Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 01] (29 page)

Gratified?
“That was not intended as a compliment.”

She settled herself more comfortably against his groin, which was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment. “It was a compliment, for which I thank you.”

He held her bottom in a punishing grip. Something that had plagued him since the previous night gnawed at the forefront of his mind, demanding to be satisfied no matter how much the answer would grate.

“How many men have you fucked?”

Her smug smile wavered as if she hadn’t expected that. “I could ask you the same question.”

He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “I don’t fuck men.”

With reluctant fascination he watched a rosy blush spread across her cheeks, as if his question truly bothered her.

And again he had to remind himself she wasn’t a Roman noblewoman. Her culture was different from his, and a wellborn Celtic woman wasn’t condemned for taking lovers before she married.

“You know what I mean.” Her voice was haughty.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “It doesn’t matter how many women I’ve had.”

“Then it doesn’t matter how many men I’ve had.”

He was not a Celtic barbarian
. And he wanted—no, he demanded to know how many men had fucked his woman.

“Carys.” The word was a warning, low and dangerous.

She raised her chin defiantly. “Why do you wish to know?”

He didn’t want to analyze why he wanted to know. What did he expect to do with the information once in his possession? Hunt the men down and gut them?

He’d taken women from many cultures in the past, and never before had he cared about their previous lovers. So why did the thought of Carys being with another man affect him so profoundly?

It didn’t make sense. And yet he couldn’t let it go.

“You’re my mistress. It’s my right to know.”

“I didn’t ask to be your mistress.” With a suddenness that took him by surprise, she pushed at the step with both feet, severing bodily contact. “And you have no rights over me whatsoever.”

Before she could flounce away he caught her by her arms, swung her around and pinned her into the corner of the bath. Irrational anger warred in his brain. Why did Carys resist his offer? And why did her refusal irk him so?

He stared into her defiant eyes, and a shiver inched over his skin as he recalled the lifeless expression she had harbored earlier that day.

And remembered the Celtic barbarian looming over her prone body, ready to ravish her while she hovered on the brink of unconsciousness. The barbarian who would pay with his lifeblood when Maximus discovered his heathen lair.

A memory stirred, soothed his wounded pride. “Why haven’t you enjoyed a lover for the last three years?” It was inconceivable to him that, in her morally relaxed culture, she had chosen to remain celibate.

He didn’t think she was going to answer. He ran his fingers along her arms, and noted with satisfaction how her nipples visibly hardened.

She let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t owe you an explanation.” Her eyes narrowed in clear provocation. He decided to ignore her challenge, and continued to caress her arms, up and down, a soothing gesture, and eventually her glare faded.

“No man pleased me.” Her voice was lofty, but he caught the furtive glance she shot his way before she stuck her nose in the air and looked over his shoulder.

His fingers paused against her wet skin and his brain took over from his ego as something occurred to him.

“Perhaps your lovers were boys, not men.” Why that should appease him he didn’t know, but somehow the thought of Carys fucking boys her own age, rather than older, experienced men, didn’t tie his guts into seething knots.

She made a sound of disgust. “He was certainly a
man
.”

Something in her manner alerted his senses. “He?” He strove to make his voice casual, so she would elaborate further and not decide to be stubborn yet again.

There was a heartbeat of silence as Carys stared at him. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips. “They.” Her voice was husky. “I meant
they
were men. Not boys.”

She was lying. The certainty was as clear in his mind as if Carys had told him so herself.

But why would she lie to him about the number of men she’d had?

“Did your . . .” He hesitated for a brief moment. He had almost said
Did your father
, but he didn’t want to drag up her father now, not when he knew his Legion was responsible for the man’s death. “. . . parents give you to this man when you were a young girl?”

The thought shouldn’t rile him, and yet his blood boiled at the image. In Rome, among his patrician class, arranged marriages were commonplace. Young girls were often married to older men, and until this moment he’d never given the girl in question a second thought.

But then, the girl in question had never been Carys.

Her brow creased, as if his question mystified her. “Of course not. How could my mother
give
me to anyone? I’m her daughter, not her slave.”

“So you went willingly with this man.”

“Of course I did.” She sounded surprised, as if she couldn’t imagine there being another logical response. “All my kin were in favor of the union, despite the differences between our lineage.”

Now he understood. “So he used his superior status to leave you no choice.” Bastard.

Carys gave him a strange look. “I could have denied him, and no one would have forced me to go with him.” She stroked her fingers along his chest, almost as if she was unaware of her action. “He was older than me, and powerful. Very powerful.” For one unnerving moment her eyes lost focus, as if this man’s power still retained a hold over her.

Twisted rage coiled his belly. “So you fucked him for his power.”

Carys didn’t spit in his eye, or knee him in the balls. Incredibly, a smile curved her lips. “I didn’t need his power.”

He pressed her against the side of the bath, his cock hard and hot and throbbing as it scorched her tempting belly. “Then why did you fuck him when you didn’t want him?”

Her smile wavered. “Why do you think I didn’t want him?”

He raked his gaze over her flushed face. “You don’t speak of him as a woman would speak of her first lover whom she had desired above all others.”

Or was he mistaken? Did he want Carys to admit she had felt nothing for this man, simply to appease his
ego
?

Mars take him, since when had his fucking ego been so fragile?

Her smile disappeared entirely and a haunted expression flared in her eyes for one heart-stopping moment.

