The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance

by Kayse, Joan

  It couldn’t be. Julia Manulus could not be entering a stable. Damon rubbed his hand over his face. The place was made for animals and while Flavian’s boys kept the floor swept clean with fresh hay and straw in abundance for the half-dozen horses and one cantankerous donkey it housed, it was still no place for patrician ladies or goddesses.

  “Damon?”

  Damon remained very still, took short, shallow breaths. No one knew of this place, a small stone perch near the lone window in the loft. It had been his place as a boy, somewhere he could spend a few precious moments away from the duties of a slave, think and dream and wonder if his lot in life would ever change. He listened to the rustle of straw, heard his goddess murmur to one of the horses that nickered a greeting. Well, his life had changed and he had no clue what to do about it.

  Watching the birth of Jared and Bryna’s son had struck him like a thunderbolt. In that one moment he knew he wanted to build a family, wanted to do it with Julia. Damon knew it couldn’t happen. Roman law forbade it, society scorned it and when it got down to it, he would never allow Julia to throw her life away.

  But that reasoning did nothing to ease the hunger that gnawed at him.

  “Damon?”

  Damon fisted his hand. Gods, why was she still here? It was a small stable and he hadn’t answered her call. He needed time away from the situation, room to clear his head, get his perspective back, and he could only do that away from Julia.

  A faint rustling noise sounded from the edge of the loft floor. Damon narrowed his eyes in the dim light and could see a lump of straw moving in his direction. How could the stable have rats when that demon cat of Bryna’s was always lurking about? Before he’d finished the thought, the lump of straw exploded with a loud yowl and a bundle of orange fur leapt at him.

  Damon managed not to snarl when the huge feline landed with a thud on his stomach but when the creature dug its claws into both of his legs, he released a loud hiss. For one long moment, Cuini sat nose to nose with him wearing what Damon swore was an arrogant smirk.

  “Damon?”

  Even as he heard the ladder creak he forced himself to remain silent. Julia was not a stupid woman. The ladder was old and unstable and goddesses were not known for climbing into lofts.

  Another creak. Damon circled Cuini’s fat middle and pried her claws out of his leg. With one smooth motion, he tossed the cat toward the ladder. The beast landed agilely on its feet, turned and hissed at him before leaping to the stable floor.

  Julia’s startled gasp gave him grim satisfaction. That ought to send her scurrying back to the domus and he could return to his dark thoughts.

  An ear-splitting howl from the cat nearly obliterated the noise of climbing. Damon stared in disbelief as one slender hand groped the edge of the loft for purchase. Another followed while the upper braces of the ladder shuddered and slid along the side.

  Damon scrambled away from the wall, just managing to grab the end before it toppled backward.

  “Woman, what in the name of Jupiter is wrong with you?” he growled.

  Julia narrowed her eyes. “I knew you were up here.”

  “You knew nothing of the sort,” he shot back. “Now go back to the house before you hurt yourself.”

  “Not until we’ve talked.”

  Gods, she wanted to talk. He would rather endure ten lashes than talk.

  Julia put her foot on the next rung. “I want to know why you left.”

  To get away from this, he thought, looking down into her upturned face. There was a smudge of dirt on her left cheek, close to that dimple that drove him wild, and pieces of straw clung to the front of her dress. She’d never looked more beautiful. This woman had completely turned his gut inside out, unbalanced his entire world and had him believing there was a chance for happiness in his life.

  He sat back on his heels. “Return to the house, Julia.”

  Julia glared at him, set her jaw and stepped up on the next rung. Her eyes rounded as the wood splintered under her weight. With a cry she swayed free, hanging onto the ladder with one hand.

  Damon lunged forward and caught her by the wrist just as her other foot slipped. The muscles in Damon’s arms bunched as he gripped her with both hands. “Give me your other arm,” he instructed.

  Julia flailed and twisted in the air until at last she was able to bring her other arm toward him. Damon caught it, braced his legs and lifted her into the loft. The force of it tumbled them backward with Julia landing exactly where Damon did not wish her to be—on top of him. The pressure of her breasts rubbing against his chest with each short, gasping breath was like torture with a red-hot brand.

