Aro turned towards him and shook his head. ‘Stand the men down. We don’t go to battle today.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘It appears our old adversary miscalculated. Lydia has returned, unmolested. I have no wish to alarm her further. I will question her later about what exactly went on, but not here, not without giving her time to get her thoughts together.’
‘Do you think he captured her?’ Piso had a puzzled expression on his face. ‘The message was clear. Strabo’s head is split open.’
‘I think that was the intent. Somehow Lydia escaped. Ofellius appears determined to restart hostilities, but his timing makes little sense. Why now? And why in such a provocative fashion?’ Aro chose his words with a great deal of deliberation. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and waited for his captain’s response.
‘The olive oil scam had been going on for months. It was simply the first time he tried it with the Lupan House. It is odd, though, that his senior captain would have threatened you and Lydia like that. I assume the man has a death wish. But to threaten the wife of a head of a trading house? Whatever happens now, my men and I stand shoulder to shoulder with you. I care nothing for these curse tablets. I am only grateful that you called me back from Ostia before I had left for northern Italy.’
Aro clapped Piso on the back. ‘You are a true friend. Thank you.’
‘But what happened? Why did he allow Lydia to go? Hermes knows he has kidnapped enough women in his time. He has an unsavoury reputation on Crete. He should know what he is on about.’
‘We know the who, but we don’t know the why and it is something I intend to find out, Piso,’ Aro said with determination.
‘Personally, I would like to have seen Ofellius’s face when Lydia escaped, and that of his henchmen. Letting a woman slip through their fingers…’
Aro turned away from Piso. His blood ran cold at the thought of what could have happened.
‘Luckily, Lydia proved more than a match for them,’ Aro replied, keeping his voice steady.
‘You approve of what she did.’
‘She is a woman you underestimate at your peril, Piso.’ Aro looked towards where she had vanished, skirts swinging and her head unbowed. She was a strong woman, his wife. ‘And it appears I have done just that. I want you to contact our friend at the Ofellian House and find out exactly who Ofellius is working for. He’d never dare attempt to kidnap a senator’s daughter unless he thought he had protection from a powerful senator. He values his own skin too much.’
‘What do you intend to do?’ Piso asked.
Aro raised an eyebrow. ‘Remedy the situation with Lydia.’
Chapter Fifteen
L ydia stripped and left the gown on the floor. She’d find some reason to get rid of it later. She had no desire to remember anything of this afternoon. She had carefully laid a pile of fresh clothes—a dark blue gown, under-tunic and new breast band—on the shelf, next to a pile of white linen towels. Even her sandals were clean.
The flickering light of the oil lamp made the frescoes of Neptune and his sea nymphs waver. Crushed oyster shell had been added to the paint, giving it a shimmering glow. Lydia smiled.
All the time she kept berating herself for being so naïve in how she had handled the situation earlier. She should have done what Aro suggested. She could see that now. The instant she had seen Strabo had vanished, she should have scampered back up the stairs, but, no, she had to prove a point.
The only thing she had done was to show Aro how silly and childish she was. Not the mature and sober Roman matron she wanted to be.
The worst of it was that when she had returned, she wanted to taste Aro’s lips. She had wanted him to pull her into his arms and kiss her. She would even be prepared to beg for it, to lose the wager. But it would appear Aro had forgotten or, worse, lost interest.
She gave her body a little shake, reached for the olive-oil pot and started to rub the oil into her skin. So absorbed was she in her own thoughts that she failed to hear the faint click of the door. When the pot was lifted from her fingers, she gave a slight squeak and her hands flew to cover herself.
‘Get out,’ she cried.
‘And spoil the sight?’ came the quiet, almost sardonic voice.
Lydia stood still, not daring to move as she felt her body begin to respond to his voice as it flowed over her. She eyed the towel and the distance to it. If she made a lunge, would he stop her? Would he notice the sudden puckering of her nipples? Maybe he would think it was down to the cold.
