Tainted (6 page)

Her hands flattened against his chest, her eyes never left
his. “But what of—”

He didn’t want to talk. Within moments, this interlude would
shatter as the scuffle in the market was subdued and the onlookers dispersed.
There wasn’t time to fuck. But there was plenty of time to taste, plenty of
time to leave her as desperate for his cock as he was for her pussy.

His mouth claimed hers. But as their lips touched, the need
to plunder, to conquer, to silence her words evaporated. Her mouth was open but
he didn’t instantly invade. The exquisite sensation of her lips against his, so
soft, so deceptively trusting, momentarily entranced him.

The tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips and she
trembled, her nails digging into his chest. She tasted of Rome, but there was
something else that teased his senses; an elusive hint of summer rain in a
distant forest.

Since leaving Cymru, he’d drunk Roman wine, used exotic
aphrodisiacs from the East and inhaled sacred incenses. But nothing compared to
the intoxicating taste of Antonia. He cupped her breasts through her gown and
she filled his palms with hedonistic promise. Her breath hitched and he
captured her gasp in his mouth, a sensuous whisper that caressed his flesh like
nothing he had imagined before.

He moved in closer, pressing his body against her thigh and
belly, his rigid shaft branding her through their clothing. How simple it would
be to pull up her gown and thrust inside her wet slit. Yet he didn’t invade
with his tongue the way he imagined invading with his cock. Instead he explored
the tantalizing secrets of her parted lips, her smooth, even teeth an erotic
barrier.

Yet no barrier at all. Her mouth was open, willing, and her
hands slid from his chest to tangle in his hair. A groan razed his throat and
one hand wrapped around her nape, the silk of her hair brushing his knuckles in
a featherlight touch. Blood pounded against his temples, obliterating
everything but Antonia’s scent, her taste, her provocative touch. And then the
tip of her tongue glided against his, an elusive caress he could scarcely feel.
Yet white hot lightning seared his flesh and primal need arrowed through his
chest.

He jerked back, panting. Her eyes were dark with lust, her
breath as erratic as his. Her fingers still gripped his hair and her body
meshed to his in excruciating abandonment.

If he’d taken her the moment they’d entered this alley by now
they would both be sated. But because of one cursed, illogical thought, he’d
not followed through on his initial plan of a quick, mindless fuck.

“Come with me.” His voice was ragged against her lips, and
he wound his arm around her waist while his other hand slid around her exposed
throat. Her pulse fluttered like a trapped butterfly against his fingers,
magnifying her vulnerability.

She attempted to speak, but the simple act appeared beyond
her. He offered her a grim smile, his arousal making it hard to think
logically, never mind convey his hammering thoughts.

“I’ll find somewhere for us.” It wouldn’t be hard. There
were plenty of rooms that were available for hire. For the right price. All
Antonia needed to do was cover her face with her cloak. She would never be
recognized.

Instead of complying, she remained rooted to the spot. “I
cannot leave Elpis.”

Elpis? “What?” He frowned at her as her hands dropped to his
shoulders. She didn’t try to pull away but she wasn’t making any move to go
with him, either. Not that it would take any effort to simply sweep her up into
his arms and march off with her. But he had no wish to draw unnecessary
attention. Ruining her reputation was not something he craved.

“My slave, Elpis. I need to find her, to ensure she’s unharmed.”
A thread of panic entered her voice and he stared at her in disbelief. Traces
of arousal heated her face, her eyes were darker than usual and she clearly had
trouble drawing breath into her lungs. And yet the first words out of her mouth
were those of concern for her
slave
?

“You sent her to the temple.” It took more willpower than he
cared to admit not to ignore her words and ravish her lips the way he should
have ravished her moments ago. “She was no longer in the market, Antonia.”

Her hands slid from his shoulders and along his biceps in a
slow caress. How could such a seemingly innocent touch cause his flesh to burn
and balls to ache with tortured need? He’d been with plenty of women over the
years. But one lingering caress from Antonia and his control threatened to
shatter like that of a raw boy.

“I know.” Her voice was breathless, seductive, and her
fingers curled over his forearms. “But I cannot just leave her, Gawain, without
knowing. And I didn’t expect to… That you would wish to….” She didn’t finish,
but gave him a tragic look with those beautiful eyes of hers, doubtless
expecting him to fall at her feet and agree to her every whim. Was this how she
treated all her lovers? Pushing them to the edge of their endurance, making
them beg for her favors?

Once again, he swung her around and crushed her against the
wall. This time he held her immobile with his body and cradled her face with
his hands. She didn’t scream, didn’t try to escape. Just gazed up at him and
for an eternal moment he forgot why he was mad at her.

