Marcus cocked his brow. “Can you not remember what he did to you once I was arrested?"
She sat silent, unable to look into the past of the woman's life she now lived. Fear blocked the dark memories.
He kneeled before her. “Julia, he lusted for you. He kept you close, waiting for you to mature."
She shook her head in her refusal to believe. “No, that can't be possible."
"'Tis true. I knew this. He would watch you sleep in your chambers. I kept guard because I was ordered to keep you ... chaste."
Shadows of memories flitted through her mind. Dark forms in the night coming to her, taking her, forcing her body into submission.
"I assume he made sure he ruined you for any other man.” Marcus was apologetic in his tone.
Terror and pain coursed through her veins. The memories were not hers. She was living in the body of a woman sexually assaulted by Caesar, her trusted uncle. The pain was so vivid from the girl's point of view she chose to forget the episode. Betrayal. Pain. Heartache. Lady Julia had placed the violation out of her mind to cope.
"Julia, listen to me. I will not let him hurt you ever again. Never. I would die for you first."
"This is just too horrid to bear,” she whispered.
He took her into his arms and she found comfort in his warmth, his unconditional acceptance. Marcus loved her regardless of everything, even rape.
"Is Caesar's treatment of your body the secret you hold from me?” he asked gently.
"No.” She had to tell him, the secret burned within her soul.
"Will you confide in me?"
She closed her eyes and breathed him in, a mixture of sweat, leather and masculine virility. “Yes, but I doubt you will believe it when I tell you. I hardly believe it myself."
"What is it?"
Julia pulled out of his arms and rose from the floor. She began to pace their tent, and Marcus watched her in confused silence.
"I am not who you think I am. I look like Lady Julia, but she is not me.” She glanced at him and he waited for her to continue. “My name is Julia Williamson, and I work for the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City in the year 2007. I was working on translating some scrolls found on a construction site in Rome. When I said aloud a spell of uniting lost lovers, I passed out only to wake up here in this body. I was still reeling from the shock when I met you that first night."
Stunned—it was plain upon his face. She stood looking at him, hoping he'd not laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
"You are from the future?"
"Yes. I know it is hard to believe, but I swear it is true."
He continued to sit in silence.
"Marcus?"
"Julia, I ... I don't even know what to say."
"That isn't all. I know how history plays out for Julius Caesar."
That sparked his interest. He cocked a brow but said nothing. The shock of her words was hard to digest.
She paused a moment. Should she risk telling him the outcome of history, the murder of Julius by the Senators?
"Go on, Julia. Tell me,” he said softly.
Yes, she could tell him. She sat down on the pillows next to him. “On March fifteenth, Julius Caesar will be murdered. All of Rome will be tossed into chaos. Marc Antony will lead the search for those who killed Caesar. Men will try to escape to no avail. Blood will wash over the land until Octavian prevails and becomes Caesar Augustus, the first emperor of Rome."
"Octavian Emperor?” he asked incredulously.
"Yes, there will be civil war over the divided states. Caesarians versus the Republicans; Octavian versus Brutus. A settlement will be found, but only to result in civil war again. Octavian in the end will become the victor. He actually goes on to rule a long time and Rome is prosperous."
"This is really hard to believe.” He shook his head in amazement.
"I agree."
He sat in silence, digesting her words.
Was she right to tell him of her time traveling? She had a hard time believing the situation, but how would Marcus take it? Could he possibly understand everything she was saying—and the depth of the importance the events of Caesar's death had upon world history?
"I do not completely understand all you are telling me, Julia. You say you are from the future, yet...?"
"I know. It is confusing. I'm not sure I completely understand. My body did not actually leap through time, my spirit has, and landed in the body of Caesar's niece."
He lifted a finger to her face and traced her jaw with a gentle touch. “So, I have fallen for Julia from another time."
"Are you sad I am not the Julia you knew years ago?"
