Gawain waited just inside the tavern and watched Antonia as she approached. Even in this back street, where no patrician lady should set foot, she had an aura of confidence in her step and a smile tugged his mouth.
When he’d seen her across the square, as she left the Roman baths, something had tightened in his chest. He wasn’t sure why. He’d been certain that she would turn up so it couldn’t have been relief.
He leaned against the open doorjamb and saw her face light up as she caught sight of him. In that moment, she looked so young, so carefree, as though she wasn’t risking her good name by meeting him here this day.
“Is this your idea of a disguise?” He tweaked the hood of her slave’s cloak, which covered her pale gold hair. She laughed up at him and swayed toward him as if she intended to wrap her arms around him. But she didn’t.
“Who will see me? Only you.”
“Make sure it stays that way.” The growled words were out before he could prevent them. Gods. He didn’t usually care if his conquests fucked around with other men. But the thought of Antonia doing so did not sit well with him.
She raised her eyebrows. “I do believe we’re talking at cross-purposes.” She appeared to find that amusing if the quirk to her lips was anything to go by. “You have no cause to be jealous, Gawain.”
That was taking it too far. He wrapped his arm around her waist and propelled her into the dark tavern.
“I’m not the jealous type,” he said against her ear as he led her to the room he had hired. But the image of Antonia sharing her charms with another goaded his mind. “But while you’re with me, don’t even think about taking another lover.”
Fuck, what had possessed him to tell her that? He thrust open the door and allowed her to enter before him, aware that her slave remained in the passageway. She would be safe enough. He had given instructions, and paid the tavern keeper enough coin, to ensure they’d be undisturbed.
He kicked the door shut and watched Antonia as she slowly turned, examining the room. It was little more than a hovel. The thought irked him, even though it had been her idea to meet here instead of the luxurious surroundings of Carys’ villa.
“This is quite charming.” Her voice was breathless and from the subdued glow that came through the dingy windows her eyes sparkled with mirth. He took one step toward her, ripped open her cloak and flung it onto the unsavory-looking bed.
“Do you often conduct assignations in such disreputable surrounds?” Perhaps she made a habit of it. The possibility stoked his ire. But why did it? Why did it bother him? Why did he give a shit where or how Antonia had taken her lovers in the past?
“Juno, of course not.” She sounded scandalized. “This is the first time I’ve ever set foot inside a tavern. I confess it is quite exciting.”
He laughed, even though he hadn’t meant to. But she said the most extraordinary things, and in such a way that he was hard-pressed not to believe she meant every word. Maybe she did. Why would she lie?
“You’re easily excited, my lady.” His comment, and the unintended double entendre, sent another rumble of laughter through his chest.
“Oh yes.” She gave him a sinful glance from beneath her lashes. “I’m very easily pleased, Gawain. I’ve never craved a great deal from life.”
He pulled a jeweled pin from her hair and twisted it between his fingers so the gems glittered. “I believe you.” But what a gently bred Roman might consider the bare necessities would be unobtainable luxury for a noble born Druid. “So what is it you do crave from life, Antonia?”
Her smile faltered and for a fleeting moment he once again saw that haunting vulnerability cloud her eyes. What is she hiding? The demand thundered through his mind but before he could order his thoughts, before he could formulate the question, she gave a breathless laugh and shook her head, shattering the moment. Her ringlet bounced against her throat, captivating his attention, and she trailed her fingers along his jaw.
“No more than any other woman.”
“Other Roman women.” He covered her hand and pressed his lips against her open palm. Her gaze locked with his and he watched, bewitched, as desire darkened her ice-blue eyes.
“Are we so different from Celtic women?” Her question was barely above a whisper and he caught an odd vulnerability in her voice.
“Yes.” His hungry gaze roved over her aristocratic face, her intricately styled hair, the foreign gown she wore. But even if he dressed her as a Celtic noble, it wasn’t the way she looked that divided them. “We live in two different worlds, Antonia. You wouldn’t last a Roman month in mine.”
A small smile curved her lips. “I didn’t imagine you were so close-minded. How easily you could fit into the world of Roman politics.”
Her words were unexpected. Once again, she appeared less than dazzled with her cursed empire and her attitude intrigued him. He slid his fingers through hers and tugged her forward. “Did you just insult me, my lady?”
“Do you have ambitions to infiltrate the Senate?”
She was laughing at him, but that wasn’t all. She was laughing at her own culture and he found it enchanting. “Do you think I’d succeed if I attempted such a feat?”
She tilted her head in a deliberately provocative manner. “I should like to witness such a thing. But I fear patricians are very fond of nepotism when it comes to matters of state.”
“How fortunate I harbor no such ambitions, then.” He slid the neckline of her gown off her shoulder and the savage mark of possession he’d given her the previous day riveted his attention.
“Is your way so different?” Her voice was breathless as she leaned toward him. “Before the conquest would your chieftains welcome outsiders into their inner sanctum?”
His gut clenched at the word conquest but then an ice cold realization speared through him.
Before the Romans had invaded, it was the Druids who’d held the power. Kings and chieftains had sought their wisdom and knowledge and deferred to them in all matters concerning the gods and portents.
It was the reason her emperor so feared and hated Druids. The reason he wanted to eliminate every last one in his cursed empire.