Brutally he pulled his bewitched senses back together. “What
didn’t you expect?” He grazed her delicate skin with the pads of his thumbs and
battled the urge to spear his fingers through her hair. “That I’d want to fuck
you at the first possible opportunity?”

Beneath his palms, he felt her face heat. And despite
himself, the notion that his coarse words had made her blush entranced him. How
was it possible for her to manufacture such a response?

“That isn’t what I meant.” Her voice was soft, but he
detected no tremble. “I thought you would wish to make suitable arrangements
for a—an assignation.”

He was suddenly aware that he had Antonia shoved up against
a rough stone wall. That at any moment they might be discovered.

That he was behaving like the barbarian Rome accused his
people of being.

He didn’t care if she thought he was a barbarian. It was
likely for that very reason she wanted him in her arms in the first place. And
yet the realization that he was acting in such a manner irked him on a
fundamental level he couldn’t fathom.

Curse the gods, this woman was making him think too fucking
much. All he wanted was to slake his lust. All she wanted was an illicit
liaison before her father arranged another marriage for her. He was more than
willing to oblige, but he had no intention of wasting his time playing an
elaborate game of wooing and uttering meaningless, pretty words. If that’s what
she enjoyed then she could find herself a sweet-tongued Roman with whom to pass
her idle hours.

Even as the thought seared his brain, he knew the truth. He
would likely give Antonia a measure of what she desired, if it ensured she
would part her thighs. The knowledge infuriated him as much as it aroused him.

“Tell me something. Is it honeyed words you seek—or this?”
He jammed his rigid length against her vulnerable pussy, fighting the need to
rip her gown from her and take her where she stood. The image seared his mind,
caused his blood to smolder with frustrated need. Why did he find it so hard to
maintain his control with Antonia?

Her erratic breath fanned his face. It shouldn’t affect him
at all and yet every heated gasp stoked his lust with fiery torment.

“I have no need of honeyed words.” Her uneven confession
enflamed as much as if she’d grasped his cock in the palm of her hand.
“Flattery means nothing to me. I only seek a-a momentary diversion with you.”

His grin felt feral, but he couldn’t prevent it as renewed
desire pumped through his veins and gripped his vitals in a punishing embrace.

“Prove it.” His mouth brushed hers, a fleeting kiss that
burned his lips. “Tell your father Carys invited you to visit with her later
this day. Meet me at the villa at the ninth hour and show me how much of a
diversion you wish me to be.”

Antonia could still feel the imprint of Gawain’s lips on
hers as she entered her father’s townhouse. Her face was warm, her skin
tingling and Juno help her, but if she felt this alive after just a touch how
would she feel once Gawain had possessed her body?

“
Domina
.” A slave approached and Antonia attempted to
drag her errant thoughts back to the present. It was late morning and in less
than four hours, she’d once again see Gawain. In the meantime, she needed to
convince her father to allow her to visit the tribune’s wife.

“Yes?” She gave the slave a distracted smile and hoped
whatever query the woman had was easily resolved. She needed to bathe, to
prepare her body and just as important, she needed to talk with Elpis as to the
secrets involved in seducing a man. If left to her own devices, Gawain was sure
to be disappointed.

Although she’d told Elpis of her assignation, there’d been
no time to talk further. Antonia’s father insisted she use a litter to and from
the forum, and she could scarcely conduct such a scandalous conversation
through the silken drapes while Elpis walked by her side.

“The
dominus
requests your presence in the atrium,”
the slave said. “The
praetor
wishes to extend his greetings to you.”

The
praetor
? Why would such an important politician
wish to greet
her
? She didn’t believe for one moment he did. It was her
father, hoping to introduce her to someone else who might be able to once again
affect her entry into the elevated echelons of Roman society.

She took a calming breath as Elpis removed her
palla
and tidied her hair. Did she look half-ravished? She certainly felt it. But for
her father’s sake, she hoped she looked like the perfect, pure-minded daughter
he deserved.

This perfunctory greeting wouldn’t take long. There was
plenty of time before she needed to leave. Plenty of time to agonize over the
fact she was going to deliberately deceive her father.

She entered the atrium. Her father turned, smiling, and then
the other man, dressed in a purple striped toga, also turned toward her.

Antonia’s heart slammed against her ribs, stifling the air
in her lungs, squeezing her throat in disbelief. The
praetor
was not a
stranger. He had often visited Scipio in Rome. He’d always treated her with
utmost respect and kindness whenever their paths had crossed. Yet in spite of
his impeccable manner, she’d seen the lust in his eyes, and known that with the
slightest encouragement he would have embarked on an illicit affair.

