Surrender to the Roman (8 page)

Her posture crumpled, shoulders bowing forward, neck bending under some unseen weight. Marcus wished he could see her face, but she hid her expression against her shoulder.

“Perhaps I can reason with Drusilla.” He stopped himself from reaching for her by curling his fingers into a fist. “She has great force of will, and she is not pleased with her husband.”

Defeat fractured Ademeni’s usually strong voice. “I heard that man speak of tens of thousands of my countrymen coming from Dacia as Trajan returns. What lies in store for them?”

Marcus shook his head, could not believe the number himself. He did not want to be the one to tell her the many horrible truths of Roman colonization, as he could not defend them in total. A lie would not do, and the truth would push her to the point of despair, where she might choose to remain.

“What does your emperor plan for them?” she pleaded. “You must tell me,
dominus.
”

His voice strained. “What would you have me to do?”

She stared at him. “About what?”

“About you,” he replied, not daring to look away. “Since I did not ask for you, what should I do? Turn you loose? Sell you to another?”

She did not hesitate. “I would have my freedom.”

His brow furrowed. “And what would you do with your freedom?”

“Return to Dacia.”

“I was afraid you’d say so.” Frowning, Marcus reclined in the seat and stared at the black canvas that sparkled with stars. He dreaded how she would respond to his revelations and put off the inevitable a few moments more. “The heavens are beautiful.”

Her gaze followed, and he listened to her shallow breaths. “The same stars shine in Dacia, as you well know.”

“I admired the beauty of your mountains,” he agreed. They had been Callia’s first home. “Tell me what you imagine is happening in your city right now.”

Ademeni hesitated, as if she’d never considered the exact fate of her world. “It matters not. It’s my home.”

“You will not recognize it.” His jaw tightened, clipping his words. “By now the city has been razed. Burned first, and then destroyed, stone by stone, to be rebuilt in the image of Rome.”

He paused, waiting for a response that never came. When he no longer heard her breathe, he plunged ahead. “Your family was brought here, and the majority of your young men are about to arrive. Consider what that means for the future of Dacia.”

His stomach churned as he painted the scene with broad strokes. Her eyes widened. He could see she now realized what he already knew. Her people would disappear. They would become Romans.

Hands fisted in her lap, she did nothing to wipe the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. Her voice wavered like a flame. “All that my father worked for, everything I know and love…destroyed?”

“They will send Roman citizens to Dacia, the very soldiers who conquered your land, to colonize and make it Roman,” he continued without joy. “What you knew as your home no longer exists, Ademeni. Even if I free you and you survive the long trip, you will not be welcome there. No one will remember you. No one will dare speak your father’s name.”

The brutal truth settled about them, a burden too heavy for anyone to bear without anguish. Her response tore from her throat in a cry of savage agony. She sprang forward, like a lion, and grasped the dagger in his belt.

Marcus twisted and wrapped his arm around her waist. Dragging her across his lap, he kept her close and boxed her hands in between their bodies. With a grunt, he wrenched the weapon from her hand and tossed it out of sight.

She used her fists, pummeling his chest and shoulders. “What right do you have?”

Unfazed by the force of her anger, Marcus captured her wrists. All this time, he’d never considered how Rome did her terrible business, crushing one people after another.

Ademeni stilled, panting. Her head low, she listed toward him, the scent of sandalwood drifting from her hair, her skin. As he inhaled, he became acutely aware that she straddled his lap.

She remained oblivious.

“You’re a liar.” Her body tensed, as if she might give him another tussle the moment he relaxed. “It cannot be as you say.”

He shook her and she quieted, her mournful eyes bending his iron resolve. “I’m not a man of politics and fancy words. I live my life in duty and loyalty to Rome. From the battlefield, what happens in the city is barely visible. One does not smell the stench.”

Her breath came in short gasps, and her face reddened. When she spoke, her words had lost their sting. “You dare make excuses for yourself?”

“Again, I must ask,” Marcus continued, hoping she’d regained a portion of her senses. “What am I to do with you?”

Her eyes held all of her bitterness in shallow pools of tears. “Why have you told me these things? There are more convenient and pleasurable ways for you to break my spirit.”

Her accusation sparked anger, and he tightened his fingers around her wrists. “You mistake me for my sister’s husband.”

She leveraged her body and closed her thighs against his rigid response. Hunger shot through his veins, along with a subtle warning. The line should not be crossed, yet the desire to do so threatened to drown him.

Her bottom lip quivered before she spoke. “Do you not take pleasure in telling me such things?”

“No,” he rasped. This conversation did not excite him. She excited him, from the lyrical way she spoke to the way she tilted her head.

