Beast of Caledonia (4 page)

He picked her up gently and turned to carry her back to the
house. His three guards had only now caught up with him and were staring from
him to the boar and back again.

Annachie nodded his head at the animal, said “
Victus
.
Food,” and walked away without looking back.

Only one of the soldiers accompanied him back to the fort;
it took both the other two to carry the boar.

* * * * *

Sara’s father had given Annachie the tusks, the only reward
he wanted for saving her from the boar. Then he had saved her again when that
ignorant Roman physician had given her willow bark for the pain. She had almost
bled to death before her father had trusted Annachie enough to let him care for
her. And, just as he had feared, Sara’s wounds had become infected. Annachie
spent more than a week at her bedside, barely sleeping, nursing her through her
fever and nightmares.

Yes, her father had trusted me. But not enough.

When she recovered, Annachie had given her the necklace made
from the boar’s tusks. He told her that his people wore such necklaces to show
their bravery.

“But I wasn’t brave. You were the one who killed the
animal,” she said.

“Aye, but Say-ra brave to fight and live from such attack.”

She blushed at his words and donned the necklace.

“Hmph,” Annachie said, “suits you.”

Since that day, he had never seen her without it.

Dragging his mind back to the present, Annachie looked more
closely at the woman in the black veil. Now he knew why he recognized her
voice—she was Sara’s nursemaid. During all the time he had cared for Sara, Thea
had watched him as a bear watches her cubs. He knew that if he had ever done
anything to harm her, Thea would have torn him apart. Yet she seemed to be the
only one who really suspected the depth of his feelings for Sara and he doubted
that she approved. He wondered briefly why the woman was aiding Sara by
arranging this meeting, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was
that he was going to see Sara again.

He grasped the necklace tightly in his fist and looked at
Bato. “I accept.”

* * * * *

The guard who searched her seemed to be enjoying his job a
little too much. Sara braced herself as the man smoothed his hands down her
sides, lingering overlong on her breasts, then up between her legs. When he
cupped her labia, Sara gasped and jumped back from him. Had he known she was
really a Vestal, he would have killed himself over the insult he had just given
her.

The guard grinned at her and said, “Lift your veil.”

Sara wore the same black gown and veil that Thea had worn
earlier that day when she had come to make the arrangements.

“No,” Sara replied, taking a step back from him. She began
to shake with fear.

Because all the sleeping chambers in the Vestals’ dormitory led
through Mother Sylvia’s room, Sara’d had to find another way to sneak out. She
had managed it by crawling through the tiny grilled window in her room, and
slipping through the servants’ quarters. She thought that would be the hardest
part of this illicit and dangerous undertaking. To be exposed now was
unthinkable.

She gave a nervous sounding laugh, which did not require
acting considering how nervous she was indeed. “If my husband were to find out…”

The guard stood staring at her for a long moment, and Sara
felt as if her heart had stopped beating.
Please, blessed Venus, please. I
must see him.

Her silent prayer was answered as the man said, “This way,”
and moved aside to allow Sara to enter the gladiators’ compound. He led the way
to a cell with a small window cut into the door about a third of the way from
the top. The window had a sliding wooden cover that could only be opened from
the outside. Her escort unlocked the door and waved her inside, chuckling all
the while.

The cell measured about eight feet square; the walls were
made of concrete which kept the room cool despite the lack of windows. Most of
the space was taken up by the bed that covered the back wall. It was large
enough for two—or more—people. A small table with a lamp, a jug of wine and two
cups stood next to the bed. The floor was hard-packed dirt.

She moved closer to the bed, and was thankful to see it was
covered with a clean blanket. She didn’t want to think about the possible
activities of the occupants who had used this cell previously.

Sara turned back to the door when she heard voices. A large
figure filled the doorway and Sara’s heart skipped a beat.

“Have fun, Beast,” said the guard who had searched Sara.
Then he snickered. Over Annachie’s shoulder she could see the lascivious grin
on his face.

