The Raven and the Rose (15 page)

“Among other things.”

“I thought you were trying to warn me off her,” Marcus said, as he stowed his pilum in his
sarcinae ,
or kit. This was a bundle tied to a wooden cross support to be carried over the shoulders.

“No longer,” Septimus said resignedly. “You are the most determined man I ever met, Marcus, and if you’re set on going through with this, all I can do now is help you.”

“That’s a very sensible attitude,” Marcus said, and Septimus laughed, shaking his head.

“Are you sure you won’t join me at the baths?” he asked again.

“Your lady will be very pleased to find you freshly bathed and scented with aloes.”

Marcus grinned. “All right. I suppose it will help to pass the time.”

Septimus patted Marcus on the back. “In truth, I envy you, my friend. The last time I had a virgin I was seventeen years old, and I had to go to Parthia for the privilege.”

The two men walked off the deserted field dedicated to the military games of the god Mars, their minds far from war.

* * *

“Is this where it hurts?” Paris asked, manipulating Julia’s spine. Behind his back Larthia crossed her eyes and then looked at the ceiling, her foot tapping impatiently.

“Further down,” Julia replied, wincing as the physician increased the pressure of his fingers.

“There?”

“Yes, I think so,” Julia replied, silently begging the indulgence of the gods for her lie.

“And is it always so?”

“No, it comes and goes,” Julia said, as Larthia suppressed a giggle, turning away from the scene.

Paris stepped back and let the hem of Julia’s shift fall. “This may be a female complaint,” he announced. “Does the pain come just before the issue of blood with each moon?”

“Yes,” Julia said, seizing on the first plausible explanation that might satisfy the physician.

“And do you have cramping each time?”

“Yes, I do.”

Paris nodded. “This results from the lack of childbearing, I’ve seen it in Vestals before, and in other long term virgins. I will prescribe an extract of foxglove that will help with the pain, and I will see you again here the first market day after the new moon.”

Julia and Larthia exchanged glances. “I would prefer not to wait for so long a time,” Julia said hastily. “Could I not see you again next nundina? It would please me to know that I have a regular appointment with you, this discomfort has been bothering me for some time.”

“Certainly,” Paris said smoothly, totaling up the extra fees in his head. “Will it be convenient, Lady Sejana, for me to see your sister here at your home in the future?”

“Yes,” Larthia said shortly, tiring of the charade.

“Very well. I will send the plant extract to the Atrium Vestae by messenger in the morning, I will need this evening to prepare it. I shall expect to see you here next market day, Julia Rosalba. Good evening.”

“I’ll show you out,” Larthia said, preceding the physician into the hallway. When she returned a short time later she said to Julia, “I thought he would never leave.”

“He gave me a very thorough examination.”

“Since there’s nothing really wrong with you, it would have been amazing if he found something.”

“Did you pay him?” Julia asked.

“Of course.”

“How much did he charge you? I will transfer the amount from my inheritance to yours.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Julia, we’re both risking our lives here, do you think I am worried about a few sesterces?”

Julia studied her sister in silence, then said, “I think I should go, Larthia, this was a bad idea. If I leave before...”

“Centurion Marcus Corvus Demeter is waiting for you in the atrium, mistress,” Nestor said from the doorway.

“Thank you, Nestor. You may go.” Larthia waited for the servant’s footsteps to fade before observing to Julia, “Too late. Now stop fussing and get ready for your visitor. I’ll send him in to you shortly.”
 

She left before Julia could protest.

Marcus looked up as Larthia came into the entry hall and greeted him, extending both of her hands to take his.

“Centurion, how nice to see you again so soon!” Larthia said delightedly, mindful of Nestor, who was watering a plant right behind her. “Come into the tablinum where we can discuss our business. Would you care for some refreshment?”

“No, thank you,” Marcus said, somewhat overwhelmed by this effusive greeting.

 
Larthia led him into the parlor. She waited until Nestor had passed the door on his way back to the kitchen before saying in a low tone, “In the future you will have to climb over the back wall and enter the bedroom from the patio. Let no one see you. Servants talk. If you arrive at the front door too often they will be saying you’re having an affair with ME.”

Marcus nodded.

“When you leave just walk around to the gardens and go in the back way as you did last time. Julia is waiting for you.”

Marcus nodded again.

“Now,” Larthia said, “let’s pretend to be interested in one another long enough to convince the servants we actually have something to discuss.”

Marcus smiled.

* * *

It seemed an eternity to Julia before the outside door opened and Marcus came through it, his eyes locking with hers as he closed it behind him.

Julia’s feet barely touched the floor as she ran to him; he folded her into his arms and said, concerned, “Tears? Why are you crying?”

“I was just thinking about the chance we’re both taking. This is so dangerous,” she murmured against his chest.

“Say the word and I’ll go,” he replied, holding her off to look at her.

Julia dropped her eyes. “I can never say that word, Marcus. Why?”

“I think there’s a good reason.”

“What is it?”

“
Credo fatum nos coegisse
,” he replied. “I believe that fate brought us together.”

She looked up at him and nodded.
 

“Then why question what we both sense to be the work of the gods?” he said. “Accept it as a gift.”

Julia buried her face against his hard shoulder again. “It’s difficult to live so much of my life without seeing you. When I’m not with you I think-oh, terrible things.”

“And when you are with me?”

“Then I forget the rest of the world.”

He bent his head to kiss the side of her neck. “I’ll make you forget it completely,” he said softly, his lips soft and caressing. “All of it. Just give me the chance.”

