The Gladiator Prince (6 page)

“You have never been caressed by a man, have you?”

There was a long silence, and Thane thought for a moment that Phaedra would run from the room. Instead, she stood very still, and all pretense left her voice. “No,” she whispered.

Her back shivered when he laid the hair back down and pushed his fingers through the locks to bring them to his nose. They smelled of the local Briton soap and lavender, which must have put Abella out a fortune. His fingers still laced in her hair, Thane gently pulled her head back and laid it on his chest to look into those dark eyes. She did not resist him. When he took one hand out of her hair and lightly touched the soft skin under her chin, he could feel her tremble all over. It sent waves of desire coursing through his blood. He kept his deep baritone low, quiet to maximize its effect.

“Something happened to you tonight as you watched us.”

“Yes.” Her voice was husky, quiet.

Turning her head to the left, he brushed back the hair and touched the side of her neck. Bumps rose under the pads of his fingers, and she closed her eyes. He brought his nose to the exposed skin under her ear and breathed in her scent. Her skin smelled of wood smoke, the forest and something else that sparked fire in his loin.

Bringing his mouth to her ear, he made sure his lips brushed the tiny shell. “I can smell your need,” he breathed. A sudden look of guilt tightened her brow and turned down the corners of her mouth. He slid his fingers across her throat and up under her chin. Her skin was as supple as down against his rough hand. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, girl.”

“I know,” she replied. The tremble in her body deepened sending tendrils of heat into his partially engorged erection. Sliding his hand to the other side of her head, he tilted it away from him, exposing more of her neck, and ran his moist lips along the protruding muscle. Yanking her hard against his chest, he made certain she could feel him through her tunic. She tried to move away, but he held her tight.

Kissing up her neck, he took her ear lobe in his mouth and bit it lightly. “Do you wish to learn?”

“I…” Her voice quivered against his fingertips. “P…please,” she said.

“All right.”

Thane let her go, and a moment of disappointment flashed across Phaedra’s face, but she lowered her chin almost to her chest. He sat on the bench and lifted a hand to her. “Come here,” he said gently.

Phaedra scanned both sides of the garden, but did not move more than that for a long time. Thane was patient and did not rush her. “We will start with this, if you prefer.” He untied his loincloth and set it on the bench. His erection was almost full. “Look at it, Phaedra.”

Her lips parted a tiny crack, and she lifted her eyes. They fluttered up then down very quickly.

“Do not be afraid. I am not ashamed to have you see me like this.”

The spark of a smile lightened her lips, and she lifted her eyes. “I know,” she croaked.

“Then look at it, fully, and tell me how it makes you feel.”

Phaedra lifted her eyes and stared at it. For some reason those dark lashes and bright eyes made his erection throb. He had to fight the urge to touch it.

“It…” she said then cleared her throat. “It makes me a little frightened,” she said in a small voice.

“Only that?”

“No.” She took her time. “It stirs my blood, as it did when I watched you with that woman.”

“What did you want to do, as you watched us?”

Her mouth formed a small oval. “I wanted to do what she was doing.”

“Take off your tunic, girl.” Thane made it a command.

That startled her, and she took a step back. If she ran, he would have his answer. If she did not, then he was not so certain.

Tightening her jaw, defiance flared in her nostrils and sparked fire in her eyes. Something in them compelled him to look deeper. What he saw there surprised him. Beneath the arrogance, outside the haughty demeanor, there was pain. He had never seen anything more striking.

Without another word, she slipped one hand to her shoulder to undo the clasp, and in an instant, the tunic floated down her body. He had to fight the gale of lust coursing through his body.

“Now, come to me.”

Her eyes down, she shuffled toward him, pulling in a shaking breath.

Thane almost stopped. For the moment, he could not. Watching her move, her dark lashes brushing her cheeks, the flow of chestnut hair cascading over small perfect breasts, the sway of her slender hips and the small patch of dark hair over her virginity excited him more than anything had since he had been with his wife many years before.

When she was before him, she did not look up.

“I am going to touch you. Do not be afraid.”

“I am not afraid of you,” she said haughtily.

He smiled. “Good.”

Her head bobbed a fraction of an inch, and a rush of scent flooded Thane’s senses. With his right hand, he brushed the hair from her breasts and she shuddered. He wrapped his other arm around her tall slender body and pulled her slowly toward him. The urge to take her now, quickly, became almost overwhelming, and he was not certain if he could continue.

The little nubs of her breast lay very close to his mouth. Dark rose areolas circled the hard nipples and reminded him sharply of the brass boss at the front of his shield.

He parted his lips and blew softly. A gasp escaped her, and her eyes popped open. Then, without warning, he sucked the right tit into his mouth and began to suckle. The girl tried to pull away for only a moment, but soon she was moaning in his arms. He switched to the other and she slid her hands on either side of his head, guiding him, her hips writhing toward his center.

Pulling away from her, he said in a stern voice, “Get on your knees.”

Startled and obviously a little frightened, Phaedra did as he ordered instantly.

His erection was now iron hard, and he meant only to tease her with it, but when she opened her mouth, now gazing at it shamelessly, Thane twined his fingers into her hair and drew her forward. Without instruction, she put her lips on it then slipped her tongue out to lick away the spot of dew at its tip. Thane could not stop the sudden inward breath.

In one quick move, he jerked away from her mouth, and she fell back onto her haunches and fingertips.

“I think your lesson is over for today,” he said gruffly, pulling his loincloth over his lap. He had to fight to keep his hands from shaking.

