Ah, gods, Caddaric chastised himself, to take Jilana upon a hard marble floor. He should stop, take her back to the bedchamber and lay her upon the soft bed— Caddaric’s thoughts came to a jumbling halt as he felt Jilana settle next to him upon the towels and place a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and found her watching him, her expression trusting. Swallowing, Caddaric turned Jilana so that her back was to him and began removing the pins from her hair and setting them aside. The braid slipped from its coronet and he slowly untwisted the neat coils. Jilana’s hair was a luxury in itself; like silk it flowed through his fingers, caressed his thighs, and fell in a fiery river down her back. Caddaric moved closer and massaged her shoulders. He would have to be careful, some rational part of his mind warned; he could so easily hurt her with his greater strength. He ran his hands down her arms. Jilana shivered and he instantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back to his chest. “Are you cold?”
“Nay.” Jilana’s voice emerged as a throaty whisper. It was the truth; Caddaric’s touch sent out tongues of fire that stole her strength and gave it back again. Jilana twisted in Caddaric’s embrace until they were face-to-face. A few strands of her hair caught in the dark mat covering Caddaric’s chest and a wildness grew in Jilana’s soul at the sight.
Caddaric followed her gaze and his breath nearly stopped at the erotic picture. While he watched, Jilana slowly raised a hand and began to dissolve the web between them. Deliberately, Caddaric grasped her hand and pressed it onto his chest, directly over his heart. She remained motionless for what seemed an eternity and then her fingers moved, threading their way through the fine hair, exploring its texture. With a groan Caddaric pulled her closer and claimed her mouth. This time her mouth flowered eagerly, welcoming his invasion. He sampled her leisurely, investigating the warm cavern with slow, languid strokes that drew a soft purr from her throat and quick, short stabs that invited Jilana to examine him in the same way. She was hesitant, her tongue retreating just as it met his lips. Impatience flared in Caddaric and he was tempted to frame her head in his hands and hold her immobile while he plundered her mouth. And then he remembered that she was a virgin, that the play between a man and a-woman was foreign to her and that he had never imagined he would be the one to initiate her into this intimacy. Caddaric had never lain with a virgin and he realized, with a tremor of apprehension, that the presence of her innocence changed everything for him as well.
A fierce protectiveness swept through Caddaric and he gathered Jilana close, his mouth sliding from hers to trail across her cheek and neck. He would make this joining a sweet one—a precious moment to be salvaged from the present and savored in the future.
A thousand sensual explosions blossomed within Jilana. The heat of Caddaric’s mouth on her throat triggered a vibration which ran the length of her body and she tightened her arms around his neck. His hands consumed her; they alternately massaged and caressed every bit of her back, then lingered over the swell of her buttocks. Caddaric spread his hands around her hips until his thumbs met and, with a light touch unusual in a man of his size, moved them upward. Every inch of her flesh was incredibly sensitized, her breathing ragged. She ached for something as yet unknown, and when Caddaric cupped her breasts and stroked her nipples to life she cried out softly.
Caddaric kissed her tenderly, the seductive stroke of his tongue an erotic counterpoint to the incessant manipulation of his hands. Jilana melted against him, her body as malleable as hot wax as he lowered them both to the towel. This time, however, when he started to withdraw, her tongue followed, teasing its way past his lips and into his mouth. From deep in his chest came a groan of pleasure, a sound which invited Jilana to venture further within. She explored timidly at first, uncertain of her actions, and then with greater confidence. He tasted like sweet wine, Jilana discovered, a rich, subtle flavor that went to her
head. With the floor beneath her now, she released his neck and ran her fingers over the breadth of his shoulders and down the muscled ridges of his back.
“Nay,” Jilana whispered when Caddaric released her mouth.
“I did not know a wicca was so passionate a creature,” Caddaric teased, but his eyes were nearly black with his own desire. He pressed tiny kisses against her collarbone and his voice when he spoke again was hoarse. “There is more, little wicca, so much more.” Bending, he rubbed his lips against the globe of one breast. Jilana caught her breath, her nails curled into his back and Caddaric smiled at the fine tremor which ran through her.
