Conquered And Seduced

As if he sensed her indecision, he lifted a hand and beckoned her closer.

She stepped forwards. He opened his eyes. ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said. ‘That’s why I came. I couldn’t sleep and hoped maybe you’d still be awake.’

‘I was. That’s how I heard you. You’d be a terrible thief, you know that? You bumped around and made enough noise to wake the dead.’

Lucan’s low laughter warmed her. She realised suddenly how much she’d missed his wicked sense of humour.

‘I’d have been quieter if I’d known what lay in wait for me. God help me, I keep forgetting you were a gladiatrix. What did you hit me with, anyway?’

She picked up the bronze statuette and handed it to him. He studied it, fingering the distinctive diadem on the head of the idol, with its full sun hung between two tall horns of a cow.

‘Isis. I should’ve guessed. Protector of women. The irony does not escape me.’

His eyes found Severina’s again. ‘I didn’t know you worshipped the Egyptian goddess.’

‘I don’t. She was already in the house when I took—I mean, when you took—possession of it.’

‘This property is yours and you know it.’

‘But one slip like that in front of the wrong person and I’ll lose it for both of us, won’t I?’ Severina’s voice held a sharp edge.

Lucan struggled to sit up. ‘That’s what I came to talk to you about.’ He settled himself into a comfortable position higher against the pillows. ‘The hearing’s in three weeks, but I think we can do something in the meantime to strengthen our case.’

He smiled, and the smile reached all the way to his beautiful, fiery eyes. ‘Let’s get married.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I’m completely serious. You need to save the inn. I need a wife before my father chooses one for me.’

‘But we’ve already…Lucan, we’ve been through this before.’

‘No. It’s not the same offer as before.’

Severina eyed him suspiciously. ‘It’s not?’

‘No. I’m not offering a true marriage. This would be in name only. A business relationship between you and me to solve both our problems.

‘A business relationship. No…?’

‘Business only, Severina. Without obligation to fulfil those embarrassingly intimate conjugal duties.’

Severina drew in a long breath.

‘Unless you want to,’ he added hopefully.

Severina snorted and crossed her arms. Lucan grinned at her. That grin made her stomach flutter.

Dear gods. She could hardly control her physical response to him. She certainly shouldn’t be considering marriage to him, even one made for convenience. But desperation did strange things to people, and she was desperate.

‘In name only. And only for a short time?’

‘Till divorce do us part.’

Severina’s frown deepened. She wanted to trust Lucan, but there was much to consider. And here alone with him in a dimly lit room, with his tall body stretched out in her bed, was hardly the time or place to consider all the implications.

‘I’ll give you your freedom the minute you ask for it,’ he said quietly. ‘When you want to leave, I’ll let go. But who can know the future? Maybe you’ll be happy with me. Maybe you’ll never ask to go. Maybe we’ll fall in love and make a dozen pretty little babies.’

Without thinking, Severina uttered a word she’d not even heard since her days in gladiatorial training. It was something no gently bred woman should have said.

Lucan’s laughter was genuine, and it held a quality that was almost sensual. Her body clenched at the sound, hot and burning. For a moment, Severina could only stare at him. He was washed in warm, golden lamplight that turned his tawny hair to a richer hue and softened the chiselled planes of his face. His pulse beat strong at the base of his neck and she suddenly wanted to feel its throb against her lips, mingling with the taste of his skin.

She knew in that moment there was no way she could marry him as a business arrangement, no way she could be near him and not want him as she wanted him now.

He didn’t seem to notice that she couldn’t breathe.

‘Let me sweeten the pot a little more,’ he said, his gaze becoming intent. ‘You know those improvements you’ve been wanting to make to the inn?’

She nodded.

‘Marry me, and I’ll see them done. My wedding gift to you.’

‘No.’ Severina shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Why not? This is a business arrangement…with very agreeable terms.’

‘It feels more like a bribe.’

Lucan spread his hands in supplication. ‘Maybe it is a bribe, but I need a wife and I don’t want anyone but you.’

