The Patrician Page 23

  “You’ve been drinking,” said the apparition in an accented voice that made him go hard despite his inebriation.

  “Very astute observation,” he slurred. Shifting to relieve the pressure in his groin, he slipped off the edge of the bench, scraping his arm across the rough stone before landing with a thump onto his ass.

  “Serves you right,” she said, resting her hands on her hips. Those wonderfully round, full hips attached to wonderfully shaped legs that he wanted to wind round his waist. Except that she would never deign to give herself to a Roman.

  “Please, Mistress, we must get him inside before the household awakens. Before Master Flavian awakens,” Dionysius pleaded. “I cannot do it alone.”

  “Don’t need help. Can do it myself,” he told them, “Wouldn’t want my father to be disappointed in his son.” Ignoring the dull throb between his eyes, and the ache in his chest, Jared concentrated and managed to stand up. The garden whirled by in a blur.

  A slender arm slipped beneath his shoulder, steadied him. He laid his cheek against the top of Bryna’s head. Her hair was like silk against the roughness of his unshaven jaw. She smelled like flowers just opened in the dew of the morning. The tightness in his groin worsened.

  “You are the most beautiful barbarian I’ve ever known.”

  “I am the only barbarian you’ve ever known,” she retorted dryly.

  He grinned and leaned heavily on her shoulder, nearly toppling them both with his larger bulk. She managed to hold onto his waist, guiding them toward the bedchambers while a fuzzy Dionysius scurried ahead of them, lighting the way.

  He tried to walk straight, but judging from the muted curses and frustrated groans that penetrated the fog he was in, he would wager he wasn’t being too successful. He had intended to drink only a bit, enough to ease the pain of seeing his father. But then, prompted by the wine, his thoughts had jumped to the exasperating, challenging, absolutely intriguing enigma of Bryna. That’s when he’d lost count of the number of amphorae he’d drained.

  “Someone is coming,” hissed Dionysius. “Quick, in here.”

  “But that is my bedchamber,” protested Bryna. She pushed Jared against the wall, one small hand splayed against his chest in an effort to keep him from crumbling to the floor.

  “Mistress, please.”

  Bryna sliced Jared with a lethal look that caused laughter to bubble in his throat, but he wasn’t so out of his head as to give voice to it. Grabbing a handful of his tunic, she pulled him through the door. Jared staggered to the bed in the center of the room and fell face down on it.

  “Good night to you Mistress,” said Dionysus bobbing his head and ducking out the doorway.

  Bryna pressed her forehead against the closed door. Of all the things she had come to expect from Jared, losing control through inebriation hadn’t been one of them. She’d allow that, after their conversation about his relationship with his father, emotions could get the best of a man. But she’d not tolerate the habit, nor lose sleep because of it.

  Turning, she found him sprawled across her bed. Shaking her head, she walked slowly to the bed, sat beside him on the pallet. She straightened his tunic, her hand lingering on the warm flesh of his muscled thigh. There was no denying the strength of the man. A warrior’s strength, body, mind and spirit. But there was such loneliness in this man.

  A loud, sonorous breath escaped him and he mumbled something in his Hebrew tongue that she could not understand. She sighed, reached over to sweep a lock of midnight hair from his forehead. “Is this your legacy Jared? To lose yourself in oblivion lest you feel the hurt?”

  He stirred restlessly, rolled onto his side, flopped a rock hard arm across her lap. She circled his wrist to remove his arm. Instead, he splayed his hand over her ribcage, began to knead her side.

  Bryna sucked in her breath as warm swirls of pleasure spiraled their way through her core. His eyes still closed, Jared brought his other arm up, pulling her down until she lay stretched on top of him.

  She pushed against the wide expanse of chest, but he held her pinned with his arms. She breathed in the scent of him and shivered when he nibbled at her ear. Soul deep need warred with the same unrelenting pride that always caused her trouble. She wanted him to need her as she needed him.

  The thought stunned her. She did want him, wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to feel their souls touch. But not like this. Not when he had no idea what he was about and would most likely regret it in the morning.

