Cleopatra's Secret: Keepers of the LIght (11 page)

Antony chimed in in good humor. “Wonderful Iris. I am convinced you must be one of the muses the Greeks speak of. Surely no human can produce such beautiful music!”

Iris’s face turned to stone. “Thank you, Lord Antony.”

Cleopatra's smile faded. Iris disliked Antony, as she disliked all Romans. That had been clear from the moment they left Tarsus. Not that Iris had actually been rude to him, but she avoided Antony as much as possible and when she was forced to deal with him, she was always cold and short.

Cleopatra sighed, she would have time to worry about that later.

“Iris, you and Charmion may retire for the night. I will not be needing you further.”

Iris bowed and slipped from the terrace. Cleopatra graciously bade goodnight to their guests, though the feel of Antony’s hand gently stroking the curve of her back sent a trail of tingling heat up her spine and she was burning to be alone with him. At last the final guest had departed, the servants extinguished the lamps and removed the last dish from the long table.

Cleopatra clasped Antony's hand in hers as she led him through the maze of gardens and courtyards filled with blossoming moonflowers and sweetly tinkling fountains. They passed through shadowy corridors and up winding stairways, through room after luxurious room, the palace unfolding like a fabulous jewel box.

At last, they reached Cleopatra's chambers. Two servants silently opened the ebony doors, as hand in hand the lovers passed through. For Antony and Cleopatra the night was just beginning as the doors whispered shut behind them.

Cleopatra’s pulse quickened in anticipation. She could feel the heat of Antony’s hand on her back through the whisper fine linen of her tunic as he led her into the bedchamber. Their footsteps were silenced as they tread across leopard skin rugs and the only sound was the call of the sea thundering on the rocks below her balcony.

She softly sucked in her breath as Antony caressed the nape of her neck, his hand straying into the heavy silk of her hair. Shivering with pleasure, she melted against him, allowing Antony to wrap her in his arms and kiss her long and deeply. She drank in his kisses, savoring the faint taste of honey and cloved wine which still clung to his lips.

Arching her back, her unbound hair fell tumbling behind her in the moonlight as he grazed her neck with his kisses, his impatient hand tearing away the valuable fabric which confined her straining breasts. His mouth trailed down her throat to her dark nipples which swelled in response to his warm lips, his palms running across the naked firm skin of her thighs beneath her tunic.

Cleopatra's breath caught and she felt her womb dissolving in honeyed desire, but with great effort she disengaged herself. She had enjoyed the passionate, almost brutal, manner in which Antony loved her over the past months. When he caught her in his strong embrace and took her with all the fire and thoroughness with which he fought a war, she felt as though she were being ravished by the martial God, Ares, himself. He took all of her, body and soul, into his possession and she so willingly surrendered, but there were infinite ways to experience pleasure and Cleopatra, as High Priestess of the Goddess of Love, was trained in them all.

Antony looked up questioningly as Cleopatra put a finger to his lips and led him through the gauze curtains to her bed, gently pushing him down on its silken sheets. For a moment she stood above him and he stared up at her with longing, her face flushed with desire, her full breasts jutting out from the torn tunic, her lips parted in a secret seductive smile.

Cleopatra ran her hands lightly across Antony’s broad shoulders and down his muscular arm, feeling the ridge of a scar against her fingers as she traced them along his bicep. She felt the angry red welt where an arrow had pierced his skin, as if it were fresh. The pain Antony had experienced shivered through her. This had come revenging Caesar against his enemies.

He let out a low moan as she caressed a different line of raised flesh running down his strong thigh where a sword had sliced him open, almost to the bone. Another blow sustained for Caesar.

Would he fight as valiantly to protect Caesar’s son?

She brushed a dark lock of hair from his forehead. As she took in the planes of his wide face, his full lips spread in a contented smile, his dark blue eyes so filled with tenderness, she knew he would.

Pressing her lips to his bicep, she blessed his battle scars, blessed his body, pouring protective magic over his skin with her fingertips and her lips as she trailed kisses across his broad chest to his big heart.

Let no enemy’s weapon pierce this flesh again
.

Antony reached out to her, but she firmly placed his hands on the bed, holding

them there for a moment so he understood he must not touch her before she invited him.

She ran hennaed nails down his chest, gently tracing the outline of his sculpted body. He was so beautiful. She could well understand why the people likened him to Hercules. He shivered with pleasure under her touch as she brought her hands once more to his powerful thigh emblazed with the angry battle scar. Sensing in her bones the pain, which still radiated out from the deep cut, she pressed tender kisses across the livid wound.

Be healed. In Isis’s name, be healed now.

Cleopatra let her kisses move up his thigh and with pleasure heard Antony catch his breath as, feather light, she touched the warm tip of her tongue to the head of his manhood, one soft lick at a time, like a kitten lapping milk. He grew to meet the rose petals of her mouth as she took him in.

She slipped her hand between her thighs to the pearl nestled in the folds of her and began to arouse herself, allowing a soft low moan to escape her lips as she ran a hungry tongue along his shaft.

Isis, bless the root of Kings. Make fertile this man that he may seed the royal house of Egypt with Pharaohs. One generation to the next, into eternity
…

She could feel Antony’s passion rising almost to the point of no return, but she wasn’t ready for his release. With one last luxurious long run of her tongue up his firm flesh, she let go.

Sitting up on the bed, she drank in the sight of his masculine body, his heated cheeks and feverish eyes sent a shudder of desire through her.

With all the fury of a chained lion, Antony grasped Cleopatra around the waist, pulling her on top of him so he could gaze at her sitting astride his writhing body, her dusky beauty calling out to him. Antony sat up, feeling the softness of her full breasts under his palms as they faced one another, her thighs wrapped tightly around his back.