  He pushed up on his elbows and all but tossed her off of him. “Are you hurt?”

  Julia struggled to a sitting position, swiped bits of straw from her arms. “Only a few scratches,” she answered, eyeing him warily. “I imagine if I’d fallen there would have been more than that.”

  “A good deal more.” An image of Julia’s body lying twisted and broken on the ground flashed through his mind fueling his already foul temper. “Have you lost your mind? You’re a patrician lady. You do not climb ladders.”

  “Not of late,” she agreed, “but as a girl I used to climb all manner of things.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “Trees in particular were a great source of amusement for a lone child.”

  “You had your brother,” he answered gruffly.

  “Who was in swaddling clothes and completely useless to me.” She tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Although I did use a basket once and tried to pull him up to join me in a game. Mother did not find that amusing.”

  Damon rubbed his tired eyes. “You should not have come here Julia. What if someone saw you? Your reputation would be ruined.”

  “My reputation ruined for coming to see my husband?”

  “I’m not your husband!” he thundered. He fisted a hand against his forehead, took several calming breaths, and looked at her from beneath his lashes. Julia sat motionless, watching him as if he’d sprouted two heads. He had agreed to this scheme and it was not her fault that he now wished he’d simply disappeared and never come to care for her family, to fall in love with a goddess.

  Damon stared at her. Gods, he was in love with Julia.

  His anger flared hot along with the panic. “This is my world, Julia,” he said sharply, sweeping his hand to indicate the stable. “That odor you smell is animal dung. You can cover it up as you will with the sweet smell of hay, but beneath it all it is still dung. This is where I’ve lived my life, Julia. This is where I belong.”

  “And you’ve made yourself quite comfortable there too.”

  Damon clenched his jaw, her accusation stinging like vinegar on an open wound. “You know nothing about it.”

  “Oh, but I do,” she answered. “Ever since we’ve met, you’ve been quick to put labels on me. You say the word patrician like a curse. You make assumptions about my life, about my father, my family, my world.”

  “Your pardon, my lady,” he said in a tight voice, “I’d not expect someone of your social status to share the perceptions of a slave, a boy...a man owned like cattle.”

  “You were not mistreated when you served your master,” she said evenly. “You could not have been and be as close as you are with Jared. He is like a brother to you.”

  He had dreaded Julia finding out about his connection with Jared but had no argument against her statement. He and Jared had become friends long before Damon had gained his freedom. They were equal if not by law, by bond.

  But it could not be the same with Julia.

  Damon tensed when she placed her hand on his arm.

  “Damon, you have proven your honor over and again, your integrity has been a hundred times that of anyone I’ve known save my father.”

  The smooth, soft skin of her hand felt like heaven against the heat of his skin, distracting him from his temper until she spoke.

  “You are of the nobility.”

>   He froze, searched her face for the haughty, the imperious, but finding only earnestness.

  Her gaze locked upon his. “Bryna has told me of your birthright,” she swallowed hard, but her gaze did not waver. “We can restore you to it. We’ll find a way.”

  Damon growled, acted on instinct, blocked her startled gasp from his mind as he pulled her to her knees. Julia gave a token struggle before he speared his fingers through her hair and forced her to look at him. She was a stubborn woman, an arrogant patrician. She knew nothing about him, nothing about his life. He would show her the type of honor he possessed. He would make her understand.

  *****

  Julia held Damon’s gaze, drawn by the myriad emotions playing behind the glittering silver of his eyes. She would not cower before him, no matter how fierce he looked, no matter how barbaric he acted. She had goaded him on purpose. He’d spent far too many years hiding behind the injustice of his past and it was time he came to realize the kind of man that adversity had forged.

  Though at the moment, he did not appear to be any kind of man but a predator. A shiver skittered up her spine at the raw hunger rippling within the heat and desire. He must have sensed her notice of it, for a feral smile curved his lips and his eyes burned with it. Before she could take a second thought he took her mouth in a savage kiss.

