The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance

by Kayse, Joan

  She threw her hands up in the air. “Who would know? Who?”

  He crossed his arms. “A servant coming in to awaken us. Perhaps someone watching from the balcony.”

  He could not be serious. “The balcony? Someone would climb up the side of this dwelling to peer in our bedchamber?” She realized she had slipped and referred to the room as belonging to both of them. Was it any wonder with his infuriating ways?

  “Spying from an exterior opening is an oft-used method,” he answered in a bored voice. “How else would I know that Magistrate Aulus forces his mistress to wear a sheep skin and make bleating noises while they...”

  Julia halted his explanation with a raised hand. He had to be making this up. Stealing a peek at the gleam in his eyes told her he wasn’t. Dear Jupiter, the images that were branded in her mind now would take weeks to disappear.

  “All right. Fine.” She snarled, striding around the dais and snatching up a round pillow from first one divan then the other, throwing them on the bed. Her teeth ground together. She could feel him watching and knew, just knew he was finding her amusing and thought that he had won the upper hand.

  With five more cushions added to the pile, Julia climbed up on her knees into the bed and lined them down the middle of the pallet. Glaring triumphantly at him over the barrier, she pointed to the other side. “You are welcome to sleep in the master’s bed, but if you even so much as release a breath on this side of the barrier I will throw you in the Tiber myself! Now, I am going to sleep.”

  Julia blew out the oil lamp beside the bed, slipped beneath the covers, turned on her right side and held her breath. Damon had been silent during her little tirade. She wasn’t sure how he would react. They were alone here in the bedchamber and though Kaj was no doubt very close by, there was no telling what her husband could do to her before aid arrived.

  A shadow flitted at the foot of the bed. Julia glanced down and saw the corner of the silk robe lying across the covers. Dear Gods, he had been all but naked beneath the garment. Behind her the mattress dipped.

  “Sleep well, wife.”

  Julia squeezed her eyes shut. She doubted she’d ever sleep well again.

  Chapter Twelve

  The scent of roses stirred him from his dreams.

  Damon woke from a fitful sleep to find the wall of pillows scattered on the floor and Julia spooned against him, one of his legs trapping hers and his face nestled in a soft blanket of honeyed tresses. He inhaled the luscious scent that was hers alone.

  Careful not to disturb her, Damon propped his head on one hand and studied his goddess. She lay curled on her right side, tucked into the curve of his body. It was a perfect fit, as if her lithe, slender form had been fashioned to complement his own. Gods, it felt wonderful.

  Damon smiled at the small bolster pillow fisted in one of her delicate hands. A formidable weapon indeed, especially if she awoke now and discovered him so close, though the image of Julia straddling him, skin flush with temper, breasts bouncing as she pummeled him with the cushion sent a bolt of heat through his loins.

  He knew he should move away but the temptation to explore was too great even for a disciplined man. A few more moments spent appreciating her beauty would not constitute a breach of honor—at least not a large one.

  With two fingers, he lifted a tangle of curls away from her cheek, revealing the fine line of her neck. The skin looked so soft, so smooth and flowed like silk along the graceful curve of her shoulder down the arm draped loosely across her waist. Damon flexed his free hand. It was hard and calloused, the blunt tips of his fingers rough and unsuited for touching silk.

  Fortunately, years of rummaging through locked coffers, correspondence and other possessions of Tertius’ enemies had given him a light touch.

  Using his forefinger, Damon lightly skimmed the trail of lush skin. Julia shivered as if she were cold while his blood sparked with heat. Let it be a small voice in the back of his mind urged, you’ve had a taste, more than someone like you deserves. Be satisfied. The consequences are too great. He pressed his lips together. In the Roman world he, a slave, would be killed for daring to touch a patrician lady. He trusted that instinct, had escaped several nasty situations in the past by paying attention to it.

  Julia sighed and nestled closer against him, causing the desire heating his blood to flare. This situation could hardly be called dangerous as long as he was in control. One more moment could bring no harm.

