He ran his hand through her hair, tangling it and sending a series of shivers down her spine.
'I know you are not, but you need to understand, Julia— there is more to my life than keeping you happy. I want to keep you and your reputation safe. I have enough to worry about in the arena, without fearing for you.'
Julia shook her head, attempting to clear it of buzzing. She stepped away from his encircling arms, ran a hand through the rapidly cooling water and watched the droplets fall off her fingers. Nobody worried about her in that way. They only cared for her as if she was a glass soldier in a game of latrun-culi.
'I hardly think anyone would get the wrong idea. I was not asking you to kiss me, Valens. I merely came up to say hello out of politeness's sake.'
'Julia,' he said thickly, 'there are those who seek to harm me through you, if they thought there was anything between us.'
'Who?'
'Aquilia for one,' was the immediate answer.
'He would never dare.' Then she remembered Aquilia's clammy hand on her sleeve and shivered.
'Underestimating him is a mistake I made once and have no wish to make again.' His voice held a note of determination.
'I thought you two had never met in combat,' she said in confusion. 'What sort of mistake did you make?'
Silence filled the chamber. Julia felt Valens's mood change. The passion in his eyes vanished and his face became colder, crueller. His being stilled and it was as if he had entered some private place in his mind, a place she could not follow.
Her impulsive questions had ruined everything, Julia thought. She needed to curb her tongue.
Julia fumbled with her clothes, attempting to pull her under-tunic over her head without allowing the towel to slip. She needed to be away from here, before she ended up in his arms again. Her under-tunic clung to her body where it was still damp, as she pulled it past her knees. It would have to do. Julia started to tie the belt around her chest. She had to get away. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, pushing her closer to Valens.
'Five years ago, he was the pirate chief responsible for capturing me.' Valens's voice resounded in the small chamber, echoing off the walls.
Julia's hand froze and the belt slipped through her fingers, falling silently to the floor. She stared at him in amazement, all becoming clear. She thought of the nightmare she had seen, and his pleas for help against an all-too-real-enemy.
'You should have said something. That day when Bato disrupted the ceremony,' she whispered, 'was that why you goaded him?'
'I have seen him slay men for looking him in the wrong way. I have seen him rape women for the sheer pleasure of hearing their screams. I have seen him murder for no better reason than that he was bored.' He raked his hand through his hair. 'That day, I suppose I wanted to show him that he no longer held power over me. I regret involving you.'
His eyes looked past her to the shadows on the walls. Julia turned her head and she thought she could see the ships, the people and the murder in the flickers. She shivered and drew her undertunic tighter about her.
'He should have been crucified,' she said, forcing her gaze from the wall, trying to block out her imaginings. 'The arena is too good for people like that.'
'General Pompey and the rest of the senators in their wisdom decided to send him to the games.' Valens said laconically. He gave a shrug and a smile. 'Who is a mere gladiator to second-guess the wishes of perhaps the greatest general Rome has ever known?'
Julia remembered the curious dead-eyed glare Aquilia had given her that afternoon and how he had blocked her way when she tried to leave. A shiver ran through her, chilling her to bone despite the heat of the room. 'Do you think he'd still be able to hurt people, innocent people?' Like me? Julia crossed her arms and hugged her waist tight.
Valens crossed the floor of the small room in two steps. He gathered Julia into his arms and held her close. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the thumping of his heart. It told her far more than words ever could. Neither spoke.
'Julia, let me worry about Aquilia,' he said when he broke the silence. 'If it meant hurting you a little bit to save you from a greater injury, then I would do it again. It is for that reason only I seemed offhand. I did want to talk to you, but I worried that Aquilia would get ideas.'
'But why would he want to hurt me?'
'To strike at me. To put me off my stride. The man is determined to win at all costs. He has used the tactic before, I am certain of it. Not witchcraft, as Tigris claims, but good old-fashioned intimidation tactics. I wanted to ensure he had no reason to strike out at you, to harm you. If he had thought we were involved… Now say you forgive me,' he whispered against her hair.
