Love's Blazing Ecstasy (42 page)

It was a long time before they pulled apart.  “You’re trembling!” He felt the need to reassure her. “You’re afraid
.  I don’t ever want to give you reason to fear me. Never!”

He started to leave but she grasped his hand. “Stay!” His gentleness tonight pushed everything else from her mind, all the hurtful memories. Raising her hands, she curled her fingers in his thick dark hair, clinging to him, succumbing to the fierce fire his kisses kindled, mimicking the movements of his lips and tongue.

Valerian’s palm, firm and warm, slipped down the front of her sleeping gown, cupping the full curve of her breast, worshipping her with his hand.  Wynne felt the jolt of his touch all the way down to her toes.

“There aren’t enough words in Latin to describe how beautiful you are,” he said when he pulled his lips away.  His hand moved to the hem of her gown, seeking her silken skin, then when she didn’t push his hand away, he tugged at the fabric of her sleeping garment, pulling it down around her waist. His breathing was uneven as he sat on the edge of the sleeping couch, bringing her down to sit beside him, reaching out again for the softness of her skin.

Wynne felt her breast tingle and become firm with the gentle touch of his stroking fingers. Desire caught fire in her belly as he kissed her.  Now he was trembling with the depth of his passion for her.

Feeling her respond to his caress, Valerian removed her tunic, then with a single motion tore away his own. Taking it slow, he moved closer, then as
she lay naked against him, he groaned with ecstasy and covered her body with his own.

“Don’t be frightened,” he whispered softly. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. If you want me to stop, you have only to say so. I will not force you.  Never that.”

“I know,” she whispered, looking deep into his eyes. For a long time they were transfixed by each other’s eyes, and then he began caressing her again. His mouth sought her neck and shoulders, then once more teased her lips. Her own lips returned his passion as a fire began to build within her. With him everything seemed so right, so beautiful. She belonged to him and loved him.

We were made for each other
, she thought.
The gods must have created us just for this very moment.
Her eyes closed as she whispered his name, begging him to love her, opening her legs to him.

She could feel his weight upon her, but felt none of her old
fear, only desire for him as his hand slid down the velvety flesh of her body, moving between her thighs. His gentle probing brought sweet fire spiraling deep inside her. Then his hands left her, to be replaced by the length of him, entering her just a little, then pausing deliberately, letting her get used to him again.

Wynne uttered a soft moan as he made love to her. The way he savored the flesh of her soft inner core was beyond anything she had experienced before, even from their past love-making. From the depths of her soul, her heart cried out at this tender joining, a swirling of sensations that left her breathless and seemed to take her with him to beyond this mortal life.

If I died at this moment, I would die happily,
she thought, a woman whole again, a woman loved.

She whispered Valerian’s name as she clung to him and felt her heart move. Her arms locked around him as she arched to meet his body in a sensuous dance. Forgetting any inhibitions, she gave unrestrained vent to her love as she experienced  a burst of sensations that left her breathless.
With a cry of joy she shuddered as Valerian thrust forward with one last triumphant motion, reaching his own fulfillment.

Valerian gazed down at her face when she at last lay quiet, gently b
rushing back the tangled hair from her eyes. She encased his heart in a silken web from which he never wanted to escape. The bond of love joined them. He would never allow anyone to touch her or hurt her again, even if it meant his own life.

“Ummmmmm…” Still entangled with her, his manhood sheathed inside her, he lay close as his body pressed against hers. The world was held at bay as their bodies and passion reawakened and they shared their ecstasy once again.

They fell asleep then, their bodies entwined, smiles on their faces.

Wynne moaned and awakened with the first soft rays of the morning sun. Opening her eyes, she knew that something was different in her life. Then she remembered that Valerian was here with her. He had loved her last night, not once but several times, and never had she known such joy.

Valerian leaned on one elbow. “If I am dreaming, please do not wake me up,” he said, reaching out and lightly caressing her breast with his fingertips. His touch warmed her, as did his gaze, making her feel beautiful. “I love you more than life itself,” he whispered.

“As I love you,” she answered. Her head was cradled against his shoulder, and she sighed in contentment.

With a smile Wynne reached over to tenderly caress her lover’s strong chest, moving to his abdomen until he groaned with pleasure. Looking down she could see that her fingers had awakened his desires again, and she gently reached down to stroke him in fascination, remembering the pleasure that part of him had given her.

“You want me again,” she breathed.

“Yes, I want you,” he groaned, taking her into his arms and kissing her savagely, as if to make up for lost time. His lips were hot and hard against hers, and as he reached out to caress her breasts and stomach and thighs, she gave herself up to the pleasure of his touch.

Valerian ran his hands from her breasts to her navel, to the golden mound between her thighs, exploring softly the petal-soft folds that had brought him such joy. “Did the gods know what magic they were unleashing when they created man and woman,” he whispered against her ear.

As if she were drunk with wine, Wynne was enveloped in a haze of contentment; then she was consumed with need. She felt hot, trembling all over as she ached for him to again possess her.  Who would have ever guessed that she would become such a wanton, she thought with a smile.

She rolled over on top of him, sheathing him, crying out as he entered her. She was filled, completed, made whole by his presence within her. They were fused, inseparable, one being now and forever.

Chapter Sixty-Five

True to his word, Valerian gave Wynne her freedom. He called forth a scribe to draw up the papers of manumission that very morning. According to Roman law, a liberated slave did not have the full rights of citizenship, but it was a step, and as Valerian handed the papers to Wynne he felt light of heart.

“You will always belong to me in my heart,” he said, “but I want the ties that bind us to be the bond of marriage, not enslavement.”