Ademeni leaned near enough for him to study the pale freckles across the bridge of her nose and feel the warmth of her breath against his cheek. Her perfume made him sluggish and drunk and thoughtless.

Her eyelids drooped, and a pink flush crept up her neck, settling into her cheeks. Perhaps she could read his thoughts as if written on her wax tablet. When she next looked at him, she parted her lips but said nothing.

In a moment of weakness, he bent his head and captured her mouth. Her body tightened then surged closer. She pressed against him, warm, pliable, wanting. Urgency swept through him, and he deepened the kiss, greedy to taste her, to feel more of her response to him.

Marcus released her arms, threading his fingers through her hair. It was softer than in his imagination. She tasted like honey and felt like home in his embrace. She clutched his tunic, a moan escaping the back of her throat.

At her small protest, the night rushed back in around them, and he pulled away. Panic knotted his gut, and he took a deep breath, lest he share his guilt with her. She’d ceased her tears, and he wiped the remaining wetness from her cheeks, searching her glazed eyes for any hint of her thoughts.

Ademeni let out her breath in a slow stream, and brought her hand to cover her lips as she retreated. A stab of unease destroyed his lingering desire. He’d made a mistake.

“Dominus…”
She shoved against his chest, found her feet and fled to her room, leaving her blanket on the ground. He picked it up and started after her.

Useless. He couldn’t possibly think to comfort her. He had taken advantage of her weakest moment, bludgeoned her hope. His responsibility to her was along the lines of safety, not quenching his own thirst. Marcus squeezed his eyes shut and cursed the gods.

Despite his best intentions, he’d become no better than Tertullian.

Ademeni opened her eyes. She gauged the position of the sun against the wall as raised voices echoed from the rear of the house.

She’d gone back to sleep after a daybreak altercation with Flora. From the tone of the conversation, Ademeni suspected she might be in trouble again—the least of her worries now that her hope had crumbled.

She roused herself to better hear the discussion.

“She refuses to come out. To do her work!”

“Temper yourself,” Marcus warned. “Did you speak to her?”

“Apologies. Yes, I spoke to her. “

Closing her eyes, Ademeni shook her head. Heat rose in her body at the sound of his voice, unbidden and uncontrollable. “And?”

“She says she’s not well.” The statement fell to a long silence before Flora exploded. “Perhaps she’s spoiled instead.”

“Flora—” His tone issued a warning that silenced the quarrelsome slave. The conversation faded as Ademeni lay down again. She imagined he might create excuses for her behavior. Illness. Fever. Laziness. He would not mention that he’d crushed her spirit and then stolen a passionate kiss from her.

She cringed. Flora need never know what had transpired late last night. A woman like Flora would never give her the benefit of the doubt. She would accuse her of manipulations and schemes, which was not so far from the truth. At least Ademeni knew that Marcus had desired her for at least a moment.

Perhaps he had already forgotten the entire thing.

Footsteps hastened down the hall. The curtain to her door parted, and a shaft of bright sun split the dark room in half. Ademeni raised her hand to shield her eyes, her heart thundering in her ears. “Who’s there?”

Rather than the broad silhouette of Marcus Cordovis, the slight form of Lucia slipped into the room, letting the curtain drop behind her. “Marcus asked me to check on you.”

Ademeni sat up. “Did he leave?”

“Yes, he’s gone for the morning.” Lucia laid Ademeni’s abandoned blanket on the end of her bed. No telling where she’d found it. “What’s troubling you?”

Gone? A lump formed in her throat. Relief battled anger. Forgetting that she’d avoided Marcus this morning, Ademeni wondered that the great general wouldn’t face her.

She shook her head and fibbed. “Female troubles.”

Lucia nodded and leaned against the arch. “So…it has nothing to do with the things Marcus told you last night?”

Ademeni’s pulse stuttered. “What things?”

“The walls have ears,” Lucia said. “He does not lie about the ways of colonization.”

No, Ademeni suspected he never lied, may the gods curse him. Even as he’d spoken to her about her country, her people, she’d seen it unfolding in her mind’s eye. Logical, destructive, cold. The Roman way. Soon, it would be the way of the whole world. She could not fight such a system. She couldn’t save herself from being involved with the thing she despised.

Did Lucia know the rest? Did she even suspect how the night had ended?

Ademeni swung her feet to the floor and dragged her fingers through a tangled mess of hair. Bitter disappointment dogged her. He wouldn’t leave when he’d been so vehement about her finishing the garden. He didn’t want to see her—he regretted his impulsive moment. “Where did he go?”

