VirtualHeaven (17 page)

Maggie snatched up a jug and edged along the wall, her hand
nearly seared by the heat radiating from the bricks. She had to escape—but not
until she’d cracked his skull with the jug and not until she’d given the twins
matching black eyes.

Between the gusts of steam and the resulting turmoil, no one
would notice her departure. Maggie stifled a moan. One of the twins tipped oil
into her hands and stood rubbing them together, staring at Kered’s lap. Maggie
didn’t need to guess what came next. Anger roared through her. She raised the
jug and charged.

A tall, fair man, handsome and commanding, blocked her way,
yanking her close. “What are you doing?’’ he barked.

“L-l-leaving,” Maggie stuttered, clutching the jar against
her body.

“Attend me.” The man dropped his robe. He wore only his five
arm rings. Three silver on one arm, two gold on the other. Maggie knew what
that signified.
A councilor
.

“No.” Maggie gasped.

“You dare disobey me? You wish a flogging? Discard that
shift and put down that jug.”

Maggie spun toward Kered, begging him to see her and help
her, but the twins blocked her view. And his.

“Please, sir. I’m not one of the…attendants. I’ve come to
the wrong place.” That, at least, was not a lie. She was hopelessly in the
wrong place.

The man wrenched her about and thrust her across the chamber
to an empty bench. Her feet skidded on the oil-slicked tiles and she fell to
her knees, striking them hard as the jug shattered on the tile floor. The councilor
lifted his foot and planted a kick on her buttocks. She slid forward, striking
her temple on the edge of the bench, narrowly missing the broken chunks of
pottery strewn about.

For a moment, Maggie lay by the bench, dazed from the man’s
attack. Then she shook her head to clear it.
Stand up and defend yourself
,
she cried inside. She pressed her hands to the floor to gather her strength,
but Kered’s strong hands lifted her and wiped the blood that dripped into her
eyes. He sheltered her in his arms and faced the councilor. “This slave is
mine. Your abuse ill befits your station.”

“You dare to question my punishment of this impertinent
bitch?” the councilor snarled.

“Aye,” Kered said, putting Maggie aside. “She is mine.”

“You know the conventions about bringing a personal slave
here.”

“I know that you ill-treated her.”

A hush fell in the chamber. Slaves and patrons alike waited
breathlessly. Only the hiss of steam broke the silence. Maggie bit her
knuckles. The councilor’s face suddenly became neutral. Then he reached out,
quick as a viper, and snatched her by the hair, dragging her against his side.

“Look at this hair. Exotic and erotic. You are occupied with
the best of attendants…I will take her.”

Kered leapt across the space, slamming into the councilor.
They went down in a pile of arms and legs. Maggie scrambled from beneath them.
Her scalp burned.

The two men got to their knees and then their feet. They
circled each other like naked Greco-Roman wrestlers.

Maggie hid her face. She couldn’t watch wrestling when the
combatants were clothed, let alone naked. The sheer embarrassment unsettled her
stomach. It wasn’t just their nakedness, it was the blood, her blood, smearing
Kered’s hands. And the look on his face—a cold, hard, merciless look. One she’d
never seen before.

The councilor kicked out at Kered’s knee, connected and sent
him smashing to the slick tiles. Kered hooked the councilor’s leg, laying him
flat. They grappled there on the floor, Kered’s oil-slick body making a grip
impossible. The air was filled with grunts of pain and the smacking of flesh
against flesh.

The councilor, though lighter and slimmer, was quick, his
fist merciless. Kered’s movements were slow and ponderous and defensive.

Kered was exhausted. Maggie screamed as they locked their
hands on each other’s throats. Kered, his hands like a giant vise, squeezed
relentlessly. The councilor’s eyes bulged. He dug his fingernails into Kered’s
jaw and throat, scrabbling for purchase, tearing a row of furrows down his
cheek.

Maggie grabbed the councilor’s arm and pulled, screaming at
the other patrons to stop them. Two men hauled her off.

Blood dripped from Kered’s cheek to the councilor’s. It
scented the room. Wagers floated from man to man. The councilor jabbed at
Kered’s eyes, breaking Kered’s hold. They slid apart, rose, and faced off
again. The councilor snatched an excited twin and threw her into Kered’s arms.

Kered tossed the girl away as if she were a rag doll. The
councilor leapt over the steaming hearth stones, beckoning Kered to follow.
Kered stalked across the stones, oblivious to their heat. They tangled again,
rolling in a soapy pool of water that was dangerously close to the steaming
hearth. More wagers flew and Maggie found herself man-handled to the edge of
the crowd. A balding man panted against her neck as he held her still—for the
winner.