Julia reached up and touched his face. 'I wished you had explained sooner.'
His answer was to brush her forehead with his lips.
Julia touched her mouth to his throat and tasted the slight saltiness of his skin. His arms tightened and the tenderness of a moment before was replaced with something else. It made Julia's heart beat faster and every muscle in her body feel alive.
'Your skin tastes of roses,' he said, his lips making trails of fire down her throat. Little flames of fire that grew and spread, until her body was alight.
'I thought you were only interested in soaking your aching shoulder,' Julia teased.
'It can wait.'
He touched her collarbone, pushing her gown off her shoulders. His tongue traced the length of her neck. Then he ran his hands down her body. She arched her back, pressing closer to him. His fingers stroked her breasts, fondling the nipples through the thin material until her body exploded with exquisite pain. Her breath came in short sharp gasps and her fingers plucked at the gown. Where before she had welcomed it as protection, now it imprisoned her body, prevented her skin from touching him the way she longed to.
'I think I shall begin to tutor you in what pleasure is about,' he whispered in a husky voice. His skin glowed golden in the lamplight.
His mouth touched hers and before she had a chance to draw back, he drew her forward so that her midriff touched his. His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom, and pulled her tighter against him. She could feel the strength of his desire and moaned in the back of her throat.
He eased her back among the discarded clothes and the warmth of the hypocaust-heated floor rose up to meet her. He slipped his hand under her tunic, running it up and down her curves. Her heart soared. He was touching her as if she was made of precious glass, with a slow sweetness. Her curves did not disgust him. He had acted that way because he sought to protect her. She felt wanted. This is what passion between a man and a woman felt like. She was alive in a way she had not been before, in a way she had never dreamt of being before.
With one fluid movement, he lifted and discarded both their tunics and Julia felt the smoothness of his skin against her. Nothing but the merest sheen separated them.
Where his hand had stroked, his mouth followed. She arched her back, driving upwards as his tongue lapped at her breast, drawing ever-increasing circles, before returning to suckle again. She closed her eyes and her body was rocked on a sea of sensation.
Tentatively she lifted a hand and ran it down the length of his back, feeling the indents of long-healed scars. How much he had endured. She raised her head and kissed a white scar on his chest. His thumb traced the outline of her lips.
'Thank you.' His voice was a husky rasp.
She nodded, unable to say anything.
His gentle fingers continued their exploration of her body, building waves of desire that peaked and then crashed throughout her body, filling her with a burning need to be one with him. But a little voice kept whispering about her failures. She might be experiencing this, but was he? What if she disappointed him? She resisted the temptation to move.
His hands gently nudged her thighs apart and became entangled in her curls. One finger touched her innermost spot and then retreated. A stab of fear coursed through her. What would
he find there? Would he become angry like Lucius had? Julia steeled herself for rejection. But he kissed a forefinger, then touched her lips. The need within her deepened.
She tugged at his shoulders and he moved back up her body until the tip of him was positioned between her thighs.
'Are you ready?' His voice was barely recognizable.
She stiffened, knowing what was coming next and fearing the pain that had always come with it. She worried her earlier experiences had spoilt her for ever. And she hated to think that he might be disappointed in her. But how to tell him? She wanted to go on, her body demanded it, but she was nervous about the ultimate joining. She wanted him to experience what she was. Her fingers reached out and touched the smooth curls on his head where they caressed his forehead.
He raised his head, his dark eyes boring into her, reaching her soul. 'I only want to give you pleasure, Julia. You are giving me so much. See what you are doing to me. Feel what you are doing.'
He gently took her hand and brought it down to his shaft, urged her to touch it, to explore its smooth hardness. It felt like warm marble. A shudder of excitement coursed through her body. She had caused this. He wanted her. He was here because he wanted to taste her, to kiss her, to make love to her. He was not here because it was his duty. He was here because he desired her and wanted to give her pleasure.
