“No.” She blinked back the tears. “I swear I will not.”
“I can see you never should have been here,” he murmured. “I hope to make your lot easier to bear until the time you can be free.”
With those hollow words, he leaned in and kissed her, the warmth of his breath calming. Softer than she imagined, his mouth bloomed across hers. His hand slid around the back of her neck and pulled her closer until she rested against him with little choice except to trust.
And explore. She parted her lips and deepened the kiss, surprised at his gentle probing, savoring the sensation shooting up her spine at the touch of his tongue to hers.
Her pulse quickened and she molded her body to his. She liked this warmth, this touching. Gods be damned, she liked this with him, at least. Enough for tonight.
Maybe enough for another night.
As the give and take of his kiss grew more forceful, his hands wandered down her bare back to pull her hips firmly against him, his hardness an intrusion between their bodies. She reached down and stroked him with a slow rhythm.
A smile crept over her lips, unbidden, as she searched his face. She saw hunger, perhaps denied too long, which compelled her to kiss him as she had been taught, as if slowly savoring fresh fruit.
He pressed her into the pillows, her flesh giving way under his muscular weight. With one hand, he pulled her wrists above her head, and explored her body with the other. She shivered as his expert touch feathered over her lips, down her neck, and across her bare breasts.
A moan escaped and he smiled again, then lowered his head to her throat, teeth nipping at her skin. He freed her hands and she clung to his neck, curling her fingers in his hair as he inched lower.
Sariah arched her back in anticipation, warmth pooling in her belly, waiting to be released. She’d felt this sensation before, though never at the hand of another.
His mouth closed on her nipple at the same moment his hand slid between her legs. She gasped, then moved in time with his soft strokes, opening herself to his touches.
“Be still,” he murmured against her cheek as he slid his fingers into her. She obeyed, holding her breath at his intrusion, relaxing as he began to simulate the sexual act.
Rational thought slipped away as he stroked her. Within moments, her breath became ragged while his movements set her body on fire. Her hips rose to meet his touch, responding to the increasing roughness of his touch, grinding against the friction of his hand.
When she felt herself sliding over the edge, she stopped and gripped his wrist. His expectant gaze locked on hers.
She nodded, understood the unasked question. “I am ready for you.”
Needing no further direction, Titus rose to his knees and positioned himself at her feet. His expression of grim determination did not deter her from her duty. She steeled herself for what she knew would be a painful experience.
Grabbing her ankles, he pulled her flush on the bed, then inched his way up each leg. The gentleness of each caress unnerved her and a strange wanting spurred her forward. Perhaps something better lay on the other side of this moment.
She raised first one knee, then the other and slid down the silken blankets as she’d been taught. Laying one hand flat on her belly, Titus touched her folds again, finding her slick.
She closed her eyes as Titus positioned himself over her. Turning her head, she bit the inside of her cheek. Seconds slipped by while he inched slowly forward, encountering resistance.
When he took hold of her waist, she opened her eyes and he pushed through, sliding smoothly inside her. She turned her head and choked on the cry rising in her throat. He moved, with caution at first, then with greater urgency.
She could not match him, although after the first searing pain, the friction became more pleasurable. In moments, he reached his release and withdrew to spill his seed on the bedding.
Sariah stared, wide-eyed, at the ceiling, her body limp, a dull ache between her legs. This was the mystery? All their discussion, training and preparation only to entertain hollowness in the moments after?
Titus pulled her out of her reverie and wrapped warm blankets around her. Thankfully, he said nothing, as nothing needed to be said. She sought his gaze, while he looked only at things other than her. Resting her head against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, she told herself lies.
This could have been much worse.
TITUS HATED HIMSELF. He choked on the act of taking this young woman’s virginity. Though he found even this detestable, he knew the Legate would not have spared her pain. Her virginity would have made bedding her sport for him.
This was why Titus avoided politics and invitations to spectacles. His world spun from simple to complex in a matter of moments. Adding to the potential for disaster, he found this woman in his arms irresistible.
He kissed the top of her head and she looked up at him.
“Was this too terrible?” he asked.
She shook her head as her vacant expression betrayed her.
He had tried to restrain himself, finding he could not control every impulse. He found this creature simply too beautiful, a strange mix of innocence and knowledge. The urge to comfort her overwhelmed him.
She touched his cheek. “I know this will improve.”
“You are a beautiful and wise woman, Sariah. I regret we met this way.” He ran his fingers through her hair and when she said nothing further, he asked, “What happens next?”
“You must ask to be my patron in order to see me again.”
Titus nodded, possessiveness creeping into his thoughts. “Will this keep you from other men?”
“Yes,” she answered. “For this, you have my gratitude.”
“You must keep your eyes and ears open for me, Sariah.”
“I give you my pledge.”
Smiling at her sleep-slurred words, he lay with her as she drifted off. He could not imagine the stress of this day to her, desperate enough she would do anything a stranger asked, even betray the only life she knew.