“I didn’t desire him.” The words tumbled from her lips as if she had never spoken them before, and she shot him a defiant look. “But he fascinated me. And for two years he had watched me constantly, telling me how we were meant to be together.” She sighed heavily. “By the time I was ready to offer myself to the goddess, he was the only man willing. All others had been warned off by him.”

He slid his hands from her shoulders and threaded his fingers between hers, beneath the hot water. His simmering rage against her family, against this faceless man who had abused his position of power to force his attentions on her, struggled against restraint.

“How long were you with him?”

“Three years.”

Three years? Shock ripped along his spine at the implications.

“You were betrothed to him.” It was a statement of fact.

She blinked in obvious surprise. “No, certainly not.”

Rage of another sort seared his chest. “He didn’t offer for you?” How dare he use Carys for three years without also legalizing the union?

She raised her eyebrows. “Offer for me?” she echoed. “He wanted to tie the knot, if that’s what you mean. He was obsessed with becoming my husband.”

The rage stumbled, confusion rocked. “You refused him?” How could she have refused? How had her father allowed her to refuse?

“Of course I refused him.” Carys stared up at him as if she couldn’t believe he had asked such a thing. “I didn’t love him, Maximus. And although he claimed to love me, I believe he loved my status more.”

Despite the heat of the water, a chill shivered over his exposed flesh. “What is your status, Carys?”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything. Then she swallowed and shook her head, as if shaking off droplets of water. “You must know I’m not of the peasant class.”

“Yes.”

“He—was. But he was very clever. And he became powerful in his own right. For many men that would be enough but he—he wanted more. He wanted me.”

Maximus struggled to process all the information she’d just imparted. But from it all, only one fact burned through his brain.

“You didn’t want him, yet you let him fuck you for three years.” If her father had demanded she acquiesce to the more powerful man, then of course Carys would have had no choice in the matter. He understood that. It was the way of the world.

But the other man had not been more powerful, and her father had demanded no such thing.

Carys looked affronted by his accusation. “He was the only one available for me,” she said, as if that explained everything. “Besides, I thought it would get better the more we did it.” A frown flitted across her brow. “But it didn’t. He said it was me, that I was deficient.”

Gods. Maximus glared at her in disbelieving comprehension. Was she saying she hadn’t even enjoyed fucking the old bastard?

“You certainly aren’t deficient.” It was likely the man was so decrepit he could barely get his cock up, never mind use it effectively.

“Thank you.” She offered him an oddly shy smile. “After I finished with him I didn’t want another man. And then when I did, I was afraid it would be the same as it was with Aer—with
him
.” She sucked in a long breath. “That’s why I didn’t take another lover. I know it’s not a valid excuse. I know the goddess wasn’t happy with me, but—”

“But.” He disengaged their fingers and placed one across her lips, silencing her. “You’ve only ever had one other man beside me.”

Her face flamed, as if he’d just insulted her.

“I’m not going to apologize for it.” She hissed the words at him and he grinned at her, as he pressed her more securely against the bath’s edge. Why she considered an apology necessary was beyond him, but perhaps it was yet another obscure Celtic custom.

“Then don’t.” He had other things on his mind. Things he had planned to do before Carys had so deliciously distracted him with her enchanting seduction.

Her breath quickened, although he knew by the look on her face she fought against her body’s reaction. “There were a great many men who wanted me after Aer—after I was free,” she said, as if that knowledge would astonish him. “Despite the fact he threatened to disembowel any who so much as touched my hand.”

Maximus grunted. The thought of disemboweling the old lech was certainly tempting, but not nearly as tempting as the thought of seducing Carys as thoroughly as she had seduced him.

“Even if we had to meet in secret, they would still have met with me.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “I believe you. What man in his right mind could resist you if you so much as glanced his way with interest?”

Carys gave him another of her haughty looks, as if she thought he was making fun of her. “Just so you are perfectly aware, I
am
a desirable woman.”

“I’d have to be dead not to know that.”

Carys could feel the proof of his knowledge burning against her belly. His eyes were dark with mounting desire, and it would be easy to melt into his embrace and take everything she could from him before their worlds tumbled into ashes.

But he had laughed at her. And she didn’t understand why.

“You’re not shocked by my lack of experience.” She hadn’t intended to ever say such a thing to Maximus, but since he’d now discovered her secret shame, and didn’t appear concerned by it, she realized she needed to discover why.

He laughed again, a deep, rich baritone that, despite its lack of respect, sent delightful shivers skittering over her naked flesh. She stared up at him, thoroughly confused, until his moment of insanity passed.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, still grinning as if she had just told the most hilarious joke, “you’re as pure as a Vestal Virgin.”

Her stomach fluttered, twisting between bemusement and innate offense. And yet Maximus meant no insult by his comment; she could see that by his eyes, by his smile, by the tone of his voice.

She swallowed down her stinging retort. Her shame.

“It’s not something I’m proud of.” The words rasped against her throat and she was relieved when Maximus didn’t laugh at her again but instead began to frown.

“You’ve lost me.” He sounded concerned. And then his frown darkened as comprehension dawned. “You’re still ashamed of being with me.”

His comment was so far from the truth she almost laughed herself, despite the way she also wanted to dive under the water and hide.

She flattened her hands against his chest, thrilling to the way his wet hair caressed her palms, the way his steady heartbeat vibrated through her blood.

And in that moment of connection, she understood.