The hardness of him pressed into her, demanding a response. A response her body wanted to give. It no longer mattered what had happened in the past or what might happen in the future, all that mattered, all she desired, was the taste of his mouth and the touch of his body.
Her shawl fell from her shoulders with a soft whoosh. His hands undid the belt just under her breasts, unclasped the brooches that held her gown and that too fell to the ground with a whisper.
She stood, clad in her thin under-tunic, not daring to move a muscle, waiting to see what he would do next. She risked a glance upwards. His face had an intent look.
‘There can be no turning back.’
Lydia brought her fingers to her lips and gave the slightest of nods.
His arms came around and crushed her to his chest. His mouth returned to hers with hard urgency. This time their tongues tangled, touched and twisted. Her body became molten wax and she struggled to stay upright. Gently Aro eased her down against the cushions on the bed, the heavy silk coverlet cool against her feverish skin.
His hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs drew small rings over the top of her under-tunic. The coolness of the fabric contrasted with the hotness of his mouth as he captured the nipple through the fabric and slightly tugged. She moaned softly in the back of her throat.
She wanted him to continue. She needed him to continue. This was nothing like she’d expected. His hands and mouth were playing her body as if she were a harp.
His fingers pushed the linen down, revealing her breasts. Then, much as a cat laps milk, his tongue touched a hardened point and curled around it. A bolt of lightening shot through her, driving all thoughts from her mind.
Dimly she registered he had shed his tunic and she was now staring up at his smooth chest with a dusting of fine black hair. A narrow gold chain with a signet ring hung about his neck. His wide shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist, all smooth and sculpted like a marble statue of Apollo. She reached out a tentative hand. Not cold marble, but living flesh. Instantly his nipples contracted, mirroring hers.
Her hands ran over his warm skin. Here and there were small indentations, scars from past battles, she supposed. Her tongue darted forward and tasted his skin.
A groan escaped from his throat, but he didn’t move. Emboldened, she touched him again, drawing circles on his chest as he had done to her.
When her hand wandered lower, his fingers captured hers and brought them to his lips. ‘Shall we take it slow, Lydia? Savour our time together? If you keep touching me like that, this will be over before it has properly begun.’
Her hand stilled. She had done something wrong yet again. Misery washed over her. She wanted to curl into a ball. But as his lips travelled slowly down the length of her arm, she forgot to think and began to feel.
She gasped when his hand moved down her belly to become entangled in her curls. Her body bucked, wanting something more. She felt him ease her thighs apart. Then he slipped a finger inside her. All her muscles contracted. Warmth spurted from her. And she groaned in the back of her throat. Her hands pulled at his shoulders. She needed something more, her body demanded something. He seemed to understand.
He moved upwards, and placed his mouth on hers. His tongue entered her mouth at the same time as she felt his shaft enter her, mirroring, echoing the movement. Her body opened and allowed him to fill her.
He stopped, kissed her neck and began to move backward and forward. She followed his rhythm, the speed increasing, bringing her to a crest.
This was it, she thought. This was what it is supposed to be like, why poets sing and women sigh.
Aro raised himself on his elbow. The dying embers of the sun lit his wife’s skin to a rose gold. Her eyelashes made black smudges on her cheeks. He listened to her steady breathing. There was a passion between them, something more than the dutiful coupling of man and wife, something to build their relationship on. The world made new.
Her eyes fluttered open and her hand reached out to touch his father’s ring.
‘Whose ring?’
‘My father’s.’ Aro swallowed hard. He had worn it for such a long time it had become part of him. ‘I never take it off.’
‘Why not wear it on your finger?’ Lydia’s brows knit together.
‘I wear it there because I am not yet fit to wear it on my finger. I made a vow to my father that remains unfulfilled.’
‘I hope you fulfil the vow soon then.’ She withdrew her hand and dipped her head.
‘Our marriage has been consummated, Lydia,’ he said softly, testing her feelings, as he drew a finger down her neck. ‘There will be no annulment.’
Her eyes flew open and she levered herself out of his arms. Within a heartbeat, she pulled on her under-tunic and was struggling into her gown. ‘How dare you!’
Aro stared at her and cursed his wayward tongue. Her reaction revealed his words were very close to the mark. She had thought about it, maybe even a vague idea had formed in her brain. The knowledge tasted bitter.
‘How dare I?’ He raised his body up.
‘I have never sought such a thing. How could I? When…when I know the amount my family owes you!’ Her hands fumbled with her belt. ‘For me a bargain is a bargain. I never ask more than my fair share or attempt to cheat, once it has been struck. It was not the way in which I raised.’
‘And the Falerian wine?’
‘I have paid for my mistake with my body.’
Her eyes flashed and the implication hung in the air as if she had directly accused him. Aro flinched.
He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but it appeared he had. He wanted to draw her into his arms and kiss the hurt away.
‘I have no idea what sort of game you are playing, Fabius Aro, but you won’t win.’ She spun away from his outstretched arm. Her lips trembled. ‘Why do you want me to renege on our bargain? I will not be the instrument that ruins my father. You made a vow to your father. Please believe me, I hold my father in the same esteem. I would never knowingly try to break an agreement he entered into.’