‘Lucan—’

‘Severina, be logical. The censor can’t take your inn if we’re married. And those improvements would still be there for you long after I’m gone. Divorce me whenever you want, but keep the new and improved inn. You gain much and lose nothing. Think of that.’

Damn him. He’d known exactly which lure to dangle before her.

Silence stretched between them, tension mounting as each second ticked by.

Lucan stood and came to her. He raised a hand, but stopped just short of touching her as if he, too, sensed the power that would be unleashed with the contact. ‘Severina…’ he whispered into the hushed air.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she murmured, licking dry lips. She closed her eyes against the hard pulse of her drumming blood.

‘I can’t help wanting you,’ he whispered, his breath fanning warmth against the moisture her tongue had left on her lips. ‘I always have. I still do.’

He waited for her to respond, to open her eyes and look at him, but she didn’t dare. She knew what she’d see—Lucan, his eyes dark and intent, hunger in his lean, bronzed face. He would be as beautiful as sin, tempting her towards all the dark glories a man like him could give.

She did not look. Her eyes remained closed, but her other senses heightened, expanding to fill the void. She felt his heat as his body came nearer and heard the whisper of his clothing as he moved. He slid one large, callused hand underneath the fall of her hair to caress the back of her neck. She was aware of the pad of every individual fingertip against her sensitive nape, the elegant curve of his hand as he held her there with the lightest of pressures. His clean scent twined around her, an essence of sunshine and fresh air, of warm and sensual man.

And then his lips came down on hers, gently at first, as if he teased her with softness.

Her answering whimper spoke of hunger as her hands clutched and held in the folds of his cloak, and his kiss deepened to satisfy the subtle urging that he somehow understood.

His mouth was hot and flavoured with wine; Severina’s heart hurt with yearning for the sweet familiarity of him. His tongue licked across the seam of her lips and she opened herself to him, rejoicing in his harsh groan as he took her and filled her with his taste.

It had been too long. She’d missed this, missed him. Her hands moved restlessly over his rough clothing, exulting in the feel of his muscled back beneath her palms, in the powerful strength of his arms and the silk of his tousled hair. His body was lean and hard and towered over her, enveloping her, heating her.

She was glad he’d missed her, too, glad for the powerful hands that moulded her buttocks and lifted her up and against him, glad for the startling friction of his hardened ridge against her core. She couldn’t breathe beneath such an onslaught of sensation.

When she thought she might die in the void of air, his mouth left hers and moved lower, burning a path of wet fire through the hollows of her neck, behind her ear, across her collarbone. He moved slowly, tantalising, tempting, teasing her into gasps and moans.

She was restless now, and needy. Her breasts ached with an unfamiliar heaviness, the peaks hard and thrusting forwards, beseeching his touch, begging for his lips.

The silver fibula that held her stola at the shoulder dropped to the floor near her feet. She barely noted its fall; Lucan’s hand closed around her breast and his mouth found the soft pink pebble of her bare nipple, shocking her with the intense, sweet pull into pleasure.

‘Oh!’ she gasped. ‘Oh, Lucan!’

Her hands left his shoulders and speared into his hair, clenching in the softness, holding him fettered so he couldn’t leave her and stop the laving that made her senseless, mindless, crazed with need.

‘I’m here,’ he murmured against her skin. ‘I won’t leave you.’

She whimpered and mewled, twisting in his arms until he lifted her and carried her the few feet to the bed. He placed her gently against the pillows and covered her with his weight and heat. The sheets were cool against her naked back, and Lucan’s mouth was like flowing lava across the swell and heave of her bosom.

‘You taste good,’ he whispered. ‘So sweet.’ And he circled his tongue around her areola and drew her aching nipple into his mouth again.

She writhed beneath him, her hips jerking and thrusting, her pubis pulsing hard against his. Need ravaged her. It made her wild, eager, beside herself with desire, not caring if he thought her shameless.

She gloried in sheer physical splendour, dizzy with longing, unable to find reason in the deluge of wanting. Her limbs trembled; her womb clenched with strange urgency and wept for more. Because it was Lucan. Because she’d missed him so…

A sound at the door caused Lucan to jerk away from her, flinging himself partially upright with a growled oath. He threw the bedclothes over Severina’s exposed breasts and shook his head when, still befuddled and confused, she tried to rise.