“Lady Antonia.” Quintus Fabius Seneca took her chilled
fingers and kissed the back of her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Antonia forced a smile to her lips and rescued her hand. “I
did not know you were in Britannia,
Praetor
.” Please Juno, let him be
merely visiting the province. If he was now stationed in Camulodunum, the
chances of Scipio discovering her future plans became alarmingly possible. But
would her former husband truly imagine, for even a moment, the child she
adopted was really his?

“A happy coincidence,” the
praetor
said, and for some
reason Antonia didn’t believe a word. He gestured toward one of the ornate
couches, indicating she should sit, as though he was the master of this
townhouse and not her father. “It delights my heart to see you looking so well,
despite the deprivations of this barbarous province.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw her father flinch at the
slight. His atrium was extravagant in the extreme and while it might not
possess the spacious proportions of the grandest villas in Rome, Antonia was
certain it ranked among the most lavish in Britannia. It certainly compared
favorably to the one he’d had in Gallia, until he had moved to Britannia three
years ago in order to capitalize on the sudden demand for luxury goods.

“On the contrary, I find this province to be most
accommodating.” As she sat on the couch, she tried not to let Gawain’s mocking
smile intrude into her thoughts. Now was not the time to let base lust dictate
her words.

“Indeed, your father’s establishment is most comfortable.”
The
praetor
offered her father a condescending smile, and Antonia bit
her lip to stop herself from responding on his behalf. “And your loyalty, my
lady, does you credit as always.”

Antonia saw her father take a breath, undoubtedly to extol
the extent of her loyalty to Rome, the Emperor and goddess knew what else. The
last topic of conversation she wanted was one that centered around her,
especially since the
praetor
knew far more about the state of her
marriage to Scipio than her father ever would.

“What brings you to this far-flung outpost of the empire,
Praetor
?”
Antonia folded her hands on her lap and prayed to Fortuna that he was merely
traveling through the province and had no plans to stay longer than a few days
or so.

“Duty, my lady.” He clasped his hands behind his back and
looked as though he prepared to address the Senate. “We are pledged to rid this
primitive isle of the scourge of Druids and that is my mission. Not that you
need to concern yourself with such unpleasant matters of state.”

Scipio hadn’t wanted her to concern herself with such
matters, either. He had been astonished, and not in a good way, when his young
bride had voiced her opinions on politics, law and injustice within his
hearing. It hadn’t taken her long to realize the extensive education her father
had paid a fortune for was the last reason why Scipio had taken her for his
wife.

But she was no longer Scipio’s wife.

“Surely the Druids live in the wild forests of Cambria,
Praetor
?
The last places they would flee are to Roman strongholds.”

Instead of ignoring her or responding with a cutting remark
as Scipio would have done, the
praetor
turned his full attention her
way.

“With the fall of the rebel leader Caratacus last summer,
the Druids were driven from their homeland.” The
praetor
frowned and
although Antonia wished he had never set foot in Britannia, a part of her
recalled why she’d enjoyed his attention in Rome. It was because, in spite of
his innate air of superiority, he always considered her opinion worth the
trouble of a genuine response. “We know many of them escaped to their barbaric
Isle of Mona but it’s my belief some of them spread across Britannia. The
emperor won’t rest until every last one of them is crushed beneath the might of
the Eagle.”

“None would dare set foot in Camulodunum.” Her father
sounded outraged by the very thought. “The filthy cowards most likely fled
north to the mountains of Caledonia.”

“That is very possible,” the
praetor
conceded.

“I wish you well in your mission,
Praetor
. All Druids
should be hunted to extinction like the rabid dogs they are.”

At any other time Antonia would have loved to discuss the
mysteries of the evil Druids but her mind kept straying to Gawain. Had he meant
that ultimatum? Or would she arrive at the tribune’s villa only to discover it
had been a cruel trick on his part?

If she didn’t go, she would never know. And would spend the
rest of her life wondering
what if?

“Antonia?” Her father’s voice jerked her back to the
present. “The
praetor
enquired how you’re enjoying the restricted social
interactions here.”

The pained expression on her father’s beloved face told her
that he was convinced she secretly hated everything about Camulodunum. Soon she
would have to confide in him that she never intended to leave, but that was a
conversation for another day. For now, both the
praetor
and her father
had just given her the ideal opening regarding her clandestine meeting with
Gawain.

“The tribune’s wife, Carys, is most charming.” If she were
careful, she might be able to make it sound as though Carys had invited her
without having to lie outright. She would still feel bad about deceiving her
father but it would, after all, be for only a short while.

“The foreign princess.” The
praetor
’s tone gave
nothing away of his private feelings on that matter. “She was the one who
thwarted the mad Druid’s plan in Cambria two years ago to overthrow the
Legions.”