He shook his head. “Of course not. You were the woman I found paradise with when I was in chains, a prisoner of Caesar. You saved me from death at the palace."
"But I don't think you would have even been ordered to fight at the palace if not for me."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Sooner or later, Caesar would have made me his personal entertainment. It was only a matter of time.” Silence stretched between them, then he asked, “Can you return to your time?"
She sat back down on the pillows, not trusting her shaking legs to hold her up at the moment. “I really don't know.” She reached out and touched his face. “I just know I recited the spell and then I woke up here."
He turned his head to her fingers and kissed them lightly. “The gods brought you to me."
She smiled and he took her by the shoulders and kissed her. Melting into his kiss, time had no meaning. She had traveled back for this man. He was her destined love. He had listened to her unbelievable ramblings of spells and time travel with openness and understanding. Even explaining it to him, she was shocked by the feat. She sifted through time into ancient Rome and into the arms of a mighty Gladiator.
"Marcus,” she pleaded in a whisper.
She was hungry for his touch, needing his hands upon her body. His skin burned against hers in a fiery passion. His fingers molded her to his body, her softness into his hard planes. Julia ran her fingers through his thick hair and urged him further, pleading with him to take her once again.
He gently pushed her back onto the pillows, his mouth devouring her, tasting her. She answered with fervor, opening her body to his demands.
"Before I die,” he whispered against her lips, “I want to hear you tell me that you love me."
Tears filled her eyes, yet he seemed unaffected by her silence.
"You will. Of this I have no doubt.” He reached beneath the hem of her sheath dress and mapped a path with his fingers up her thigh to her sex. He ran his fingertips through her wet folds, and she moaned into his kiss, increasing her hold upon his shoulders.
He pushed a finger up into her sheath and she cried out in joy. Never in her wildest dreams could such sensations exist, but Marcus knew how to send her senses reeling and her body into heavenly spasms. He moved his finger, joined by a second, in and out of her, and she gasped with each sensual movement. He curled his fingers forward inside her, massaging her elusive G-spot, and she shattered. Like a mirror crashing into thousands of shards of glass, she rode the height of orgasm, screaming out his name.
He whisked off her dress and climbed atop of her, and she moaned at the masculine weight pushing her down into the soft pillows beneath her. Sweat, leather, and Marcus’ own scent filled her nostrils as he nudged open her legs. She lifted her hips to him, and he entered her in a quick thrust, filling her channel, stretching the intimate muscles of her sex. She wrapped her legs about his in an attempt to bring him deeper into her. Their physical bodies joined and mated and she was well aware of the emotional connection building with each union.
Julia couldn't deny the love in her heart. It was there. She loved Marcus passionately, yet her heart ached. This wonderful man was from the past and only a freak spark of magic had brought her back to steal a few moments of bliss within his arms. But what if she'd never said those words from the scroll? Would Marcu
s be making love to the tortured soul of Caesar's niece?
She couldn't be entirely sure. Marcus proclaimed loving her for years, but she had only come back in time a few days ago. Was the love he felt for her, or another woman entirely?
His pace quickened and he pumped his cock into her, building to his own release. As he thrust faster, Julia lost her doubt for a few moments. Marcus was making love to her, not another woman. She brought about his passion and desire as he hit a crescendo and came, spilling his heated essence into her. She joined his climax with her own, holding onto his body as she rode out the pounding waves of orgasm.
She kissed his shoulder where his neck met his body, licking the salty perspiration, tasting the simple joy of life with each pass of her tongue over his tone, tanned skin.
"I love you, Julia,” he whispered as he nuzzled her hair. He lay down to her side, never breaking his hold upon her body. “You give this slave the will to carry on another day. For that I am grateful."
She relaxed into his embrace. “Marcus,” she said in a soft voice.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, and she sighed. Their legs were entangled together, and Julia glanced up to his face. So handsome and rugged. His eyes were cold and ruthless in battle, but now, a soft warmth radiated from their blue depths. Love. She recognized the strength of his love from one look from his eyes.