  “You are drunk, Roman.” Her voice quavered as his lips, sweet with wine, found hers, sucking softly on her bottom lip, taking small tastes before taking full possession. Bryna fell into the kiss, cupped his face. But common sense pricked at her conscience. Summoning every bit of willpower she still possessed, she broke away. “Jared, you do not want to do this.”

  “Oh, but I do, my sweet barbarian.” Moonlight danced through the window, reflected the dark desire in Jared’s slitted gaze. It registered, then that his words were not nearly as slurred as they had been.

  Grasping her arms, he raised her up so that she sat, straddling his hips. Beneath her, she could feel the tight, hard length of him. He slipped his hands beneath the sleeves of her dress stripping them from her arms, baring her to the waist.

  There was no time to think as the callused tips of his hand brushed against her nipples. Bryna sucked in a breath as they grew taut beneath his touch. Jared drew her to him, captured one rosy tip in the heat of his mouth. She arched against his onslaught, dug her fingers into his arms. In one smooth motion, he rolled her onto her back.

  “We both want things, Bryna.” He dipped his head, trailing searing kisses along the ridges of her sides. “Retribution. . . freedom. . .” He lifted the skirt of her gown. “...justice. He dipped his head, laved the tender bud buried in the curls of her woman’s folds.

  Gods! He was doing wonderful things with his tongue. Heat and power surged through her, her belly contracted, her thoughts scattered. She couldn’t think, did not want to think, wanted only to feel. She wanted only him.

  With deft movements uncharacteristic of a drunken man, he peeled away his tunic.

  In the dim light, she soaked in the sight of him, the sleek plane of torso, arms and legs all corded muscle. Her gaze drifted slowly to the sharp angle of his jaw, past those rich, full lips, the straight nose to those incredible tawny eyes, pupils dilated with need.

  “What do you want, Bryna?” he whispered hoarsely.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Only a few months ago she wanted nothing more than to gain her freedom, find Bran and return to Eire. But now, now her heart demanded more.

  “You,” she answered smoothing her hand down the crisp hair arrowing along the flat plane of his abdomen. “I want you.”

  Hot passion swept over his features. In one smooth motion, he slid her dress from beneath her then with one hand, released the tie that held his loincloth. A dry gasp raked her throat at the evidence of his need. She was already hot and wet for him.

  Jared claimed her mouth again, plunged into the soft moistness with his tongue at the same time he slid into her welcoming sheath.

  Bryna sucked in a breath at the sweet sensation of his filling presence. Gods, he fit perfectly, as if they had been made for each other. She held onto his shoulders, drew him to her, desperate to be closer.

  Jared started to move within her. Slow, too slow. Against her lips she felt his smile at her groan of protest. In answer, she raked her nails across the slick skin of his back, took her own pleasure at his growl. He broke their kiss and in the reflection of the lamplight, his eyes glowed like molten gold as he caught and held her gaze.

  Bryna did not shrink away from his passion, but shifted her hips. Jared’s eye’s flared hot and he began to move. Her smile of triumph drifted into short, desperate gasps of pleasure as he set the rhythm. Each stroke of his cock sent waves of sensations washing over her, drove coherent thought from her mind. He touched her very core and still he denied her r
elease. “Roman!”

  He laughed raggedly and through her dazed vision she recognized pure male triumph as he finally, blessedly complied. He reached beneath her, grasped her buttocks and, with one last powerful thrust, drove her to sweet, exquisite explosion.

  Gods, gods, gods, yes! Bryna rode the wave, nails digging into his flesh, unable to find breath. He was inside her and at the edge of her muddled thoughts Bryna knew that that was all that mattered. A cry tore from her throat, mixed with Jared’s as they hurtled over the edge together.

  Long moments passed before Bryna became aware of anything besides Jared’s hard body atop her own. He’d taken some of his weight onto his trembling arms to avoid crushing her, a concession she should appreciate since her breathing, like his, still came in short, shallow, gasps. She slid her hands along the lines of his torso, savored the feel of him still inside her.