Her stomach lurched. This was not a fight to the death. This
was two dogs marking their territory. Winner take all. The fear she’d put aside
for Kered’s life resurfaced for her own fate. She stifled a scream and tried to
wrench herself from her captor’s arms; she was caught, like a fish on a line,
reeled in and ready to be landed by the victor.

Kered pinned the councilor, his powerful arms locking the
smaller man like an ugly crucifixion on the floor.

“What is this?” shrieked the puffin-man. He minced through
the crowd and clucked like a mother hen when he saw the disaster of soap and
oil.

“My dear friends, you must stop.” The proprietor’s words
were not gently spoken.

Kered ignored him.

The councilor spat in Kered’s face. The twins wailed. Two
huge men, as fat as their master, strutted forward and dragged Kered to his
feet.

Kered threw them off. His chest heaved in gulps of air.
Abruptly, he turned away from the man still sprawled in the muck on the floor.
The councilor did not rise. He lay there bleeding from temple and nose.
Daintily, the puffin-man lifted his gown, placed his orange painted toes on the
councilor’s ankle, and stepped down with his ponderous weight. “I need no
trouble. Concede a draw.”

Slowly, the councilor rolled to his feet. He stalked to
where Maggie stood against Kered’s side, then wiped the blood from his mouth
with the back of his hand. “Since you have no need of the twins, I will take
your place.” He grabbed a twin and took Kered’s bench.

The slaves turned disappointed eyes in Kered’s direction,
then bowed their heads and began the same play they’d accorded Kered.

“Come,” Kered ordered Maggie, taking her arm and leading her
to the far side of the chamber. “What are you doing here?”

“I… A woman on the other side, she sent me.” Maggie turned
around to indicate the door through which she’d come. She became acutely aware
of Kered’s nakedness, pressed against her. And the eyes of those in the
chamber, still expectant, still hoping for more bloodshed.

Kered’s all-too-evident state of arousal brought a sting of
perspiration—or tears—to her eyes. “I can’t stay here,” she whispered. She
tried to yank herself from his hold, but his hands clamped like iron bands on
her arms.

“What about the woman?’’ A muscle twitched in his jaw. She
wanted to wipe a bloody smear from his face, but his expression stayed her
hand.

“The attendant…she sent me here. Said to follow her, then
she locked me in.”

“She made a fool of you. Personal slaves are rare here.
These slaves are specially selected to please. One does not come here to have
what one may have every day in one’s own home.”

Maggie strained back against his hands, angry again. “Yes, I
can see quite well that I’m superfluous.” Just as suddenly as it had flared,
her anger died. He had fought for her and defended her. This time, real tears
mixed with the sweat on her cheeks. “Please, Ker, take me away. I can’t stay
here.”

“Where do you plan to go? I am afraid your path is chosen.
Our clothing, now being cleaned, awaits us at the end of the baths. It would
appear most strange to go back. Would you wear only this shift and nothing else
upon the streets?”

Maggie began to cry. Silently. Kered’s expression softened.
He pulled her forward and held her tightly. A murmur of voices rose about them.

“Let me go,” Maggie pleaded. He moved and she could feel
every full inch of him. A jealous anger vied with acute embarrassment as she
thought of how easily he had let the twin slaves touch him, arouse him. From
the corner of her eye, she saw the councilor settle a twin in his lap, but the
man’s eyes watched her and Kered. “Please let me go!”

Kered picked up a large jug of water. He handed it to her,
steadying it in her trembling hands.

“Rinse off these oils and soaps. We may not take substances
of this chamber to the bathing pool.”

Maggie raised the jug, averted her eyes from his body, and
poured the water down his shoulders.

“My hair,” he said, as he bent his head and scrubbed at his
bloody face beneath the stream of water.

Maggie repeated the rinsing several times, watching the
water swirl and run down his legs and pool around his feet. Water beaded on his
well-oiled skin.

“Enough.” Kered’s voice sounded oddly rough and Maggie
looked up at him. For a moment she thought he might embrace her, but instead he
wrapped a hand about her arm and hauled her through a low arch. He walked in a
measured pace, oblivious of his nakedness. At the end of a short corridor, they
entered another chamber. She stopped short, shocked at the sight of a man
enjoying his attendant. She groaned and scurried back into the safety of the
corridor.

Kered followed her. “Enough, Maggie. This is a bathhouse.
Have you not such places where you come from?”