Wynne remained silent, happy about her freedom and forthcoming marriage, but troubled too. In the midst of her blissful slumber that morning she had awakened from a dream that was more like one of the visions she used to have. But this made no sense—
it was a battle not of Roman against Celt, but of Roman against Roman, soldiers of one army slaughtering their comrades. She shook herself to be free of these disturbing images and clung protectively to her beloved.

“I think you a fool, Valerian,” came a booming voice from the doorway. Turning, he saw Cassius standing there, along with Burrus and other friends come to help them celebrate. “This woman could have brought you many gold coins, but freed, she is worth nothing.
”

“She will be the mother of my children,” Valerian replied with anger, then noticed the sparkle in Cassius’ eye.

“Mark you well then, tribune, lest she soon become your master. A woman needs a firm hand.” He came up behind him and whispered in his ear, “I envy you, Valerian.”

Cassius clapped his hands, and a young boy appeared whom Valerian knew to be the general’s slave.

“Bring a flagon of wine and goblets. We have much to celebrate,” Cassius ordered.

“As you wish, master,” the boy said. Wynne looked sadly upon the child and wished in her heart that he too could be given his freedom.

Cassius toasted the young couple and then had other news to tell Valerian. “Severus has returned,” he announced. “I have ordered him to report to me on the morrow.”

Looking at Wynne, Cassius wondered what her reaction would be to seeing the tribune again. No doubt Severus would be enraged to find his lovely former concubine free and safely out of his reach. “He has brought several new slaves with him. Perhaps that will soothe his anger when he
finds out that his golden bird has been let out of her cage,” he said. “I have been told that these slaves are from your land, Wynne. They are members of some demon cult who worship gods of darkness and offer human sacrifices.”

At his news Valerian’s and Wynne’s eyes met and both shuddered at the memory of the danger they both had faced at the hands of the darkness cult.

Cassius continued. “It seems that the priestess of this cult was once in league with Severus and that he himself helped her attain her power after the slaughter of the Druids. But the woman seems to have become drunk with her power and foolishly thought herself stronger than her Roman conquerors. Now she has been brought to this city in chains, snarling like a wild beast. I doubt that she can be made useful to any master.”

Wynne closed her eyes as Brenna’s face flashed before her. It could be no other. The gods had been just. “I must see this priestess,
” she said to Valerian. “Can it be arranged?”

“I will see that you are escorted there, but I do not trust her.  You must remember how dangerous she has been in the past.”

She smiled at his concern, comforted by his love. The thought of seeing her stepmother again did not please her, yet she had to find out from the woman’s lips who had killed her father and why Brenna had lied so viciously to her.

The room was soon buzzing with the conversation of Valerian’s friends. Wynne was left alone with her thoughts. She could see Burrus and Valerian in deep conversation and could see Valerian smiling and patting the young centurion on the back. No doubt he had asked for Meghan’s freedom and had been granted it.

Suddenly as Wynne was watching Valerian and Burrus together, the images from that morning flooded her mind’s eye again—the soldiers and the fighting-- and unable to ignore their warning any longer, she hurried to Valerian’s side to confide in him. At that moment a clash of swords and shouts of alarm were suddenly heard from outside.

“Severus!” Valerian swore. And there he was, rushing into the room with dozens of his followers armed and intent on death and destruction.

Wynne screamed as she saw one of Valerian’s officers fall, a sword driven deep into his chest. He lay facedown on the mosaic floor, the blood from his wound making a dark stain on the white tiles.

With a warrior’s instincts, Wynne picked up one of the small tables and hurled it into the throng of Severus’ men. The general’s soldiers followed suit, hurling goblets, bottles, kitchen utensils and tables, all in an effort to disorient the foe and give themselves time to get their swords, which were outside the doorway.

Wynne’s eyes sought Valerian, and terror gripped her as she saw Severus making his way toward him. Frantically, she ran to her bedchamber for her only weapon—the dagger she had once meant to avenge her father’s death.

Valerian looked up to see the grinning Severus bearing down on him, sword raised. He had not had time yet to retrieve his own sword, and he cursed himself for letting down his guard. A good soldier was always prepared for battle.

Severus lunged. Valerian dodged, escaping with a scratch. Dark eyes glared at him in hatred and rage. “I have long thought of your death,” Severus said to him, his protruding teeth flashing an evil smile. “You cheated me out of your death once, but you will not do so again.”

It was as if the scene before him was moving slowly as the cornered Valerian saw the blade bearing in on him for the kill. Suddenly Burrus stepped between them. What was he doing?

“Noooooo!” Burrus had taken the blow meant for him; at the same moment, Wynne came forward, her dagger in hand. She threw herself forward, striking at all enemies in her path in a valiant effort to get to her betrothed. She saw Severus fall to the ground, the lewd grin of death on his face. Cassius was standing over him, holding his sword.

“Valerian!” Wynne cried, seeing a still form on the floor. But it was not the tribune, it was instead the centurion--Burrus.

With their leader fallen, Severus’ troops were in disarray, some fleeing, some surrendering. Within minutes the villa was again in the charge of Cassius. But peace had been restored too late for Burrus.

Chapter Sixty-Six

“Is he dead?” The question was a sob as her eyes beheld Burrus’ still form with his bloody wound, seeping
a red puddle upon the ground.

“No!” Valerian answered, using part of his tunic to staunch the blood. “But he must be attended to. Sweet Juno, he put himself between me and Severus and took the sword meant for me. The gods can’t let him die.”

Wynne knelt on the ground, her eyes quickly assessing the sword wound. “I will do all that I can,” she promised. “My people know well the art of healing.” Taking charge of the slaves, she gave each an assignment; to find the herbs she specified—golden seal, myrrh, yarrow flowers, oak bark, Shepherd’s Purse, whatever they could find in this bitter cold--and to get clean cloth for bandages. In the meantime she washed the wound with a bottle of wine she found nearby, since there was no water at hand.