“Marcus?” Lucia sounded surprised. “He went to the Forum. Something about personal business.”

Personal, not military. One worry overwhelmed her.

“He’ll sell me,” she blurted, then covered her mouth.

Lucia’s calm voice soothed her. “What makes you say such a thing, child?”

Her mind spun, fear mingling with the memory of his calloused hands on her cheeks, his hungry mouth ravaging hers. She’d become too much trouble. Too much temptation.

Had he finally decided what should be done with her? “If what he says is true, and I shall never return to Dacia, then it is better…”

She trailed off, but Lucia finished. “Is it not better for you to be in Marcus’s house than any other?”

When Ademeni met Lucia’s eyes, she nodded. “I have done nothing but disrupt his household.”

A moment passed between them before then Lucia said, “There is something you could do to secure your position.”

Ademeni gave the older woman skeptical attention. No one knew Marcus better. “What is it?”

Sitting her down, Lucia laid a cool hand on Ademeni’s forearm and took a deep breath. “Are we not both women?”

Ademeni averted her eyes, Lucia’s meaning so clear, so simple. She’d already considered seduction in the dark of night, where no one could see her face flame, if only because it pleased her.

“Stop fighting with him,” Lucia murmured, “and show him that you appreciate his kindness.”

Ademeni turned from her, understanding something beyond the obvious. The matron encouraged this. Her attention to Ademeni from the beginning took on new meaning. The outings, the new clothes, the seashell pins, were all designed to bring Marcus’s attention to her.

So Lucia wanted Marcus to have an outlet for his lusts. That didn’t make the option any less feasible. No matter the other woman’s stake, Ademeni had already considered this approach for her own future. The game had changed, and more than her mind churned with possibilities. Her short marriage had already deflowered her body, and she could well protect her heart from harm.

She sat up straight. If done correctly, she might not only secure her own safety but might also find a way to help her sister, or travel a different path to freedom.

Silencing her inhibitions, she said, “Tell me how.”

* * *

Well after nightfall, Marcus returned to the house, dropping his gear inside the doors. The first of the legions had returned today, dribbling into Rome first by the tens, then by the hundreds. Hungry and rowdy, they’d infested the streets like scorpions. He’d spent most of the day corralling them into the temporary barracks on the edges of the city.

None of the sweat and swearing of soldiers had wiped the taste of Ademeni’s kiss from his lips. The vivid memory of how she felt in his arms crowded his every move during the day.

Silence enveloped the house and should have been peaceful. Yet the painful quiet didn’t suit him, either. He rubbed the back of his neck and trudged through the house, stopping in the kitchen to snatch a small meal of bread and cheese.

Roaming the halls, he paused to check on Callia. Only the top of her head poked from under the blankets. He kissed her and left her to her dreams.

He would miss these moments when Trajan assigned him to a new post.

Once he finished eating, fatigue settled upon him. Even though he suspected sleep would elude him, he forced himself to his chamber.

A row of candles burned along the far wall, lending a flickering tint to the room. One step inside, he stopped short, his eyes adjusting to the moving shadows.

His heart turned over in his chest. Ademeni lay in his bed, her dark hair splayed across the linens, eyes closed, full lips parted in slumber.

Marcus swallowed and willed his wayward limbs to obey, to stop pumping desire through his veins. When he stepped forward, his shadow cut across her lithe body.

Her spicy scent filled his senses. How long had she been lying in wait? Waiting for what? Not for him…yet here she lay. Clad in the thinnest of wool, she stretched from one corner of his bed to the other, like a gift from the gods.

A warning stirred in his gut. She played a risky new game.

Dark lashes fell against her cheeks, and her freckles teased him with sudden visions of the carefree woman she might once have been. Leaning forward, he traced the line of her jaw with his fingertip.

Stirring, she blinked, her unfocused gaze settling on him at last. She whetted her lips. “I finished your garden,
dominus.
Did you see?”

Marcus shook his head, engulfed by the depth of her eyes. He’d forgotten all about her punishment. His words sounded rough to his ears. “Why are you in my bed?”

Her hand covered his. “Are you not pleased?”

He pulled away, the answer stuck in his throat. Last night she’d run from him. What could she hope to gain from a tryst?

“Surprised,” he muttered.

He massaged the back of his hand. No woman had touched him in five years. He’d not allowed any softness to enter his life after Julia’s death, but had committed himself to the empire—to Trajan. He’d broken his famine last night, and the guilt had eaten at him as surely as need did now.

She sat forward and caressed his cheek. His eyes closed as the familiar hunger rose. The starved animal inside him wanted to claim every perfect inch of her, demanded that he ravish her. Called him a fool for not taking her before now.