Ariadne coughed again, delicately, and rapped on the door frame before tentatively peering inside. ‘I brought an elixir for your pain, Master Lucan,’ she said. ‘It tastes awful, but works wonders for the headache. And here’s wine to follow it.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucan said, his voice amazingly steady. ‘Put it on the table. I’ll get to it in a minute.’

Ariadne slipped in and hurriedly did as directed, studiously keeping her eyes away from Lucan and from Severina, who lay rigid in the bed. Lucan kept his back to the slave, not wanting to shock her with his arousal. He raked one hand through his hair and rubbed tension from the back of his neck.

He exhaled deeply when Ariadne pulled the door closed behind her.

Severina left the bed immediately, retrieving her silver fibula from the floor so she could cover her nakedness.

‘Severina…’ Lucan’s voice was soft.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t apologise. Just…forget it.’

She felt his eyes on her as she tried to pin her garment together with hands that were shaking.

‘Here,’ he said, taking the fibula from her, pushing her nervous hands aside. ‘Let me do that.’

It made her angry that he could speak and act so calmly while she felt she’d been blown through a tempest. It made her angry that her breasts still tingled and that he seemed to know it, the back and side of his hands torturing her aching flesh as he pinned her garment into place. She made an exasperated sound and looked up to the ceiling until he finished.

She wasn’t angry with Lucan; she was angry with herself. What had she been thinking, to let desire carry her away like that? If they hadn’t been interrupted, she’d have given herself to him, and that would have been a disaster too deep for words.

If they hadn’t been interrupted, Severina would have given herself to him, and that would have been a triumph too perfect for words.

As it was, Lucan wanted to grin and crow with success; his first assault had gone better than expected. She remembered now how hot the fire had once blazed between them. Her guard lowered long enough to taste her hungers and that was good, one more reason to wed him. Desire wasn’t the best foundation for a lifetime, but it would do.

‘Aren’t you going to take your medicine?’ she said, gesturing towards the table. ‘Your head’s probably hurting.’

Ah, the old distraction trick…too simple, something he’d encountered enough times to recognise it right away. He held back a smile.

‘I’m hurting, all right. But my head’s the least of my worries.’

She glanced down at his arousal and flushed scarlet. She worried her lower lip with her teeth, a nervous gesture that suddenly had him imagining a pleasingly wicked scenario.

‘I didn’t mean for that to happen,’ she said, looking away. ‘It can’t happen again. Not if our marriage is to be for business only, without conjugal obligations.’

‘Then you’re agreeing to marry me?’

Her frown was fierce, but her hesitation was good news for him. At least she wasn’t rejecting his proposal outright.

‘I’m agreeing to think about it,’ she said finally. ‘I won’t be rushed into anything so important.’

‘I’m not rushing you. But the hearing’s in three weeks.’

‘I know that. You’ll have an answer before then.’

‘I’d rather have you before then.’

She glanced up sharply. She’d caught the undercurrent of sensual meaning, but he wouldn’t recant.

‘Can I trust you?’ she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing in appraisal. ‘We’re to have a business arrangement, but then you kiss me?’

‘You did not protest.’

She had the grace to blush.

He moved closer and took her gently into his arms. ‘I wish to understand you,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell me your fears, Severina, and I will fight them for you.’

He felt her slight shudder. ‘You can’t fight them, Lucan. I have to work them out for myself.’

He was silent for a moment, considering. ‘At least let me fight the censor for you.’

‘Of course. I can’t do that without you.’

‘Then trust me. Let me move into the inn and pretend I’m the owner. Let me escort you to the architect tomorrow so we can draft building plans. Let us do that much, only that much. You can decide the rest later.’

She turned her face up to him and for a moment he almost stopped breathing, struck by her beauty and the fear in her eyes. He wanted to touch her, to caress the soft skin of her cheek, to smooth the furrow from her brow, to kiss those gently parted lips…

‘Do you really think doing those things will help?’

‘We can’t let Marcus Terentius take it without a fight.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘We can’t.’