‘Allow me to get dressed. You have me at a disadvantage.’
‘You are covered in oil.’ There was definite laughter in his voice. She risked a glance at him. He was standing not more than a foot away from her, dressed in his tunic. The dim light of the bathing suite heightened the shadows in his face, making it appear all angles.
Lydia gave an impatient stamp of her foot. ‘I know I am covered, but that does not matter. Hand me a towel.’
Aro said nothing, but picked up a strigil and advanced towards her. Lydia took a step backwards, reached behind her. Her hand closed on her under-tunic. She drew it over her head, then turned to face him. He stood with an amused expression on his face. Lydia concentrated on breathing.
‘What do you intend to do?’ she asked, eyeing the cleaning blade.
‘To act as your tire-woman. Tuccia is with her grandparents and therefore you are in need of one. I can serve for the short time she is gone.’
‘You are many things, but I had never counted a tire-woman among them.’ Lydia noticed her breath came in short sharp pants as if she had run very fast. She swallowed hard and concentrated on breathing normally. She refused to think of his hands on her body.
‘I can do a passable imitation…if required.’
‘I don’t recall asking for your help.’ Lydia pressed her palms against the cloth covering her thighs. She wanted to appear cool and collected.
‘You ought to try, before you refuse me.’
Without waiting for an answer, Aro reached forward and scraped the oil off her skin, a light touch of the blade, but one that sent searing pulses of heat through her.
‘It’s fine. I can fend for myself.’ She made a grab for the strigil with one hand while the other prevented her under-tunic from gaping. She could see the oil had made the thin linen fabric translucent, clinging to her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination.
‘Like you did this afternoon?’ The words were lightly said, but the eyes deadly serious.
Lydia gave a slight gasp and looked wildly about her. Who had said something? Had they made it seem worse than it was? She had made an error of judgement, but nothing had happened. She had managed all right on her own in the end. She pushed away all thoughts of what could have happened if Sulpicia had not appeared when she had.
‘What sort of nonsense are you talking about?’ Lydia put the offered strigil down next to the jug of olive oil, trying to ignore his dancing eyes and the way his tunic moulded to his chest. As she placed it on the shelf, her hand slipped and it went crashing to the ground. She bent to retrieve it. Aro continued to stand in the middle of the small room, arms crossed and a tiny smile playing on his lips as if he knew what was disturbing her. This time, concentrating on what she was doing instead of paying attention to Aro’s hands, she managed to place the strigil on the shelf. ‘I told you what happened.’
A shadow crossed over his face.
‘You carefully avoided what happened between the time when you left the relative safety of Rufus’s rooms and when you met Sulpicia. We need to talk, Lydia,’ he said, each word echoing in the small chamber. ‘I need to know what happened. If you do not wish me to act as your tire-woman, then maybe you will tell me the exact circumstances of how your sister-in-law came to bring you home.’
‘Is it important?’
‘Strabo lies in the infirmary, his head bandaged. The surgeon says he will live,’ Aro said in a quiet but determined voice. ‘Did you see anything amiss? Any little detail, anything that c
ould help track down his attacker? The men of the Lupan House must be protected.’
Lydia explained again about Strabo, and how she had to flatten against a wall so a couple could descend.
‘Would you recognise them again?’
Lydia thought and then shook her head. ‘At the time, I was certain he belonged to the Ofellian house, but now I am not. I have no wish to cause problems. People could get hurt.’
‘People have already been hurt.’ Aro crossed his arms. ‘And you thought nothing was amiss when you came out.’
‘Nothing. The crowd seemed heavy at the wine-shop, full of rough men,’ Lydia said. ‘I had thought I was being foolish, and did not want to cause problems. I will admit to being annoyed that Strabo hadn’t waited. I had no desire to linger in that place, hoping my bodyguard would appear. I had no wish to be taken for a loose woman.’
‘Go on.’ Aro made a little gesture with his hand. ‘I want to know everything. Help me to understand.’
