Tainted (24 page)

Antonia shifted on her knees and wished she had taken the
time to strip off her gown. She wanted to be naked before Gawain. But it was
too late now.

She tried to regulate her erratic breath but it was
impossible. Her fingers twitched around his organ as she carefully eased his
thick length toward her.

His groan shuddered along his body. “I swear on all the gods
of my forefathers, Antonia.
I won’t break.
”

She’d held him before. Had avidly studied this part of his
body before, much to his amusement. But this time there was added tension in
the heavy air. He knew, of course he must know, that today she intended to do
so much more than merely look.

“I know.” Had she spoken aloud or was her whisper only
inside her mind? She did not know. Did not care. Her pulses raced, heart
thundered. There was no moment in time but this. And this moment would last her
for all time.

She opened her mouth. And fastened her lips around the head
of his erection.

His strangled moan and the way his fingers tangled her hair
heightened the desire that throbbed between her thighs. The tip of her tongue
skimmed across his flesh. He was so hot. An elusive saltiness, the essence of
Gawain, teased her senses and instinctively her hand tightened around him.

She liked his taste. The revelation flooded her mind, along
with a faint sensation of shock. Again, she slid her tongue over the head of
his cock, this time lingering. Savoring.

He tasted of wild, untamed man. He tasted of
her
man.

His thighs tensed, enslaving her more securely. But she had
no desire to move. Her nails dug into his hip as she lowered her head a little
more. He slid farther inside, filling her mouth, but no terrifying urge to gag
overwhelmed her.

For a moment she stilled. His hard length compressed her
tongue and burned the roof of her mouth. Only her fist around his shaft
prevented her lips from sliding farther along his cock.

Her pussy clenched and liquid heat trickled between her
thighs. She wanted him there, stroking her clit, filling her aching cleft. But
she couldn’t move. Didn’t, in truth, want to move. Because, in spite of the
need thudding through her core, another need hammered with insistent demand.

The need to take him, as he had so often taken her, using
only her mouth.

Slowly she pulled up, her lips clinging to his rigid flesh.
For a moment he resisted, his hands on her head rendering her immobile, but
then the pressure eased. And only the feel of his fingers in her hair remained.

“This feels so good.” His voice was hoarse. Feminine power
surged from her core, flooding her body. She sucked him deep into her mouth,
her cheeks hollowing with effort. His choked curse and savage grip on her hair
sent thrills cascading through her pussy.

Was it her imagination or did his hands shake?

“You’re killing me.” With obvious effort, she felt his
fingers release their deadly grip. But she wanted him to grip her hair, hold
her still. She wanted everything, now, that she had always feared before.

She growled in the back of her throat and slid her hand down
his shaft to his root. With her other hand she cupped his heavy balls. And
squeezed.

Gawain’s big body jerked at her touch. His hands clamped
against her head, holding her still. Her heart hammered high in her breast, her
breath came shallow and ragged. His male scent cocooned her as she knelt before
him, her face buried between his thighs.

He flexed his hips and pushed his cock farther into her wet
mouth. Her pussy spasmed, her fingers tightened. It was hard to breathe.

She never wanted him to stop.

He rocked into her mouth, the drag and push of his shaft
over her tongue and teeth insanely arousing. Beyond the erratic thud of her
heart, she could hear the harsh, uneven sound of his breathing. Could feel his
balls harden with impending climax.

Could feel the possessive clamp of his hands around her
head. Holding her immobile for his ruthless penetration. Immobilizing her for
his oral pleasure.

A desperate moan razed her throat, shuddered around his
thrusting cock. Slick heat tormented her sensitized cleft. She massaged his
root, palmed his balls. How she would love to see his face when he finally
spilled his seed.

With a guttural curse, he released her head. Shock spun
through her.
Even now he gave her the choice.
She sucked hard, her
fingers gripping his root with relentless, single-minded purpose. Blindly she
sought his hand, her fingers reaching for him above her head.

He threaded his fingers through hers. She pulled him roughly
back to her head, pressing him against her tangled hair. His cock jerked in her
mouth, thrilling her. He knew what she wanted.

Once again, his hands cradled her, his fingers biting into
her head. She dug her nails into his rigid thigh as he hammered into her mouth.
Fast. Hard. The way she wanted it.

She felt his muscles lock beneath her. His entire body
vibrated with leashed need. His roar of release thundered through the room,
shattered through her mind. And then he came, violent spasms, his hot come
filling her mouth.

She swallowed. And swallowed again. Goddess, it felt so
good. Greedily she sucked on his pulsing cock, milking him, wanting everything
he had.

“Fuck. Antonia.” His voice was uneven. He continued to
thrust inside her, as if he never wanted this moment to end. “My sweet
Antonia.”

