Seducing the Roman

by M. K. Chester

  Irrina circled her. “Is there?”

  “Yes,” she nodded in agreement. “Titus is an ambitious man. He feels wronged and hates his post because he once held higher rank. His family has been shamed in Rome and he hopes to reclaim his glory.”

  “Then you shall help him do so.”

  How? “I am only a diversion.”

  “You will give him the false information so our people can once again breathe free air. You will do exactly as you are told.”

  She tried not to tremble, to display how much she despised being a piece in this game. “Yes, Priestess.”

  “You will remain in your chamber until he returns, as punishment for your insolence to the goddess. Await instruction for how to proceed upon his return.”

  Sariah bit the inside of her cheek and bowed her head. Punishment, for doing what was asked of her? Her blood boiled in resentment as she stalked to her room.

  Davisha turned and greeted her. “Sariah, where have you been? They sent me to clean and straighten your chamber as if I was a common servant.”

  Sariah looked about the wide room, noting, while her things had been stirred, her friend had not achieved much. “I have received punishment. I am not to leave this place for ten days, until Titus returns.”

  Davisha gestured to the space. “Such a lavish prison, no?”

  Sariah stared at her friend. “You do not ask why I should be punished?”

  “No,” came the soft reply. “You were overheard, and all the girls speak of you and your consort with jealousy and interest. You know we are not taught coupling is for pleasure.”

  She spoke plain truth. Sariah came into the room and sat on the bed. For the millionth time, she wondered from which vantage point they watched her.

  They would watch her be bored for ten long days.

  “I will keep you company.” Davisha sat beside her, a long-time, trusted friend. “We have not been able to be companions in some time.”

  Fate took them in different directions through no action of their own. “Our lives are not our own.”

  “Yet we live them, all the same. We must make the best of our time together. Let us do the things we used to do before service, before we knew what these things meant.”

  Davisha wanted them to tell each other their hopes and dreams. Sariah didn’t remember what hers had been. She only knew what she now faced, the choices she must make.

  “I am curious.” Davisha linked her arm through Sariah’s. “Curious about your lover, who has stolen much of your time.”

  Sariah detected a hint of jealousy in her friend’s sweet voice. Titus carried away her time and steered her life in a direction different from the others, different from Davisha.

  She offered what she could. “I will tell you about him, there are no secrets in this place. Do you want to try on some of the things Irrina has seen fit to bless me with?”

  Davisha’s eyes lit up. “May I?”

  “Of course. What’s mine is yours, remember?” Sariah always shared with her sisters because the gift of song always seemed to give her more and she did not want to be seen as selfish. “Go on, take a look.”

  Davisha walked to the chests where clothing was kept, drawn to the deeply dyed colors accenting her darker complexion. “You are blessed, these are without compare. Does Titus like them?”

  “I suppose,” she mused. “He likes to undress me, though he is not always careful.”

  “Men are brutes.” Davisha lowered a silk scarf from her face and her smile turned to a frown. “What I would give to have only one man touching me, pushing on me, leaving his sacrifice on me. You are luckiest of us all, Sariah.”

  Guilt pricked Sariah’s heart even though she had as little choice as anyone else. “He is, at times, kind to me. I do not know how I will be expected to perform the rituals when he is gone, when he no longer has a use for me.”

  She chose her words carefully, because she could be heard and because she didn’t know to whom Davisha spoke outside these walls. She dared not tell her the truth of her plan with Titus.

  “I will be there,” her friend soothed her, seemed oddly glad to be able to find this common ground again, perhaps be in a position to help her through her change in service once Titus ended his patronage.

  “My friend.” Sariah hugged her because Davisha had no hope of anything outside these walls. She sighed and lied, “We will be together always.”

  “I have been lonely without you by my side,” she confided. “All of us want to know about Titus. I will not share anything you tell me. After last night, I must know whether you enjoy him and whether he professes his love. We will pretend as when we were young what lovely future awaits.”

  Sariah’s heart flooded with unexpected emotion. As girls, they wondered whether they might find love, start families. Did she not wish such things with Titus?

  “I am learning to enjoy him,” she admitted. “He is older and understands how to touch me, and he is patient sometimes, to show me how to bring him pleasure. We talk about his boring days with his men and my boring days here. We laugh. He does not say he loves me. He will not.”

  And he must not. She knew as much. They used each other, both for physical pleasure and much more.

  “Does he?” Davisha pushed. “And do you love him?”

  Sariah stopped and considered her friend, her sister, a fellow prisoner in this life. Then, she admitted, “I do. I tell him nothing of my feelings because they matter little. They change nothing about our stations in this life.”

  “Do you think of being with him in life, as a partner?”

  Sariah shrugged. How could she not? Did she dare reveal the secret she held? To give the girl hope, she too, might escape? Titus promised to free her, not wed her.

  “What if I told you we might free ourselves from this life?” she asked Davisha in a dropped whisper, taking enormous risk in one moment. “What if I told you we no longer had to live in fear?”

