His mouth covered hers, seeking silence and surrender. His tongue plunged and receded. She tasted like wind and honey. It would be no hardship to drink from her cup for a lifetime. He dipped his head to taste her again.
She bit his lip.
He jerked away and uttered an oath. Rhiannon scrambled to the far end of the bed. He stared at her as he touched his mouth. When he drew his finger away, it was streaked with blood.
“By Pollux,” he said, but the wild urge to subdue her had shattered. A glimmer of respect rose in its place.
Rhiannon met his gaze. “You told me you had no need to force your attentions on a woman.”
“Your response led me to believe no force would be necessary.”
She blushed. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
She looked down at her clasped hands. “I … I don’t know.”
“You feel it as I do, do you not? When I draw near. When I touch you.”
“Yes,” she whispered, still avoiding his gaze. “When you touch me. I feel … more. Everything. Like I’m dying inside.” She lifted her head and he saw anguish in her eyes. “You must believe me, Lucius. I know no spell that will ease your brother’s soul.”
A weight like a heavy stone settled on Lucius’s shoulders. He regarded her in silence, sickened that he’d come so close to snapping the thin threads of his control. After a moment, he forced his legs to carry him to the door. Shards of glass cut into his bare soles. He welcomed the pain. It was infinitely preferable to the numbness that had taken over his heart.
He set his hand on the latch, but couldn’t bring himself to lift it. Aulus waited outside.
He pressed his forehead against the polished wood. Long heartbeats passed, pulsing against silence. When he spoke, his voice trembled.
“May I stay?”
“Stay?” Rhiannon’s voice held a note of panic.
He turned, supporting his back against the door, not sure his legs would take his full weight. His fingers gripped the door latch. “Not in your bed, Rhiannon, unless you want me there. On the floor.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Aulus awaits me in the passageway. I cannot …” He choked, unable to finish.
Rhiannon’s hand crept to her throat.
“I’m sorry,” he said when she did not answer. “I forget myself.” He turned, steeling himself to open the door.
“Wait.”
He looked back at her.
“I’d bid you sleep on my floor, Lucius, but it seems to be covered with bits of glass.” She offered him a shaky smile. “Perhaps if I go to your chamber …”
Relief nearly drove him to his knees. “You don’t fear me? Think me mad?”
“No more mad than I am.”
“You cannot know that—you’ve not seen me speaking to the air. Sometimes Aulus seems more real than the living men before me.” He loosened his grip on the door latch and laid his palm flat against the wood. “More solid than this barrier. I relinquished command of my Legion to come north, but if truth be told, I was on the verge of being dismissed. My men no longer trusted me. And though I knew it, I didn’t care. I thought only of Aulus.”
“You loved him.”
Lucius closed his eyes against the familiar wave of guilt. “Not enough. He loved me far better.”
Rhiannon held out her arms. “Come. Carry me to your chamber. I dare not step off the bed for fear of cutting my feet.”
Lucius straightened away from the door and lifted her, pausing to blow out the lamp flame. He moved through the darkness swiftly, shouldering open her door and striding down the blessedly deserted passage to his own chamber.
His door stood ajar. He pushed through it and kicked it shut behind him. Aulus’s hideous Egyptian furnishings hulked in the darkness. He lowered Rhiannon onto the wide bed and covered her with one of the furs. He lingered at her side, wishing he could make out her expression in the dim light slanting through the shutters.
She caught his hand and brought it to her cheek. “This bed is large. Will you not share it with me?”
Shock flashed through him, leaving flames of violent hope in its wake. A long moment passed before he reined in his lust and gave Rhiannon a swift shake of his head. His control was far too close to the breaking point. Making love to her now would surely shatter it. If that happened, Lucius feared he would never regain his equilibrium.
“Lucius?”
“I would be a poor lover this night, my nymph. I’ll take my rest on the bench.” He bent low and brushed a chaste kiss across Rhiannon’s lips. “But I’ll promise you tomorrow.”
Chapter Eight
“Consorting with ghosts in the night, Luc?”