  His mouth was hot, firm, demanding and it robbed her of breath. She parted her lips, moaned when his tongue plunged in, stroking and teasing the deepest recesses of her mouth. She melted inside, the taste of him an intoxicating elixir she’d come to crave. When he pulled back, she nipped at his lower lip in protest.

  Damon growled. With both hands, he pulled loose the combs that held her hair in place and tossed them into the straw. He threaded his fingers through her hair, spread the tresses until it hung loose around her shoulders. With one, firm tug he pulled her head back, exposed the column of her throat. Her eyes fluttered closed as he savaged her with the brand of his mouth, the nip of his teeth.

  “Look at me, Julia,” Damon demanded in a rough voice. “Open your eyes and see the kind of man I am. Tell me to stop.”

  She did as he commanded, met his fevered gaze but her compliance ended there. For all of her inexperience she was certain of only one thing—she wanted Damon.

  Damon cursed. “Command me to stop, Julia or I won’t be able to.”

  That was fortunate, she thought vaguely, as she did not want him to stop. She opened her mouth to tell him so but he growled again, the sound more of need than anger, and covered it with his own. There were so many emotions warring in this single kiss. Julia sensed them, welcomed them, offered her own by gripping the back of his head and urging him closer. Gods, she would never be able to get close enough to satisfy her need.

  Breaking their kiss, which elicited her own groan of protest, Damon tore the brooches holding the sleeves of her gown off, tossing them into the straw to be lost with her combs. The material of her dress floated to her waist, baring Julia to his hungry gaze. Her breasts tightened and grew heavy beneath his perusal and she gave a small moan when he cupped them in his hands.

  Julia struggled to keep her eyes open when all she wanted to do was close them and revel in the feel of his callused fingers plucking and teasing her nipples, which sent tiny pulses of throbbing pleasure between her thighs. The ache was almost unbearable, she thought then sucked in a sharp breath when he took a pebbled tip into his mouth and suckled hard. The pleasure increased tenfold. Gods.

  She arched her back so that Damon could feast on both breasts, gripped his shoulders as he laved each rosy peak with his tongue, scraping his teeth against the raised tips. He was torturing her, her muddled mind decided. He knew how to end the burning need that was building, threatening to consume her and he was withholding the secret to her release. She speared her fingers through his hair, tugging until he raised his head.

  “I told you goddess, I would not stop.” He took a ragged breath and savaged her mouth again. Pulling away he breathed against her ear. “I cannot stop.”

  Her own voice came out in a strained whisper. “I do not wish you to stop, only to hurry.”

  For the briefest moment, confusion creased his brow but when Julia offered him a tremulous smile, his expression grew serious and intense. In one fluid motion he stood, bringing her up with him. Before she had found solid footing, he lifted her into his arms and took two long steps to a pile of heaped straw.

  Her gown had slipped down her body. Damon finished stripping it off, threw it to the floor before laying her on her back.

  The dress was a poor blanket. The straw pricked her bare skin, but Julia barely noticed as she watched Damon strip his tunic over his head. The pearled moonlight that streamed through the single window danced with the shadows, enhanced the rugged angles of his face, the hard contours of his broad shoulders. She escaped his grasp and stroked the mat of crisp brown hair on his chest, followed it down to where it arrowed along the sculpted ridges of his belly, disappearing beneath his loincloth. A loincloth tented from the strain of his erection.

  Julia watched, anticipation blending with fear and curiosity into a raw ball of emotion. He raked his gaze over her, taking his leisure which annoyed her and that, she decided was his intent when a crooked smile lifted the corner of his mouth. She tried to think of a way to tell him to get on with it without seeming to beg when he freed himself from his loincloth. Her mouth went dry.

  He was huge, his shaft thick and swollen, jutting out in an almost prideful manner. Julia swallowed, fascinated by the sheer size of it. There was no way he would fit into her. She’d be torn asunder, ripped into pieces.