Again, that prick of worry stayed his hand. He waited to see what she wanted from him, if she hid some deadly weapon to use the moment he let down his guard.

Her fingertips played across his lips, and he tasted each one as they trailed by. He forced himself to remain still, to sort through this change in temperament without overindulging.

When his eyes opened, he took in her naïve smile and knew at once. She hoped to gain her freedom by playing with fire. She still did not realize he was motivated by other things.

Yet her presence was too great a temptation to resist altogether. He could separate himself, keep his loyalties and still give her more than she could handle.

Fair price for playing such games.

He smiled. The last candle flickered and died.

* * *

A cruel trick of fate for the candles to expire. Ademeni closed her eyes and pushed fear to the edges of her mind. No more misgivings. Tonight would change her relationship with Marcus and release her from her subservient role. To that end, she’d done everything Lucia had prescribed, from the candles and perfume to her diagonal position in his bed.

If the few nights with her husband had been any indication, this seduction would take no time at all. She would know if she pleased him because he would turn his back and fall to sleep.

Marcus sat on the edge of the bed, his presence marked by a masculine scent and the sound of his shallow breath. His stiff posture dared her to continue her course.

So she reclined, braced for a few moments of puzzling unpleasantness. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes and waited for him to fall upon her like a wild beast.

Agonizing moments passed. Then his hand encircled her ankle, and he straightened her leg. Air rushed from her lungs in surprise. Warm and strong, his caress lingered, drawing slow circles up her calf.

Ademeni raised herself on her elbows and opened her mouth to protest. What man touched a woman this way? She wanted to demand he stop and get on with things, but the sensation felt too good to force the words beyond her lips.

When he pushed her tunic upward and pressed his lips to her knee, she shuddered. He raised his eyes, his cryptic smile holding the promise of more exquisite torture. A flush crept over her body, an unfamiliar heat settled low in her belly.

She pressed her hand against his shoulder, but he captured it, kissed the back and released her. A shake of his head spoke volumes. He didn’t want her to touch him.

Her limbs froze as her heart thundered. This would be nothing like those other nights. All her plans flew away on a midnight breeze. She’d lost the reins already.

Marcus crept along the length of her body, hovering over, then stretching out beside her. His hands possessed her with slow, bold strokes that pushed her garment first to the waist, then over her head.

Her nakedness seemed to please him, so she ignored the awkward desire to cover herself. Perhaps he would pin her to the mattress now and satiate the unmistakable hunger that grew in his eyes.

Instead, he ran his hand over her shoulders, across her collarbones, hesitating in the hollow at the base of her neck. Her skin prickled as he moved further afield, circling first one breast, then the other.

Her body responded without the consent of her mind, nipples hardening, spine arching to follow his persistent caress. She thought him cruel to be so close, yet not kiss her as he had the night before. Licking her lips, she tilted her chin upward, to invite him.

In response, he lowered his head but stopped short of making contact. Ademeni’s breath caught in her throat as his mouth feathered across hers. His kiss mimicked the movement of his hand across her belly.

Panic flashed across the pleasure, and she stiffened. This was not how things were to happen tonight. She was to drive him to the point of distraction, not the other way around.

Marcus drew back, his breath warming her cheek. “Is this not why you are here?”

As he nuzzled her neck, she gasped her answer and snaked her arms around his neck. None of her sisters had told her of these pleasurable things. Her husband had lacked either knowledge or skill.

His lips pulled at her skin, and she gave in to the slow pressure that grew inside her. Marcus rained warm kisses down the center of her body, pausing at both breasts to set her nerves afire with his tongue.

Her fingers curled through his hair while she writhed beneath his easy weight. His hand strayed boldly down her stomach, prodding her legs apart.

Marcus raised his head, pinned her leg with his and looked into her eyes. Embarrassed by her body’s liquid response to his attentions, she fought the urge to shy away. She had no will to deny herself the pleasure his touch promised.

He kissed her again, his tongue sliding across her parted lips. In the same moment, his hand advanced between her legs. She moaned into his kiss while her body moved of its own accord, welcoming his exploration.

A rush of heat surged through her limbs as he touched her gently at first, then with more purpose. Each stroke built upon the last, until she feared her body had caught on fire. She grasped his arm, not knowing exactly for what she asked.

Pressure built until his fingers slid inside her. Her hips rose from the bed, and she sealed her mouth to his. The give and take of the kiss echoed his manipulation of her body.

Tension rose from the friction between them, Ademeni climbing as though she walked the mountains of home. She clung to Marcus, unable to either keep his pace or control herself, wanting this torment to both never end and find completion.