Antonia stared at him, momentarily distracted from her
purpose. “She was?” She tried to imagine the delicate-looking woman doing
anything other than gracing her husband’s Roman villa, and failed.

“It was the reason Maximus was allowed to marry her. The
emperor was most appreciative of her efforts.”

“Another reason why no Druid would enter our great city,”
her father said.

She dearly wanted to learn more, but she couldn’t allow this
opportunity to pass by. “I have been invited to the tribune’s villa this
afternoon.” She glanced at her father. “May I use the
carpentum
?”

Her father’s face brightened and guilt churned through her
breast. But the guilt wasn’t strong enough for her to retract her question.

“Of course. I’ll arrange for a full complement of guard to
accompany you.”

Relief flooded through her and she stood, inclining her head
at the
praetor
. “It has been a pleasure to see you again,
Praetor
.”
She hoped they would never meet again, though. “Pray forgive my hasty
departure.”

Once again he took her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, my
lady.” His eyes never left hers and unease trickled along her spine at the
desire he no longer made any effort to conceal. “I trust you and your father
will honor me by attending a feast I’m holding next week.”

Gawain found Carys in the room adjoining the Roman bathhouse
Maximus had built in the villa’s grounds. She had just finished her daily
teaching of local peasant children and he couldn’t help the glare he arrowed
her way.

“The Romans will crucify you if they discover what you’re
doing under their aristocratic noses.” Not to mention that she was flagrantly
disregarding every edict passed down from the dawn of time that the ways of the
Druids were sacred and not to be shared with any outsider.

“I’m only passing on the most basic of our knowledge.” Carys
shot him a frown of her own. “I’m not a fool, Gawain. I would never put my
family at such risk. But Cerridwen’s word must live on, and this is one way to
preserve her wisdom.”

He had heard her arguments before, shortly after he’d
discovered her whereabouts in Camulodunon. He still couldn’t fathom that her
patrician husband allowed her to continue with her passionate dream of educating
the ignorant Britons, but Maximus, it appeared, was far from an average Roman.

“Why bother? The locals already worship the heathen gods of
Rome.”

“Yes, because their own priests have all been slaughtered or
driven far from here.” Carys gripped his arm and he heaved a silent sigh. He
knew what was coming next. “With your knowledge you could help turn the tide,
Gawain. There’s so much valuable information you can share with the populace.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have the advantage of Rome believing I
led your tribune to the High Priest of Cymru in order to save their precious
Legions.” The High Priest had been insane with hatred for Rome, lust for Carys
and the desire to wrench power from their gods and claim it for his own. It
wasn’t only the invaders who would’ve perished had he succeeded in his terrible
vengeance. “And, unlike you, I no longer possess blind devotion to our fickle
gods.”

How could he, when the god he had devoted his life to no
longer acknowledged his existence?

“You would rather stir up another rebellion.”

He had no intention of discussing such things with Carys.
The less she knew of his plans the better.

“Speaking of rebellion, I met the luscious lady Antonia in
the market earlier. It’s likely she’ll be visiting shortly. This room will do
for my needs.”

Carys stared at him, speechless. Gawain offered her a
lecherous grin. “Before you leap to defend her honor, I did not need to
threaten or coerce. She appears more than eager to embark on an illicit liaison
with a brutal barbarian.”

“But—”

“For the sake of propriety I imagine she’ll inform her
father that it’s you she is visiting. These Romans have an odd sense of
morality.”

Carys glared at him. “After everything I said to you the
other day you’re still determined to follow this path?”

He shrugged. “It means nothing, Carys. To me or to her. Your
concerns are unfounded.” Then he brushed a kiss against her cheek. He had,
after all, known her for all of her life and she was the nearest thing he had
to a sister. “But I thank you for them, just the same.”

By the time Antonia arrived at the villa her nerves were in
tatters. Elpis had accompanied her inside the
carpentum
and Antonia
gripped her slave’s hands as she willed her limbs to stop shaking. If Gawain
guessed how secretly terrified of this encounter she was, he’d laugh in her
face.

“Are you sure about this,
domina
?” Elpis had become
increasingly concerned as the journey progressed. “There’s no need to continue
if you’ve changed your mind.”

But she hadn’t changed her mind. She wanted to do this. She
just wished she knew what Gawain expected of her. Elpis, it turned out, hadn’t
been that knowledgeable when it came to consensual sex and Antonia certainly
hadn’t wanted to ask the advice of any of her father’s slaves.

“I need to do this.” Not just for herself. She wanted her
daughter to one day make a glorious marriage with a man she loved. How could
Antonia offer her any advice if she had no idea what it was like to be with a
man who didn’t cause her flesh to crawl by the mere mention of his name?