  Gods, he smelled wonderful, the heat of his skin brought out the deeper, rich scent of male. She nuzzled the strong cords of his neck and inhaled. Musky spice and earth and…

  Warrior.

  Bryna’s eyes fluttered open. Yes, he was a warrior. Though his battles were of a different sort, he was strong and knew how to fight. He shifted his hips and she smiled. And he knew how to love.

  His breathing settled, Jared rolled to his side, hooked his leg around hers to bring her along, their bodies still joined. Bryna reveled in the feel of him within her, his hard body molded perfectly along her softer curves. She wished they could stay like this forever. Unwilling to break the bond they had forged, she closed her eyes at the tender stroke of his finger along her cheek.

  “Bryna?”

  Now would come the explanations of why this should not have happened. Her heart clenched. With a sigh, she opened her eyes. Jared was searching her face, the lines of his face softened in the afterglow of their mating.

  “Are all husbands so well pleased by their barbarian wives?”

  She started to rise to his bait, then saw something she would have thought impossible—a teasing light in his eyes. She snuggled against him. “Only the drunken ones, husband.”

  He chuckled, pressed her close, covering them with a cover. Soon, his breathing evened as he fell into contented slumber. It took longer for sleep to claim her.

  Bryna propped her head on her bent arm, studied Jared’s relaxed features. He had regained his freedom. And justice would come when the identity of his enemy was discovered.

  But retribution against her? Oh, he had achieved that most certainly, the most potent form of revenge. What better way to exact punishment than to cause her to fall in love?

  Damn him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jared leaned against the side of the house, watched Bryna run her hands over the green leaves of a hibiscus bush, her fingers caressing the delicate pink blossoms. Desire flooded him as he imagined her stroking him with that same gentle touch.

  She wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever known. Proud beyond reason, headstrong, willful, defiant, wild. A wry smile

  tugged at his lips. A perfect barbarian, his woman.

  His woman.

  Jared shook his head in wonder. Maybe she really was a witch, for he had surely fallen under her spell. An unexplainable energy sizzled between them whenever they were together. He felt whole when he was with her and he had not felt whole in a long time.

  Three weeks had passed since the night of their lovemaking and in that time they had fallen into an easy routine. During the day they spent time together, talking, sharing small random tidbits from their lives, even laughing. They were becoming friends. But at night the friendship ended and they shared the sweet, hot passion of lovers.

  She had even helped bridge the distance between himself and his father, finding excuses to leave them in the same room, forcing them together. Just this morning she had inquired about a manuscript Jared was reading which led Flavian to interject his scholar’s opinion. Only after he had spent an entire hour actually enjoying the debate with his father did he realize she’d quietly slipped out the door. Ten years of estrangement was dangerously close to being reconciled.

  Yes, unquestionably a witch.

  Bryna raised her head at that moment, his heart swelling at the pleasure that filled her eyes when she met his gaze. He joined her on the bench, brushed his lips teasingly over hers.

  She blushed, glanced nervously around the garden. “Someone might be watching.”

  He tensed and pulled back. “Does it shame you to be seen kissing a Roman?”

  She gave him a wry look. “Not so much anymore. What better place to do so than it the heart of Rome?” She plucked a blossom off the bush, twirled it in her hands. “A slave spends a lot of time trying not to be noticed. I worry sometimes that I will always think like a slave.”

  He didn’t say anything, just folded her hand into his. He wanted to drive the fear and worry from her thoughts. But in truth, he was plagued with the same demons. Every time he left his father’s house he looked over his shoulder. He would not relax until they returned to Alexandria. But even there he had enemies.

  He leaned over to kiss her again when a large sphere of orange fur launched itself between them. Four sets of sharp claws dug into his leg. “By the gods!”

  Bryna giggled and gathered the demon feline into her arms admonishing her, “Cuini, that wasn’t nice.”