  The sleeve of her tunic was gathered at her shoulder with a silken tie. Damon eased the end of the cord away and bit by bit pulled the knot free. The material fell away exposing one perfect breast.

  Damon sucked in a breath. Perfect. A globe fit just for his hand, the tip pebbled and pink and begging to be suckled. His blood flamed and his shaft went hard. Mocking laughter echoed in his head.

  He’d never considered himself a glutton but he wanted more. More, he suddenly realized than mere physical release, more than a base seduction. He wanted to feel Julia beneath him, willing and eager for his caress, wanted to see her eyes go dark with desire—for him.

  He might as well wish for a seat on Olympus.

  It would never happen. No matter that Julia had accepted him to an extent, allowed him limited freedoms, even relaxed enough to converse with him—he was still her prisoner, held to her by oath, if not by chains. Damon pressed his lips together tightly. Held to her by law if she were to press the matter. She had paid coin for him. A few words to the proper authorities and she could have him declared a slave once more.

  Damon pulled his gaze from the gentle rise and fall of her chest to the dim corner of the room, an apt reflection of his life. Always on the periphery of happiness, able to watch from the shadows but never allowed to enjoy. The bitter truth of the comparison constricted his chest.

  Julia made a small, mewling noise, her brow creased in confusion as she tossed her head back and forth. He stroked her hair, murmured soothing words in a barely audible voice that he hoped would banish whatever nightmare disturbed her rest. After a few moments, she settled, though her squirming against his groin had done nothing to ease his arousal.

  This woman intrigued him—that was the simple truth of it. Not so much her obvious strength and determination—he’d known plenty of women with those traits as a slave and as a spy mingling with the working class plebeians who needed every strength just to survive the streets of Rome. It was the passion, the fiery spirit simmering just below the surface, ready to meet any challenge that fascinated him. He respected that kind of courage.

  Damon blew out a slow breath. Yes, he respected her and wanted her respect in return—which he would never gain rutting around her like a wild beast. Resigned and cursing the entire concept of honor, he reached over, snagged the edge of the sleeve material, raised it to her shoulder and froze, caught in the gaze of two turquoise eyes.

  *****

  Julia resisted the urge to sink back into the grogginess of deep sleep. It was dangerous to go back there, to the dreams that were filled with visions of Damon. She closed her eyes. The Greek god Eros must have visited her, plied his mischief by filling her with images of Damon holding her, stroking her, kissing her like a man possessed. A smile tugged at her lips. It had felt wonderful to be touched, to be wanted in such a manner even if it were nothing more than fantasy.

  She dragged her eyes back open, blinked, and frowned. Why was Damon looking so wary? This Damon looked like a little boy might after being caught stealing a honey cake before dinner. Her heart clutched at the sweetness of it. She raised her hand and touched the side his face. The lingering fog of sleep dissolved at the warm flesh of his angled jaw.

  Julia held his gaze, watched in fascination as his eyes visibly darkened with desire related, it seemed, to the tiny strokes she was making to the coarse stubble of his beard. Beneath her hand the muscle in his cheek jumped.

  Fully awake now, she realized that the pillows at her back had not suddenly turned to brick as in her dream, but all Damon
—lean, hard muscle that seared her skin through the thin material of her sheath. His long, muscled leg had both of hers pinned but oddly, she did not feel constrained.

  He was watching her, waiting for her to scream, to call for rescue. It was exactly what she should do, call for Kaj to escort him back to the spartan storeroom, secure him under lock and key. Save her from all the sensations, the want, the need for him created in her dreams, the very real feelings that now plucked at her, threatening to breach the barriers that must be between them.

  Instead, Julia slid her hand down and mimicked his earlier action, rubbed her thumb along the line of his bottom lip. It was as she had imagined, firm and full. Holding her gaze, Damon turned his head and kissed her palm. Heat flared in her belly.

  The tender gesture touched her heart. Wondering if she hadn’t at last gone mad, Julia shifted around to face him, slipped both hands around the strong column of his throat, beneath the soft, thick hair brushing his shoulders and kneaded the back of his neck.