She drew his face towards hers and recaptured his mouth, parting her lips and inviting his tongue to enter and take possession of her. He groaned in the back of his throat. Their tongues touched, tasted and tormented each other until she felt the warmth between her legs grow hot and slick.
With each stroke of his tongue, her fears receded until they became consumed in the flame he was stoking inside her. Every nerve in her body tingled as if it was on fire. She felt his probing fingers enter her secret place once again and shuddered with pleasure as they slipped in and out, faster and faster. Her back arched, demanding more. She wanted everything. Her legs parted. She moaned in the back of her throat and she felt the whole length of him enter her and her body stretched to envelope him.
Then he lay still, with his pulsating warmth buried deep within her as if that was all he desired. But Julia knew it was not enough. Not nearly enough. She needed more. She wanted to feel the pleasure that comes with joining. With an age-old instinct, she began to move her hips, feeling the length of him within her, increasing her need for him.
Always when she was married, she had dreaded this bit and had tried to lie as still as possible, but now she knew she wanted it to last for ever. She wanted to feel the rhythm of his body, this feeling of soaring and yet being as close to someone as possible. This is what the poets wrote about. This was why the gods came down to earth. This was what it meant to be a woman.
She moved her hips faster and he responded, matching her stroke for stroke. She rode the crest with him until the shuddering finish, a finish where she heard a cry and found it impossible to tell from whose breath it had been torn as he plunged deep within her body.
Later, in the circle of his arms, Julia trailed her hand in the cool water of the bath. A languor filled her; although her body ached in places she never dreamt possible, she had never felt this satisfied, this alive before. This was what lovemaking was supposed to feel like. At last, she understood why the poets praised it. Her encounters with Lucius had never made her feel this way.
She had assumed her failure with Lucius had been her fault, but she now knew that for a lie. She had not failed with Valens. What passed between them was beyond all her imaginings.
'It appears I have delayed you,' she said, her lips curving as she remembered the pleasure and it was pleasure he had given her.
Valens gave a smile and pushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead.
'Would that you could always delay me like this,' he said, pulling her close and running a hand down her body. Then he heaved a sigh and straightened. 'But I fear you are correct, the water will be only enough to wash the sweat from my brow. Luckily I found another way to ease my ache.'
Always. A thrill of excitement followed by a stab of fear ran through Julia. She wanted to think no further than his arms, but she had to. She wanted this to more than just one encounter. She knew that this was the man she wanted to be with for ever, but her father would never allow a liaison with a slave. It was a scandal for a Roman woman of patrician descent to be involved with a plebeian, a common man, let alone a slave.
The story Claudia had imparted about Marcia Augustina and her lover rose in her mind and a shudder ran through her soul. Exile, a living death and the lover had died. Julia gazed over Valens's naked shoulder towards the dolphins frolicking on the wall. Never to see Rome again or to hear her father's voice. To lose her identity and cease to be a member of the Julius family. Despite the passion she had just experienced, she wasn't sure she was ready for that. She had to be sensible.
Gladiators were for one night was Claudia's motto. It had to be hers as well. She would have to become like the other women who followed the sport. She stood up and started dressing, a small action to bring normality back to her world.
'You are thinking deep thoughts,' he said, catching her hand; his thumb traced small circles on the inside of her wrist, sending sensation after sensation up her arm. Her knees started to turn liquid and she was certain she'd press herself against him, demanding.
'Just thoughts,' she replied and wondered if there was anything she could do, any way she could get him to be a citizen instead of a gladiator. If he wasn't a slave, there was the slimmest of chances she could persuade her father to accept the union. Then she would not have to face the awful spectre of leaving everything she held dear. Her hands trembled as she tried to fasten her belt. 'Mainly about how we depart from this place and what happens after that'
'You should go first. Now,' he said, his face turning grave. He took the belt from her unresisting hand and tightened it about her chest 'Dinner will be soon and your stepmother will be expecting your presence.'
