One With the Darkness by Susan Squires

civilized thing about Rome. She sighed and splashed hot water over her shoulders. She would need her wits about her in the next few days. A week at most, and then it was done and she could tend to the fledgling republic. In a republic, men of honor in the Senate could plan a better world in which people’s lives were easier. Education could be offered even to the humble classes. There would be no starvation to fill Caesar’s coffers. Perhaps someday no slaves would be needed to fuel the Roman economy. She could return Rome to what was best about it, and forget what it had come to in the last years.
    She stepped out of the water and took up the large linen towel to rub her ruddy skin. “Stand at the outer door again so I can use the cold plunge.” He stalked away. She had no time to dry her hair in front of the fires tonight. So instead of jumping in, she eased herself quickly down to her neck. The water wasn’t really icy—it just seemed so after the hot pool. Still she gasped and pulled herself up to sit on the edge.
    She realized that at her gasp Jergan had turned, poised for some kind of action. She hastily crossed her arms over her breasts. “How … how dare you?” she chattered. “I t-told you not to turn around.”
    Clenching his jaw, he swiveled back, but not before his eyes lit with appreciation. “My mistake, my lady.”
    Hardly , she fumed to herself. She’d wager he plannedto catch her out. She reached for her bath cloth and dried herself briskly. Time to end this torture.
    S HE STALKED PAST him. He grinned as he fell in behind her. Had she noticed that his cock strained against the cloth about his loins underneath his tunic? If she did, she gave no sign. The last half hour, imagining her rubbing herself with oil and salt, listening to the sluicing of water over her body, knowing she was naked and practically within reach, had been painful. And then, when he had turned round, thinking she had seen an intruder, the glimpse he had gotten of her body confirmed all his imaginings. Pale, lush, the nipples pink, the dark triangle of hair enticing. Was she so immune to the charge between them? Perhaps not. It might be resisting that pull that irritated her so. He hoped so, because then she would not resist for long.
    He shook himself. What was he thinking? Did he want to degrade himself by performing to her order?
    No. Deliberately, he imagined her writhing under him, spreading her legs to him. That was what he wanted: her abject submission to her desire for him. The moment her desire mastered her, she would be in thrall to him. And he would have had a kind of revenge on her. He felt better. He could relax about her effect on him and put it to good use. Yes. All in all, their attraction was a good thing. It would deliver her submission to him.
    He stood outside her chamber as her maid dressed her. When she emerged, she was clothed in a tunic of nearly transparent rust-colored fabric—they called it a stola. Her wrap, equally transparent, was embroidered richly with gold. The only reason she did not look naked was that there were so many turns of the stuff about her. She was a tantalizing prospect. She wore gold chainslooped and braided in her hair. Gold drops hung from her ears.
    As he handed her into her litter, she glanced at him as though she felt the shock of flesh to flesh as strongly as he did.
    This time he was not chained to her litter as they wended their way through the streets. He had a tunic, a weapon, and a task. That felt better. He scanned the crowd for anyone who might try to accost the small procession. Already she needed him. That felt good, too.
    But they made it to the huge villa that was their first destination without event. He handed her out. She sailed into the noise and the laughter like a ship pushed by a high wind. At the door, a slave motioned him to give up his sword. He gripped the pommel, loath to let it go.
    “You’ll get it back when we leave,” she whispered to him.