‘Game?’ Aro stood up and advanced towards her. ‘I assure you, Lydia, it is no game. I am deadly serious.’
Lydia brought her hand back as if to strike, but then appeared to think better of it. Her hand dropped to her side. Instead she caught up her shawl and headed towards the door, wrenched it open and hurried off down the hall.
Aro cursed under his breath. He refused to go after her and haul her back. Whatever peace had been between them had been destroyed. He had listened to the ramblings of an old man instead of trusting his instincts. The ring around his neck grew heavier.
Lydia did not pause to see if Aro followed or not. All she knew was that she had to put the maximum amount of space between her and Aro. The walls in the room had closed in as if to suffocate her and she wanted to breathe fresh clean air away from the place where she had given her body and he had cynically taken.
The difficulties of her situation pressed in on her, making her struggle for each breath. What sort of man was Quintus Fabius Aro?
She had thought he had made love to her because he wanted to, not because he wanted to seal the marriage contract, because he thought she was trying to cheat him. It was a direct attack on her integrity, on all that she stood for. She had given her word.
The door to the outside stood before her, beckoning. All she had to do was confront the porter and she’d be gone. She’d be able to breathe again and find some sort of peace in the steady rhythm of the city.
‘Exactly where do you think you are headed?’ A hand caught her elbow and pulled her back against the wall.
‘Out.’
‘In bare feet?’
Lydia gritted her teeth and glanced downwards. Her toes peeped out from under her gown. She cursed under breath.
Why hadn’t she grabbed her sandals?
She lifted her chin, dared Aro to laugh. ‘If that is what I want, yes.’
‘You will cut your feet. A terrible thing to happen
to such pretty feet.’ His face looked lean and determined. ‘Why do you need to leave in such hurry, I wonder?’
Lydia fought against the hard grip, pulling first one way and then the other. ‘Let me go, Fabius Aro. Or I will…’
‘You will what?’
He spun her around so she faced him. He had pulled his tunic on, but had not bothered to belt it. He exuded a raw masculinity and she could see the place at the base of his throat where she had willingly laid her head.
‘You don’t answer me.’ His voice was but a rasp in her ear. ‘Answer me, Lydia.’
‘What is it to do with you, where I go?’ She opted for a careless shrug to show that she was indifferent to him, that his nearness was not doing strange things to her insides. ‘Perhaps I will go to my father’s, as you said—there can be no annulment now. There is no reason for you to pretend concern for my safety.’
‘He will send you back.’ An amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
‘You are very sure of that.’
‘He sent me his assurances along with the tablet from Sulpicia.’
Lydia stood. Her feet seemed to be turned to marble. In the background she heard the trickle of the atrium’s fountain. He had known everything was fine and yet had played with her emotions. Was there no end to the perfidy of the man! He had written to her father, received assurances and still he had felt the need to question her motives. He had cold-bloodedly seduced her.
‘If you know my father would return me here, why should I not go out and visit him?’ She placed her hands on her hip.
‘It is not safe, especially for women who go out without their sandals on. I explained before.’ He put his face close to hers. ‘You must trust me on this. I am doing it for your own good.’
Lydia gave her head a little shake. She had had enough of these bland statements. She was the daughter of a senator. She deserved the truth. Unlike a Greek woman, she could walk in her city with her face uncovered. She did not have to hide her face. ‘Why should I believe you? Sulla forbade the carrying of arms in the city. I have often wandered the streets on my own. My father has allowed me some measure of freedom.’
‘Your father neglected his duty. He should have taken better care of you.’
Lydia ducked her head. Her last statement was a slight bending of the truth. When she went anywhere, she did tend to take several of her father’s retainers for protection, but Aro did not need to know that. All that mattered now was that she regain something of her old life.
If she gave in to his autocratic demand, where would it stop?
The marriage was cum manu. She couldn’t change that, but she wanted to keep some sort of freedom. She had seen how, when her parents quarrelled, her mother had won the arguments because her father did not have complete control and all she had to do was to threaten to leave. And Sulpicia’s dowry had remained out of Publius’s creditors’ reach as her guardian had refused him access. She wanted no more than the protections her mother and sister-in-law enjoyed.
‘Lydia.’ Aro’s eyes looked sorrowful, but a muscle in his jaw jumped. ‘Why should I lie to you? What purpose would that serve? Why would I want to poison our marriage?’
‘If I knew your purpose, this conversation would never have started!’
Aro ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. Lydia noted with a pang that the action only made him better looking. Why was it that men became better looking with mussed-up hair and women only looked like they needed a tire-woman? It wasn’t fair. She wanted him to be unattractive, but her body remembered the touch of his hands on her skin, the taste of his mouth. She glared at him, trying to detail all the reasons why she should hate him. Then he smiled, and it was like the sun coming out after a rainstorm.
‘Come with me to the warehouse. I will show you the burnt-out shell and the curse tablets.’