His endearment wrapped around her heart. She closed her eyes
and savored his taste, the feel of him in her mouth, the scent of their
lovemaking in the air. She wanted to hold him like this forever.

After countless heartbeats, the unyielding grip on her head
relaxed and his hands slid to her shoulders. Then he gently pushed her from his
still hard erection.

But she didn’t want to let him go. Not yet.

He gave a ragged laugh at her reluctance and wrapped one arm
around her shoulders. He cradled her face with his other hand, and his thumb
tenderly caressed the corner of her mouth.

“You have developed new appetites, my lady.” He sounded well
pleased by the notion. Before she could respond, his mouth captured hers, his
tongue sliding between her parted lips.

It was a tender kiss, yet a kiss that claimed and conquered
and proved that, for all time, she was his.

Only when he pulled back did she realize she’d wound her
arms around his neck and plunged her fingers through his hair. She was still on
her knees and she resisted when he tried to lift her to her feet.

“Antonia.” He breathed her name against her ear and shivers
of need cascaded along her sensitized flesh. Instead of trying to pull her to
her feet again, he began to tug on her gown. She rocked from knee to knee,
allowing him to painstakingly drag her gown along her legs until the material
no longer hampered his access.

He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, the tips of his
fingers causing havoc to her senses. She squirmed helplessly. This was not what
she had planned, but she couldn’t resist his insistent touch.

When he cupped her sex, she ground against him, unable to
stop herself. Not wanting to stop herself. Their gazes locked and she clung
onto his hair and drowned in the lust and amusement and
love
she saw
glinting in his dark eyes.

His thumb brushed her swollen clit and she bucked her hips
with mindless need. He pressed against the sensitive nub. Her juices flooded
her channel and her pussy contracted around his probing fingers.

“My beautiful Roman noblewoman.” Gawain’s voice was husky
and she gripped his hair, her only lifeline. “Come for me, sweet Antonia.”

“Gawain.” She didn’t recognize her voice. She sounded
parched, desperate. Lust coiled between her thighs, fiery, untamed. Wild need
thundered through her blood and tightened her nipples. Her pussy convulsed,
back arched. But still she clung onto his hair. Still she gazed into his dark
eyes. And her body and soul came for him, her only love.

Gawain tightened his hold around Antonia’s shoulders as
shudders rocked her body. Frantic gasps spilled from her lips and she clutched
his head as though she would never let him go.

Watching her climax caused his cock to thicken once more.
Her eyes were dark with passion. Her elegant ringlets were messy by his hands.
And her lips were pink and swollen from having taken his cock into her mouth.

The memory caused his groin to throb with renewed lust. His
Antonia would never cease to surprise him.

A smile of contentment, of masculine satisfaction, curved
his lips as she finally sagged against him. Her erratic breath was warm against
his chest, and her nails gouged his scalp, unmindful of whether she might be
hurting him or not.

Slowly he slid his fingers from her slick folds and wrapped
his arm around her waist. Her shudders became less frequent, but still
gratifyingly intense. The urge to pull her down onto his bed, to keep her with
him until the morning, drifted through his mind.

Soon such a fantasy would be his reality. Soon, she would
never have to leave him to hurry back to her restricted Roman existence.

Soon he would have to tell her of his plans.

But not right now.

Finally her breathing eased and her fingers relaxed, releasing
her claw-like grip on his head. A few moments later, her hands dropped to his
shoulders and then, with clear reluctance, she lifted her face from his chest.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed. She looked like a
woman who had just been thoroughly satisfied by her man.

He intended to satisfy her further before she escaped him
this day.

“Come up onto the bed.” He brushed a curl back from her warm
cheek. “Your knees must be sore.”

She didn’t answer him or sit by his side as he indicated.
Instead she stared at him, her gaze roving over his face as though she was
memorizing every feature. An odd shudder inched along his spine, although he
could not imagine why. There was nothing sinister in her appraisal. Yet the
feeling lingered, like a malevolent shadow across his soul.

Her hands sculpted his biceps, a languorous caress. Yet
inexplicably another prickle of unease skated across the back of his neck.

Instinctively his hold around her waist tightened. She let
out a ragged breath and used his arms to push herself to her feet. He held onto
her hands and watched her gaze travel slowly down his body until she reached
his far from disinterested cock.

The feeling of unease vanished and a satisfied smile tugged
at his lips. “There is something very wrong with this, Antonia.” He waited
until her startled glance meshed with his. “You are not naked.”

She swallowed and whatever spell had held her silent for the
last few moments appeared to shatter.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was low, husky. “I shouldn’t have—I
can’t stay.”

