She pulled her hand from his. That volume filled with ancient pornography was the ticket to her freedom! It’s value, she could only guess, might be thousands of dollars or possibly millions. She could use those funds to pay someone to help her escape.
He eased his tall frame onto the chair across from the bed. He appeared larger than life in that seat. His dark hair was styled in an unusual way, short and close-cropped yet it possessed a wave. The short style accentuated his high cheekbones and angular jaw.
She couldn’t stop staring at him, silently cursing for acting like a jackass.
“That book can help you get back home.”
Her heart beat wildly.
Maybe Mark had contacts on the outside. If she played her cards right and behaved, he might soften towards her, perhaps, he might feel sorry for her enough so that he would sell the book, and give her the money so she could travel back home.
He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I don’t know if the book, or that stone, will return you to your time, exactly.”
“Huh?”
“I must be sure that it won’t hurl you into some other era.”
“What do you mean, ‘some other era’?”
“Surely you realise by now where you are?”
She folded her arms across her breasts. “The Middle East?”
“No.”
“Okay, then I’m in Europe.”
“Wrong, again.” He sighed. “Well, maybe not so wrong, but it is not really Europe, yet.”
“Well, then, I’m in Turkey?”
He shook his head.
“Then where am I?” Her patience stretched thin. She wanted to strangle him.
“You’re in Rome.”
“Italy?”
“Yes, but like I said, it really isn’t Italy yet.”
She sighed. “I have no idea what that means, but I’ve seen photographs of Rome, they don’t look anything like what I’ve seen out there.” She pointed towards the window.
“That’s because it is not modern-day Rome.”
She raised both brows.
“You time travelled. You are in ancient Rome, in the year AD ninety.”
“Riiiiiiiiiight.” She nodded. Laughter bubbled up inside her. Soon it leaked out, bit by bit, until she fell back on the bed, rolling with mirth. She held her belly while she giggled.
When she could catch her breath, she gazed at Mark.
He sat still, a muscular tic evident in his jaw. His face bore a dark scowl.
She sat back on her elbows, raising her head to look at him. “You expect me to believe that?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face then rose to his feet. “As crazy as it sounds, yes. You travelled back in time to Ancient Rome.”
Her mouth trembled. She bit back a smile and more giggles. Insanity could be a very strange feeling. One minute she cried, the next, she laughed.
The serious look on Mark’s face made her wonder just how crazy she’d become. And he looked like he believed his own bullshit. Maybe she wanted to believe it, too. It might be easier than accepting the fact that she now belonged to a white slaver.
“I time travelled to your time, to modern-day America,” he told her. “I own that bookstore in Cape Cod.”
Emotions warred inside her. She didn’t know in that moment if she should laugh again…or fucking beat on his chest and cry. If she didn’t go along with his lunacy, he’d probably kill her.
Lyla got up from the bed and walked over to the table again. She stroked the rough wood surface. “If I time travelled to ancient Rome, prove it to me.” Her pulse quickened. For some odd reason, she really wanted to believe his story.
She hadn’t lost her mind yet, for life still felt precious, even if it also seemed tenuous. She’d go along with all this crap for as long as she could stand, and continue to try and escape. As long as breath remained in her body, she would seek to find a way back home.
His face grew thoughtful. “I will prove to you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you now reside in Rome, in the year AD ninety.”
“And just how are you going to do that?”
He smoothed a hand over her hair then dropped it. His gentle touch almost undid her. Her knees wobbled. He drew his lips into a long, thin line. “After what you see, you will no longer have any doubts.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m loaded with them. And I doubt they’re going to go away no matter what you try and prove to me.”
He folded his arms across his chest, a corner of his sensual mouth lifting into a grin. She liked his arms. They were muscular, with fine hairs lining his forearms.
“Your ornators will prepare you.”
“What are ‘ornators’?”
“Servants who will bathe and dress you.”
“Oh.”
It didn’t sound so ominous, yet a small zing of fear snaked down her spine when she wondered just who would do the preparing. “I’d uh, prefer to do that myse—”
He placed a finger over her lips. “You do nothing yourself here, Lyla. Not without my consent.”
She bristled, but decided she’d better do as he said. “Fine.” She folded her arms across her breasts, annoyed that she gave in yet again. “Bring on your ornators.” She lifted her chin.
He smiled. “I will thoroughly enjoy my time with you.”
“Really?” She raised a brow. “You’ll like being with someone who absolutely detests a white slaver like you? Are these ornators of yours preparing me to be sold again?”
He sighed. “No. They will prepare you for your own pleasure.” He studied her face for a few seconds. “You’ve accused me of lying, but now I wonder, just who the impostor really is.” He walked out the door and slid it closed behind him.
She lifted a goblet from the basket Appia had brought, intent on throwing it, her patience and nerves stretched to the breaking point. She placed the cup on the table, choosing instead to let it rest there.
Damn, but she hated when he was right.
Away from immediate danger, Lyla would stay safe for the time being inside Mark’s home. She glanced at the tunic she wore. Someone had placed it on her yesterday, allowing her to cover her body.
She wondered if Mark did it himself, or if he’d ordered that young girl Appia to dress her.