As he penetrated the pure heaven of her body, the sight of his Egyptian enchantress enthralled him. Her hair tangled over her flushed breasts, her eyes burned like a jungle cat as she began to move slowly, seductive as the temple dancers that performed in her court, never for a moment taking her eyes from his.

The ocean breezes fluttered the gauze curtains around the bed and filled the room with the fresh scent of salt water and beach jasmine. The protective magic of the Mistress of the Sea tingling in the air, weaving enchantment around them as they swayed together, thrusting deeper, harder, never losing each other’s sight, until they saw fire exploding in one another’s eyes, flaming up in a final consummation of love, before they collapsed back onto the disheveled silken covers.

Cleopatra snuggled down against Antony’s heart, listening to the lulling beat. Listening to the place where he lived.

She was almost asleep, when she felt Antony’s warm hands sliding across her belly, sending a surge of warmth through her.

His voice was tender, but full of strained longing, as his lips brushed the pulse point just below her ear. “Always in the past when I desired a woman, after I had loved her the infatuation left me. If not the first time, then after a few weeks.”

He pressed his body against hers and she could feel him stiff against her as his hands worked their way down, stroking trails of fire along her inner thigh. “But with you, my love and desire grow stronger every day. I take all I can from you and still, it’s never enough.”

He turned her body to face him. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek and his throbbing flesh so achingly close to entering her again.

“I want more than your body.” His deep low voice was ragged with passion as he pulled her even closer into his embrace. “It’s your soul I think I crave, that I must join with or be forever alone. I never knew that until I met you, that the empty craving, that nagging hole inside could only be filled by you.”

Cleopatra looked up into his eyes. “And Egypt?” she whispered. “Have you grown to love Egypt too?”

Antony pressed his lips fervently against hers for a long blissful moment then murmured against her cheek. “You
are
Egypt.” He ran his callused thumb along the inside of her wrists. “The Nile your blood.” He traced the outline of her cheeks. “The ancient marble monuments your bones.” He cradled her face in his hands gazing reverently into her eyes. “The incense that fills its temples your divine spirit.”

He pressed a kiss to her brow and her heart glowed with joy.

If only this happiness might stretch on and on. Only the two of them together in this one blissful moment forever
.

They came together again, drugged with passion, until they lay peacefully spent in each other’s arms and drifted to sleep with the sound of the ocean pounding its eternal rhythms outside the palace walls.

***

Time seemed to fall away as Antony and Cleopatra made their way into upper Egypt, drifting on the muddy green waters of the Nile aboard a floating palace of intricately carved cedar.

Antony watched with interest as they passed through the rich Nile valley, taking in its expansive blue skies and earth so fertile it produced three harvests in one year’s time. League upon league of wheat, barley and corn fields drifted by and the golden brown workers swathed in bright white linen put down their baskets to wave cheerfully, as Cleopatra’s palace floated past, calling out, “Isis! Isis!”

On the third day of their trip, as the sun sparkled across the Nile and warmed the decks of the barge, Antony and Cleopatra sat at a game of Jackals and Hounds. Their eyes fastened to the marble board, the celebrated general working out his strategy against the Egyptian Queen.

Antony advanced his hounds then gazed out at the sea of wheat baking in the hot sun. “I won’t lie, I’d like to have a grain supply like this to feed my legions.”

Cleopatra moved her jackal skillfully out of danger of Antony’s encroaching hounds. “Rome chooses to make war. Egypt makes food,” she observed, admiring her land from beneath the shade of a silken canopy. “But, of course, when there is enough food for everyone, there’s no need for war, is there?”

She watched him carefully through veiled lashes.

Antony shook his head, decisively moving his hounds several squares forward roping in her jackals. “Men will always go to war, my love.”

“Roman men will...” ignoring her cornered jackals, Cleopatra studied him across the board, taking his measure. “But what if Rome were to become…not quite so Roman?”

“More Egyptian, you mean?” Antony said with a smirk.

“My ancestor, Alexander, the greatest general the world has ever known, understood that to create peace, one must simply encourage the sharing of cultures and ideas. Promote the marriage of one people with another and their children become neither Roman nor Egyptian, but something new and beautiful, children who have no enemies to fight.”

Antony pointed to the board. “Your jackals are in peril, my lady.”

Quelling her impatience, she moved her pieces out of danger, then leaned back and let her eyes linger on the passing scenery.

“I’ve upset you.” Antony took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “You speak of dreams, Cleopatra. Beautiful dreams, but they are only that.”

“Alexander was no dream and Caesarion is not a dream either,” she declared fiercely.

“Alexander conquered the lands with his armies before he turned them to peace and Caesarion is hated for his very existence. No one wants a child who holds the rights to the Roman and Egyptian seats of power.”

‘No one in Rome,” she countered.

“That’s right. No one in Rome and it is Rome you speak of changing?” He looked belligerent now.

How had this conversation gone so off track? She took a deep breath and smiled. “Let’s not argue. We still have our game to finish.” She looked into those lovely dark blue eyes still glaring with ill temper. “I have a gift for you, but I cannot bestow it if you are angry with me.”

His gaze shifted, half suspicious, half intrigued. “More Egyptian opulence to astound me with?”

She looked at him seriously, all teasing gone. “My very greatest treasure.”

Antony nodded, considering the implications, then raised her hand to his lips. “I await your next move, my love.”

Cleopatra lowered her eyes to the board. She prayed Antony would appreciate the magnitude of her intended gift to him. Surely it would be like nothing he had ever experienced before.