She lifted her hand and touched his face. The short stubble on his jaw rubbed her sensitive fingertips and she smiled. “I love you."
His smile was genuine, heartfelt as he cupped her face with one hand and said, “I will honor your love, Julia. All I ask is that you love me, stand by me in the coming days, make my final days in this world complete by giving me your heart."
"I do not like to hear you talk about dying."
He shook his head. He gently touched his thumb to her bottom lip. “I am a condemned man. Caesar will see his wishes carried out. It is only a matter of time."
"But..."
"No. There is no escaping my fate. I will not turn and run from it. That is not who I am.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss her lightly on the lips. The gentle brush of his lips against hers sent chills coursing through her veins.
In her heart, she knew he was right. He couldn't run from a fight. As a man, he couldn't run away without it costing him his pride and honor. As a Gladiator, it was against his training, his very existence. These were things she tried to understand about Marcus. He was a man living dangerously in another time. Life meant little here, and the life of a slave even less.
She closed her eyes to the reality as he continued his sensual assault. He kissed her chin and then her jaw. She gave herself over to the pleasure, drowning out the painful thoughts. She would not think on tomorrow. She was in love with Marcus, her Gladiator lover, and for him, each day was a gift from the gods.
He kissed her neck and she sighed. She threaded her fingers into his hair, and breathed in his scent. He surrounded her with his presence, possessed her with his touch, commanded her responses with every pass of his lips upon her skin.
"Marcus,” she whispered.
He licked and kissed her neck, mapping an erotic trail down to a breast. He sucked in the hardened pebble-like tip and she tightened her grip on his hair. He nipped the end and she bucked beneath him. “Marcus, please,” she pleaded.
He lavished upon one breast, and then the other, driving her wild with a growing need only he could fulfill. He released a tender nipple and moved back up her body for another kiss. The heat radiating his skin seemed to wrap about her. She moaned at the contact of her bare skin rubbing along his nude body. Toned muscle, sinew, and smooth skin tantalized her further into heights she'd only recently discovered.
His kiss was demanding and possessive. He hungered for her and, as he feasted upon her mouth, she opened to him, offering him her heart, body, and soul.
He rolled her over atop of him, never breaking their kiss. In an instant, she was impaled upon his cock. She cried out at the heated length filling her so quickly. She leaned up from his kisses and sat down further, taking him deeper into her channel. He placed his hands upon her hips and guided her movements. She arched her back, leaning back, taking him even deeper still.
She lost sense of time or place as she succumbed to her primal desires. His cock filled her completely, the thick head pushed against her cervix. At each push, she climbed high in her ecstasy. Every vein, each pulsing vessel seemed to come alive within her. She ground her hips into him, and he moaned.
"Beautiful,” he murmured and she gazed down at his face. His eyes were hot with a fiery passion she ignited. And yet she wanted to drive him further along the path of pleasure.
Flexing her hips, she rode him, and then she ran her hands over her body slowly, starting at her thighs and upward. She enjoyed the touch of her own fingertips against her sensitive skin, but it was his gaze of heated desire that excited her. Up her torso she lightly grazed her skin, and his eyes followed every inch of her progress. When she reached the curve of her breasts, she slowed her movements, caressing the full mounds lightly. She licked her lips as she cupped her breasts, feeling their weight within her palms. With a pinch to the taut peaks, she moaned.
He growled, unable to pull his gaze from her teasing her flesh into heightened pleasure. Then he leaned up, cupped her face between his hands and kissed her with a primal passion. Her body began to spasm as she hit the peak of euphoria and came. She tried to scream, but he swallowed her cries with his kiss. He wrapped his arms about her body and flipped her over onto her back. Unable to react as she rode out her climax, he pumped into her body with a possessive purpose. He came in heated bursts of semen deep within her channel. His movements brought on another climax and she surrendered once again to the uncontrolled reactions of her body.