Lyla looked at the basket. She had food, clothing and security now that she was away from Corvus.
The question that remained was who would keep her safe from her desire for Mark.
Chapter Six
Minutes later, the door opened again, and a small man entered. He spoke in English. “My name is Decimus. I will escort you to the baths.”
Her memory stirred. This was the guy who ran to do Mark’s bidding after her rescue from Corvus. Lyla determined that if she had to, she could probably knock over this little Decimus shit with one push.
She walked passed him, sailing through the open doorway while she plotted her escape. This Decimus was probably another lackey, doing as the master bade him to do.
“You will feel more refreshed once you’ve bathed and dressed in more appropriate clothing.”
Sure. Uh, huh. Like he cares about my feelings.
She tugged at her dress. While clean, the material scratched her skin, particularly the back of her knees, where the hem ended. She hoped the itching came from the material, and not lice or dirt.
That bath suddenly seemed heavenly, but she had to continue with her escape attempt.
She seized her opportunity, answering in the sweetest voice possible. “How nice. I believe I will feel much better once I’ve bathed.”
“That’s the spirit. My master wants what is best for you.”
She raised her foot, intent on kicking him in the nuts, but her big toe connected with the little man’s shin. Her foot hurt like hell. Despite her poor aim, she at least took him off guard.
Ignoring the pain in her toe, Lyla ran away at breakneck speed.
“Oooooooomph!” The floor came into her line of sigh
t.
Decimus had tackled her from behind.
“Get off me.” She struggled beneath him.
Finally, he lifted his weight from her body. Then she rolled on her back.
He stood over her, his arms folded across his chest. Although short, his chest appeared wide. His stance matched it.
He extended his hand. “Come. No more nonsense. Your ornators and bath await.”
She got up and turned, but he managed to grab her earlobe.
He pinched it between his fingers. “You are not worth the trouble my master has invested in you.”
Her eyes watered as pain shot through her ear. He released his grip and she lifted her hand to massage the fleshy lobe.
“He would punish you thoroughly if he knew what you just did.” His scowl turned fierce. “I won’t inform him of your childish antics, but let this be a warning to you.” He shook his finger at her while he scolded. “If you try anything again, I will tell his Excellency.”
He swept his hand out. “Let us proceed to the baths now.”
Lyla walked beside him, her steps grudging.
“My master almost lost his life last night, retrieving that book from Corvus.”
“He did?”
“It is very dear to him, and from what I can gather, so are you.” He stopped walking, turning to face her. “Whether you believe it or not, most of what my master did last evening avenged what Corvus did to you.” He lowered his voice. “You’d do well to remember that.”
She recalled the bruise on Mark’s jaw. He cared enough to avenge her—this side of him was hard to reconcile with his dominating nature… Honour.
They walked on then stopped at the entrance to what appeared to be a large pool.
“Your bath awaits.” He gave her a small push on her lower back, propelling her through the entrance.
Her breath caught in her chest when she viewed what Decimus called ‘the bath’.
Steam rose from pale blue water while a sweet, intoxicating scent drifted by her nose. Lilies and orchids floated in the pool, making it appear like a tropical paradise. A few chaises resembling day beds were scattered around the bath’s perimeter, which was constructed entirely from white marble. Brightly coloured linen cloths lay neatly folded on a table.
Lyla closed her eyes and inhaled the wonderful mix of floral fragrance and something spicy.
When she opened her eyes, they beheld several tall men standing against the walls that circled the bath. Broad-shouldered, with thickly muscled legs and arms, they stood at attention, staring straight ahead.
For just an instant, Lyla wondered if they were real or some strange mannequins. She walked up to one and poked him in the chest. He winked at her.
She jumped back.
When she turned, she noticed two women had entered the bath from an opening on the far side. One had dark sin, her chin-length tresses a mass of tight, precise waves. She wore a long, bright coloured, patterned skirt. A gold necklace draped over her breasts. The long chain hung down to her navel. The other woman had flame-red hair which she wore unbound. It flowed down her shoulders, her naked breasts peeking out from beneath her curls.
The men guarding the bath didn’t bat a single eye at the two, half-clad women.
As both females approached, a feeling came over Lyla that she’d seen these two before.
Her eyes widened.
These two women were in the cages across from mine in Corvus’ prison!
Her mouth hung open.
The dark girl, the Nubian, stood before her. She tapped Lyla’s chin with the tip of her index finger, trailing it down her jaw and throat.
The Nubian’s voice held soft notes, even though Lyla couldn’t understand what she said. Its deep timber sent shivers of strange, yet, pleasurable tingles down her spine.
The women bowed before her, their shiny tresses gleaming in the muted light overhead from a skylight. They lifted their heads and smiled.
“They are here to serve you, and prepare you for his Excellency,” Decimus told Lyla.
She shook her head. “Forget it.” She aimed her chin at Decimus. “They don’t have to serve me.”
Decimus scowled. “But the master requested it. It must be as he commands.”
Lyla wanted to rebel, but deep inside her, something gave way. A tiny part of her heart opened, allowing Mark inside.
