Page 43 of Enslaved
After three hours, Petrius was cold sober. Marcus ordered a bath slave to give his brother a massage, then he accompanied him back to the officers’ quarters. As they rode to the fortress in the drizzling rain, Petrius was much subdued. When he left him at the gate, Petrius mumbled, “Thanks.”
Marcus replied, “That is what brothers are for.”
In Marcus’ sleeping chamber, Diana stood before the fire that had been lit against the damp night. All her fine plans had been spoiled by the intrusion of Petrius. She giggled. He had been drunk as a lord. She admitted she wasn’t quite sober herself. By now, Marcus must be furious to have his drunken brother on his hands. His desire had been rampant by the time they finished eating; she could not imagine what state he was in by now!
Diana yawned. It had certainly been a long and event-fill day. The corners of her mouth went up. She had no doubt that Marcus would agree to her terms. She had told him that when they were alone, she would not be his slave. What she hadn’t told him was that slowly but surely, he would become hers.
The amethyst torque was becoming too heavy for her slender neck. She unfastened its clasp and laid it on the table beside his bed. She sat down on the steps that led up to his bed and removed her sandals. She yawned again.
It was amazing, but somehow she had lost all her fear of the Roman. He was the strongest, most powerful man she had ever known, but that strength would protect her not harm her. She laid her head down upon the furs and smiled sleepily. Marcus thought she was his, but in truth, he was hers!
Kell awaited Marcus in the atrium with a pair of towels. He handed Kell his wet mantle and stripped off his soaking tunic. Then he wrapped one of the towels about his hips and rubbed his black hair vigorously until it was dry.
Kell took a torch from its bracket and lighted Marcus through the dark, silent villa, up to his sleeping chamber. The door swung open to reveal Diana lying on the steps with her golden head resting on the bed. As Marcus gazed with longing at the sleeping beauty he asked, “How many floors did she scrub today?”
“Seven,” Kell replied.
“Seven must be my unlucky number,” Marcus murmured.
Chapter 13
Diana came up slowly through the layers of a deep sleep. When she opened her eyes, she saw the tops of the Roman pillars with their curled rams’ horns. She realized immediately that she was in the great pedestal bed of Marcus Magnus.
A thrill of excitement shot through her, curling her toes, then she summoned the courage to turn her head. She was alone in the bed. Did she feel relief or regret? She experienced both at the same time and wondered how that was possible.
Marcus must have found her sleeping and taken her into his bed. Had he awakened her? Had he made love to her? She searched her memory, but recalled little beyond sitting on the steps and laying her head on the bed. She remembered the fur beneath her cheek, the scent of Marcus filling her senses, but nothing beyond.
Diana sat up and saw that she still wore the violet silk. She stretched and then ran her hands lightly down her body. It felt no different than it had yesterday. With a certainty she knew he had not touched her, for once Marcus Magnus made love to a woman, surely her body would never feel the same again!
Sitting up in the bed, she gazed at the place where he had lain beside her, so close and yet so very far away. Nothing had happened and because of that she knew so much more about him now than she knew before. He had accepted her offer, the bargain was sealed, and he had not violated their agreement. In spite of the fact that this Roman general controlled thousands of men and had the strength and the power to impose his will anytime, anyplace, and in any way he chose, he had not awakened her to demand she yield her body to him. Apparently he was a man of honor; a man of his word. Yet his abstinence told her more. It told her that somewhere, deep within, the Roman had a spot that was soft and kind and gentle. Diana vowed to exploit that tenderness she had discovered.
She felt exultant because she knew the balance of power had tipped her way. She must be very careful to play the role of slave in front of others, even Kell, so that when they were private Marcus would allow her to enjoy the full and complete power of a woman.
Nola brought her breakfast. “May I join you?”
“Oh, please do.”
Nola set the serving tray of crusty rolls, honey, and fruit upon the bed, then perched on the steps. “You are special to him.”
Diana lowered her lashes, not quite knowing how a slave behaved. “How do you know?” she asked shyly.
“He kept you with him all night. He has never done that before.”
Diana realized that in a household of one master and thirty slaves, there could be few secrets.
“The entire villa is buzzing with talk of you.”
She raised her lashes. “Nola, I realize a slave has no right to privacy, but Marcus is a most private man. I am certain he would not want the details of our intimacy in the sleeping chamber gossiped about.”
“You would have more success holding back the tide than keeping slaves from gossip. You will have to have Marcus cut out their tongues.”
“You jest?” Diana asked with apprehension.
“A little,” Nola admitted, “though it is practiced in some Roman households. What I meant was that Marcus is so fervent he would likely do anything you asked of him.”
Diana licked the honey from her fingers. “In that case I should have asked for clothes. I have nothing to wear.”
“Before he left this morning, he asked me if I would take charge of your wardrobe. I was never so surprised in my life that he, of all men, would take such an interest in dressing a female.”