He sighed heavily and pushed himself to his feet without
relinquishing her hands. He looked forward to the day when they had settled in
the land of the Picts, and Antonia had no need to rush from his arms.

“You had best call Elpis, then. You look as though you’ve
been thoroughly ravished.” Despite his irritation that Antonia had to leave
when he wanted her to stay, he couldn’t help the grin he shot her way. She did
not merely look ravished. She looked fucking ravishing.

Antonia glanced down at her gown and her eyes widened in
clear horror. He followed her gaze and a wave of raw possessiveness gripped
him.

“Carys will lend you a gown.” Lust throbbed through every
word. He knew Antonia was distressed by the state of her gown, but he couldn’t
share it. The dirt smearing her pale blue linen where she had knelt before him
reminded him of the feel of her mouth sucking his cock. And the unmistakable
traces of their shared passion that stained her elegant gown made him want to
fuck her all over again.

She snatched her hands free and patted ineffectually at the
ground-in dirt. He laughed, even though he knew he should not, and gripped her
wrist.

“Let me call your slave, Antonia. She can attend to your
needs while I go and find Carys.”

“No.” The word sounded strangled and Antonia jerked free
from his grasp. She did not look at him as she continued in her vain attempt to
clean her gown. “Elpis is no longer my slave. She did not accompany me today.”

He paused for a moment to consider that. He’d always taken
it for granted that Elpis would accompany them to the land of the Picts. She
might have been Antonia’s slave, but he had seen the closeness between them.
Would Elpis still come with them, now she had the choice?

He wanted Antonia to have someone with her that she trusted.
It would take time for her to make new friends in a new country. Especially
since, as she so often reminded him, the blood of Rome flowed through her
veins.

“Then I will clean you myself.” That would be no hardship.
Perhaps, for Antonia, he would bury his stubborn refusal to use Carys’
ostentatious bathhouse and they could bathe together. The vision arrowed
straight to his groin.

Antonia gave up on her gown and straightened her shoulders.
He had never seen a woman look so beautiful, regal—or desirable.

The possibility of sharing the Roman bath with her grew more
enticing by the moment.

“I can’t stay, Gawain.” Her voice was low but infused with a
note of finality. “I only came here today to…” She hesitated and broke eye
contact to stare instead at his chest. “To say farewell.”

Filled with lascivious thoughts of what he would do to
Antonia in a bath, he had only half been paying attention to her words. But her
final word slammed through his mind like a thunderclap.

“Farewell?” His voice was ominously quiet.
Farewell
was
not a term he cared to use in association with Antonia. “Until when?”

She raised her gaze, but only as far as his nose. “We both
know this liaison was only of short duration. I believe—I believe it’s time to
go our separate ways.”

He heard her speech. And that’s all it was. A speech.
Because the words made no sense at all.

“Is this a jest?” His voice was harsh and he took a step
toward her. “I do not find it amusing.”

She stood her ground, despite how he towered over her. Then
again, why would she retreat in fear? She knew, as well as he, that he would
never raise a hand to her in anger.

Not that he was angry. They were obviously at cross
purposes. Did she think he wished to end their affair, and this was her way of
saying goodbye? But why would she think that?

He had never given her even the slightest indication that he
intended to end their liaison.

“I do not jest in such matters.” Still she stared at his
nose. He had the savage urge to grip her shoulders and shake her until she
looked him in the eyes. He fisted his hands instead. “I want to thank you for
your company over the last two weeks. I have found it most enjoyable.”

Disbelief pounded at his temples. “Enjoyable?” It was the
only word he managed to force through the constriction in his throat. She had
found the time they spent together
enjoyable
?

“Yes.” She inclined her head in a way that was so familiar,
a sharp pain stabbed through his chest. He had once thought her so cold and
aloof, until he had discovered the passionate woman beneath. But now all he saw
was her chilly, brittle façade.

It was only a façade. She did not mean for them to part.

“This was more than a casual dalliance, Antonia.” She was
not the kind of woman to embark on meaningless affairs. Why then was she trying
so hard to give him that impression?

“Oh, Gawain.” She gave a brief, insincere laugh that
lacerated his guts. “What else could it be?”

He gripped her shoulders. Could not help himself. But he
stopped short of shaking her.

“Don’t lie to me, Antonia.” He glared at her but she refused
to meet his eyes. “Look me in the face if you mean your words.”

For a moment, he thought she would refuse. Then she looked
up at him, and the look of anguish on her face made him almost wish she hadn’t.

Her ice-blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears and her lips
trembled. Gods, she had no intention of leaving him. She thought this was what
he wanted. He would tell her his plans for their future. Then there would be no
doubt in her mind that he wanted her in his life.