He had no idea how he might keep his word to her and in truth, he did not have to. If the information she gave him held any forewarning of danger and saved the day for Rome, he could redeem his family’s name and request any post he wanted.
As Sariah slept, Titus left the bed and dressed quickly, unsure how much time had passed between them. He hoped she would not be bothered because she did not keep him for hours.
Slipping through a cracked door, he looked for her attendant, a matron who stepped forward. He pressed a stack of gold coins into her hand and said, “I would like to see her again.”
The woman nodded. “I will let the priestess know.”
When she stared to turn away, he grabbed her arm. “I mean I would be the only one who sees her. I will pay for such an honor.”
A faint smile with missing teeth flittered across the woman’s face. “I will see this properly done.”
“For yourself.” He gave her a few more coins before making his escape. The temple had grown quiet and dark and he found his way easily to the enormous likeness of Anath.
Fires burned on either side of the shrine and he assumed the women received the sacrifices of men at her feet. He shook his head at the mystery surrounding these base practices so the goddess received this particular kind of tribute.
Divining he was the last Roman in the temple, Titus ceased his study of the stone figure and found his way to the spiraling mountain path with quick feet. He did not look back. He had kept his part of the bargain.
Time would tell whether Sariah kept hers.
SARIAH STARTLED AWAKE, not recognizing her surroundings. Swinging her legs off the bed, she swallowed panic followed by a dull ache. She remembered where she was and what had been done. Taking a great gulp of air, she pulled clothing over her naked limbs and muttered, “When did Titus leave?”
Firelight died inside the room and now the sun’s first rays stretched across the walls. He’d been gone for quite some time.
Had he kept his word?
She gathered her things and left, stealing past the snoring matron, returning to her quarters. Davisha slept, her face to the wall, and roused herself when the door opened and shut.
“Sariah?” she rasped, her voice echoing off the interior walls. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Sister,” she answered. “I have returned. Are you well?”
“I am,” came the answer. “Are you?”
Sariah paused to take inventory. “I am.”
“Thank the gods! I worried so!”
Sinking onto her bed, Sariah reassured her friend. “All is well.”
Davisha’s hand rested on her arm. “Was he a beast?”
She bit her tongue. How should she portray the encounter to those in the temple? Could she trust those closest to her? “I have nothing to compare him to. I suppose he was not so different.”
“You were able to lie with him?” she asked in a whisper.
“Yes,” she answered, face warming. “We lay together.”
Tension laced the air. “Is pairing painful?”
Rather than answer, Sariah reclined on her mattress, choosing to remember the passion and tenderness of his kisses rather than the pain of a single moment. “You will know soon enough.”
No sooner had the words fled her lips than the door opened, and the high priestess swept into their tiny chamber. Sariah and Davisha both scrambled to their feet. She had never graced them thus before.
“There you are.” Thrusting her lamp forward to find Sariah, she commanded, “Come with me.”
Sariah cast a backward glance at her friend as the priestess pulled her from the room by the wrist. She struggled to keep pace, flashes of anger stabbing her mind.
Irrina tossed Sariah into her more luxurious chamber and closed the doors. Sariah steeled herself in the center of the room and waited for the onslaught of questions.
“So.” Irrina turned and faced her. “Did you complete your assignment?”
Sariah lifted her chin. “You already know I did.”
A smirk crept over the priestess’s face. “Of course I do. Even with the change in plans, you didn’t miss your mark. I chose wisely.”
Change in plans? She meant change in men. “He would not have come to me had you not meant him to.”
An arched brow preceded any reply. “Yes, he was stoic at dinner. How was he in your bed?”
She felt the imprint of his body as if he still held her, warm, sensuous. Her lie did not seem large. “Ravenous.”
Unmistakable glee settled over the priestess. “Excellent. He has asked to be your patron and I am to send answer today. You have made important people in the city happy, Sariah. You have earned reward.”
Bile rose in the back of her throat. What important people had she pleased? She wanted no reward save the freedom to make her own life. “You have my gratitude, Priestess.”
“A room of your own, then,” she announced, “where you will entertain your Roman with all required appointments. Next to my chambers.”
Sariah balled her fists. This proved no reward but a tighter leash. How to slack this savage twist of fate? “What of Davisha?”
“What about her?” came the dismissive reply.
“I would have her with me,” she demanded, not wishing to be alone with her thoughts. “She is closer than a sister.”
Tense moments passed while lines of concentration came and went on Irrina’s face. “She may stay with you, as your attendant, but this will not remove her from temple duties.”
Sariah nodded. “I understand.”
Grateful to have her friend and not be asked for full details of the encounter with Titus, she would endure her new lodgings.
“Let these things be done today. I will send word to the Roman, see you moved, and your new attendant quartered appropriately.” She clapped her hands. “He will waste little time in seeing you again.”
Saria’s face heated as she imagined another visit with Titus. Her body wanted him, to see what might be different since the painful moment passed. While Titus wanted more from her than sex, he had treated her well when he did not have to.