Moments later, they lay together upon the pillows, a tangle of limbs and sweat slick skin. She breathed in the scent of sex and smiled as she relished the man holding her close. With Marcus, she felt complete. He was her destined love, and she had traveled back in time to meet him.
She pushed away the worries of the future and swore to herself to enjoy the time they had together to the fullest. She knew in her heart, the day of the race was the last day she'd ever see him—alive.
Chapter Seven
"Why do I wait to see him dead?” Julius Caesar growled as he paced his bedchamber.
His Egyptian Queen lover lay watching him from his bed. “Because if you kill him, a champion of Rome, you will make him a martyr. You risk the anger of the people,” she said with little passion edging her voice.
"Anger of the people,” he repeated to himself mockingly. “Nothing but a mob cheering on the blood spewing from the next victim for their entertainment."
"Marcus is beloved by the mob because he gives them what they want—a show with every swing of his sword."
"He defies me. She defies me.” Julius saw red at the image of Julia striding out of the palace with Marcus in tow as her slave. His spies had informed Caesar that she'd taken Marcus on as her lover. The slave touched her, seduced her ... loved her. It was enough for him to order the execution of Marcus. Julia was his. She belonged to him. Her fate, her future, her husband would be of his choosing. Now, she was tainted by Marcus, a lowly slave. How could she take a slave into her bed?
Cleopatra pushed back the covers to their bed, her radiant skin glowing with life and vitality. Her curves were a temptation, and she smiled. His mouth began to water with want to taste her sweet cream once again.
"Is a woman with the power to stand up to Caesar as appealing as a woman who submits to his every whim?” Cleopatra's naked body tempted him, but he stood rooted to the spot, watching her dip her fingers down to the apex of her thighs. She spread her legs and he was graced with the sight of the pink petals of her sex glistening with moisture.
Perhaps she was right. Julia's defiance heated his blood, much like the night he'd condemned Marcus to become a Gladiator. Now, years later, he wan
ted her again. But not as a virginal lover. He wanted her to produce the next ruler of Rome.
His wife, Calpurnia, had given him no children. He hoped Julia could be married to a man of influence and produce a ruler of Rome. Years before, he'd hoped the liaison with his young niece would produce the next Caesar, but it had never come to be. Later, he set his focus upon marrying her off to a wealthy aristocrat in Roman society, one close to the royal bloodline. She might not produce the next ruler, but perhaps her offspring would one day inherit the role as Caesar.
His nephew, Octavian, would become ruler upon his death. He was a young man ready to lead the people into a future of wealth and prosperity. He had even secured Octavian's position to inherit by adopting the young man to alleviate problems within the Senate.
As for Julia, he had hoped to match her with Marcus Antonius, his military commander and administrator, but Antony had married Octavian's sister, Octavia. Despite his sharp intelligence and bright future, Antony had a roving eye ... and it was focused upon his own lover, Cleopatra.
"I heard your wife came to see you today.” Cleopatra smiled as she continued to stroke herself.
"Calpurnia said she had a vision."
"And what, by the gods, was this vision?"
"My death."
She stopped her sexual seduction and sat up in bed. Her naked breasts held his gaze when she asked, “She saw your death in a vision?"
He knew the true meaning behind her interest. She was as keen as his hunting falcon, and her claws were just as dangerous. “She saw my statue covered in blood, and the people of Rome washing their hands within it."
"Holy Isis,” she whispered. “Can this be possible?"
He sniffed a laugh as he lay down upon the bed next to his lover. He laid a hand upon her breast and pinched a nipple to a taut point. “In Rome, a ruler has his enemies. I can not hide away from danger. I did not build this Republic by hiding."
She stroked his face and his blood warmed. “Do not think upon your niece, her slave lover or your overwrought wife. Tonight, think of only love, my Caesar. Rule my body, command me to your will."
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