The Raven and the Rose (20 page)

Marcus sighed with relief. She did understand.

“When can we go?” she asked.
 

“After the Parthian campaign,” he replied. “I don’t have to re-enlist this fall as I have every year in the past. The oath I took extends just through this October. Then I will leave the army in good standing and take you away from here. We’ll still have to keep our relationship a secret until then, of course, but it will only be for the summer months, until I come back.”

“And what if you don’t come back?” Julia said softly.

“I’ll come back. I always do.”

He bent his head to kiss her, and Julia submitted with a luxurious sigh. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back, then let him undress her, watching his face as he drew the silken garments from her limbs. His eyes moved over her avidly, his lips parted, his breathing harsh; it was clear that he found her exquisitely beautiful, and she was glad.
 

Marcus touched a smooth tan nipple and it rose into his palm, hardening as he cupped her breast. Her body glowed like a marble statue in the flickering candlelight, slender and white, perfect. He kissed her everywhere he could reach as he lifted her onto the bed, removing her shoes last and then gathering her, naked, into his arms. She hid her face against his shoulder, the rough wool of his garnet tunic caressing her cheek.

“Are you sure?” he said against her ear.

“Sure,” she replied shakily, nudging aside his neckline and rubbing her nose on the satiny surface of his shoulder. She could feel his indrawn breath, the way he reacted to her slightest touch. It gave her a feeling of control she had never experienced before; this powerful man, who commanded a cohort, was now at HER command. When she ran her hands down his lean back she felt the muscles contract under her fingers. She dragged her tongue along the line of his collarbone and he groaned, a soft sound indicative of his helplessness against the wave of desire engulfing him. When he eased her onto her back she wrapped her arms around his neck and accepted his weight.

He lay against her, heavy and ready, pressing her thighs, and the need to feel him inside her was overwhelming. Julia sighed with gratification as he moved his mouth from her lips to her neck, and she urged herself against him, sliding her hands up his arms inside the short sleeves of his tunic. She loved the feel of his skin under her hands; he looked his role, tough, work hardened and war weary, but his skin was smooth and warm, his hair like cornsilk. He was young, and she was young. Desire carried them like the tide.
 

“Take this off,” she whispered, tugging on the hem of his tunic.

He obeyed, standing, and Julia felt the loss of connection with him like a pain. He stripped rapidly, revealing a hard, sculpted torso, brown and crosshatched with scars, sprayed with a thatch of black hair that narrowed to a line bisecting his belly. Julia could not look lower; she focused on his face, his dark features intense with passion, and then closed her eyes as he rejoined her.
 

“Shh,” he said against her mouth, as she stiffened in his arms at the contact. He kissed her to relax her again. She was soon responding, sinking her fingers into his hair and wrapping her legs around him, unconsciously seeking fulfillment. When he was sure her resistance had passed he left her mouth to kiss her body, his movements growing wilder as he moved from her breasts to her stomach to her thighs. When he was sure she had passed the point of objection he slipped his hand between her legs. She turned her head aside and moaned deeply, her face flushing, her whole body dewed with perspiration.

Marcus lost control and bent to tongue her navel, lifting her to his mouth. He was almost rough, he couldn’t get enough of her as she wound her arms and legs around him, imprisoning him within her limbs. Passion made her reckless; she could not resist him as he did things she had only imagined, and had never imagined, leaving her weak and enervated, desperate for more. She clutched his shoulders and stroked his hair, both now damp with sweat.

“I want...” he said thickly, lifting his head.

“Yes,” she replied. “Yes, yes.”

He poised to position her under him, resisting the urge to drive into her, as he would with a more experienced woman. Instead he entered her slowly, pausing when she gasped and went rigid.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked between clenched teeth, sweat breaking out anew on his forehead.

“No,” she whispered. “Just... wait.”

He waited, his arms trembling as they supported the weight of his body, the need to plunge deeper so strong he had to bite his lip to overcome it.

“Now,” she said softly, stroking his back.

He sank into her a little further, hesitating as she moaned, then continuing as he realized that the sound was one of pleasure. He closed his eyes when he felt her legs come around his hips, her heels digging into him.

“More,” she said.

He gave her more.

* * *
 

“I think it’s going to rain again,” Julia said dreamily, listening to the rising wind whipping the trees along the edge of Larthia’s back garden.

Marcus grunted, almost asleep.

Julia stirred, touching herself gingerly to see if she was still bleeding. She was not. Larthia had thoughtfully provided a
lavabum
, a water bowl and pitcher, and clean cloths. Julia had washed, but she still felt marked, as if everyone could read on her forehead that she now belonged to Marcus.
 

“Tell me about yourself,” Julia said to him, snuggling closer to his warmth, her head on his bare chest.

“You just learned all you need to know about me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Everything.”

He smiled, his mouth moving in her hair. “For the last thirty years?”

“Well, why did you join the Roman army?”

“To get off the farm,” he said promptly.

“Did you hate it so much?”

“I was a very bad farmer,” he said shortly.

“And your father?”

“He was a good farmer.”

“He must have been sorry to lose you.”

“I have a younger brother who stayed in Corsica.”

“And how did you join the army?” Julia asked, running her fingers lightly down his sinewy arm.

“I came to the Capitol and the consuls with the help of the military tribunes selected four thousand of the applicants to form a legion. Caesar saw me and personally picked me from a crowd to be in his.”
 