He kept his promise…
“His Excellency must be obeyed,” Decimus stated.
The Nubian reached for Lyla’s hand and squeezed it. She touched Lyla’s head, in much the same way as Mark did earlier. The redhead reached out and stroked Lyla’s shoulder. She lowered her head, but not before a beguiling smile caught Lyla’s gaze.
The least I can do is comply with this.
She bit down on her lower lip.
What would it hurt if I did?
She glanced at the pool. It looked inviting. Oh, how she wanted to wash away Corvus and his kidnappers’ touches, and the jail’s stench.
“I will leave you in Eisha and Corinne’s capable hands.” Decimus bowed.
She grabbed his arm. “Which one is Eisha and which one is Corinne?”
“Eisha is the Nubian.” A corner of his mouth kicked up. “Corinne is the redhead.”
Lyla watched him walk out, her heart pounding. She wanted to stop him from leaving, but Eisha and Corinne tugged her dress down her shoulders before she could argue.
They caressed her shoulders.
Lyla shook her head. “No.” She backed away from them, the underside of her knees connecting with a low, stone bench.
Corinne reached out and slipped Lyla’s tunic down, baring her to the waist.
She sucked in a breath, knowing the men watched. But when she glanced at them, they stood staring straight ahead, their demeanour stoic, their arms crossed over their chests.
“U-nux,” the Nubian bent and whispered in Lyla’s ear.
“What did you say?” Lyla croaked.
“Unix.”
Lyla beetled her brows. Then recognition dawned. “Eunuchs,” she stated, her mouth breaking into a grin.
The Nubian nodded her head in agreement.
Lyla sobered. “The poor bastards,” she whispered. “I can’t believe someone actually castrated them so that they could stand guard here.”
Both women helped slide Lyla’s tunic down her waist, hips, and legs.
She stood before them butt naked. Warm, humid air surrounded her while the spicy, floral scent filled her nostrils. They grabbed her hands and led her down the steps until she was neck-deep in the warm water.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” slipped from her lips. She loved the feel of the water lapping around her shoulders.
Eisha tipped Lyla’s head back. Corinne moved behind her and trickled water over her hair. Then her long fingers massaged her, gently releasing the tension from her head, neck, and shoulders.
Lyla opened her eyes to see Eisha wade through the water. She reached for what looked like a bar of soap and a small sponge sitting on the pool’s ledge.
Corinne walked with Lyla over to another end. She helped her up a few steps until they stood in water that came up midway to their thighs. Pushing aside some of Lyla’s damp hair, she bathed her neck and chest, trailing the sponge across Lyla’s breasts.
Anticipation and lust overcame Lyla. It excited her, but at the same time, shame filled her for enjoying Corinne’s touch. She glanced around, hoping to find some means of escape, but the eunuchs would probably catch her and bring her back.
Corinne uttered soothing words in a foreign tongue. Her big, blue eyes matched the water’s azure colour.
Eisha approached with a sponge in her hand. She dipped it below the water and drew it between Lyla’s thighs.
This time, a sensual tug claimed Lyla’s pussy.
The Nubian handed the sponge to the redhead. Corinne slid it across Lyla’s upper back, stopping at her bottom.
Lyla’s butt tingled from Corinne’s touch. She moaned in ecstasy
when the sponge slid between the cleft of her ass.
Eisha leaned over and whispered something in Lyla’s ear.
“I-I don’t understand.” Lyla beetled her brows.
Eisha leant down and pushed open Lyla’s legs. Then she massaged Lyla’s pussy, pressing the sponge gently against her clit.
Lyla reached out and gripped Eisha’s shoulders.
Corinne slipped her arms around Lyla’s waist. Her lips grazed her neck.
Lyla shuddered, but not from the cool air touching her skin, it was the feel of Corinne’s lips on her throat.
The more Eisha rubbed, the more that deep, sensual ache filled Lyla’s body. A fluttering sensation filled her belly, signalling the start of an orgasm.
Corinne massaged Lyla’s ass cheeks, passing the tip of her index finger up and down the opening there. She didn’t invade her bottom, but reached between Lyla’s legs to touch her pussy that showed there.
Her legs shook with each touch.
Eisha reached up and kissed Lyla’s breasts, suckling her nipples between her lips.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Lyla cried, her orgasm so intense, it left her breathless. Her spent body almost folded.
Eisha and Corinne helped her back into the deeper water, uttering soothing, calming words Lyla didn’t understand, but the tone of their voices took away all her fears.
They washed her hair next, allowing her to come back down to earth as they massaged a fragrant soap through her tresses. After rinsing her thoroughly, they helped her from the pool, drying her with two large pieces of linen. Then they laid her down on a padded bench, turning her over until she lay on her belly.
Something warm trickled down her back. A new fragrance, like orchids, drifted by her nose.
The two women massaged the oil into the skin of her back and legs, making her feel like a limp noodle when they finished. They turned her over and massaged her. Their deft hands slid across her breasts, between her legs, over her thighs and knees, working their way down her shins. They lifted each foot, kissing her big toes, and kneaded them as well.
Lyla moaned in ecstasy when they massaged her instep and the crook of her big toe.
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