by Ann Lawrence
“Let me go,” Maggie pleaded. He moved and she could feel every full inch of him. A jealous anger vied with acute embarrassment as she thought of how easily he had let the twin slaves touch him, arouse him. From the corner of her eye, she saw the councilor settle a twin in his lap, but the man’s eyes watched her and Kered. “Please let me go!”
Kered picked up a large jug of water. He handed it to her, steadying it in her trembling hands.
“Rinse off these oils and soaps. We may not take substances of this chamber to the bathing pool.”
Maggie raised the jug, averted her eyes from his body, and poured the water down his shoulders.
“My hair,” he said, as he bent his head and scrubbed at his bloody face beneath the stream of water.
Maggie repeated the rinsing several times, watching the water swirl and run down his legs and pool around his feet. Water beaded on his well-oiled skin.
“Enough.” Kered’s voice sounded oddly rough and Maggie looked up at him. For a moment she thought he might embrace her, but instead he wrapped a hand about her arm and hauled her through a low arch. He walked in a measured pace, oblivious of his nakedness. At the end of a short corridor, they entered another chamber. She stopped short, shocked at the sight of a man enjoying his attendant. She groaned and scurried back into the safety of the corridor.
Kered followed her. “Enough, Maggie. This is a bathhouse. Have you not such places where you come from?”
“I don’t know. Not that I know of.”
“Then let me explain. One comes here to bathe, but also for the pleasure of the experience. If you do not attend me, another such as Samoht—”
“Samoht!” she gasped, looking over her shoulder.
“Aye. You have met my most formidable enemy. He and others will expect that you will be as agreeable as those attendants in the first cleansing room. Especially as I have claimed you so openly. Do I make myself clear?’’
Chapter Seventeen
“Yes, you’re quite clear,” Maggie said. “I’m not moving.”
Kered sighed. “This place makes you ashamed?”
She looked away. “I think this place would be illegal where I live.”
“Your customs and mine are very different. What did you mean when you said you were superluscious.”
Maggie burst into nervous laughter. “Not superluscious, superfluous.” Her humor fled. “I meant I am unneeded, redundant, unnecessary.” Her voice cracked. “Unwanted.”
He touched her hair, briefly and gently. “I would not have copulated with the twins. I have come here to bathe and sweat away some of the grime of the weeks past. Vad may avail himself of an attendant, but I find I crave a raven silk,” he threaded his fingers in her hair and drew her close, “and a fiery temper to warm me.”
She began to tremble. In another moment she’d be sliding down the wall in a puddle.
Then he stepped away and became matter-of-fact. “You will attend me. The shift must go, for it makes you stand out. I think the woman on the slave side sought to make me angry with you. Perhaps she thought I would punish you in some way for daring to pursue me here.”
Maggie felt a flush of heat run up her cheeks.
Kered stroked a knuckle down her cheek. “Does my nakedness embarrass you, or is it the thought of attending me?”
“What does attend mean?” Maggie’s voice trembled.
“It means many things. It means doing whatever pleases me.” He paused and laid a finger along his jaw. “I must say I am sorely disappointed. The twins are not often free.”
Maggie wanted to slap his face. Then she saw his wide grin and realized he was teasing her to ease the tension. With that thought, he shattered her illusions in one swift movement, yanking the straps of her shift down her arms. He pulled the loose, damp material to her ankles. It lay about her feet, and she crossed her arms about her breasts.
“To hold yourself thusly will only draw more attention.”
His amused tone only made her clench her hands more tightly over her chest. Maggie closed her eyes. He had fought for her, yet she stood naked before him, the most magnificently put together man she’d ever seen, and he seemed blithely indifferent to her. Unlike the previous night in the shepherd’s hut. He seemed a different man, not the Kered she’d held so tightly in her arms.
Kered sighed and hauled her forward. “Who had you planned on hitting with the jug, if I may ask? Me or the twins?”
“You,” she muttered.
