She ought to put a stop to it, a small voice at the back of her mind still argued. Or at the very least she ought to tell him everything about herself first. It was wrong not to, but she didn’t seem able to stop, swept along on a raging tide of excitement and desire. She’d tell him later, she answered the voice guiltily, afterwards. Right now, all she wanted, needed, had to know was what the feeling in her abdomen and lower now, too, between her thighs, was building towards.
The hand between her legs moved upwards again, slowly and deliberately towards her centre, his fingers teasing the folds of her skin, and then all she could feel was stunned. What was he doing? She opened her mouth to ask, but his own closed over it with renewed pressure and she forgot the question almost at once.
After a few moments, he tore his lips away again, trailing a path over her collarbone and then lower, over the mounds of her breasts towards her nipples. She felt a jolt of surprise as his tongue found one and suckled, tracing circles around it before taking it fully into his mouth while his fingers continued to play with her.
She tipped her head back, gripping the bed beneath them in shock as a spasm of some powerful reflex shot down her spine and into the very core of her body, making all the tension there release suddenly, pulsing through every limb with a force that made her shake all over, as if she were in the grip of some fever. She’d never conceived that such a feeling was possible, as if her insides were somehow rearranging themselves all at once.
‘Marius!’ She gasped his name, clutching her arms around his shoulders again to steady herself. If she didn’t, she had a feeling she might lose herself somehow.
He lifted his head and placed his lips tenderly against hers for a moment, nuzzling them gently this time.
‘Get some rest.’ She had the vague impression he was smiling.
‘But...’ But she was halfway to sleep already, the trembling sensation gradually fading away, replaced by a feeling of satiated exhaustion.
‘When I get back...’
Chapter Seventeen
When I get back...
Marius twisted in his saddle, looking back towards Cilurnum’s gate in the silvery wolf-light of dawn and wishing he were riding back inside, back to the sleeping woman he’d left sprawled across a warm bed in a posture of what looked like languorous contentment. Instead he was riding north at his own request to find an enemy probably intent on killing him. If ever he’d needed proof of his own stupidity, this was it. Two nights and he still hadn’t consummated their marriage! Not that dwelling on the fact was going to make the tightness in his braccae go away...
He turned around again, facing the wilderness ahead. That was what most of his legionaries called it, a barbarian wilderness, many of whom resented their posting to this far-flung border of the Empire, disliking the cold, the damp and the desolate hills that seemed to roll on as far as the eye could see. He didn’t see anything barbaric about it. He loved the ruggedness of the northern landscape, the absence of turrets and palisades and trenches, the lack of rules and constraints. There were only a few Roman forts left beyond the wall, abandoned ruins mostly, but since none of them was visible from his current vantage point astride a grey stallion, there was nothing to spoil the natural beauty of the view.
Because it was beautiful, he thought with admiration—although still not as much as the woman he’d left behind. He scowled, seemingly unable to stop his thoughts from drifting back to her. She’d been fast asleep when he’d risen and strapped on his armour, not flickering so much as an eyelash when he’d draped another blanket over her shoulders.
At least she ought to be well-rested that morning, which was more than could be said for him. He would have done better sleeping on the wall itself. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing a bed in the first place and the physical tension between them had made things even more strained. And that was a monumental understatement. The way her curls had tumbled forward in a glorious cascade when she’d dragged a comb through them had driven him half-mad with desire. Then when she’d peeled her stola over her shoulders, wriggling out of the garment when she’d thought he hadn’t been looking, making the shadowy curve of her breasts beneath her tunica clearly, tantalisingly visible, his body had reacted almost painfully. She’d looked stunningly gorgeous and infinitely desirable, so much that the mere memory of it made him shift uncomfortably in the saddle.
He’d pulled her towards him simply to give her some room, although the moment he’d touched her he’d known it had been a mistake. He certainly hadn’t intended to take things as far as he had, especially after her somewhat over-emphatic and vaguely insulting pretence of tiredness. After that performance, he hadn’t intended to touch her at all, let alone to kiss her, but once his fingers had encountered the smooth curve of her waist he hadn’t been able to resist.
Her eager response had taken him completely by surprise and yet somehow—even now he wasn’t sure how—he’d forced himself to hold back. Despite the contradictory signals she’d seemed to be sending him, she’d been tense and vulnerable that evening and he’d still had no idea what about. He hadn’t wanted to take advantage of her and he’d needed to prove that to both of them, though the feeling of wetness between her legs had driven him to the very brink of control, so that it had taken all his self-restraint not to plunge deep inside her. So he’d focused on her pleasure instead, surprised by how well he’d succeeded. Her response had both aroused and frustrated him in equal measure, making the room seem to fairly crackle with tension for the whole rest of the night. The warm cocoon of their body heat had eventually lulled him into a fitful slumber, though it hadn’t been anywhere near enough, and even then he’d dreamed of her...
