrogantly.

“Of course not! Your language, law, literature, art, customs, and architectural styles have passed into everyday life. The thing that most amazes the modern world is your technology. Your aqueducts, your engineering, your heating and drainage systems were far ahead of your time. In fact, we still haven’t caught up to them.”

Marcus trailed his fingers down her leg. “What about
love? Romans make far better lovers than your modern men, you admitted that yourself, and we likely make better lovers than these medievals you dream about.”

“As a matter of fact I just finished reading a book by your great learned scholar Ovid on the subject of love, and I didn’t think much of him,” Diana teased.

“Well, we have better writers and philosophers than Ovid,” he said, waving his arm toward his book scrolls.

“Ah yes, let me see if I can find some very clever lines I read the first night I was here.” She ran lightly to the shelves behind his desk that held the leather canisters of scrolls and searched through them for a minute. Marcus was mesmerized as he watched her. He would like to keep her naked forever.

“Here it is,” she said triumphantly, unrolling a scroll. She quoted:

“That is your great philosopher, Horace!”

“But that is a satire,” Marcus explained. “Do you know what a satire is, Diana?”

“You arrogant devil, of course I know what a satire is!”

“Then tell me,” he insisted.

“A literary work that holds up human vices or follies to scorn.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she understood Horace’s motive.

“Very good. I am impressed.” He took the scroll from her hands and returned it to the canister. “Now, do you know what hot lust is?” he asked, lifting her high and letting her slide down the hard length of him.

“Only since I met you, Roman,” she said, laughing.

“Good. Let me see if I can obliterate your fantasies of these medieval men of yours.”

“Ooh, that would take something very special.”

“Mmm, then perhaps it’s time for
tantra.”

Diana went still in his arms. “That sounds too exotic for a lady with little experience.”

“Sweetheart, don’t be afraid. I want to love you, not hurt you. Tantra is slow and sensual, and every part of your body receives pleasure. And furthermore, I won’t burden you with my great weight.”

“I love your weight, Marcus. I love your bigness. When you are on top of me, I’m in no doubt that a real man is making love to me.”

He cupped her face in his calloused hands and lifted it to his mouth as he would a delicate porcelain vessel from which he longed to drink. Within minutes their kisses en-flamed them and they sank to the rug.

“For tantra you must sit in my lap, face to face.”

Diana sat upon his muscled thighs and stretched her legs out behind him. Enfolded in each other’s arms, their bodies touched from hips to lips. When she became aroused enough, Marcus lifted her onto his rampant sex and he began to thrust. His mouth commanded her to open her lips so that his tongue could delve deep into her scented alcove. With a matching rhythm of tongue and tool, he thrust wildly so that their passion built hot and strong, but before they climaxed, he stopped and allowed his hands to roam over her skin until she felt she would go up in smoke.

Since he was buried so deeply, it took a long time before the throbbing and pulsing slowed. When his hands had traced every inch of naked skin and she had explored every magnificent muscle, he began to thrust again, taking them ever higher in their fevered quest for fulfillment. The fourth time he repeated this sensual ritual, neither could hold back any longer. Marcus spent at the same moment Diana let down her love juices to anoint the full honors of his manhood.

As he gathered her against him to stroke her silken hair, Diana experienced a moment of panic. What if she
were suddenly snatched from Marcus, back to her own time? The thought was unendurable and she clung to him tightly until she could banish the frightening idea.

Later, when they could think coherently and talk again, Marcus teased, “Now that I’ve proved to you that Roman men are superior lovers, what other medieval fantasies can I lay to rest?”

Diana was gazing out the window, thinking how lovely the forest looked bathed in sunshine. The leaves had just started to change color and she hoped it would be a glorious autumn. “I always wanted to go on a royal hunt in medieval times,” she said dreamily.

“Is there no hunting in your time?” he asked, towering behind her with his powerful palms cupping her shoulders.

“Eighteenth-century hunters are pathetic. Three or four dozen men with great packs of hounds run one pitiful fox to earth. I should like to go on a boar hunt where the prey has a fighting chance equal to that of the hunters. I don’t suppose I’d enjoy the kill, but the chase would be exhilarating beyond my wildest dreams.”

He dropped a kiss onto her soft shoulder. “I’ll take you on a boar hunt.”

She turned to face him. “Are you serious, Marcus, or just teasing?”

“I’m perfectly serious, but you’ll have to wait until Seutonius Paullinus takes the newly trained legionaries on campaign. I’m expecting him back from the western territory tomorrow, but he only ever stays about a week.”

“Oh Marcus, I would enjoy it above all things!”

“Not above
all
things, I trust?”

“Stop that. I need a bath; I’m all musky from too much loving.”

“There’s no such thing. The more you make love, the more you want to make love.”

“Like a compulsion?”

“Like a narcotic,” he said intensely. “We’ll go for a
swim in the garden pool,” he said in a lighter tone. “We can’t waste the sunshine.”

“I can’t swim,” Diana said with regret.

“I’ll teach you!” He was suddenly filled with great enthusiasm.

“You won’t make me wear armor, will you?” she teased.

“No, I’ll make you swim naked. Come on,” he urged, threading his fingers through hers.

“Marcus, we can’t go out there like this,” she protested.

“Why not?” he asked blankly. “What a waste of time to get dressed, only to get undressed. Then repeat the ridiculous ritual to get back here.”

“Humor me,” she commanded, wrapping her red mantle about her nakedness. Marcus, too, draped his scarlet mantle about his shoulders, but his jutting manhood thrust out from between its folds.

“I said humor me, not convulse me,” she said, laughing at the outrageous spectacle he made.

Marcus glanced in the mirror. “Now
that
is rude. Stark naked would be much more respectable.”

“May the gods preserve me from respectability,” Diana murmured reverently. With hands clasped, they emerged from the sleeping chamber displaying all the dignity they could muster, and descended to the peristyle.

The water in the beautiful bathing pool was warmer than the air. They spent two hours playing in what seemed to Diana their own Eden. Marcus, with iron determination, resolved not to let her escape from the pool until she could swim. With much laughing, splashing, ducking, and kissing, he finally accomplished what he set out to do.

With great daring on her part, Diana agreed to allow Romulus and Remus into the pool with them, and the four frolicked with abandon. They made so much noise that the entire household, including the gardeners, gathered to watch their master with disbelief. The coming of the new
female slave had wrought such an amazing change in the master, they were astounded. He had never revealed this side of himself before. Only Nola had caught a glimpse of the fun-loving boy who dwelt within the man.

The dogs tired before Marcus, climbing from the water and shaking themselves to dry off. When Diana climbed out, she saw a pair of eyes watching her through the leaves. She didn’t want anyone to be punished, so decided to keep quiet, but when Marcus emerged from the depths and tried to take her in his arms, Diana panicked. She picked up her cloak and fled toward the villa.

Marcus followed in full pursuit. She glanced over her shoulder as she sprinted up the staircase and saw that he had already gained the bottom step. “When I catch you, I am going to…” She turned into his arms and put her hand across his mouth. “Hush, darling … they are all watching and listening to us.”

Marcus grinned. “Ask me if I care?”

As her red mantle fell away, suddenly Diana didn’t care either. There was absolutely nothing shameful about love. It was a glorious thing to behold.

Kell had changed the sheets and tidied the chamber. Clean towels replaced the bloodied ones and fresh scented water had been provided.

Now that Diana was out of the warm water and sunshine, she began to shiver. Marcus knelt to build a fire and she rubbed herself against his broad back to warm herself. “I’d better put some clothes on,” she said for the sheer pleasure of having him forbid her.