  “Julia?” he whispered, his voice roughened, his hand sliding up and down her arm.

  She heard the question in his voice and for once in her life she had no words to explain. In the far corners of her mind, her proper, patrician, self, demanded to know what in the gods name was she doing? But the woman here, now, in Damon’s embrace ignored the fear in favor of the curiosity begun by erotic dreams of this man.

  Julia tugged on his neck. Damon did not move, only raised a brow and continued to watch her. Julia felt a flash of uncertainty. She was inexperienced in these matters, had suffered only awkward kisses as a young girl by a lad too eager and just as immature as she had been. Did he think her awkward and silly? Her naiveté was not so pronounced that she did not realize he’d known other lovers, lovers more skillful than she, women who knew what pleased a man.

  Damon’s lips curved into an amused smile.

  Julia frowned. “You mock me?”

  The smile vanished. “Never, goddess.”

  She held her breath as he untied the other sleeve of her tunic and pulled away the fabric so that both of her breasts were exposed to his view. Julia’s mouth went dry beneath his hungry gaze. Anticipation caused her to shiver.

  Saying nothing, he dipped his head and claimed her mouth, catching her surprised gasp as he fondled one breast with his hand. Kneading and squeezing, his thumb teased the nipple, plucking it to a taut peak, sending white-hot streaks of pleasure coursing through her body. No dream had ever been so marvelous. “What are you doing?” she managed to ask in a shaky voice.

  “Worshiping a goddess.” He shifted so that his tongue laved the sensitive skin behind her ear. She closed her eyes and sighed. Oh, she liked that very much.

  Julia wanted him closer, wanted to do the same things to him. Spearing her fingers through the waves of his hair, she pressed her lips against the stubbled line of his jaw. Bolstered by Damon’s low growl, she drew him close, teased the edge of his mouth with her tongue, suckled and tasted.

  Damon responded by skimming his hand along her side down to the triangle of curls between her legs. Julia made a small mewling sound as he covered the tender bud nestled there with his palm and began to massage. She arched instinctively toward him. What in the name of the gods was he doing? And why didn’t he do it harder? Those thoughts scattered to the winds when he slipped his finger deep inside her.

  The pressure of his palm continued, his finger stroking her, urging her toward a pinnacle she had never known existed but was suddenly desperate to reach. His lips never left her, nipping, plundering, consuming, until she feared she would go mad. When he withdrew his hand she made a noise of protest and slapped at his arm.

  *****

  Julia was in a fine temper now, Damon thought as he rose up on one arm and met her glare of pure frustration.

  And he loved it.

  The play of emotion across her face had been a wonder to watch. He’d been unprepared for such an ardent response from her, fought against guilt realizing that she might still be bleary-headed from sleep and unaware of her actions. But her innocent advances fired his blood and when she offered no protest to his exploration of her beautiful body? Well, he’d given into the reckless side of his nature—which always got him in trouble.

  Damon closed his eyes reveling in the smooth touch of Julia’s hands along his chest, his arms. She touched him as a woman touched a man, the brush of her fingers stirring his blood into a boil. His muscles clenched when her hand drifted to his lower abdomen and reached for his thickening shaft. He sucked in sharply as she stroked the sensitive head with one finger.

  Yes, he was in trouble.

  “Damon!”

  He studied her face, lips swollen from his kisses, a love bite blooming on her neck, her eyes flashing fire. Gone was the dignified, proper, impetuous, stubborn Roman lady. In her place he held a woman so full of passion and life that for the first time in his existence he wanted something for himself—he wanted Julia.

  Something he could not have.

  He clenched his jaw at the stark truth of the matter. He couldn’t have this dream anymore than he could the others he’d been foolish enough to wish for in his life.

  “Damon?”

  The hint of pleading in Julia’s voice sparked a bit of male satisfaction in him, but that she called him by name instead of what he was—an imposter, a slave—pleased him more. He pushed all of it aside. He could not let Julia continue down a path she did not understand, especially with someone like him leading the way. Toward that end lay nothing but bad fortune.