For some inexplicable reason, however, it hadn’t been her body that he’d dreamed of. It hadn’t even been the way that she’d moaned his name after she’d climaxed, though that had been particularly memorable. No, he’d dreamed of the bright gleam of her eyes when she spoke, the small dimple in her left cheek when she smiled, the patchwork of freckles across her nose and cheeks and, most of all, the way she’d looked standing on the wall the day before, poised and graceful and somehow contented-looking. Now he could hardly wait to get back to her and not just because he wanted to bed her, but because he wanted to just be with her, even if simply to gaze at her...
What the hell did that mean?
‘So what are we looking for exactly?’ Ario cantered up beside him and Marius shook his head, glad of the distraction.
‘I can’t say exactly. What I want is to find some sign of life carrying on as normal.’
‘All right.’ The Decurion snorted cynically. ‘That’s what you want, but what do you think we’ll find?’
‘I think we’ll find a gathering of warriors, or some sign of them. I think the tribes are joining together to launch another attack on the wall. And I think there may be more of them than we’re prepared for.’
‘You think a lot.’ Ario sounded neither conspicuously alarmed nor unduly surprised. ‘So essentially we’re looking for an army?’
‘Something like that.’ Marius gave him a sidelong look. ‘You know everyone in Coria still thinks I’m being alarmist.’
‘That’s because Coria isn’t on the wall. If it was, Nerva might sit up and take more notice. Not that it’s a criticism of him personally.’ Ario raised a hand before Marius could interrupt. ‘I know the two of you are close. All I’m saying is that it’s easy to be complacent when you’re not in the vanguard.’
‘So you believe me?’
‘Yes. I think something strange is going on and it’s safer to believe you than not. I hate surprises.’
Marius grunted and then pulled on his reins, steadying his mount as a bird burst out of the undergrowth ahead of them.
‘You know you’re not bad with a horse.’ Ario gave him an approving nod. ‘For an infantryman.’
‘I appreciate your qualifying the statement,’
Marius answered drily. ‘My father taught me when I was a boy.’
He regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth. In thirteen years, barely a day had gone by when he wasn’t reminded of his father’s dishonour in one way or another, but the number of times he’d spoken about him out loud could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Yet since he’d told Livia about him—as part of what now struck him as a particularly unromantic proposal—he felt as if an old injury had reopened. Her comments about his father’s motives for mutinying yesterday had only rubbed salt in the wound. Now the memory of his childhood riding lessons made his chest heave with an emotion he thought he’d put behind him a long time ago.
‘Varro?’ Ario was looking at him quizzically, he realised, and he straightened his shoulders, once again bemoaning his lack of sleep, just in time to see something move in the woodland ahead.
‘Hold!’ He raised a hand, bringing the turmae to a halt.
‘What is it?’ Ario spoke in an undertone.
‘Something moving. Over there in the trees.’
‘An animal maybe?’
‘Maybe.’ Although if it had been an animal, it was something large. A stag or a bear maybe. Far more likely for it to have been a man.
‘Keep half of your men here. I’ll go ahead with the rest on foot.’
Ario looked dubious. ‘It might be a trap.’
Marius nodded sternly. If he’d seen what he thought he’d just seen, it probably was a trap. They were following the rutted remains of the old Roman road where it passed along the edge of some woodland, an almost perfect spot for an ambush, and the northern tribes were skilled at laying those. It was a large part of the reason why the Roman army had never fully conquered Caledonia. Still, it would be surprising if the tribes attacked so soon, in full daylight and against cavalry to boot. If they did, then it meant they were either very confident or desperate to prevent them from going any further and finding something. But it was still better to hunt them down in the trees than follow the road into a trap.
‘We need to find out. Wait here. We’ll march on and draw them out if they’re there. You come and help if necessary.’
To his relief, Ario didn’t argue, quickly dividing his men and holding half of them back while he gave the order to dismount and led the rest straight towards the trees.
The attack came even sooner than he expected, a volley of arrows hissing out of the undergrowth before they’d gone barely fifty paces.
‘Shield wall! Testudo!’ Marius bellowed, digging his shield into the dirt and crouching behind it as more arrows whistled overhead. The rest of Ario’s men did likewise, forming an impenetrable line of shields in front, around and even above their heads as another volley of missiles slammed into them.
A moment later a horde of warriors emerged from the woodland, seemingly all at once, roaring a bloodthirsty battle cry as they charged towards them almost completely naked, wearing only short braccae and copper bands around their necks and arms, with no armour except their leather shields.
Marius braced himself as the cry built to an almost deafening fever pitch and the combined force of a hundred bodies hurled themselves into the shield wall, forcing them back a few steps. He yelled orders at his men, bellowing at them to hold the line as he strained his feet in the dirt, pushing back against the press of warriors with all his strength.
There was a momentary lull and he took advantage of it, jabbing his sword between a narrow gap in the shields and thrusting it at the first warrior he saw. He heard a grunt of pain, followed by a bellow of anger, and thrust again, lunging forward in a ferocious counter-attack, heartened to find the two men on either side of him doing the same.
‘We need prisoners!’ he shouted over the din.
‘Tell them that!’ Ario’s voice rose to meet his and he peered out, just in time to see the cavalry thunder past them and start to encircle the warriors.