  Jared dabbed blood from the scratches on his leg, sent the cat a menacing glare. “That cat would be better tied into a sack and thrown into the Tiber.” Cuini bared her fangs and hissed.

  “Stop, she just doesn’t like sharing,” she replied. Rubbing Cuini under the chin, she whispered in her ear. The cat purred, licked her on the chin and jumped off her lap. Jared could have sworn it sent him a look of triumph. With a flick of its tail, Cuini sauntered off to the kitchen. Bryna failed in hiding her amusement. Clearing her throat she sobered. “Is there any news?”

  He blew out a long breath. “Not yet. Father’s contact says bad weather has slowed many of the ships from Alexandria, Caesarea, Antioch. It could be another two weeks.”

  Disappointment flashed behind her eyes. “Waiting. That’s all we’ve been doing is waiting. One more day behind these walls and I will no longer be responsible for my actions. Insanity is very close at hand.”

  She continued to list the effects of confinement. Jared smiled at her dramatic declarations. It was not as if she had been completely unoccupied since their arrival. His father had taken on the challenge of teaching his new daughter-in-law how to read and write, a task Bryna had embraced, although she made no secret that she thought stories told by a bard much more entertaining than scratching on a parchment. But he allowed that it could get tedious. Doubting she’d accept an offer to stay with him in bed to pass the time, he said, “Would a trip to the marketplace forestall your madness?”

  She looked at him skeptically. “You said it was too dangerous to leave the house, though you have done so nearly every day.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Gaius would not spend four months searching for two runaways. It’s too expensive. The slave catchers’ fee far outweighs our value.”

  “I don’t know. . .” she said, chewing on her lower lip.

  “It is understandable if you are afraid...” He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as fire lit her eyes.

  “I am never afraid, Roman. We will go to the marketplace.”

  ***

  Bryna was both mesmerized and overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of the marketplace known as the Forum. She thought Even the bustle of the town of their marriage had not been so filled with color, noise and frenetic activity. It was a welcome respite from the confines of Flavian’s house.

  “My goodness, look at the juggler tossing swords! I certainly hope his catch is true, else he might cut off some vital appendage,” whispered Judith, waggling her brows.

  Bryna laughed at her observation. Flavian had insisted that they be accompanied by a servant, to ally suspi
cions by anyone as to their position. She turned at the tug on her hand and found Jared looking at her, his golden eyes softened by curiosity.

  “I like it when you laugh,” he said, dodging an overzealous shopkeeper intent on draping a gaudy silver necklace around his neck. “But it grieves me that you would do so as a fool makes a eunuch of himself.”

  She cocked her head at him, trying to decide if he was serious. The bland expression on his face prompted her answer. “I can think of nothing more amusing than a Roman skewering himself, whether for business—” She flipped her now waist length braid over her shoulder. “—or pleasure.”

  She laughed again at the feigned look of pain on his face and squirmed free from his grasp, racing Judith to the stall of a cloth merchant.

  She was engrossed in an array of colorful fabrics when Jared caught up. A dark scowl marked his handsome face, a face that revealed his inner thoughts as thoroughly as any her gift could discern. He was irritated but not angry.

  The fat little merchant puffed out his chest with pride as he extolled his goods. “My cloth is the finest in all the city. Feel the quality of the cloth. And the colors,”

  “The colors show them to be cheaply made,” interjected Jared.

  The merchant sputtered. “Your pardon, good sir, but I spend a precious sum on the importation of such fine material.”

  “Then your money is wasted.” He picked up an edge of saffron colored linen. “See here, the weave is loosely done and no mordant was used to set the dye. The colors will fade by the second wearing.”

  The man’s face mottled as several other customers leaned in to look closer at the cloth. Bryna quietly took Jared’s hand and led him to the next stall.

  “I don’t think your advice was appreciated,” she said warming as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

  “People who sell inferior goods give all honest merchants a bad name,” he answered, unashamed.

  She slanted a look up at him. “Still, I think it best if you just watch and let Judith and I do the shopping.”