The Gladiator's Mistress (Champions of Rome) (15 page)

Chapter 23

Valens

Valens left the ludus unsure of even a single victory, much less his ability to win all three matches. Was he prepared to die in the arena? During his time as a gladiator, Valens had glimpsed his demise many times over. But life during the past two years had been gentle and kind, if a little less than exciting, and he loathed the notion of leaving the world just yet.

What would fulfill him on this day, his last day of freedom? Her name came to him as easily as a breath. Phaedra. He wanted to see her once more and to let her know that her challenge to change their fates had held the power to change his life.

How could Valens see Phaedra again? He doubted any slave would let him enter her villa even if he asked for her. Senator Scaeva might grant an audience. He had, after all, hired Valens for his daughter’s wedding. What kind of excuse could he give to the senator?

Damian’s sister knew Phaedra, yet after what had happened, Valens doubted his welcome there as well.

As Valens strolled through the market, he realized that he might have to be satisfied with a memory. His feet had carried him halfway to the silk merchant’s stall before he could acknowledge to himself that he wanted to go there.

It still sat in the same place. Squares of color hung on a string and fluttered in the breeze. He spied the exact shade of red Phaedra had worn on her wedding night. He still had her veil and secretly looked at it often, so his eye knew the color well.

Several wealthy, well-dressed women stood near the stall talking to each other. With a slight lift of the chin or a raised eyebrow, they summoned their female slaves. A quick nod of the head and the slaves were dispatched to the merchant to haggle over prices.

So well trained were the slaves that their aristocratic or noble mistresses never needed to voice a desire for anything or agree to pay a price. All communication happened with subtle changes of the face and stance. The noncommerce of the patricians and equestrians amused and confounded Valens. The powerful of the republic spent fortunes without ever buying a thing.

He looked at each and every face and did not find the one he sought. He had been foolish to think that, in a city of a million people, he might find her here, yet he felt ill with disappointment all the same.

He turned from the silk merchant and caught a glimpse of something, someone. Was there a similarity in the curve of the chin or the deep brown shade of hair? The hairs at the nape of his neck tingled; his pulse increased and echoed in his ears. As his mouth went dry, his palms grew damp. In that moment the noises quieted, the smells grew fainter, and the air surrounded him like a comforting blanket.

“Phaedra,” he said.

The woman glanced in his direction, her eyebrows drawn together in a look of questioning and confusion.

She found him and their gazes met.

“Greetings, Valens Secundus,” she said. “I had hoped to see you in the market today.”

Chapter 24

Phaedra

How could Phaedra have said such a thing and in such a forward manner? In her years away from Rome, she had become accustomed to speaking her piece. Now that she was back in the center of politics and intrigue, she needed to be mindful of her words, and vowed to choose more carefully before she spoke.

“Greetings, Phaedra,” Valens said. “I heard of your husband’s death and that you had returned to Rome. Accept my sympathies for your loss.”

Of course Valens would know of Marcus’s passing. She then wondered if he ever thought simply of her. So great was her desire to know that Phaedra feared she would blurt out her question. Instead she said the expected, “I thank you for your sympathies.”

“You look well.”

“You do, too. I am surprised to see you in the market without guards,” she said.

He laughed. “I fought more men in the arena than most soldiers do in their lifetime. I do not need a guard. Besides, I won my freedom two years ago.”

Valens’s freedom came as news to her. Fearing that she would hear something unpleasant about him, Phaedra had made a point to avoid talk of the games. “I congratulate you.”

Valens nodded, smiling but tight-lipped. Then he smiled again, larger and more genuine this time. “I could ask the same of you—where are your guards? Or have you taken up the sword, too?”

“I just wanted a moment away from the villa,” she said, fearing again that she had been too honest. “What of your life?”

“I live on the Aventine with my sister.”

“Just you and your sister? No wife?” Oh, may the gods preserve her and help control her emotions and the words that follow!

“I never found a woman I wanted to bind myself to,” he said.

“Good.” Good? Good? Had she just said
good
? What must Valens think of her? “It is good to wait and marry when you find a person you favor, I mean.”

“I thought that was what you meant.” His eyes twinkled and she looked away, her cheeks feeling flushed.