“Then I must be thankful your gun is buried with Ruhtra’s sword.”
Maggie dragged her feet for she knew what waited in the other chamber. She felt as if she had been dropped into a Roman orgy. A tiled bathing pool, the size of an Olympic swimming pool, yawned at the center. Its dark purple waters bubbled vigorously, fed by hidden hot springs. Along the perimeter, men reclined on padded benches, eating, talking, and playing board games. Naked slaves of both sexes moved about with food and wine.
Several older women, still beautiful but past their prime, knelt and groomed the men, filing nails on hands and feet and plucking hair from armpits, chests, and groins. Women lounged about as freely as men, enjoying like favors from handsome male attendants.
Maggie also didn’t need to wonder what had become of Vad. He was reclining at one end of the pool, almost completely hidden from her by the crowd of young women who clustered about him as if craving some invitation to heaven.
Kered selected a bench in a small alcove. “This will shield you somewhat from scrutiny,” he said, then beckoned to a young boy who nodded and tossed a cloth to her. She promptly clutched it across her chest. Kered frowned and tried to take the cloth. They warred a moment over the soft material, then Maggie let it slip from her fingers. Kered arranged it on the bench. He stretched out on his stomach, resting his head on his folded arms.
He saw that she fought a need to speak, smiled and nodded. “Say what you must, for the boy will soon return.”
“Your people, they-they copulate right before anyone who wants to see?”
Kered yawned. “Some do. ‘Tis personal choice. I myself prefer privacy for anything more involved than play.” He came up on an elbow. “I most especially like to play with twins.” He grinned as Maggie’s face heated.
He settled himself on his stomach just as the boy returned. He handed Maggie a tray of pots, and she heaved a sigh of relief that he didn’t speak. She watched his small, tight buttocks as he moved off to another bench.
“Attend me,” Kered growled, and she went down on her knees on the warm tiles and looked over the pots before her. It was not steamy in this chamber and her duties were abundantly clear. She felt Kered’s eyes on her and her blush deepened, and she noted his eyes as they followed the blush down to her breasts. Her bottom felt cold and exposed to the room and she had to fight an urge to whip about to see if anyone was watching her. She shook her hair out and tipped her head back slightly to edge it a few more inches down her back.
“Thank you for helping me back there, Ker,” she said. “I was really scared.”
He stared and grunted.
“Is that a ‘You’re welcome’?” she snapped, futilely attempting to cover everything possible with strategic curls of hair.
Kered grinned. “You are quite pleasing to me, Maggie, even if I have you to thank for a sore nose and a battered throat.” He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he looked as weary as she imagined he was, the lines about his mouth deeply etched. “The blue pot first, please,” he requested.
Maggie lifted the lid from the glass bowl. She dipped her fingers into the white cream. A spicy scent rose and a warm feeling penetrated the skin of her fingers. She dabbed the cream tentatively on his shoulder. It was like smoothing cream on a rock.
“We will be here for two sun-risings if you continue so.”
Maggie scooped up more cream. She spread it quickly across his shoulders and began to massage his skin. He had no freckles, no scars, no marks beyond those from his recent scuffle. The sla
sh on his arm had healed as flawlessly as his other wounds.
The cream and his perspiration combined to make a new texture, one of silk, and she became mesmerized by the soothing motions of her hands on his shoulders. She concentrated on the strange tingling sensation beneath her fingers and tried to ignore his body. It was like ignoring a rocket in your living room. The wide planes of his shoulders tapered to lean hips and taut buttocks.
“All of me, Maggie,” he whispered, his voice soft and hoarse. She peered at him, but his eyes remained dosed.
“I can’t,” she whispered back.
Kered suddenly rolled to his side, and grasped her wrist. She gasped at the pain of his grip. “All watch, Maggie. They may seem occupied, but they watch, for I have favored a personal slave and they wonder why. If you do not want trouble, spread the cream from my shoulders to my feet and make a fine showing of it.” He pulled her near, his lips so close she could have kissed him. His breath washed warm across her face. “Samoht has brought the twins to the pool. He is a potent enemy with a formidable list of grievances against me. I have no wish to add his lust for you to the list. Play at the role and be the attentive slave. You act like a virgin.”