  UPON HIS RETURN FROM his self-imposed trek to the western plains, because he knew he was being watched, Titus stabled his horse, stashed his gear and bathed before approaching the Legate to give report.

  Emmaus had circled back from encampment shortly after their decampment to blend in with the local population and see if the departure of half the Roman forces had any effect on conspirators in the city.

  He waited for Titus when he’d done cleaning up and saluted as his commander approached. Titus smiled and put his second at ease, inviting him into the shade of his tent as the sun began its decline in the sky.

  “It’s good to see you,” Emmaus said. “I though perhaps you would die of boredom on the plains.”

  Titus shook his head. “Nearly. The good news is my troops remember their training and stand ready to fight if and when the need arises.”

  He lowered his voice. “You discussed the situation at the temple with them?”

  Not in so many words. “I used the time to set the appropriate level of awareness within command. I’ll do the same with the Legate when I meet with him later today. Do you have anything to report?”

  “I believe I have the identity of a third conspirator. Upon your taking leave of the city, a wealthy trader from a nearby city came into the port and went immediately to the temple. He stayed three nights there, two more in the city and then returned to port to leave aboard a private boat.”

  Titus sat up straight. “This provides them currency. What are they doing with the currency? What merchants have they visited?”

  “The smith, to begin. They will need weapons, knives and swords if they plan to fight.”

  “Consider poisons as well as medicinal supplies,” Titus instructed. “Interesting how they worry little with the Legate here and restrict themselves when I reappear.”

  Emmaus laughed. “They understand well the difference between you, as do the men. When do you see him?”

  He stood. “Directly. I hope to convince him of the danger yet have little hope he will entertain my concl
usions.”

  Emmaus rose as well, lines of worry on his forehead. “He sees you as a threat. Make sure your conclusions go higher than his reach, and he will be unable to take credit for your actions when the locals revolt.”

  “Understood. Your name will be mentioned as well. Continue your operations.”

  “By your leave.” Emmaus saluted and left the encampment to do the dirty work of spying. The man did his job well, commanded loyalty without perverse expenditures. One day, Titus would have to know how he managed such feats.

  Today, he needed to convince his commander to believe a threat lay in the dust and sand of this forgotten city, housed in the temple of a dying religion.

  Easier said than done.

  He shook off his shoes and directed his steps to the shaded villa of the Legate and, upon arrival, was told to wait in the lessening heat of the day. The Legate made everyone wait, him most of all, and his thoughts turned to Sariah.

  How had she fared over the stretch of days he’d been gone? What treasonous things had she learned? His annoyance at being made to wait fueled his desire to see her.

  To be with her and to ensure her safety.

  “He will see you now.”

  Titus focused his thoughts on the task at hand and came into the glorified presence of the Legate, a man who knew full well of Titus’ demotion and the situation of his family in Rome. His shame.

  Thankfully, he did not practice formalities as the day waned. He motioned Titus to sit, which he knew better than to accept.

  The Legate smiled at his understated understanding. “How did your maneuvers go? Were you able to instill even a drop of discipline in your men?”

  Titus clenched his jaw. They were the Legate’s men, too. “I believe you will see improvement immediately. They grow bored and should patrol the city more regularly, to encourage cooperation with local authorities, to keep them at task.”

  The Legate squinted at him. “Do you question my methods of keeping control and peace in this city?”

  His face heated and he offered something of an apology. “I mean no offense. I remark only on intelligence I have received about a plot centered around the Temple of Anath.”

  He waved his hand in boredom. “Smoke and mirrors.”

  “Dismiss me at your peril,” Titus advised. “I have compromised an internal source who gives valid information about schemes to remove Rome from the city and beyond.”

  “Your whore, you mean?” The Legate turned his amused eyes on Titus. “Yes, I know all about her and your comings and goings from the temple on the hill. Pretty thing, I can hardly blame you.”

  Of course he knew of Titus’ liaison. An oversight Titus blamed on himself. “The high priestess is in league with city leaders and regional merchants to orchestrate an uprising. My consort tells me of their plans.”

  “Let them rise up,” he barked. “The might of Rome lies here, in my leadership, our strength and numbers. Your whore may also be misleading you, Titus. Use caution. Your family is well known for finding women too beautiful to resist their lies.”

  Anger flooded Titus’s mind and he clenched his fists at his sides. “You would allow this gossip to cloud your judgement on a more serious matter?”

  “Your history makes you too ambitious because you wish to regain status. I’ve been warned to be wary of your schemes and mechanizations. All I require of you is to keep your men in line and follow my orders. This appears to be increasingly difficult for you.”

  Titus recalled Emmaus’s suggestion to let someone other than the Legate know of this oncoming situation, and he took a deep breath to clear his thoughts. Who could he tell? “No, Sir. Your orders are followed to the letter. See about the readiness of your men in the morning.”

  “I will.” The Legate yawned and waved him away. “You are dismissed.”

  SARIAH STARED AT TITUS with expectation, a thin sheen of sweat displaying her anxiety at his long absence. Davisha had gone over and above in preparation and, while he seemed to see her, he did not notice her.