Phaedra saw other patrician ladies she knew standing near the silk merchant’s stall as their maids purchased goods. What would the gossip be tomorrow if Phaedra talked to Valens for much longer? Yet what did she care? Acestes’s marriage proposal had not been accepted by either her or her father. She was a widow, not an unmarried virgin. Even though she once again lived with her father and his rules, she did have a certain amount of freedom.

Valens stepped toward her and her skin tingled. She had forgotten how standing close to him brought about a primal need like the drawing of two halves together, as if they were trying to become whole. The first time she felt it, Phaedra had not entirely understood the feelings and emotions. Now she did.

She understood something else as well. Her father meant for her to marry Acestes. True, her father loved her and he wanted her to be happy, but he cared much more for his own comforts and his position. Although he had agreed to consider all suitors, she knew he would not. He had given her a week to find another husband to appear benevolent and nothing more. That left her with seven days in which to enjoy the autonomy she craved. With her newly understood freedom, Phaedra could ask Valens to come to her villa late in the night. It was scandalous, but why not?

Without thinking of the consequences, Phaedra leaned close and said, “Come to my father’s villa after the tenth bell this evening. My maid will let you in.”

Chapter 25

Phaedra

Somewhere near the forum, the ninth bell rang. Blackness crept across the sky, stealing the day’s warmth as the light faltered. Phaedra sat in a small dining room with her father as he read. A single candle sat at his elbow, the glow illuminating a small circle. He rolled up the papyrus with a sigh. “I cannot see a thing,” he said, pressing thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “We need more light. More candles, more oil for lamps.”

“Shall I have someone fetch them?”

“No. My accounts are empty. Oil is expensive. Candles are more so.” He sighed as he stood. “I am off to bed and will rise with the dawn.”

“Splendid idea,” said Phaedra. Her pulse raced. As expected, her father planned to take to his bed early. “Perhaps you should send all the slaves to their beds as well.”

Her father nodded to the steward who waited nearby, giving a silent order that the villa should be dark. She followed her father through the corridors and entered her dim bedchamber. He lit a taper on her cosmetics table.

“Do not let it burn long,” he said.

“Of course not.” Phaedra waited until her father was out of earshot before turning to Terenita. “I have a visitor arriving tonight.”

“The gladiator,” said the maid.

“His name is Valens Secundus. Wait by the door and bring him to me.”

“My lady, I must caution you that this is foolish.”

“Tonight,” said Phaedra, “I care nothing for caution.”

“My lady, why do you insist on bringing the gladiator into your life? He is handsome, even I acknowledge that. But General Acestes is pleasing to look upon as well.”

It was a valid question. Did Phaedra only want Valens Secundus to prove that she could take a lover? That her father did not control every aspect of her life? No, there was more than that. It was the man. “When Valens looks upon me,” she said, “I am seen.”

Terenita lowered her eyes. “I understand, my lady.”

Phaedra tilted the maid’s chin up until they looked into each other’s eyes. “Do you sincerely understand?”

“I do, but this gladiator makes me uneasy. You risk much for little gain, and I would not want to see you hurt.”

To be seen, and heard, and to exist once more, Phaedra would have risked more than the consequences of an illicit love affair. “I appreciate your concern. But my mind is set. Please bring Valens Secundus to me when he arrives. The regret that would come from wasting this moment would be more injurious to me than the safety that will come from forgoing his company.”

“I think I understand,” said Terenita with a small smile before she walked silently from the room, which left Phaedra alone to wait. She watched the sands of her hourglass slip from one bulb to the other, thinking, wondering, all the while.

This was the first time she had invited a man to her villa for sex. How did one wait for a lover? Dressed? Naked? Lying across the bed? What if he did not come at all?

She poured a glass of wine and sipped it to warm her insides. Two fat candles burned on a table. They lit a small circle of wood, and the rest of the room remained in shadow. She lifted another taper from its holder and went to light it.

“Phaedra.”

He had come.

He moved to her, covering the space between them in a few steps. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue slipped between her lips, and she allowed him to explore. She tasted him in return. Her head spun with Valens’s kiss, and every part of her tingled with the nearness of him. As much as she had longed for this moment, as much as she thought about him, and for all the times she had tried not to think of him and failed, Phaedra reminded herself that what she felt now was lust and not love.