Phaedra shook her head as if waking up from a dream. “What?”

He forced the smile and hoped it was sincere. “I said the lesson is over for today.” Motioning to the door, he stood up. “Now, go put your clothes on, little one, and run along to play with your dolls. I am tired.” He folded his arms and glared down at her.

Phaedra jumped to her feet, and the look of horror on her face stabbed Thane to the heart. It was a mean trick, but one he hoped would teach her. Had she teased another man by spying on him, her virginity would not be all she lost. Tears appeared in her eyes, contradicted by the sudden wrath in her lips.

She turned around, grabbed her clothes from the floor and flew out of the room silently.

Thane let a shaking breath jitter from his mouth and stumbled to the water fountain in one corner of the garden. He plunged his head under the water and let the icy sensation calm his passion.

No woman had ever affected him like that, and he had been with hundreds. He would make damn certain that he was never alone with Phaedra in the future. The prospect of suppressing his desire again was terrifying. He knew he would not be able to do it a second time.

Chapter VI

Phaedra could not breathe. It was as if humiliation, fear and anger had coalesced inside her jumbling her nerves together like cold cloying porridge. Somehow, she had managed to get dressed, though how, she was not certain. She flew blindly out of her father’s compound and into the rush of the town. Profound shame made her head throb, and her face was on fire. The air smelled of wood smoke and a guilty musk, a combination that made her nauseous.

People moved in small groups around her; they all seemed to point and stare at her, laughing at her idiocy, calling her a whore, and worse. The cold of the night against her bare shoulders gradually brought her back to reality. No one even spared her a glance.

The mortification faded into an intense rage; Phaedra had never been more furious. How dare he treat her like that? He was a slave, a gladiator. Punishments for his crimes danced behind her eyes; crucifixion on some far hill with nails in his wrists or feet; or stretched between horses and torn into bits; gutted and allowed to die slowly while crows ate his innards. These visions stood side by side with her humiliation and something else she could not comprehend. She was not angry at his attempt to deceive her, or his blatant seduction; she had known what she was doing. It was because she had wanted him, needed him so badly that nothing else mattered. She would have submitted to him in a flashing heartbeat.

How dare he do that to her?

As things came into focus, she wondered how long she had been wandering through the city. The crowds moved towards the taverns and the forum, so it could not be late. The cold dark streets helped her to calm down.

The bathhouse loomed up in front of her, and she watched as a tangle of women of all shapes and sizes, gathered at the doors and disappeared into the steam coming out of them. Moving her hands down her arms to warm them, a sudden desire to wash his scent off her skin overwhelmed her, but she stopped herself in time.

To her right, as if on cue, two gladiatorial guards escorted a man who had his hands bounds in irons. She instinctively dashed behind a corner of a building and watched them pass.

The sight of Thane, half-naked and chained sent quakes through her and she detested the sensation. She threw herself against the cold cement wall, inching toward a darkened doorway. Tucking herself inside, Phaedra closed her eyes to get the vision out of her head.

The jingle of tack startled her. When she looked, she saw two Roman soldiers coming down the road on horseback with a third that carried a hooded figure riding behind them. That horse proceeded to the bathhouse and the figure dismounted as the two soldiers made their way toward her hiding spot.

A bit surprised, since there were no garrisons stationed nearby, she tucked herself more deeply into the shadow of the door and listened to them pass. She heard one of them say Thane’s name, and she froze where she stood. They stopped at the back entrance of the bathhouse and got off their mounts.

“…that is what I told her, but she insisted.”

“A queen? Is that who she is?”

The first man put a finger to his lips. “No one is supposed to know that. She is someone special. That is all I really know. A Brit.”

The second soldier whistled through his teeth. “A Briton Queen? Those are pretty rare these days, yes? What does she want with the Prince?”

A snort came out of the other as he tied his horse to a post. “What does any woman want with the prince? A little engagement, yes?”

“Oh,” replied the other man, and they headed for the bath.

Phaedra hugged herself in the dark doorway, afraid of what she was thinking but determined to punish Thane for what he had done. Her Syrian pride had been bruised, and her father’s people did not treat a vendetta lightly. The Roman half of her encouraged caution and wanted her to go back home and put it out of her mind. The Syrian pride won out in the end, and she followed a group of women into the bathhouse as if she belonged there.

Thane groaned when the two guards escorted him through the door. Women lounged everywhere in the bath, some swimming, others splashing arms and feet in the hot waters, while others cupped water into their hands, releasing it against their breasts. It was a soft dance of seduction that Thane found amusing. How they knew he would be there was beyond him, but he suspected that Thaddeus, one of his two guards, and a damned good
auctorati
, had sold the information. Thane did not fault him; the man had a wife and four children to feed.

Thane presented his shackled wrists to Delius, the other guard, who removed them cheerfully, giving Thane his usual leer. “Busy night, Prince? Not one, but two? How do you do it?”

“Briton secret, son.”

Thane gazed across the crowded bath at a wake of naked women, from youngsters no more than twelve to old women skirting sixty. As always, the two guards waded into the bath to urge the knot of female bodies away to make room for the gladiator. A chorus of disappointed moans flowed softly against the roiling steam.

Thane eased himself into the hot water, sore from his training and from his evening ventures. The guards usually held the ladies at bay so he could wash; however, most of the time they were distracted by young ones who would move in hoping to get close to Thane or cause a diversion so others could. Fights always broke out in the
ludus
for the privilege of taking Thane to the baths. It was one of the more stimulating duties of the
auctorati
.