Briefly she related her encounter with Ofellius and his men. She watched Aro’s face grow graver and graver. Despite the warmth in the room, a shiver passed down Lydia’s back. Her hands started to shake. She didn’t want to think about what might have happened. She concentrated on retelling the story in a firm voice. If he laid a hand on her or made any gesture, Lydia knew she would be in his arms, but he simply stood there.
‘And he let you go? Without a struggle?’
‘I suppose he did not wish to make a scene. Sulpicia had seen me. She said that he has had some recent dealings with my father, has even dined with them.’ Lydia shrugged. ‘My father approves of him so highly, I can’t see that he would attack me. My father, despite his illness, still has powerful friends. It was obvious that Ofellius was simply doing his duty as he saw it. I had been concerned, but, thinking about it, it was my over-active imagination.’
‘He sent word, requesting a meeting. He wanted to speak about something valuable I had misplaced. I was sure it was you.’
Lydia moved to the other side of the small chamber. Her heart gave a skip. He considered her valuable. Ruthlessly she dampened down her hopes. She was only valuable because of her father’s influence.
‘That is why all those men were here.’
‘I am hardly one to let an insult like that pass.’ Aro put his hands on his hips, the captain of his ship. ‘Nobody molests my wife and escapes.’
‘It did not come to that.’ Lydia pressed her hands together. ‘I am uninjured. As I said, it was probably a misunderstanding.’
‘If that is what you want to call it, then so be it.’ Aro crossed his arms and stared at her, his face stern and unyielding.
Lydia nodded. She was not so foolish as to think it was for her that he would have risked his men. It was the insult to the Lupan House.
‘If you have learnt all that you wanted, you may leave.’ She gestured towards the door.
‘Did you think I was joking when I offered to scrape you down?’ He advanced towards her.
Lydia shook her head. Heat infused her body, but the wager still stood between them.
‘We have an agreement, you and I,’ she said, thinking quickly. ‘You were not to kiss me until I begged you.’
‘You have asked me twice.’ There was a distinct twinkle in Aro’s eyes. ‘I never said anything about touching you with my fingers.’
He dipped his fingers into the oil and started to rub small circles on her upper arms and the back of her neck. Tiny circles of heat. She knew if she took a step backwards she would encounter the hard wall of his chest.
He continued in a conversational tone as if they were speaking in the atrium rather than in the intimate atmosphere of the bath suite. ‘You should recall the exact nature of our wager. I said lips, not hands.’
Lydia swallowed hard. His touch was lighting fires within her. She wanted him. She knew that. She wanted to feel his arms about her, holding her close, but she couldn’t tell him that. To tell him would mean he had won. She’d have to give up her freedom.
Freedom. After today, she wasn’t sure she wanted it. She had returned, seeking his protection. If any of the men had harmed her, she would have been glad to know that they were punished. She wondered if that made her a hypocrite. Like Sulpicia, did she want everything?
‘I can do this myself.’ She took the oil from his unresisting fingers.
‘It is much easier to bathe if you have help. Someone to scrape your back.’ He made no move to recapture the oil, but stood there so close that Lydia could see the stubble on his chin, and the faint white scar across his cheek.
‘You are no gentleman,’ she said firmly. ‘A gentleman would not have come in without knocking.’
A wry smile played on his lips. ‘I never said I was, but I am your husband.’
‘I never forget that.’ Lydia looked down at the gold-and-iron ring encircling her third finger. It was strange in how short a time she had ceased to wonder at its weight and it had become a part of her.
Aro’s skin glowed golden in the lamp light. He held out his hands. ‘I’ll leave if that is what you truly desire.’
Lydia watched the rise and fall of his chest and knew if she sent him away now, she would regret the action for the rest of life. She’d always wonder, what if…She’d worry about the consequences tomorrow, but tonight she wanted to feel his touch against her skin. She wanted to feel how she felt before when they first made love, before he had ruined it. This time, if they coupled, she would know it was because he wanted to, rather than out of a sense of duty.