“I’m sorry, Gawain.” There was a heartbreaking catch in her
voice. “I don’t want us to part in anger. I will always remember you with great
fondness in my heart.”

Fondness?
The word was a foul curse. A woman could be
fond of her horse or silk or jewelry. Not her fucking lover.

The tip of her tongue moistened lips. He couldn’t drag his
gaze away. She lied. And then, with sickening certainty, the reason punched
into his mind.

“It’s the
praetor
.” It was not a question. “I’ve told
you, Antonia, you don’t need to concern yourself about him. There’s nothing he
can do.”

There was a great deal the Roman could do, but now was not
the time to dwell on that.

“No.” Antonia’s voice was eerily calm and a strange
blankness descended in her eyes. “He has nothing to do with this decision. You
are a Celtic warrior. I have the blood of Rome in my veins. We always knew our
time together was short. How could it be anything else? It was never our fate
to be together.”

She sounded so reasonable. As though she believed every
word.

Frustration ripped through him. Everything she said was
true. Yet so much had changed since that day he’d first decided he wanted
Antonia in his bed.

And then a chill rippled along his spine. Things had changed
for him. But had they changed for Antonia? It had never occurred to him before
that she might only—still—see him as an entertaining diversion.

But he’d stopped believing that about her from the moment
he’d discovered she had never taken a lover before him. She was nothing like
the other Roman women he’d had. In any way.

“If Rome had never invaded this isle then you’re right. It
would never have been our fate to be together.” He gentled his grip, slid his
hands along her arms and grasped her hands. “But Rome did invade. We did meet.
We can forge our own destiny, Antonia.”

She shivered but before he could take that as a good sign
and wrap her in his arms, she straightened her already rigid spine and pulled
her hands free.

“That is nothing but a foolish child’s fantasy.” Her voice
was pure ice and her eyes glittered like a frozen woodland stream. “I haven’t
once imagined we could ever share anything more than this fleeting affair. I
cannot believe you have, either.”

Fury churned through his chest that she dared compare him to
a foolish child. And in this matter, no less. The last thing he had wanted was
to grow to care for her. Yet he had.

Even as his heart pounded against his ribs, he knew it was
more than rage. More than wounded warrior pride. He refused to acknowledge the
ache in his heart and focused on the anger.

Because he knew how to handle anger.

“Spoken like a true patrician.” Contempt dripped from every
word. But the contempt was for himself. Had he really been so blinded by
Antonia’s sweet nature that he’d imagined she felt more for him?

“Except I’m not a patrician, Gawain.” She gave him an oddly
vulnerable smile that shattered his previous thought. He hadn’t been mistaken.
She did feel more for him than she admitted. “In the eyes of Rome I’m but a
merchant’s daughter, tainted by the blood of my father.”

He knew her mother had been noble-born. In his eyes, she was
a Roman patrician by virtue of her maternal heritage but he had no compunction
in using the empire’s prejudice to his advantage.

“Then you have no blood ties to Rome. We can forge our own
life together in the far north.”

It wasn’t the way he’d imagined telling her of his plans for
their future. But surely she would agree with him.

She had to.

“The far north?” There was a wistful note in her voice and
her eyes lost focus for a moment, as if she was lost in the possibility of a
new life in a new land. “The mountains of Caledonia?”

“Yes. The land of the Picts. We can leave as soon as your
daughter arrives in Britain.”

The prolonged silence after his words thundered in his ears.
Antonia had once again broken eye contact and was staring at his chest. He
fought the urge to pick her up, fling her onto his bed and fuck her until she
could think of nothing but him. Until the thought of living without him was
forever erased from her mind.

And then she spoke. “My daughter is a patrician.”

The rage burst through his veneer of calm. “Her fucking
father would have murdered her. I will cherish her, Antonia, as though she were
my own.”

Her face was so pale for a moment he feared she might faint.
But he should have known better. Antonia might look fragile but at her core,
she possessed the strength of a warrior.

“But how will you cherish her, Gawain? Should my daughter
suffer the life of a peasant, simply because I enjoy your sexual prowess?”

Her softly spoken words rammed through him, ugly and
offensive. But there was no condemnation in her eyes. She spoke only the truth.

What life could he offer her or her daughter? They would be
fugitives from Rome. He would be hunted as an abductor. A primitive hut was all
he could promise her until his warrior skills provided them with better.

“We may not have the luxuries you’re used to.” His voice was
stiff with pride. “But we will never live like peasants.”

But in the land of the Picts, would his noble heritage and
ancient blood links to the gods be enough to elevate him through their ranks?
He had never doubted it before. But how could he ask Antonia to give up her
pampered lifestyle for one when she might never own anything more than a rammed
earth floor?