  “Mistress?”

  Damon glanced at the door to the chamber where he could just see Dorcas’ hand hesitating before entering. The maid could not know how grateful he was for the interruption. Damon kissed Julia on the cheek, tore his gaze away from the disappointment and confusion that flashed behind her eyes. He rolled off of her, missing the sweet heat of her body instantly, and sat up on the side of the bed. Better for her to be disappointed than filled with regrets.

  “Mistress?” Dorcas repeated in a loud whisper.

  “One moment, Dorcas.” Julia answered in a husky voice.

  Damon sensed movement behind him and waited quietly as Julia sat up and put her feet to the floor. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw her fumbling to tie her sleeves together. He should offer to help, allowing that he had been responsible for their present condition, but the rigid line of her back and agitated movements stayed his hand.

  “You may enter,” Julia called. The imperious edge to her voice caused him to cringe.

  Damon snatched the robe from the end of the bed and put it on as the maid eased into the room. Her assessing gaze slid back and forth between Julia’s chilled tone and the scowl he knew marked his face. The gossip in the kitchens would be prime today.

  “I beg your forgiveness, mistress. It is well past the morning’s first light and when you had not summoned me...Well,” Dorcas cast her eyes down. “I...I did not mean to interrupt the master’s rest.”

  “Oh, the master is well rested,” replied Julia, casting him a dismissive look.

  So, the arrogant, patrician lady had returned. He hadn’t expected her to acknowledge the passion that had sizzled between them, and refused to set any meaning to the twinge of disappointment it left, but by Hades, he would not be treated like a slave used to pleasure the mistress. Playing that role many times under Tertius’ directive had been more than enough for one lifetime. He’d thought life as a slave demeaning until he’d spent a week chained to a matron’s bed. And damn him if the image of being captive on Julia’s bed in the same manner didn’t cause his cock to harden further.

  With effort he stood and stretched his arms, bestowing a dazzling smile on Dorcas. “My wife speaks true. I always feel refreshed after strenuous exercise.” With a wink at the now blushing maid, he started for the door, pausing beside Julia. Her ire was palpable, spilling out in waves. A lesser man might be overcome. He waited the span of two heartbeats before catchi
ng her lightly by the shoulders. Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to the soft skin behind her ear, the area he now knew she favored and smiled as she shuddered beneath his hands. Savoring the satisfaction, he strolled out of the room.

  *****

  An hour later, Damon made his way back down the corridor feeling more focused than he had since before his arrest. A long, hot soak in the baths had cleared his mind and had sharpened his resolve. He could no longer afford to bide his time pretending—and there was no other way to describe it—that he was leading a normal life. Not when doing so would endanger Julia and her family—and keep him too close to temptation.

  A man’s pride and good sense often flee before a woman’s comely attributes. He couldn’t recall if it was a Greek philosopher or another Pompeiian taverna poet who’d composed that bit of wisdom but the truth of it left a sour taste in his mouth.

  All of that foolishness was finished now. This morning’s incident would be buried in his memory along with the other futile events of his life. Julia would be just another means used to complete his mission. He reached the closed door of the bedchamber and paused. The challenge now, was informing Julia that they, no he, would not wait for Quintus to act. The goddess’ plan was about to change.

  “Faust! Do not let him see!”

  Damon turned, catching Aunt Sophia by the shoulders as she skidded to a halt behind him. A breathless and frazzled Helena caught up.

  “Forgive me, Master,” the maid said panting. “I vow the mistress sprouts wings when she becomes disturbed.”

  “It’s all right, Helena.” He gentled his grip and leaned down to hold Sophia’s nervous gaze. “Aunt Sophia. Be calm. There is nothing to concern you.”

  “No!” the older woman said in a strained whisper, her eyes widening. “He will see and the family will die.”

  Damon frowned and glanced at Helena. The girl shrugged.