  Damon’s expression gentled, a sharp contrast to the searing lust in his eyes. With his knee he urged her legs apart, giving a low chuckle when she instinctively tried to close them back. He skimmed his hands along her ribs leaving tiny licks of fire in his wake. His gaze feasted on her breasts once again as one hand feathered down to the triangle of curls between her legs. His hands were hot on her chilled skin and soothing in their way, until she felt his erection, hard and demanding pressing against her stomach.

  She was not a coward, she was not. Pride slipped away. “Damon, I do not know...”

  Her anxiety drifted away as he started stroking her between her legs, searching and finding the sensitive nub buried in the damp curls. He alternated the pressure, light and fleeting one moment and firm and insistent the next. Julia sucked in a breath when he inserted first one and then two fingers into her body. He stroked and stretched increasing the pressure on that exquisite spot with his thumb, flames building hot and furious within her core. Oh, gods!

  She was hot and wet and desperate for relief from the rising inferno. Through dazed eyes she watched him position himself between her legs, felt the velvet tip of his shaft pressing for entry between her woman’s folds.

  Damon rose above her, placed his hands on either side of her head. He was holding back, every muscle quivering from the effort, the cords in his neck taut. His gaze was unwavering but his voice was strained when he spoke. “Are you ready for me, Julia?”

  Ready for him? Gods, she was more than ready and though she still feared the pain, she thought she might die if he did not. She nodded once.

  “Me, Julia,” he rumbled, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Are you ready to accept me?”

  Gods, he still had to ask? Then from out of her sex-fogged brain came the realization he meant more than his physical body. “Yes, Damon. Yes!”

  Relief flooded his features. He shifted slightly, took her mouth in a soft, languid kiss and pushed the tip of his shaft into her center.

  Julia tensed at the sensation. She could feel her body’s initial stretch as it sought to adjust to his length. This was not as uncomfortable as she’d feared it would be. A wave of relief swept through her. It actually felt very good. In fact, if she angled her hips just so... Damon trailed kisses down her neck until his mouth was warm upon her ear.

  “I will be as gentle as po
ssible.”

  Gentle? Julia ran her hands along his muscled arms, felt the tension within them. She started to reassure him that she was fine when he began to rock and with one, quick thrust he broke through her maiden’s barrier.

  Julia sucked in a breath at the sharp stab of pain then found she was unable to breathe at all while she tried to take in the feel of Damon’s hard cock buried so deep within her. She swallowed the cry that had clawed at her throat but she was unable to stop the tears that trickled from her eyes. She had heard Dorcas and the other maids speak of the pain when one lost their virginity. They had giggled and teased one another about the experience. Julia found nothing amusing about this. Was this the price demanded for the pleasure of their foreplay?

  She pushed at his arms but Damon would not budge. Instead, he kissed the tears from her cheek. Her heart filled with the tenderness of it and saw the pain ebb away. It began to feel natural now to have Damon withi her, almost as if the gods had destined Julia to be formed just for him. Her gaze rose, saw the question in his eyes. Raising a hand, she stroked his jaw and offered him a tremulous smile.

  Damon kissed her again and began to move, slowly at first, her body sheathing his shaft in a tight caress, each thrust stimulating some sensitive inner spot that was sending her to a pinnacle of sensation too much for any mortal woman to endure.

  Her breaths came in short gasps, as did Damon’s. Tentatively, she began to rock her hips, matching his rhythm. Damon growled and increased the pace, angling himself so that with each stroke he rubbed her woman’s mound.

  The pressure swelled, formed a tight knot of sensation. Gods, she would die if she did not find release. Damon was not moving fast enough. Not knowing what else to do, she clasped his shoulders and pulled at them, urged him on, her nails raking his back as he thrust harder and harder. Finally, thank the gods, finally, she reached the pinnacle she’d been so desperate to attain. A scream tore from her throat as she came in an explosion of white-hot sensation. A few strokes more and Damon found his own release, his guttural cry echoing off the stone walls of the stable.