Their gazes met and held.
Julia swallowed hard. She should go, but her feet refused to move. She wanted to stay wrapped in this cocoon of safety, not to face what lay out there.
'I want to stay with you,' she whispered and lay her head against his chest 'A little while longer.'
He shook his head before planting a kiss on her forehead.
'You must go.' He gave her hand a squeeze and rubbed his thumb against her swollen lips. 'There will be time to be together, I promise, but for now…'
Julia felt the colour rise in her cheeks. He made it sound as if this meant more to him than a quick tumble. For now, that was enough. It would have to be enough. Until she figured out a way. There had to be a way.
'Sleep tight, my gladiator,' she said, gathering her things in her arms. 'May no Furies invade your dreams tonight'
'Should I encounter one, I know where to find a cure.' He opened the bathroom door, and quickly glanced outside. 'Now go while there is no one about and before your stepmother decides to investigate where you are.'
Julia walked quickly away from the bath suite, vowing with each tap of her sandal that one day she would not skulk in the corners with Valens, but would stand by his side.
Valens stared after Julia's slim figure as she flitted across the courtyard. With each step, he watched the curve of her ankle appear and disappear. She stopped in the doorway and looked back, her gaze meeting his. The tide of passion began to rise again in Valens's body. He longed to go to her and bring her back into this enchanted room.
His fingers curled around the doorframe, holding him there. He had never expected to discover her here, and had allowed his desire for her to overcome his reason. The depth of his reaction frightened him. It was impossible to ignore that he had feelings for the girl and wanted her to be his.
He grabbed his strigil and used the blade to scrape his skin clean for the second time that day. He wished he could discover a device to peel off the layers of his life and send hi
m back to before, and he could lead his life spotless up to the point where he met Julia. Valens pressed down with the strigil, bringing his mind back to the present. His past had no meaning for him. He refused to remember it. He walked in the sandals of a gladiator now—who he had been had no bearing on who he was or who he could be. He had learnt that lesson and it had kept him alive.
He wished he held a status worthy of her. There was no denying the hardest part would be when her father married her off to another, but to offer now would mean punishment— for both of them.
He had no illusions about what would happen or about the double standards of Roman life. Roman matrons were for Romans only—in public, at any rate. Men might enjoy the company of slaves, but women never—Roman women must be kept pure for breeding more Romans.
He slammed the strigil down and angrily bathed his body in the cool water. The wetness enveloped and soothed him.
There was little point in railing against what could have been. He had to be sensible. The only way forward was to carry on with his plan. Should the gods favour him, he'd win the rudius; if not, he'd die trying. Either way, he'd regain the honour he needed.
Valens closed his eyes and allowed himself to dream about what could happen, if all went as planned. He built villas in the air, imagining Julia with two small boys clinging to her skirts as they lived together on his estate near Pompeü, far away from the frenzy of the arena. He dribbled water over his head and smiled at his fancy.
Then he pushed it away. All that could come after he had defeated Aquilia, after he had won the rudius and was a slave no longer.
Julia stood at the entrance to the dining room, waiting to have her feet washed by one of the servants. The last bang of the gong sounded, and even though she anticipated Valens would not be there, Julia had decided to wear her rose-coloured gap-sleeve gown. It could help explain the high colour in her cheeks, she decided as she slipped off her sandals and prepared to enter the room.
The dining room with its frescoed walls of blue and green, depicting the perfect garden, was the one room her father had refused to allow Sabina to modernise. Julia instinctively sought out her mother's favourite fresco, a tree with two doves in it. But before her eyes reached it, her gaze fell on Valens. He raised an eyebrow and his lips contracted to give a silent appreciative whistle. She felt the colour rise higher in her cheeks.
The Gladiator's Honor Page 13