  “Are you unwell?” she asked, stepping across the small divide separating them inside her chamber. Gods, she wished to be able to leave. She wanted nothing more than to see the outside of this room.

  “No,” he answered, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “All is well. How do you fare?”

  His posture reminded her of their first night together. His rigid military bearing claimed him, the ten days afield reminding him of his duty, no doubt.

  As she’d been reminded of hers.

  He blinked and tilted his head. “You grow more beautiful with each absent day.”

  Would there be more absences? “The field suits you. The sun heightens your color.”

  Sariah shuffled her feet since pleasantries ended, relief flooding her limbs when he reached out and took her by the hand. “You look worried. I will always return.”

  Nodding, she did not believe him. He seemed far away even as he stood beside her, slid his arms around her, and held her tight. “Ten days is a long time.”

  To his credit, he did not argue, for she surmised the life of a soldier meant much more time away from the people and things he loved. Their arrangement thus seemed stranger still.

  Tilting her head back, she asked, “How may I please you, today, Titus. I have missed you.”

  The question flashed across his face. Was she speaking plainly to him, or did she speak to those who watched behind the walls? “As I have missed you.”

  Her body, washed and prepared to seduce him yet again, yearned for his embrace, his kiss, his union, even as she understood these things were useless, a means to an end.

  Raising on her toes, she kissed him gently, because she feared his rejection or his misuse after much time secreted away in this prison of luxury. He responded slowly, his kiss like a lazy river of honey against her tongue.

  As his body molded to hers in a now familiar way, Sariah relaxed as her blood rose to the occasion. Titus broke the kiss and this time his smile stole her heart. “I would hate to brush away all your preparation in one reckless moment. Your beauty is ageless, meant to keep in memory for the rest of my days.”

  “All for you,” she murmured, for she had no other purpose aside from pleasing him. “Do as you will, for I belong to you.”

  She unbuckled his belt, and when he raised his tunic over his head, a smattering of bruises littered his shoulders and back. A matter of training, perhaps.

  His obvious arousal drew her forward and she wrapped her hand around him, his heat and smoothness fueling her passion. When his eyes met hers, her heart stuttered to glimpse the hunger he held in check.

  He cupped her face with his hands and drew her into a deep kiss, where she felt his struggle to let go of his worries, which must be deeper still.

  Fighting to put his needs ahead of her concerns, she lowered herself to her knees and drew his member into her mouth by slow inches. Though these things had been frowned upon for service, the imperative to taste him this way pleased her as well.

  His sharp intake of breath spurred her forward, his hand gentle on the back of her head as he led her exploration. He breathed her name as she stroked him with her tongue, “Sariah...Sariah...”

  She looked up at him, found all his distress melted away, and, after a few more deep strokes, he pulled her away and dropped to his knees before her and kissed her. His passion arched her backward, and he held her, clawing at her scant clothing. The material slid upward while he pushed her backward to lie on the floor, moving atop her, taking her.

  She didn’t understand why, when he filled her, she felt complete. Raising her hips to meet his, she invited him deeper, her breath coming in short gasps.

  His urgency rocked her, the stone floor digging into her back, any pain matched equally by pleasure. Locking her gaze to his, she gave herself over to him and forgot herself, her duty and her audience.

  “Sariah,” he gasped. “What are you doing to me?”

  He closed his eyes
and his orgasm washed over them both, sending her to her end as well. Lowering his weight over her like a shield, he cradled her and whispered in her ear, “You have bewitched me, Sariah.”

  And she knew in her heart he’d done the same to her. Now was the time to whisper between them. “They have locked me in here for ten long days and the only thing I can do is dream of your return.”

  “Why? What purpose does keeping you like this serve?”

  “My punishment,” she admitted, “for my pleasure at the feet of the goddess.”

  Anger radiated from him and he muttered as he sat up, “This is not the way you are meant to live.”

  She followed suit, rearranging her clothing, and moved to business, fishing for his future plans so the priestess might hear. “I suppose Rome will send you away again?”

  “I am at their whim.” He drew her close and she leaned against him. “Apparently, they will send the other half of our number out this month, to complete training for the entire corps. I have no orders yet, however they typically move on the half-moon. I do not know if I will be ordered to go with them.”

  Sariah knew the phases of the moon all too well. “Only a handful of days.”

  “Yes, I will know in a day or two whether I’ll be sent.” He leaned close and whispered, “The time nears. Keep your eyes and ears open. Be obedient and perhaps they will show you more.”

  Nodding her understanding, she curled herself against him. He knew something more, something happening outside these walls. If she humbled herself to them, they would more freely share information.

  “Will you stay tonight?” she asked.

  “Of course. I have been absent from you too long already.” Titus smiled and, while they did their respective duties, Sariah wondered if she’d be able to chase the distraction from his face.

  TITUS STALKED INTO the underground chamber as day turned to night in the desert. Summoned by Emmaus, he made sure no one from the Legate’s staff had followed him here, where they held prisoners.