Then there was only the sound of combat, every voice drowned out by the clash of weapons and the heavy thud of sword upon shield. Marius felt a fresh burst of energy, swiping and smashing his sword over the top of the shield wall, parrying away spears and axes that tried to find their way through the gaps.
Then it was over. The rebels must have realised their mistake as the horses reared and pounded the earth around them, fleeing back to the safety of the trees even faster than they’d burst out of them before. Only one straggler slipped on the mud as he ran, dropping his axe as he struggled to regain his footing.
Marius was after him in a heartbeat, tossing his shield to one side as he ran forward and grabbed hold of the warrior’s arm before he could reach his axe again. Then he raised his sword, about to land a blow with the hilt and knock him unconscious when he saw the age of the face looking back. It was that of a boy, not a man, in his late teens perhaps, but still young enough to make him spin the blade around, pressing it up against his throat instead.
‘Yield.’ He ground out one of the few Caledonian words he knew, relieved when the boy lifted both of his hands in the air in surrender.
It was enough. He had a prisoner.
* * *
Whatever the commotion was, it was coming from the direction of the gates. Livia stood on the top step of the quartermaster’s storeroom, looking out over the top of the clustered auxiliaries, trying to catch a glimpse of the returning soldiers. They were back sooner, far sooner than expected—so soon that having slept for most of the morning, she’d barely had a chance to get dressed. Was their early return a good or a bad thing? she wondered. She wouldn’t know for sure until she found Marius.
She stretched up on her tiptoes, heart beating frantically in her chest as she sought for him, torn between gut-wrenching anxiety, guilt and a new sense of trepidation. After the unexpected, and frankly breathtaking, intimacy of their night together, she felt almost shy at the thought of seeing him again, though not enough to stop her from wanting to repeat the experience as soon as possible. If he wanted to... She still wasn’t sure about that. As much as she’d enjoyed what had happened, it had been as one-sided as the rest of their relationship. He hadn’t joined with her. Hadn’t he wanted to? Although that was a good thing, she chided herself, since she still hadn’t told him the truth about her past! This time she was determined not to be a coward again...
But where was he? There was a sudden break in the crowd and she caught sight of horses and a few bloodstained soldiers. Blood! Her heart actually seemed to stop for a moment. If they were injured, then it meant there had been some kind of fighting already!
Where was he? Her eyes searched the riders with a new sense of urgency, but there was still no sign of him.
‘It might be best if you go back to the villa.’ Trenus, the quartermaster, tapped her shoulder.
‘No.’ She shook her head determinedly. How could he even suggest such a thing, that she ought to run and hide when Marius might be injured or worse?
‘You might not want to see—’
‘No!’
She leapt down the villa steps and broke into a run. Whatever protest Trenus was about to make, she didn’t want to hear it. Instead she pulled her stola up around her knees and hurtled across the fort, heedless of her appearance. It was unseemly to run, particularly into a group of soldiers, but she didn’t care. She had to find her husband, had to make sure he was all right and throw her arms around him...
She pushed her way through the crowd to the front and then stopped, still searching. The riders were all looking distinctly the worse for wear, but at least they all seemed to have come back. Up close, their injuries didn’t look so bad either.
The last of the horses rode in through the gate and she pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a cry of relief as she finally caught sight of Marius. He was still on horseback, looking as severe as ever, but unharmed. She almost sank to the ground with relief. If she’d been in any doubt of her feelings for
him before, she knew what they were now. She loved him, though until that moment she hadn’t realised how much.
She was about to start forward again when she realised he wasn’t alone. There was a man sitting behind him, although judging by his half-naked and tattooed appearance, he wasn’t Roman. His hair was a long and vibrantly red colour like hers while his hands, when she looked closer, were tied up, bound together with rope... Horror clawed at her insides. He was a prisoner, that was obvious. What was even more obvious was that he’d been fighting. There was a livid cut across one of his cheekbones as well as a bloodied patch on his arm, while Marius’s armour was scuffed and red-stained.
The contrast made her feel sick. Marius, the man she’d just realised she loved, had been fighting with him. One of her mother’s people—her people—a mere youth, too, by the look of him, barely more than Porcia’s age.
‘Livia?’ Marius caught sight of her at the same moment as she took an appalled step backwards. ‘Are you all right?’
He looked concerned and she fought the urge to laugh. Was she all right? He was the one who’d been fighting! She ought to be asking him that question, except that she seemed to have forgotten how to speak.
She nodded instead, fixing her gaze on a point beyond his shoulder as she tried not to look at either him or his prisoner. The gesture seemed inadequate somehow, but what else could she do when all she wanted was to turn and run as far away from them both as possible? As relieved as she was to see Marius, if she didn’t get away soon then she really was going to be sick.
‘Some of the men are injured. I have to make sure they’re taken care of.’ He gestured around him and she seized on the words at once.
‘Yes. I’ll go.’ She forced the words past her lips as she spun away, inadvertently catching the eye of the prisoner as she did so. He was regarding her curiously, she noticed, so that for a second she was tempted to say something, but what? What could she say to him? He might be her kinsman of sorts, but he was also her husband’s prisoner. If it came to choosing sides, then she’d already chosen...
The Warrior's Bride Prize Page 16