“Caddaric—Oh!” Jilana’s words died as his lips closed around her nipple and drew it into his mouth. Her back arched, bringing Jilana closer to the source of such devastating magic. Her nipple was laved by Caddaric’s tongue, then lightly scored by his teeth. She gave a tormented whimper as Caddaric diverted his attentions to her other breast and his hand slid down her stomach to the nest of auburn curls which guarded the juncture of her thighs.
Jilana moved restlessly and Caddaric stilled her by draping one thickly muscled leg across both of hers. His fingers penetrated her veil of curls to stroke apart the petals concealing the bud of her desire. Jilana stiffened in reaction and then her body shuddered with pleasure as Caddaric repeated his ministrations. Instinctively Jilana arched into his hand, allowing Caddaric’s fingers to slip lower, to find that part of her that was unaccountably moist.
Groaning, Caddaric raised his head from her breast and took Jilana’s lips in a long, searching kiss. Jilana was alive in his arms, an abandoned creature who threatened his control with the innocently seductive movements of her body and mouth until he ached like a green lad. Her legs twisted beneath his, opening, inviting his exploration. A wild desire burned through Caddaric and his fingers slid into her beckoning warmth.
All the strength seemed to leave Jilana and she could do nothing more than cling to Caddaric as he took her on a sensual journey. She felt weightless, disembodied, with Caddaric’s hands and mouth her only chains to earth. His fingers worked a mysterious enchantment, assuaging the initial ache while creating a new, spreading tension that had its core deep inside her. Jilana moaned, felt his lips harden against hers until the kiss became wild and uncontrolled. Caddaric’s tongue stabbed into her mouth and Jilana retaliated in kind; then she gasped when his full weight covered her and her breasts were crushed into the cloud of hair on his chest. His hand withdrew from her and moved to curve around her hip, then on to the swell of her buttock, and Jilana murmured a protest.
Caddaric’s heart thudded painfully against his ribs as he kissed the line of her throat. “Lift your hips, Jilana.” His voice was hoarse, barely recognizable, but she did as he asked and he slid his hand fully beneath her. Carefully, slowly, he guided himself into her, pausing only when he encountered the expected barrier. He felt her fingers tighten on his shoulders as he pushed experimentally at the membrane. What would cause her the least pain? Quickly? Slowly? His own slipping control decided the matter. Perspiration beaded his forehead and the tension in his groin was despairingly familiar. Gathering himself, Caddaric rocked forward and knew immediately the sting of Jilana’s nails.
Jilana cried out at the sharp pain but Caddaric’s mouth was on hers, drinking the sound from her lips. He was embedded within her and Jilana could feel herself stretching to accommodate his presence there. She tried to lever herself away but Caddaric held her firmly in place.
“Wait,” Caddaric ordered in a voice that was both gentle and rough. “‘Twill pass, I swear it.”
Jilana opened her eyes and looked at his face, so close to her own. Caddaric’s eyes were closed and his face, was set in an almost grim expression. Curious, she whispered, “Caddaric?” Her pain receding, Jilana raised a hand and brushed her fingers over his cheek. Immediately his eyes flew open and she was lost in their indigo depths.
“Does it hurt badly?” Caddaric smoothed a curl away from her temple, relaxing when Jilana shook her head. “The first time hurts a woman, so I have been told.” He moved slowly, testing her reac
tion,. Jilana frowned slightly and he kissed her again, matching the motion of his tongue to that of his body. The frown disappeared and her eyes fluttered shut. He could feel the passion take control of her once more and began pressing warm kisses upon her cheeks and throat. “‘Twill not hurt again, wicca… and after this… you will find…” His voice failed as Jilana tried to match his rhythm. His hands moved to her hips to guide her.
A fierce heat consumed Jilana as she found the rhythm. Everything faded save the seductive curl of Caddaric’s tongue and the tension that heightened when Caddaric repeatedly sheathed his manhood in her softness. Jilana soared, borne upward by Caddaric’s strength. There was a shifting within her, a shimmering pulse that stole her breath and left her panting. Caddaric’s pace quickened and she followed, more than willing to go wherever he would lead. Higher she flew, and still higher, until that tension within her exploded and bathed her with a pleasure so intense she cried out.