Lydia blinked. He was actually offering to show her something rather than simply stating that it was so. She had anticipated other reactions, but not this, this willingness to demonstrate. If she met him halfway, then she’d show him that she was capable of doing things, not simply being some inanimate object to be wheeled out for dinner parties, much as one might show off a pet monkey. She had seen it happen to Murcia Albina. Murcia might say that she preferred it that way, but Lydia could remember the vivacious girl who won all the games at the baths and who had challenged men to foot races.
‘I would welcome the chance,’ she said quietly, making sure her gaze was demurely down. When she was there, she intended to show him that she was more than trustworthy, and that she was more use than an ornament in the home. She might not know everything there was to know about being a merchant, but when her father was ill, she had learnt a great deal about negotiating and the general demands of business.
‘I have no desire to fight you, Lydia.’ His fingers caught her chin. She jerked her head away.
‘Keep your fingers away from me!’
Aro made no reply. His eyes assessed her, following her curves. Her body felt the pull of his gaze as surely as if it been stroked by his fingers and remembered the pleasure. Lydia drew her shawl more tightly about her. She refused to think about such things.
His mouth turned up into a pleased smile at the telling gesture.
‘Very well, we will not couple again until you have asked for the touch of my lips three times.’
‘Something I intend never to do.’ She drew herself up to her full height. ‘I will never plead for the touch of your lips. The whole thing was…was abhorrent to me.’
She turned her face away so he couldn’t see the lie that must be surely etched on her face.
‘Within seven days, you will have asked for my mouth three times.’ He gave a very masculine smile. His eyes once again slowly travelled down her body and then back up to her face. His smile widened. ‘I guarantee it.’
‘And if that does not come about?’ Lydia regarded him with narrowed eyes. ‘There has to be something in it for me.’
‘I have always given my partners pleasure. I heard your moans earlier. Do not try to tell me or your body any falsehoods. You will come to me.’
Lydia waited. There had to be a way to turn this to her advantage, and to ensure his arrogance did not go unpunished. She leant forward slightly. ‘If you don’t succeed, you can give me my freedom. If you don’t succeed, you will allow me to lead my own life away from here and away from you.’
‘Are you speaking of divorce?’ His voice cooled dangerously and his eyes glittered like hardened points of amber. ‘There will be no divorce between us.’
‘Not divorce—I told you I never cheat on a bargain.’ She allowed her shawl to slip. To show how confident she was of winning. ‘I want to be able to visit whom I please and when I please. Just as it would be if you had married me sine manu and I had stayed under my father’s guardianship. I want you to transfer my hand back to my father.’
‘We will discuss that after the seven days are up.’
‘Are you afraid of losing?’ Lydia asked, pressing her advantage. ‘Why, then you have already lost.’
‘Are you?’
‘Of course not.’ She met his hooded gaze directly. ‘I am convinced of winning.’
‘As am I. Remember, Lydia Fabia, never wager something you cannot afford to lose.’
Lydia gave a brief nod, but a slight unease passed over her.
Even if he did not give her freedom, she would not have to couple again with him. How hard would it be to resist him? She removed from her mind all thoughts of their earlier coupling, how his lips had made her feel. That was before she had realised how unprincipled he was.
‘You will find you are sadly mistaken,’ Lydia said and looked forwarded to wiping the smug expression off his face. She refused to drop like a ripe plum into his lap. She was not like those women who inhabited the coast of Naples and Baiae, who no doubt came running at the crook of his finger. She was immune to him now.
A wolfish smile crossed his
face, and he made an elaborate bow. ‘You take the wager, then.’
Lydia paused. She could do this, couldn’t she?
‘Remember, Lydia, when I wager, I wager to win.’ His silken voice tumbled down her spine.
‘And you think I don’t?’ She lifted her chin and stared directly into his eyes. ‘I take your wager! Veratii never beg.’
His eyes twinkled.
‘If you want to put on your sandals, my nymph, I will take you to the Aventine baths. As charming as your feet are, I expect even at the Aventine, if my wife were to enter without her footwear, there would be comment in the Forum.’
‘I thought you offered to take me to the ruined warehouse.’
‘I have changed my mind. The warehouse can wait until tomorrow morning when my men are about. Most will have gone home for the day.’ Aro gestured towards the sun, whose rays had turned the clay tiles to a deep rich red. ‘See, already Helios drives his chariot towards the edge of the sky. Now is the time for relaxation. We shall take a litter, I think. Unless you have other ideas of how we can pleasantly pass the time’
Lydia was torn between wanting to go out, and a desire to win her wager. She should sweep past him, make straight for her room and refuse to come out. Stay there for seven days. However, if she retreated to her room with its tangled coverlets and rumpled pillows, she’d be reminded of the passion they had just shared. The touch of his hand against her skin, the feel of his mouth against hers. No, she refused to think about that.
And, given the determined glint in his eye, Aro might enter her room again. An enclosed private place might not work to her advantage after all. Somewhere in public would be better. Somewhere she could be certain of remembering she was supposed to resist him. She turned her head to one side.
‘Is there a need for a litter?’
He looked at her from under hooded lids.
‘Who is it that you don’t trust, Lydia? Me or yourself?’
Chapter Ten
L ydia hugged one of the wooden supports in the swaying litter, determined that Aro would not use the movement as an excuse to say that she had invited his advances.
Sold and Seduced Page 12