“I am.”
He stared at her, stunned. “‘Tis not possible. You said you were twenty-five turns of the calendar.”
“I am.”
“A slave is no longer a virgin at fifteen.”
Maggie leaned close to him, her lips a paper’s breadth from his, her nose touching his cheek. “I am not a slave.”
“Were we not here, I would find out the truth of this.”
“How would you do that?” She could see amber flecks in his turquoise irises, and his lashes were a thick sable tipped with gold.
Kered raised a hand and clenched his fist in her unruly black hair. He drew as close as she had. Anyone watching must assume they kissed. “I would take you and prove your words false.”
He dropped her hair and lay back on his stomach. “You test the fates. Do the work or suffer some other man’s attentions.”
Maggie began the massage in earnest. She had to rise from her knees to reach all of him. By the time he shook off her ministrations, she knew every inch of his rock-hard back as well as his long legs. She had skimmed her hands over his hips and buttocks, but he hadn’t complained about the neglect. Her insides churned. She knew if he tried to determine the state of her virginity, he would discover how aroused she had become from the intimate task.
“She is a fine specimen,” Samoht said, coming to stand before them. Tension emanated from the tall councilor. Two alert, burly attendants sensed trouble and rose from their bench.
Kered shifted to a sitting position as if he had just noted the other man’s presence. “Aye,” he said, drawing Maggie between his spread thighs, his arms encircling her hunched shoulders.
“Where is she from, this ebony bitch?”
Kered shrugged. “I found her, injured, on Nilrem’s mountain.”
“Then she is unclaimed,” Samoht said, lifting a lock of Maggie’s hair and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.
“I have claimed her,” Kered growled.
“Registered, too?” Samoht arranged her hair on her shoulder, his knuckles skimming against her skin. She shivered in Kered’s arms, despite the warmth of his hard body.
“Not yet.”
“I will challenge you for her. I want to breed her. Think of the whelps she would produce. Look at that black hair, from head to nest!”
Maggie heard the steel in Kered’s voice. “She is already breeding,” he retorted.
Samoht stepped back, his fists clenching. Vad surged through the crowd in the pool, but froze in mid-stride with a lift of Kered’s hand.
“Indeed,” Samoht said. “Perhaps when you tire of her, we may come to some arrangement.” Samoht licked his lips and moved off to another bench, one in plain view of theirs.
“How can you stand this place? I want to leave!” Maggie hissed. Her hands trembled on her knees, and she clenched her fingers into fists.
“I have no intention of granting that tyrant any pleasure. Come, Maggie, we dally overlong.” Kered led Maggie from the large bathing chamber. Every eye followed them.
Cool air washed Maggie’s heated body and tightened her nipples. His long strides took her through a curtained archway. She stood quietly behind him, averting her eyes as he accepted a basket containing their clothing. He entered into a heated discussion with the tiny old woman who attended this final stop in the bathhouse.
When he turned away, she knew something was wrong. She crossed her arms about her waist and shook her hair over her breasts in an unconscious effort to shield herself from his knowing gaze.
“Your garments were burned.” Kered held the basket out.
She stared blankly at the cascade of blue silk that rested next to his own finery. “Burned?’’
“The bathhouse replaced them. The garments were deemed—’’
“Unworthy? Too weird?”
“Hush,” Kered hissed, drawing her away from the old woman’s avid attention. “There is naught to be done. They are ashes.”
Kered steered her to a row of chambers opening off the central room and concealed by long silken draperies—no common woolen stripes for warriors and councilors.
Inside the chamber, the marble floor was veined in pink and salmon. A narrow satin padded bench stood against a wall. Masses of flowers in stone pots flooded the room with their heady fragrance.
