Rhiannon looked ill. “Go back to Rome, Lucius. Perhaps then the vision will fade.”
“I made a vow to avenge Aulus’s death.”
“And if you cannot?”
“I must, and soon. I’ve but a few short months before my successor arrives.”
Her breath caught. “Truly?”
He gazed into her eyes and felt comforted despite the turmoil he saw there. Though she spoke words to the contrary, he couldn’t believe she wished him to go. “This post will be my last. Come winter, I’ll return to Rome and take my father’s seat in the Senate.” For the first time, the thought held some appeal. He smiled. “You’ll come with me. I’ll show you a city beyond anything you can imagine.”
Her eyes clouded before they dropped to his chest. “Surely there are women enough in Rome.”
He lifted her chin with one fingertip. “None like you.”
She regarded him steadily with her golden eyes, but try as he might he couldn’t read her thoughts. She traced his lips with the pad of her thumb.
“You are so proud,” she said, almost to herself.
His tongue darted forward and gave her thumb a playful lap. “I am. Let me prove it to you. Come to bed.”
Amusement chased away the shadows on her face. “Lucius …”
“On your lips, my name sounds like music.” Caught by a sudden urge, he laced her fingers in his and tugged her toward Aulus’s massive Egyptian wardrobe. “Come, I wish to show you something.”
“What—”
“You’ll see.” He opened the brightly colored doors and searched through Aulus’s collection of jewelry until he found the one piece he sought. A teardrop pendant of amber.
He dropped the chain around her neck. She cradled the amber in her fingers and looked up at him in awe. “ ’Tis beautiful.”
“When I first saw it among my brother’s things, the color of the stone reminded me of your eyes. I want you to have it.”
She shook her head. “I cannot wear this.” But her fingers gripped the pendant tightly, as if she dared not let it go.
“You can. I wish you to.” He tugged the blanket aside and placed a kiss just below the stone in the valley between her breasts. “Please.”
A tremor passed through her. “As you wish.” When he raised his head she placed a kiss of her own upon his chest.
“Be careful,” he muttered, “or you will find yourself impaled on my sword a second time.”
“Such a threat will do little to deter me,” she said, her voice thick. She flicked her tongue over his nipple.
He groaned. “You were forewarned.” His slipped his hand between her legs and she gasped as he teased her there. Her knees gave way. He steadied her with his hands on her waist and guided her to the bed.
He stretched out on his back and lifted her atop him. She sprawled on his stomach, legs spread wide, hair cascading over her shoulders. Her skin was the finest alabaster, touched with rose, the dark flame of curls between her thighs held fire enough to sear any man. No goddess could be lovelier.
His gaze drifted to the angry red scar on her thigh, bordered by bruises just beginning to fade. He traced it with his fingertip. “I’m sorry for this.”
She gave a wry smile. “Don’t trouble yourself overmuch. I’m not sorry for the arrow I put in your arse.”
His gaze narrowed, but her eyes held only laughter. He smiled, tension draining from his body. Rhiannon’s fingers found his shaft and stroked upward. He needed no more encouragement. He slid into her body and lost himself in her welcoming heat.
Chapter Fourteen
“Vindolanda has no need for reinforcements. My scouts found no evidence of barbarian activity in the area. Sir.”
“I’d be surprised if your men could find their way out of a latrine,” Lucius told Brennus. He pressed his seal into the soft wax covering his letter to the fortress commander at Eburacum. “And even if nothing was found, it hardly signifies. By your own admission, there was no advance warning of the attack on my party.”
Brennus rocked back on his heels, his expression unreadable. Lucius’s attention drifted to Aulus, sprawled on the floor boards in the corner of the office. A loose knot was all that prevented the remnants of his shredded tunic from slipping over his hips.
“You dealt your attackers a severe blow, sir. Twenty barbarians dead by our count. More certainly died of their injuries. The Celts will not soon attack again.”
“Your opinion is noted,” Lucius replied. He closed the sealbox and set it with a second parcel addressed to the governor in Londinium. “Select three of your fastest riders for the journey.”