“Picked you?”

“For obvious physical attributes: size, stamina, general health.”
 

“And that was all?”

“That was all. Rome has many enemies. The army needs men to fight them.”

“And you have lived the army life for eleven long years,” Julia said.

“The time passed quickly.”

“Because you were always fighting?”

“Or preparing to fight.”
 

Julia sat up and touched the livid scar which bisected his chest just above the left nipple.

“Where did you get this?” she asked.

“In Gaul.”

“How?”

“A naked barbarian with his face painted blue tried to thrust his dagger into my heart.”

“And all these others?” she asked, trailing her forefinger down his chest to his belly.

“Different places. The Roman style of warfare is mainly hand to hand combat, you get carved up fighting in close quarters.”

She kissed his shoulder lingeringly. “I’m so afraid you’ll go to Parthia and I’ll never see you again.”

He put his hand under her chin and turned her face up to look at him.

“As long as I’m alive you’ll see me again.”

“That’s what worries me. Will you be alive?”

“I’ve survived eleven years against all manner of men, and now I have a better reason than I ever had before to go on living.”

“You must have had a lot of lovers in that amount of time,” she observed.

Marcus knew better than to discuss this subject with any woman, much less Julia, who was already insecure about her lack of experience.
 

“Not so many,” he said.

She snorted. “I’ve heard about soldiers.”

He laughed aloud at her worldly wise tone. “What have you heard?”

“That they’ll mount anything that moves,” she replied, and he stared at her, amazed that she had ever been exposed to such vulgar language.

“Who told you that?” he said.

“Margo, my slave. She was a Helvetian captive and she said when the Romans took over her village the soldiers raped all the women and stole everything.”

Marcus shrugged dismissively. “Warfare is different, though I confess I have never taken much pleasure in forcing myself on an unwilling woman. Mutual yearning is much more satisfying to the soul.”

“Mutual yearning?” she said, running her hand down his middle and encircling him with her fingers.

He closed his eyes.

She stroked him as he rose to fullness in her hand. “Like this?” she breathed.

He seized her and rolled her onto her back. “You learn fast, white rose,” he murmured, as she surged against him.

“Make love to me again,” she whispered, and he did.
 

* * *

Verrix knelt outside Larthia’s bedroom door, scouring the grout in the tiled floor. She had chosen this task for him because it would put him in the right place and take a lot of time, so he could protect the people inside the room. The irony of his making sure that the officer who had turned him in to the Roman magistrates was able to enjoy his lover in peace was not lost on him.

But if Larthia wanted him to do it, he would.

He had been at his task for some time when Larthia rushed up to him, her face as white as her stola.

“What is it?” he said in an undertone, rising from his crouching position.

“My grandfather has just arrived at the front door,” she said, her expression indicating what she thought of this development. “I have to keep him busy in the tablinum so he doesn’t wander around the house.”

“What does he want?”

“I have no idea, but if he finds out that Julia is in my bedroom at this very moment, entertaining her soldier lover, we are all in big trouble.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“The same as before, make sure nobody gets past you until I’m able to send him on his way.”

Verrix nodded.

“I’m counting on you, Verrix.”

“I understand.”

Larthia fled, rounding the corner outside the tablinum just as Nestor arrived with the wine she had ordered.

“Grandfather,” she said as she entered, flashing her widest smile, “I’m sorry about the interruption, just a domestic matter I had to settle. Would you care for some wine? It’s the best Lesbian, your favorite.”

Casca nodded distractedly, and Larthia gestured for Nestor to pour the drinks. When he had done so she said, “You may go, Nestor. Don’t disturb us for any reason.”

Nestor bowed his head and left.

“Now what can I do for you?” Larthia asked, sitting across from her grandfather.

“I’ve come to give you some advice,” Casca said, draping his elaborate toga over his knees. Larthia noticed that the hem of it was stained with mud, and reflected that he must have been in a hurry to get to her.

“What a surprise,” she said, smiling again to take the sting out of her words.

“I’m serious, Larthia. The political situation is worsening, the Senate was almost in chaos this morning. I think you should take your money out of the banks and put it into gold, plate and coins and jewellery. Do it discreetly, in small lots, but turn it into transportable goods.”

Larthia stared at him. “Are you doing this?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Won’t word of it get out to the rest of the people? There will be a run on the banks.”

“We’re keeping it quiet.”

“Are things that bad?”

He sighed. “If it comes to civil war, who knows who will wind up controlling the government backed banks? If Caesar prevails those of us who opposed him will be removed from our positions at the very least, bankrupted at best. The last time it reached this point, under Sulla, his enemies found their homes razed to the ground and all of their personal property confiscated.”

Larthia was listening now. “Tell me exactly what to do,” she said.

Casca outlined his plan, and Larthia was closeted with him for a good while. There was no need to prevent him from going through the house; he accomplished his mission and then left. When Larthia returned from seeing him out she noticed that Verrix was absent from his post in the back hall. She sought Nestor immediately, trying not to panic for the second time that night.

“Where is Verrix?” she demanded. “ I see that his task here has been abandoned and I specifically asked him to finish it all tonight.”

“I’m afraid there was an incident with him, mistress, while you were closeted with Consular Casca and had asked me not to be disturbed.”