She turned to berate him as he drew the curtain, but he pulled her into his arms.
“This has been torture, Maggie. I must know if you tell the truth.” He pressed her back on the padded bench, stretching out above her. She struggled beneath him, slipping and sliding on the satin, unable to get any leverage against his relentless hold. Each of her movements aroused him to greater rigidity. Yet his mouth came down on hers with a slow gentleness that made her fall still. She lost track of his hands as his tongue caressed hers with a heated demand. He parted her thighs and placed a hot palm on her.
He lifted his head. “The truth. Tell me the truth, Maggie. You inflame my desires like the most practiced of women, then swear to your innocence.”
Maggie arched, sweat breaking out on her back. His hand gently massaged her and shards of pleasure shot through her. She flailed her head on the cushion. Words were pointless, but she didn’t want him to stop his caresses. She wanted his touch to continue, wanted him to finish what he had started.
He’d soon find out the truth—or would he?
Did women still bleed their first time? Was it just a myth of romance novels? Did it hurt? She didn’t know. In fact, she was deathly afraid that all the hymeneal rituals in romance novels were overdone. What if he felt nothing? What if they made love and she didn’t bleed? Where was a vial of chicken blood when you needed it?
If she couldn’t prove her virginity, she’d be a liar to him forever, a fornitrix who’d spun a tale. He’d never trust her—ever. He might barter her to Samoht or another equally odious man.
Tears gathered along her lashes and her chest heaved. Kered paused over her. He snatched back his fingers as if burned.
“Forgive me.” Kered struggled off her and sat at her side. He dropped his head into his hands. “Forgive me, Maggie. ‘Tis just like the undergarment. I became carried away, thought naught of your feelings, and shamed you.” He turned to her and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “You have saved my life, endured much for my quest, and I have given you nothing. At least, I may give you my trust.”
She knelt next to him on the bench and laid her head on his shoulder, kissing his smooth skin and linking her fingers with his. “Thank you, Ker.” She was exhilarated that he would put aside his desires to demonstrate his trust. She was also heartily disappointed that they weren’t going to make love.
She had almost begged him.
“My enthusiasm for you makes me heedless, quite like a boy with his first…never mind.�
�� He drew her into his arms and kissed her softly. “Maggie,” he whispered.
She melted into his arms, and he drew her down against his body. Their mouths met, and she gently ran her tongue along his closed lips. He sighed and opened his mouth. She took advantage and touched his tongue with hers. She refined his kissing. She teased him, dancing with his tongue, tangling, soothing, stroking, retreating, and attacking. Her teeth nipped his chin and throat. He moved in restless agitation in her arms, his warm chest rubbing over hers. Her nipples ached and so did her insides.
If Kered wanted her, he could have her.
She wanted him beyond all reason. Her sanity flew away. In tutoring him, she’d snared herself in a trap so strong, she’d never escape. Didn’t want to escape—ever.
He made deep, Kered growls in his throat. When she tried to pull back, he held her fast, drinking in her nectar.
She had taught him well, and like an able student, he did more than required, adding his own essence to the heady lessons.
Maggie knew that she loved him.
His heart thundered against her breast. “Do you feel what I feel?” he asked between shuddering gasps for air.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” She drew his mouth to hers again.
The moment was perfect.
They were finally clean.
They both wanted the same thing.
“Yes. Yes,” she panted.
They fell off the bench.
Chapter Eighteen
“Maggie?’’ Kered shoved himself up from the cold marble floor. Maggie remained stretched out where they’d fallen, eyes closed, her hair spread like a pool of black ink about her head. He swallowed hard. His head ached. His mouth was dry. “Maggie,” he whispered.
Gently, he traced a red mark on her forehead. She did not move. With a bellow, he called the attendant, then gathered her up.
She lay like a broken bird in his arms, her limbs sprawled across his lap. Kered willed Maggie to open her eyes, speak, rail at him, anything. She did none of those things. She lay pale and silent as death.