His touch skimmed from her shoulders to her arms. Their hands joined, palm to palm, fingers intertwined. Valens moved his lips to her neck as he placed leisurely kisses under her chin and behind her ear. Every part of Phaedra shivered with anticipation.

He cupped her breast. His thumb grazed her nipple through her gown and the linen strips used for binding. Even through both layers of fabric, she responded. Her nipple hardened and she arched her back, pressing herself closer to him. She wanted—no, needed—Valens inside her, to complete her.

Her hands moved down his arms, feeling the contours of his muscles as they shifted each time he changed his grasp. She traced his broad shoulders and tight chest before tugging at his tunic, hoping to get even closer to his flesh. Valens obliged, and slipped his clothes over his head. He did not wear a loincloth, and his erect phallus stood out. He was larger than Phaedra had anticipated, and she gave a fleeting thought about the pain she might feel when he entered her.

Phaedra still wore the same dress she had donned earlier in the day, red silk with a woven belt of golden wool. She tried to untie the belt, but her fingers fumbled, and the knot refused to come loose. Valens encircled her wrists with one hand and raised her arms above her head. His other hand moved to her middle.

Valens’s fingers worked the knot free, and the belt slipped to the floor.

Valens held her chin in both his hands. The look of liquid desire in his eyes left her weak in the knees. When he placed his mouth on hers, hungrily now, the kiss possessive, her legs failed to hold her. He held Phaedra tight and pressed her to him. Her softness formed to the rigid angles and planes of his body. She lowered her arms, running her fingers through the silk of his hair.

With him guiding, she walked to the bed. The back of her legs met with the mattress. Once again, he lifted her arms. This time, he pulled her gown over her head. With little trouble he untied the linen strips that held her breasts in place. She stood naked before him. The vulnerability of it all came upon her, and she crossed one arm over her breasts and the other over the juncture of her thighs. Valens placed her wrists at her side. He held up one finger, walked across the room, and brought back a single candle that he placed on a small table near her bed. Light spilled over her, chasing away the shadows that kept her hidden.

“You are beautiful. More than beautiful—you are exquisite. I have long desired you, Phaedra, and I want to see your body and face while we make love,” he said.

Her mouth went dry. She wanted to say something, needed to tell him. Yet, tell him what? Words no longer held meaning. She nodded.

His mouth trailed across her skin. He kissed her everywhere—and, it seemed, all at once—from her shoulder to her breasts, her stomach to her fingers. She could not think or reason, only feel. Holding on to his shoulders, she reveled in being touched, kissed, and tasted.

Slipping a hand between her legs, he found her most tender spot, already swollen with desire. He rubbed in a small circle, and a keener hunger awakened. Whimpering, she pressed into his hand. He laid her on the bed.

One of his hands still worked between her legs as the other hand spread her knees. He knelt on the floor and lifted both of her legs on either shoulder. “Come closer,” he said.

Phaedra almost fainted with longing. Many times, too many times, she had tended to Marcus with her mouth. Each time she wondered if men did as much to women. She assumed they could, and yet Marcus never did. Phaedra eased down to the end of the bed, and Valens’s breath cooled her inner heat.

He kissed her sex in much the same manner he had her mouth. First tenderly, then he spread her folds and explored her. As she panted and neared a climax, he kissed her in a manner meant to claim, with such passion that Phaedra felt herself slipping into the sweet oblivion of release.

Valens ran his tongue up her sweat-coated stomach and rolled her hardened nipples between his fingers. He held himself over her. His eyes—how often had she seen his eyes in her dreams? Or his lips. How many times had Phaedra thought of kissing his lips, never thinking that one day she might?

Situating himself between her legs, Valens spread her open with the wide head of his phallus. The first stroke was tentative; the second used more force. On the third thrust he entered her all the way and she cried out. She wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him closer, wanting him in deeper. She began to climax again, and Phaedra could no longer lie to herself. As unlikely as it seemed, her attraction was more than merely physical. In one evening, under a sky filled with thousands and thousands of stars, Phaedra had fallen in love with Valens Secundus. If all she had with him was this night, Phaedra vowed to make it one worth remembering. Her muscles deep inside clenched as Valens moved back and forth. As her climax reached its peak, she gave voice to her emotions. “I love you.”