She could not fool the gods. He offered her freedom and as reward for whispered secrets, she would do anything he asked of her. Anything.
“FROM THE TEMPLE OF Anath.”
Titus grabbed the missive from Emmaus, who had been hounding him all day for details of his time inside the distant temple. So far, he’d kept his mouth shut while his mind churned through events.
He didn’t have to read the letter. He knew his bid to patronize the temple, and Sariah, would be accepted. Sliding the small packet under his belt, he returned to his tedious work, accounting for all the grain his soldiers ate.
“Still nothing?” Emmaus queried. “I’m sorely disappointed, my friend. Am I to assume not a single scandalous thing happened in the temple on the hill?”
Despite the humor in his friend’s voice, Titus deflected his question. “You are free to assume whatever you like.”
“I don’t want to assume, I want to know, like every other red-blooded man in this camp.” Emmaus perched on the edge of Titus’s desk. “Our cocks wither and dry from disuse and here you sit with tales to tell and not telling them.”
He looked his friend in the eye. “What do you want to know, Emmaus? There are women, they perform rituals. They do not like Romans and no amount to time is going to cure their distaste.”
“How did the Legate return before you?”
Titus lowered his voice. “He threw me to the lions, which will not happen again.”
Except such would happen again. Titus did not know how he would explain what he hoped would be several return visits to the temple to gain information.
And satisfaction.
“You sampled the wine, so to speak?” Emmaus nudged him.
Titus looked away, then back to his friend. “I did.”
“And?”
“And what do you think?” Titus rose and made his excuse. “I am surrounded by seductive women, I have not had a woman in months, need I say more?”
“Ah,” Emmaus answered. “You didn’t last a moment.”
Titus shook his head, unable to suppress a wicked grin.
Emmaus pointed to the letter. “You must have done something right. I’m sure they aren’t sending you a note to make jokes about your tiny member.”
Seriousness fell between them and Titus took a chance. “Can I trust you to the death, Emmaus?”
“You have several times already, my friend. What troubles you?”
Titus motioned him to a chair at his desk and waited while he settled. “Do you think the Phoenicians inviting us into their cult is strange?”
“A little. Perhaps they grow more accommodating.”
“The more they accommodate,” Titus said, taking the seat across from Emmaus, “the more suspicious I become. I used the opportunity last night to leverage a woman.”
Lines of worry formed over his brow. “Leverage how?”
“How is not important. They seem to want us indebted to them and I want to know why. I have become the woman’s patron and will return to see her and gather the information she provides.”
“Does the Legate know of this arrangement?”
Titus shook his head. “The opportunity presented itself and there was no time for protocol. I will share anything of import I learn.”
“Of course.” Emmaus sounded skeptical. “And this has nothing to do with any particular woman inside the temple?”
“No.” Titus took the sealed letter from his belt to read since he’d divulged his secret. “The High Priestess gratefully accepts your patronage and bids you return on the third night. Tomorrow.”
Emmaus shook his head. “You play with fire.”
“I want out of this dung hole.” Titus tossed the note into his campfire.
“You want.” Emmaus waved his hand. “I know what you want. The whole of the Empire knows what you w
ant.”
Titus grimaced. “My brother ended up on the wrong side of the Emperor two emperors ago. The wind will change direction tomorrow and I will still be here, forgotten.”
“How will you get yourself out?”
“They are up to something, Emmaus, even this woman knew as much. I intend to find out.”
SARIAH READIED HERSELF in her new abode, trying not to like the improved accommodations, a larger bed the most obvious improvement. Her heart fluttered in her chest, more nervous to see Titus tonight than the first time.
Davisha stood behind her, arranging her hair. Such preparations meant little, she feared, although the ritual calmed her nerves.
“Thank you for keeping me by your side,” Davisha whispered.
Sariah nodded. “I would not have either of us alone.”
“Tomorrow is my first fortnight in the temple,” she said. “I am fearful yet at peace with my lot.”
Closing her eyes, Sariah admitted to herself she could never have withstood the ritual copulation at the feet of Anath. Some of the attendants took their own lives rather than return a second time.
“You will be fine,” she reassured her friend. She wished she could reassure herself. “We will both be fine.”
“Is your Roman terrible to look upon?”
She supposed she should make Titus seem a monster. In truth he was far from terrible. His rugged looks aside, a soul resided in this man, buried under rubble, there, nonetheless.
He could have torn her to shreds, yet he had not.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Davisha hurried to answer, talked in whispers, and closed the door again.
She turned to Sariah. “He’s here.”
“Go,” Sariah paused and took a deep breath, “See him for yourself and bring him to me.”
Night fell, bringing fears and questions to plague her. She hated her situation yet felt drawn to this man because of his kindness, a few pleasurable moments, and an impossible promise.
She understood he used her, most likely to further his own career. She should not trust his promise of freedom, except there existed no other avenue out of this situation.
Seducing the Roman Page 3