Annachie had his back to her as he spoke to the guard. “If
anyone watches us,”Annachie motioned with his head to indicate the window in
the cell door, “it will be the last thing he ever sees.”

The grin abruptly faded from the guard’s face.

Annachie turned around and entered the cell. The guard
slammed the door behind him and locked it. She heard the wooden cover slide
across the window.

Sara could not speak past the lump in her throat. She had
dreamed of this moment for six years and now that it was here, she was at a
loss for words.

For a moment they stood and stared at each other. Annachie’s
brows knit together as if puzzled. Then he said, “Thea?”

Suddenly, Sara remembered that he had seen her nursemaid
dressed this way earlier in the day.
He thinks—
She giggled, “No, it’s…it’s—”

He looked more closely. “Sara?”

Sara took a deep shuddering breath and lifted her veil. To
be so close to him again after all these years, it was all she could do to keep
from running into his arms. She forced herself to stay where she stood. “
Salve
,
Annachie.”

“Sara?” he repeated, as if he could not believe it was
really her.

“Yes, it is I.” Again, they only stared at each other. To
break the silence, Sara said, “I heard you speaking with the guard. You have
learned our language well.”

“I had a good teacher.” That deep voice that she remembered
so well sent waves of longing through Sara’s body.

She smiled, but the lump was back in her throat and she
couldn’t speak.

They stood for a few moments longer, the awkward silence
growing between them again. Finally, Annachie spoke. “You have grown into a
beautiful woman, Sara. But then, I knew you would. You were such a lovely young
girl.”

Sara felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Silence again.

Suddenly, the guilt she had been fighting for six years
overcame her at last. “Oh, Annachie, I am sorry, I am so sorry.” Her voice
broke on her sobs.

He frowned and shook his head. “What for,
nighean
?”

As if a dam had burst, the words rushed out of her. “It was
my fault, it was all my fault. I never should have stayed the nights with you.
I knew the risk if my father found us together. I took your dagger from the
armory and I should have given it back to you. If I had, you could have fought
your way out of the fort and gone back to your people. But I was selfish, I
didn’t want you to leave me. And because of me, you were given to Septimius and
I cannot even imagine the hell your life has been since.” By then, she was
crying so hard she could barely get the words out. “I know you can never
forgive me, but you must believe me when I say that I am so sorry—”

“Shhhh, hush now.” He stepped up to her and wrapped his
strong arms around her. “Do not cry, my sweet. I do not blame you. Hush now.”
His big hand cupped the back of her head and held it against his chest.

She hugged him around the waist. “Oh, Annachie, I love you.”
She knew she should not have said it, but she could not hold back any longer. “I’ve
loved you since the first time we spoke. I know you don’t love me but—”

His mouth on hers caught off her words. Caught unawares, she
opened her lips to take a breath and he slipped his tongue inside, caressing,
sucking, overwhelming her senses. Her arms instinctively encircled his neck and
she returned his kisses with all the desire she had harbored for him these past
six years.

He drew back only long enough to say, “I have loved you from
the moment you gave me the blanket and tunic. I loved you first for your
kindness, then for yourself, my Sara, my sweet, sweet Sara.” He ravished her
mouth again. He lowered his mouth to her neck, nibbling and kissing the
sensitive flesh until she was breathless.

With one arm still around her waist, he reached up and
pushed her veil completely off her head. He gasped and took a step back. “Your
hair! It is short.”

“Yes, when we enter the service of Vesta, our heads are
shaved. Then we keep it cut because it is cooler under the veil, but…I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Sara, do not be foolish. I do not love
you for your hair. Were you bald, I would still love you.” He combed both hands
through her short locks, caressing her scalp and tilting her face up to his.
She gave herself up to him, taking her cues from his mouth and returning his
kisses with every ounce of her soul.

Still ravishing her mouth, he slid his hands underneath her
buttocks and lifted her, pressing her so close to his hard chest she thought
she could slip inside his skin. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he
sat her on the edge of the bed.