At Jilana’s cry of fulfillment, Caddaric cast aside the last vestige of control. Her legs tightened spasmodically around his waist, driving him deeper as he reached his peak. He shuddered with the force of his release and his hands locked her hips against his pelvis. How long Caddaric held Jilana to him he did not know, but gradually he became aware of his bruising grip. Despite the gentleness of his withdrawal Jilana caught her breath, and Caddaric rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms. Usually he did not hold the woman afterward, nor did he like it when she twined herself around him like some strangling vine. Caddaric lifted an eyelid and looked down at Jilana. She lay quietly, her eyes tightly closed and her arms crossed in the valley of her breasts, but he could see the heightened color along her cheekbones. She was not asleep. He extricated one of her hands, meshed his fingers with hers and brought their hands to the center of his chest. Better. Contentment stole over Caddaric and, in the heartbeat of time before he fell asleep, he wondered what Jilana was thinking.
Jilana lay quietly, listening as Caddaric’s breathing became even and rhythmic, before daring to look at him. Asleep he looked younger, less stern. Jilana smiled and bravely allowed herself to look down the length of him now that he could not see. His arms, chest and legs were bronze, a fascinating contrast against her own white limbs. Only that part of him normally covered by his loincloth was untouched by the sun and Jilana caught herself staring at the dense thatch of hair below his waist. A warm curl of sensation ran through her and she dragged her eyes upward to their entwined hands. With his passion spent, she had been afraid that Caddaric would ignore her, or worse, make some cutting remark. She had never imagined the joining of a man and woman would be filled with such heart-stopping ecstasy. She closed her eyes, remembering the moment when she had exploded with pleasure. And he had been so tender with her, so patient, even when she had tried to withdraw from the pain he had had to cause. Jilana smiled and nestled closer to the warm strength of him, aware of a spurt of pleasure when his arm curled more securely around her waist. How safe he made her feel, protected. As she drifted into sleep, Jilana wondered how she could have feared this man who had been so gentle with her.
Caddaric awoke first, but not in his usual warrior’s manner. Instead of coming from a deep sleep to instant alertness he drifted lazily to consciousness, pleasurably aware of Jilana’s soft body curved so enticingly against his own. His hand drifted over the silken flesh of her back and came to rest upon the flare of her hip. The movement disturbed her and she pressed nearer with a tiny sigh that stirred the hair on his chest. Smiling, Caddaric opened his eyes and gazed down at the perfect oval of her face. Sable lashes dusted with gold lay like wings upon her cheeks and her mouth, swollen from his kisses, was temptingly parted. The memory of her fire and passion flooded his brain and Caddaric felt a stirring in his loins. He was hungry for her again, as hungry as if he had not yet lost himself in her delightful body, and that surprised him. Stifling a groan, Caddaric raised his eyes to the ceiling and watched the sunlight from the high windows play across the paintings there. Would Jilana be shy or willing this time? Caddaric wondered. He had given her pleasure their first time, of that he was certain, and the knowledge gave him a certain swaggering pride. But his pride quickly deflated as he remembered the pain he had caused. She had been a virgin, and glancing down, Caddaric saw that the proof of her virginity stained her thighs and his burgeoning manhood. Gradually his smile faded and his gaze returned to the ceiling. Mayhap Jilana would hate him for taking this last reminder of her life before the uprising— of her family and Lucius. And he could not blame her. His rekindled desire was extinguished as quickly as flame meeting water.
The sunlight turned golden, the shadows lengthened, and Caddaric became aware of the hardness of the floor and the passage of time. Reluctantly he disengaged his hand from Jilana’s and shook her awake. Those breathtaking violet eyes opened slowly, blinked once, twice, then hazily focused on his face. And then, though Caddaric could scarcely credit such a thing, her mouth curved into a hesitant smile.
“Have I slept long?” Jilana was apprehensive beneath Caddaric’s steady regard and a tremor crept into her voice.
The simple question, tinged with Jilana’s own uncertainty, was a balm to Caddaric’s own misgivings. Though he did not smile, his features relaxed and he pushed a lock of red-gold hair away from her temple. “Aye, wicca, long enough. ‘Tis time to finish our bath and return to our chamber so we may prepare for tonight.”