Druids did not, had never, open their sacred ranks to outsiders. The blood of the gods flowed through their veins and their magic passed down from one generation to the next. Occasionally an acolyte was accepted from the nobility or, rarely, the peasant class if they showed exceptional potential, but since the dawn of Creation, Druids had enjoyed an elevated, privileged status.
That didn’t mean they were in any way similar to Roman patricians. The thought was abhorrent.
He frowned down at Antonia. She had only gently mocked his ways the same as she’d mocked her own. And she had no idea that he was a Druid, and therefore her bitterest enemy. But the unintentional parallel her words had drawn between their two cultures rankled nevertheless.
“No, they wouldn’t.” It might irk to admit it, but in some things all peoples were united. “The ties of blood and links to ancestors are paramount.”
“When our blood ties do not suffice,” Antonia trailed her finger over the front of his shirt, a featherlight distraction that managed to shred his concentration. “We find adoption an appropriate solution.”
He had the urge to laugh again, and all things considered, he wasn’t sure why. How did Antonia manage to twist a conversation that had struck at the heart of his existence into something that tickled his sense of humor?
“Romans are a swamp of contradictions.”
She rose onto her toes and brushed her lips over his. So soft. So irresistibly seductive. “Yes. I have always thought so.”
He slid the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips and wound his free arm about her waist, tugging her against his body so he could feel every delicious curve. “You also are contradictory.”
“Good.” She breathed the word into his mouth, and the familiar hint of fresh mint teased his senses. “How I would hate you to find me predictable.”
This time he did laugh, and he tightened his grip on her hand and waist. Her erratic breath feathered his jaw and her breasts pressed against his chest in a delightful torture.
Predictable was the last thing he found her.
“Why are you still standing?” He untangled his fingers from hers and palmed the firm globes of her arse. “I want you on your knees.”
The vision of her on her knees before him, sucking him into her wet mouth, caused his balls to tighten with need. He would plunge his fingers through her artfully arranged curls, come inside her delectable mouth, and watch her swallow his hot seed. A strangled groan razed his throat at the potent image.
Antonia flattened her hands against his broad chest and the strong beat of his heart thudded against her palm. She loved the way he held her so forcefully, and the thought of him taking her from behind, while she knelt on the dirty floor, was intoxicating.
“First,” she whispered, “I want you naked, Gawain. I want to explore every hard ridge of your body with my mouth.” Except his rod. She thrust that notion aside with a shudder of distaste.
“On one condition.” But already he tore his shirt over his head as if he couldn’t wait for her to begin. Mesmerized she drank in his magnificent corded muscles and bronzed flesh and involuntarily the tip of her tongue moistened her lips.
“What condition?” Her voice was husky and her eyes locked between his thighs as he now slowly, maddeningly, tugged his braccae over his hips.
“That you also are naked.” He kicked his clothes aside and a breathless sigh escaped as she admired his proud weapon. She might not have any intention of using her mouth on that part of his body, but she couldn’t wait to touch and stroke and feel its alluring texture.
“That doesn’t seem unreasonable.” With clumsy fingers, she unclasped the fibula at her shoulder, unable to tear her fascinated gaze from between Gawain’s thighs. Already her core was damp and tender and she fought the urge to squirm as she tugged free of her stola and pulled feverishly at her under-tunic. She stepped from the pool of linen at her feet and cupped his strong jaw. “Now I have you at my mercy.”
He cradled her hips, his hands hard and possessive and a delicious tremor claimed her sensitive folds.
“Not yet.” He sounded on the verge of laughter again. She loved how easily she could amuse him. How different he was in reality from the first impression she’d gained when he’d appeared beside her father’s carpentum.
She rose onto her toes, and her erect nipples brushed against his chest. His fingers bit into her and he jerked her forward, his shaft burning her stomach.
“You’re not supposed to be touching me.” Not that she wanted him to let go. But she also dearly wanted to explore his body and how could she do that if he drove her mindless with desire with barely a touch?
“That wasn’t part of the bargain.” His hands curved over her bottom, igniting a thousand dancing flames deep within her cleft. “You have a delectable arse, my lady. Did you know that?”
She laughed, shocked and thrilled in equal scandalous measure by his unexpected observation. “I’ve never been told such a thing before.” And then she couldn’t help herself. “Have I really?”
His grin was the wickedest thing she’d ever seen. “One day soon,” he said, and his gaze was so intense she couldn’t have looked away if the world was ending, “your tempting arse will be mine, Antonia.”
Her mouth dried. Her former friends had whispered of such delights but it was something Scipio had never demanded from her. The thought of having Gawain take her there caused liquid heat to bloom low between her thighs and pump with erratic disarray through her blood.
She knew her face was flushed, knew her desire showed plainly in her eyes. But she didn’t care. She stared up at him and the reflected lust that darkened his features aroused her as much as his erotic promise.
“You haven’t answered, my lady.” His finger caressed the outer edges of her crevice, an exquisite torture. “Does this thought excite you?”
“Yes.” Her voice was low, hoarse, did not sound like her at all. “Not today?” It was a question and her breath stalled in her throat in dark anticipation.
His fingers trailed up the length of her spine, while his other hand continued to hold her arse with predatory intention. Wet heat licked along her sheath and she shifted against him, her nipples aching with need.
“No.” His voice throbbed with passion and her hands fell from his jaw to cling onto his shoulders. He lowered his head and his hot breath tantalized her ear. “I’ll give you time to think on it, to imagine how it will feel when my cock claims your virginity.”