For one brief moment Sara almost stopped him, almost told
him that she could not do this after all. She knew full well the penalty for
breaking her vow of chastity. But what had her life been all these years
without him? In truth, she had not felt alive. She had gone through her days by
rote, feeling nothing, trying not to think of him. That was not living. Life
was here, in Annachie’s arms, loving him, having him love her. And if her life
was shortened because of that, it was worth every moment she would have with
him until then.

He knelt between her legs and slipped her gown off her
shoulders. For a moment he just stared at her. The gooseflesh that rose on her
skin had nothing to do with the temperature of the room and everything to do with
the sensations he was arousing in her. Then he leaned forward and kissed and
suckled her right breast until the nipple extended and her areola tightened.
Heat shot from her breast to her womb and the moisture seeped from between her
legs.

Sara untied the leather cord at the end of the braids that
framed his face. She combed her fingers through his thick, curly hair,
something she had wanted to do since she first saw him, and clasped the back of
his head. After a moment, though, she realized he had stopped caressing her and
was staring at her chest. He was looking at the scars on her left breast and
arm. She quickly let go of him and dropped her arm down, hugging it closely to
hide as best she could the remnants of the wounds the boar had inflicted.

“No,” he said. “I have seen your scars. You are beautiful,
Sara. Your body is perfect because it is yours.” He lifted her arm back onto
his shoulder. “Let me,” he said softly as he bent to tenderly caress and kiss
her left breast and the scars over her ribs.

She had thought the boar’s attack had changed that part of
her body beyond repair, and so was surprised to feel how sensitive the area was
to his touch. “Ah, Annachie.”

Suddenly, she had to feel his skin against hers. She pushed
him back slightly and unclasped the leather belt at his waist. She gathered the
material of his tunic in her fists and he raised his arms to help her lift it
over his head.

For a moment, she could only stare at his thickly muscled
chest. He had been muscular when she first met him but now, after all these
years of fighting, his body was as sculpted as the statues in the Forum. She
also noted the many scars he didn’t have before. It brought home to her again
how hard and how deadly his life had been since they had last seen each other.

“Can you forgive me, Annachie?”

“I told you there is nothing to forgive. Now the only words
I want to hear from your mouth are, ‘Oh, Annachie, I want you, oh, Annachie,
love me.’”

She heard the smile in his voice and giggled. “Oh, Annachie,
I want you. Oh, Annachie,” her breath caught as she suddenly grew serious, “love
me.”

“I do,” he said. “I will.” He urged her back until she was
lying down on the bed and slid her gown farther down her body. “Lift up.”

She followed his command and he slipped the gown over her
hips and off her legs, leaving her naked before him. His calloused fingers
stroked down the outside of her legs, then back up the inside of her thighs,
erasing the memory of the guard’s mauling.

Annachie lowered his head and kissed her belly, working his
way down to the curls on her mons.

She gasped in surprise. She thought she should stop him, she
thought she would die if he stopped.

“Oh, please, Annachie, please.” She didn’t really know what
she was begging for. She only knew there was an ache inside her she had never
felt before and only he could relieve it.

“Sara, I must ask,” he hesitated for a moment, “Are you
still a virgin?”

She sat up and stared at him in disbelief.
He doesn’t
know! He doesn’t know what it means to be a Vestal Virgin, nor the vows that I
took.

And she was not about to tell him.

“Yes,” she replied.

“My little love, I want you so much I ache.” It pleased her
to hear he felt the same way she did. “But I have no wish to hurt you. So I
have to make you ready for me. Lie back.”

She had no idea what he meant, but she trusted him and again
did as he commanded. He rubbed his cheek against her curls and inhaled her
scent. She grabbed fistfuls of the blanket to keep herself from pushing him
away. “Annachie?”

“Aye?”

“Is this part of ‘making me ready’?”

“Aye.” He chuckled. “Trust me,
nighean.
Open your
legs to me.”