Before Jilana could answer, Caddaric swept her into his arms and his strong legs carried them both into the pool. The water seemed cooler now, lapping as it did at her legs and posterior. She shivered, and in response Caddaric thrust his legs straight out and they both sank beneath the water. His arms loosened and Jilana twisted away and rose to the surface. Sputtering, pushing back the long hair plastered over her face, Jilana glared as Caddaric came to his feet with a great shower of water.
“‘Twas a mean trick,” she upbraided him as he tossed his head and sent a spray of droplets over them both.
“No trick,” Caddaric replied, reaching for the wash cloths Jilana had placed at the edge of the pool along with her rose oil. “You were still half-asleep—now you are fully awake.” He tossed one of the cloths to her and then began to scrub himself with the other.
Jilana swallowed, watching the cloth make its way across the muscular flesh of his arms and chest. Standing, the water came to just below her breasts, but on Caddaric the surface was much lower. Blushing at the path her eyes had taken, Jilana scooped up her cloth and concentrated on her own ablutions. Little by little, as she moved through the water, twisting this way and that to clean herself, Jilana became aware of the soreness in certain areas of her body. Surreptitiously she worked at the stiffening muscles in her buttocks. She drew the cloth down over her stomach, intending to cleanse the part of her which hurt the most, and was horrified when the cloth came back streaked with red. For a moment she stood staring at the cloth, uncomprehending, and then embarrassment flooded her and she turned hastily away to complete her bath. But not before Caddaric had seen. With slow, thoughtful movements, Caddaric finished his bath and sank once more, briefly, under the water. Rather than use the stairs at the end of the pool, Caddaric placed his hands on the cool marble of the bath’s edge and lifted himself out of the water. By the time he had wrapped a
towel around his waist, Jilana was approaching the steps. Caddaric picked up the second towel and went to meet
her.
“Thank you.” Jilana took the towel from Caddaric, but did not meet his eyes. Quickly she dried herself, shielded her body with the towel and started for the door, but Caddaric’s hand on her arm stayed her.
“You hurt.”
Caddaric’s calm statement brought a fresh surge of embarrassment to Jilana and she closed her eyes. ‘“Tis naught,” she managed in a strangled voice.
“‘Tis a matter of some importance to me,” Caddaric said in a low tone. His hand began a soothing motion. “I should have taken more care with you, littl
e wicca. I did not mean to take you on a marble floor.”
Jilana’s eyes flew open and she looked at Caddaric. “You regret it then? You wish you had not…” She choked, unable to finish the question.
“I only regret the manner, wicca, not the deed,” Caddaric assured her. ” Do you?”
A trembling smile touched Jilana’s mouth and she shook her head. Immediately she was enfolded in Caddaric’s arms and crushed against his chest.
“You are mine.” Caddaric’s voice held a fiercely possessive note and his arms tightened, as if daring her to disagree. When she did not, he released her and stepped away. “Henceforth you will share my bed.”
“If you so order.”
Caddaric started, some of his confidence waning. “You said you did not regret—”
“And I do not.” Jilana interrupted. She drew the towel tightly around her breasts and started once more for the door. “Has it never occurred to you to ask rather than command?”
Caddaric’s anger flared. Did she think to control him simply because he had bedded her? “You are impertinent,” he bellowed as Jilana opened the door. “Aye.”
The door closed behind Jilana before he could respond and Caddaric swore loudly, summoning a few particularly colorful curses he had learned during his time in the legion. He grabbed the offending vial of rose oil and scowled at it. So Jilana thought he could be manipulated, did she? Caddaric snorted in disgust. A typical Roman woman’s ploy—allow a man the use of her body and then exact payment afterward, when the man was sated and in an expansive mood. Oh, aye, he knew the Roman wicca’s game, but she would find him less maneuverable than she had doubtless found the besotted Lucius. Caddaric had not forgotten that scene in the garden, when Jilana had deliberately teased Lucius; he had seen the rigid discipline the Roman had had to exercise and now Caddaric vowed that he would not allow Jilana that kind of power over him. It did not occur to him, as he strode from the caldarium, silently damning Jilana for the loss of his earlier contentment, that his oath was already broken.
Defy the Eagle Page 17