Their gazes locked. Lucan’s chest tightened painfully. And then because he couldn’t help himself, he lowered his head and gave in to the temptation to kiss her again—lightly, sweetly, a mere whisper of desire.

‘I’ll return for you in the morning. We’ll take your construction ideas to an architect friend of mine and get an estimate of the cost,’ he said. ‘You’ll agree to that, won’t you? No harm in knowing all you can before making a decision, right?’

He knew he had her there. Nobody admired ignorance.

‘Yes, I’ll do that much,’ she said. ‘It can’t hurt.’

Lucan smiled and moved to the door. ‘Sleep sweetly, Severina.’

But he knew, from the flare of desire in her eyes as he pulled away, that Severina would have as hard a time resting as he, and that her biggest fear would be for her heart, not her inn.

Chapter Five

When Severina awoke, the sun illuminated the sky outside her window with soft peach light. She rose and washed quickly, wincing at her stiffness as she shrugged into a tunic of pale blue linen. She’d slept little and was tired.

But the work of the inn wouldn’t wait and it couldn’t all be done by her few slaves, even if it was hard not to eye her mattress and cool sheets without regret. Her bed was comfortable, the most sumptuous in the inn. Its stout ebony frame was carved with Egyptian motifs that reminded her of her childhood.

Its mattress was thick and soft, but during the night she’d have sworn someone had replaced the cotton with boulders. She’d tossed for hours, unable to quiet the anxious whirl of thought. The few times her weariness had overcome her, she’d been jerked back to wakefulness by strange things. The memory of a man’s green-gold eyes. The scent of Lucan on her pillow. And once, she thought she heard his laughter in another part of the house.

She’d foolishly thought herself prepared to meet him again. She’d bolstered herself for it. In a city as large as Rome, they must inevitably meet. They shared friends. They shopped the same markets and enjoyed the same entertainments. She’d always known the day would come when she’d feel someone’s gaze and suddenly look up into dark-fringed, oddly slanted tiger eyes. She’d practised the smile, prepared the words. Lucan. How nice to see you again. You‘re looking very well…

But the moment had gone nothing like she’d planned.

And then he’d appeared in her bedroom and she’d smashed a bronze figurine into his skull. He’d proposed something outrageous and she’d almost agreed, just before she’d made a fool of herself because the old feelings had still been there. Oh, how they’d been there.

It seemed unreal now, like something out of a dream. But it wasn’t. The statuette remained there on a nearby table, mute evidence that she hadn’t imagined everything.

And besides that, one had to have actually slept in order to dream.

The only good thing about the restless night was that she’d decided on several improvements to the inn. She wasn’t sure she could marry Lucan, but it wouldn’t hurt to consider his proposition.

He’d told her to spare no expense, that his coffers were deep and he could afford anything she needed.

She wasn’t so sure. She’d never seen evidence of his wealth. He’d been a soldier, and everyone knew that even experienced officers like Lucan didn’t command a huge salary. He’d occasionally spoken of business ventures, but none had seemed particularly lucrative.

Rich men lived in grand houses, and Lucan lived simply.

Rich men had fine garb, and Lucan dressed in ordinary clothing, letting his fair looks serve him well enough.

A simple man without great wealth, but she hadn’t cared. Mostly she’d admired his integrity and his golden male beauty, not sure she was worthy of him. She usually felt plain and mousy. Her chestnut hair tended to be unruly. Her eyes were grey. Grey. How boring.

And yet, Lucan had thought her beautiful and wanted her. Sometimes the look in his eyes had taken her breath. She’d known with surety that he kept his body tightly reined.

Now she was pleased that he had. Physical union with Lucan would have been too wonderful to forsake. She wouldn’t have been able to walk away. But more than once she’d wondered—what would it have been like to be loved by a man like that?

Last night she’d come close to knowing.

For hours afterwards she’d thought of him and foolishly yearned for what almost happened between them. To make love with him would be foolish, even dangerous, if she hoped to remain free, but her body had wanted its way.

Lucan would return soon. She’d better forget that desire and concentrate on her inn instead.

