Page 68 of Enslaved
Diana reasoned that it was far more honorable for Marcus to provide prostitutes than allow the legionaries to run amok among his slaves. It was, after all, his villa and he could do as he pleased, but she could not dispel an overwhelming jealousy that encompassed every female he had ever touched. When he came up to bed, she would punish him dearly. She would play the Ice Queen and it would take a thousand apologies to thaw her.
Marcus, however, did not come to bed. He stayed away and she did not see him until the following evening. Diana spent the entire day alone, for the entire household was busy from dawn to dusk clearing up the mess and the debris of the night revelers. Everything needed cleaning—floors, walls, rugs—and every couch in the villa needed recovering.
Diana’s emotions ran the gamut from hate to jealousy and anger. Her pride was involved; Marcus had shamed and embarrassed her. She would let the punishment fit the crime. But by afternoon, longing accompanied loneliness and she had to crush the desire to ride to the fort just to catch a glimpse of him. By the time evening crawled along, she had decided that she would pretend total indifference. She would greet him normally and pretend that nothing at all had happened. And certainly nothing to upset her. Of course, she would wear something extra special.
When Marcus arrived home and Diana was not in the atrium to greet him, he was disappointed, but not surprised. He hadn’t expected her to be there. He anticipated trouble and envisioned a confrontation that would be so explosive, it might erupt into violence if he didn’t keep an iron control on his temper.
He heard female voices coming from the solarium and his ear easily picked out Diana’s silvery laughter. She drew him like a lodestone. She was wearing some exquisite creation that made her look like the tigress in the mosaic that lay resplendent at her feet. Her beauty was breathstopping.
“Oh Marcus, you must be early. The afternoon has melted away. But you are just the man I need to make a decision for me.”
The hours away from her had been endless and his return was anything but early. Where were her accusations, her angry words, her threats, her tears?
She gifted him with a smile of adoration. “I cannot decide about a winter mantle. Shall I have it lined with black fox or red?” She held a sample of each soft fur to her face. “Nola thinks the red has more fire, but I favor the black because of my fair coloring.”
Marcus looked from Diana to Nola and back again. She had thrown him completely off balance. “Why don’t you have both?” he suggested smoothly, but he was wary as a wolf.
“I told you he was brilliant,” Diana said to Nola, then she came to him and raised her lips for his kiss.
Magnus’ eyes sought Nola’s and signaled for her to leave them private. One part of his mind told him to leave well enough alone, but after Nola had departed, his perverse streak prompted him to bring up the subject of the previous night. “Did you enjoy the theatre?” he asked after a tentative kiss.
“I loved every moment of it. Thank you for suggesting I attend.” Diana was being gracious. Perhaps too gracious?
“You look lovely tonight; very much the tigress.”
She spun away from him and turned full circle to give him a chance to appreciate the full impact of the sheer gown. He could clearly see the swell of her luscious breasts with their rosy pink nipples as well as her navel and the golden tendrils covering her high mons. When she turned around, even the cleft between her bottom cheeks showed through the material.
Diana knew the effect she had on him and Marcus sensed it was totally calculated and deliberate. She closed the gap between them, but not all the way. She left a tempting few inches between their bodies, knowing he would pull her against him. When he did so, she teased, “Ooh, is that your sword, or are you just pleased to see me?”
“Are your claws sheathed?” he murmured.
“Of course,” she said sweetly.
“That disappoints me. I thought you might be seething with jealousy about last night.”
Her laugh was like a silver bell. “Jealous? I haven’t a jealous bone in my body.”
Marcus grabbed her and pulled her hard against him. “Then what the hell is this performance all about? You are shamefully displaying yourself and acting brittle as glass.” He ground his mouth down on hers to let her know she had succeeded in tempting him beyond his endurance.
“Damn you, Roman, damn you to hellfire!” She grabbed his black hair in both fists, then bit his lip until she drew blood. “I wanted to kill you!”
Marcus grinned with deep satisfaction. “You little bitch, I love you so much I suspect you have bewitched me with your sorcery. By the balls of Jupiter you have spoiled me for all other women. Surely I don’t have to tell you these things?”
She clung to him wildly. “Yes, I want you to tell me every day and every night—not only tell me, but show me!”
Marcus took her down to the marble floor and laid her back upon the tigress, spreading her hair about her into the tall grass. Then very slowly and deliberately, he told her and showed her exactly how much she meant to him.
When Paullinus departed for the west, taking the newly trained legionaries with him, Marcus had a couple of weeks respite before two more cohorts would arrive to be trained. His own men, who were stationed permanently in Aquae Sulis, had a change from their military duties also. The corps of engineers went back to building roads and aqueducts and erecting public baths where the hot springs bubbled naturally from the earth.
Marcus decided the time was ripe to take Diana on her boar hunt. One morning, he kissed her awake at an ungodly hour, and when she curled against him and opened her arms, he teased, “God of Thunder, is that all you ever think about?”
Pale amethyst eyes looked up into devilish black ones. “Am I too much woman for you, darling Marcus?” she asked, stretching sensually for the pleasure of brushing against the hard length of him.
“If you want to go on that boar hunt you’ve been nagging about, you’d better get dressed before I change my mind.”
Diana jumped up immediately. “Today? The hunt is today?” She didn’t even try to hide her great excitement. She had had a doublet made in the style she imagined they wore in medieval times, which she would wear atop her leather riding pants. It was emerald green embroidered with a great golden eagle, which she decided would have been Marcus’ device if he’d had one. She had even bought a gold hunting horn to wear about her neck.
Sylla fashioned her hair in a braid as thick as a mooring cable and wound it about her head in a coronet. Then she used emerald and gold hair ornaments to fashion a small crown. After all, this was her fantasy of going on a royal hunt and most likely would be the closest she would ever come to such an experience.