‘Stay.’ The word was a harsh whisper, torn from her throat.
‘As my lady desires.’
‘I am not begging you,’ Lydia added quickly. ‘I am asking you.’
‘I understand that.’ His eyes danced. ‘If there are any impure thoughts in this room, they come from you and not me. I only seek to help you out in your hour of need.’
Lydia held out her other arm. She’d show him that she was immune to him. It was only one more day, after all. But still it rankled that he was not trying to seduce her. ‘You may help me with the strigil, but that is all.’
‘A condition or a challenge?’
‘A statement of fact,’ Lydia returned swiftly, but she could not prevent the sharp intake of breath.
The muscles in his arm rippled as he manipulated the strigil, scraping the oil off her skin.
‘You will not lose, my nymph. In surrendering, we both win.’
‘What sort of surrender are you talking about?’
‘Unconditional.’
Lydia drew in her breath as the images of what unconditional surrender meant danced in front of her. Her whole body felt infused with fire.
Aro’s hands changed. Before they had been coolly impersonal, but now they lingered. A firm touch to the shoulder and her other arm. Sensuous movements.
He dipped his fingers in the oil again, starting to apply the oil to the back of her neck.
‘It should be scented with roses,’ he murmured. ‘Remind me.’
Lydia nodded, unable to trust her voice.
He moved her hair and his fingers made little circles. Servants and bath-house slaves had oiled and scraped her body many times, but never had this sweet languor filled her. She moved slightly and a low moan rose in the back of her throat.
‘Stay still,’ he commanded. His hand brushed the top of the under-tunic, moving it slightly to reveal her creamy skin. And the tops of her breasts. Her nipples constricted to hardened points. Her throat grew dry. Her body urged her forward, with whispered memories of the other time. She needed to touch him, to feel his mouth against hers. She wanted it, wanted to believe it would not be a surrender.
‘Please,’ she whispered.
His fingers traced the outline of her jaw, no more than a butterfly touch, and then dropped to his side. His gaze bore deeply into her soul. She wondered if he could see how much she desired him.
Her tongue came forward and licked her dry lips. His mouth w
as so close, she only had to tilt her face a little bit. Their breath intertwined.
Did she dare? She wanted to feel his mouth. If she took, it was not begging.
Her hand curled around his neck and pulled his face closer. His mouth touched hers gently and then became firm. His tongue sought hers, demanding entrance. She arched her back, feeling the hardness of his chest against her breasts.
Instantly his arms closed about her, holding her firm against the length of him. She could feel his arousal, pressing into her. He wanted her. The knowledge swept through her like a fire, blazing bright. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
‘You will need to undress,’ he said against her mouth.
‘Why?’ She peeped from under her lashes, seeing the hungry look in his eyes.
‘So I can continue the bath. It would be a shame if only a little bit of you was clean.’
‘Fair is fair. If I am to strip, you should as well.’
He stroked the wisps of hair back from her forehead and clasped her to his chest for a heartbeat. Then his arms loosened and he gave a laugh.
‘I am yours to command when you make such requests.’
Within a heartbeat, he stood before her. Naked. His muscles sculpted in warm marble. Lydia reached out and touched the planes of his chest. Her fingers brushed his nipples and felt them grow taut and tight. Her nipples showed answering puckers underneath her tunic.
He drew his breath in sharply, but did not move.
‘Are you to be bathed as well?’ she asked, pretending to consider the prospect.
‘I would need some help.’ His voice was no more than a husky rasp.
‘It can be arranged.’
‘You are overdressed.’
He ran his hands over the thin cloth to where the hardened points of her nipples showed. His thumb and forefinger encircled the nipple, then rubbed, and fire, hotter than a hypocaust, shot through her. She gasped and leant forward, grabbing on to his forearms. He smiled and lowered his head to the tunic, his tongue drawing damp circles around her nipples.
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