Julia closed her eyes, content to let him lead her down the path she had never trod before this night. He murmured to her as she clung to him, reveling in the strength of his body, the soothing sound of his husky voice. She felt his mouth move to her hair, her cheek, and then to her lips. As he kissed her repeatedly he opened her mouth with his tongue, and Julia responded eagerly, her desire to please him compensating for her lack of experience. He ran his hands down her back, forcing her closer, and then straddled her, spreading his legs to take her weight. She moaned when she felt him hard against her, the sound part fear, but more desire, and tightened her arms around his neck.

Marcus felt his fragile control slipping; he knew he couldn’t move too fast or he would lose her trust, but he had thought of little else but this moment since the last time he saw her. He pulled the veil from her hair, dropping it on the floor. Her palla followed soon after, and she stood in her thin gown, her hands fluttering down his spine as he kissed the satiny smoothness of her neck and shoulders. His mouth was open, leaving a trial of wetness on her skin. He pushed aside the neckline of her stola impatiently to clear his path.
 

Julia gasped as he bent her over his bracing arm; she had never been touched like this, held like this, caressed with such primitive urgency, and she dug her fingers into the muscles of his back, sensing the coiled power under her hands. He was the embodiment of every guilty reverie of her adolescence, every daydream inspired by the sight of a muscular body revealed in an athletic contest or the display of nearly naked male slaves being offered for auction. She had never thought a man would come to release her from the prison of her mind and give flesh to her fantasies, yet here he was.

Marcus moved his mouth lower, to her breasts. Julia moaned when she felt his lips on her nipple through her gossamer tunic; his mouth was so hot it seemed to sear her, sending ripples of heat and excitement along her nerves. She arched her back still further, sinking her fingers into his hair and holding his head against her as he laved her through the silken material, nipping and teasing the bud of flesh that had stiffened instantly at his touch. Her small sounds of pleasure inflamed him until, in frustration, he tore at the clasps on her shoulders and pulled the gown roughly down to her waist.

Julia was almost swooning; she swayed in his arms as he took one swollen peak between his lips and covered her other breast greedily with his hand. Her fine skin, dappled lightly with pale freckles like a bird’s egg, was the color and consistency of cream, the tan nipples of the true redhead standing out against it. Her breath was coming in short bursts as he increased the pressure of his mouth, running the fingers of his free hand over her upper arms and naked back like a merchant marveling at the sumptuous quality of imported silk. When he slipped his arm under her knees to lift her to the bed she clung to him, easing backward as he fell against her, enveloping her again with his body.
 

To feel him all along the length of her was a shock; her stola was slight barrier between them and his legs were bare. He buried his face between her breasts and locked his hands behind her waist. Julia felt his soft mouth and soft hair against her skin, a contrast with the hard muscles of his arms embracing her. His hair gleamed in the torchlight as he turned his head and placed his flushed face against her flat abdomen, his eyelids drifting closed, his lashes brushing his cheeks, where high color made him look as if he were in the grip of fever. And so he was; when she clutched at his shoulders he raised his head to drag his lips along the supple line of one slender arm, his whole body tight with a tension she had created and which looked to her for its release. He pulled her fiercely to him and said into her ear, “I knew it would be like this, Julia. I saw you and I knew.”
 

 
Emboldened by their mutual passion, Julia drew aside the material of his tunic and kissed the hollow of his throat. He smelled musky, masculine, and she closed her eyes luxuriously as she tasted the salt of his skin on her lips. Eager for more, she reached down for his belt, her head dropping to his shoulder in submission.
 

Marcus was undone. Groaning, he slid his palms along her sides and pushed her gown above her knees, his hands trembling as he stroked her. She wanted him, she was almost crazy with wanting him; he could feel it in her body which responded to his touch as a lyre did to a musician’s fingers. She fairly sang under his hands. But she was a virgin and he was afraid to hurt her. If he rushed her or forced her too far she might be lost to him forever.
 

Julia looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes, her face pink, her brow dewed with perspiration. He could feel the outlines of her body and wanted her naked, her coltish legs wrapped around his hips. But he must not rush her. He rolled Julia onto her back and bent to embrace her again, willing himself to take care.
 

There was a knock on the bedroom door.
 

They both froze; Marcus could feel the passion drain from Julia’s pliant body as “the rest of the world” intruded on them once again.

“Answer,” he murmured into her ear.

“What is it?” Julia called in a wavering tone.

“I have the linens you requested, mistress,” Nestor’s voice answered. “Shall I bring them in?”

Marcus drew back from Julia and held his finger to her lips. “I’ll go outside,” he whispered. “You let him in.”

Julia nodded shakily, rearranging her gown with fingers that refused to obey her at first; it took her three tries before she could close the clasp on her left shoulder. She picked up her veil and palla as Marcus slipped through the door to the portico. Clothing hastily arranged, she took several deep breaths and then went to the hall door and opened it.

Nestor stared at her. “Lady Julia! I thought Lady Sejana was in here.”

“I was just resting after my visit from the physician. Shall I take those from you?” Julia said, amazed that her voice could sound so normal.

He handed over the pile of folded laundry. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said.

“It’s all right. Good night.”

“Good night,” the servant replied, and padded off down the hall. Julia closed the door behind him and then leaned against it, her eyes closed, as her heartbeat returned to normal. After several seconds had passed Julia went to the other door and let Marcus back into the bedroom.

“All clear?” he said.

She nodded and then collapsed into his arms. He held her until her trembling ceased.

“Marcus, how can we continue with this?” she finally said, drawing back to look at him. “We have to snatch forbidden moments like fugitives! I resent feeling like a criminal every time I see you, yet there doesn’t seem to be any other way for us, and the thought of not seeing you again is unbearable.”