Lucan told her to make construction plans, but she’d been modest in her choices because Lucan wasn’t a rich man. He had no fine mansion, no slaves. He had no gilded litter, no rich clothing, no jewelled rings. No clients waited in his atrium every morning to shower him with praise as they would for a wealthy nobleman.

Perhaps he’d saved his soldier’s pay. Maybe he’d hoarded his share of the rich spoils of Dacia. But it was likely that masculine pride forced him to claim more wealth than he truly possessed.

So she kept her construction plans to a minimum. She could use a larger kitchen, but moving out one wall would provide enough space. A larger dining area could be had by the same method, allowing for several more dining couches.

There were already ample bedrooms, thanks to the inn’s dubious past as a brothel. And the bathing room across the courtyard was a marvel of design. Sumptuous with pristine Carrara marble, it contained one large heated pool and a smaller unheated one. Surrounding the pools were comfortable seats for conversing.

That bath and the toileting facility beside it that had actual running water were two of the main selling points of the property, and Severina was extremely proud of them. She might add more to them in the future, but she wouldn’t do it now at Lucan’s expense.

She wanted to give Orthrus and Ariadne some privacy, however. The slaves’ quarters were small and uncomfortable. Ariadne currently shared a room with the cook, but after the wedding, she’d share Orthrus’s bed. Orthrus, however, currently slept with young Juvenal. It wouldn’t be proper for Juvenal and the cook to share a room, so Severina had been fretting about what to do.

She’d planned to sacrifice one of the bedrooms usually rented to paying guests. But the disadvantages of that were obvious, given her need to make a profit.

Unless she went along with Lucan’s proposal.

During the long, wakeful night she’d realised that the flat roof of the kitchen could become the floor of a small apartment built above it. The space wouldn’t be luxurious, but it would be private, a perfect little nest for lovers and a quaint but serviceable home when their babies began to come.

Severina had no doubt, given the way Orthrus looked at Ariadne and the way she looked at him in return, that babies wouldn’t be long in coming. Severina had once seen that same look pass between Donatus and Lelia, and now they had two beautiful sons.

Severina wondered whether the addition could possibly be completed by Ariadne’s wedding day. She’d like to surprise the couple with it, clean and comfortably furnished and ready for the special glories of their wedding night.

Severina could imagine their reactions already. Ariadne would squeal and then cry. Orthrus would stand dumbfounded, his huge, work-roughened hands clenching and unclenching in the struggle for words.

But his eyes would shine, and so would Ariadne’s, and it was that thought that now made Severina eager for the coming day despite her lack of sleep.

She and Lucan would fight to save the inn. Maybe she’d even consider marriage to Lucan as a business arrangement—just long enough to foil the censor, and only because people she loved were depending on her.

Severina took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, feeling a lot like the gladiatrix of old.

Chapter Six

Lucan’s blood was singing. It always hummed through his veins hard and fast whenever he faced a challenge. It was one of the few things he’d liked about being a soldier. Maybe the only thing.

The exhilaration hadn’t compensated for the long, weary days chasing down Rome’s enemies on the back of a horse. It hadn’t eased the unholy memories of watching men die. But the raw excitement that was the prelude to battle had at least given him something pleasant in the chaos.

Maybe that feeling was what he’d once sought in his youthful pursuit of women. Maybe that feeling, combined with lust, explained his desire to conquer.

But he’d been younger then and too foolish to understand that sleeping with the wives of senior officers wasn’t worth the excitement.

For that stupidity he’d been sent to a legion in Antioch as a punitive measure. Donatus had finally unsnarled the situation and brought Lucan back to his own cavalry, but the experience had been a humbling one for Lucan.

And a good one, too. He’d learned about consequences. And while in Antioch, he’d met men unlike any he’d known before. He admired their integrity and ultimately followed them into their Christian faith.

With that decision, he abandoned the pursuit of sin, but found he missed its fine exhilaration—until he chanced upon something that provided a similar fascination.

He’d been hosting a visiting Christian missionary and somehow the conversation at the dinner table turned to matters of money. Lucan believed, as did many others who practised his faith, that riches were a corrupting influence. Was it not the rich who exploited his fellow believers? Did not the wealthy put his brothers into chains and kill them?