“I don’t know. Not that I know of.”

“Then let me explain. One comes here to bathe, but also for
the pleasure of the experience. If you do not attend me, another such as
Samoht—”

“Samoht!” she gasped, looking over her shoulder.

“Aye. You have met my most formidable enemy. He and others
will expect that you will be as agreeable as those attendants in the first
cleansing room. Especially as I have claimed you so openly. Do I make myself
clear?’’

“Yes, you’re quite clear,” Maggie said. “I’m not moving.”

Kered sighed. “This place makes you ashamed?”

She looked away. “I think this place would be illegal where
I live.”

“Your customs and mine are very different. What did you mean
when you said you were superluscious.”

Maggie burst into nervous laughter. “Not superluscious,
superfluous.” Her humor fled. “I meant I am unneeded, redundant, unnecessary.”
Her voice cracked. “Unwanted.”

He touched her hair, briefly and gently. “I would not have
copulated with the twins. I have come here to bathe and sweat away some of the
grime of the weeks past. Vad may avail himself of an attendant, but I find I
crave a raven silk,” he threaded his fingers in her hair and drew her close,
“and a fiery temper to warm me.”

She began to tremble. In another moment she’d be sliding
down the wall in a puddle.

Then he stepped away and became matter-of-fact. “You will
attend me. The shift must go, for it makes you stand out. I think the woman on
the slave side sought to make me angry with you. Perhaps she thought I would
punish you in some way for daring to pursue me here.”

Maggie felt a flush of heat run up her cheeks.

Kered stroked a knuckle down her cheek. “Does my nakedness
embarrass you, or is it the thought of attending me?”

“What does attend mean?” Maggie’s voice trembled.

“It means many things. It means doing whatever pleases me.”
He paused and laid a finger along his jaw. “I must say I am sorely
disappointed. The twins are not often free.”

Maggie wanted to slap his face. Then she saw his wide grin
and realized he was teasing her to ease the tension. With that thought, he
shattered her illusions in one swift movement, yanking the straps of her shift
down her arms. He pulled the loose, damp material to her ankles. It lay about
her feet, and she crossed her arms about her breasts.

“To hold yourself thusly will only draw more attention.”

His amused tone only made her clench her hands more tightly
over her chest. Maggie closed her eyes. He had fought for her, yet she stood
naked before him, the most magnificently put together man she’d ever seen, and
he seemed blithely indifferent to her.
Unlike the previous night in the
shepherd’s hut.
He seemed a different man, not the Kered she’d held so
tightly in her arms.

Kered sighed and hauled her forward. “Who had you planned on
hitting with the jug, if I may ask? Me or the twins?”

“You,” she muttered.

“Then I must be thankful your gun is buried with Ruhtra’s
sword.”

Maggie dragged her feet for she knew what waited in the
other chamber. She felt as if she had been dropped into a Roman orgy. A tiled
bathing pool, the size of an Olympic swimming pool, yawned at the center. Its
dark purple waters bubbled vigorously, fed by hidden hot springs. Along the
perimeter, men reclined on padded benches, eating, talking, and playing board
games. Naked slaves of both sexes moved about with food and wine.

Several older women, still beautiful but past their prime,
knelt and groomed the men, filing nails on hands and feet and plucking hair
from armpits, chests, and groins. Women lounged about as freely as men,
enjoying like favors from handsome male attendants.

Maggie also didn’t need to wonder what had become of Vad. He
was reclining at one end of the pool, almost completely hidden from her by the
crowd of young women who clustered about him as if craving some invitation to
heaven.

Kered selected a bench in a small alcove. “This will shield
you somewhat from scrutiny,” he said, then beckoned to a young boy who nodded
and tossed a cloth to her. She promptly clutched it across her chest. Kered
frowned and tried to take the cloth. They warred a moment over the soft
material, then Maggie let it slip from her fingers. Kered arranged it on the
bench. He stretched out on his stomach, resting his head on his folded arms.

He saw that she fought a need to speak, smiled and nodded.
“Say what you must, for the boy will soon return.”

“Your people, they-they copulate right before anyone who
wants to see?”

Kered yawned. “Some do. ‘Tis personal choice. I myself
prefer privacy for anything more involved than play.” He came up on an elbow.
“I most especially like to play with twins.” He grinned as Maggie’s face
heated.

He settled himself on his stomach just as the boy returned.
He handed Maggie a tray of pots, and she heaved a sigh of relief that he didn’t
speak. She watched his small, tight buttocks as he moved off to another bench.

“Attend
me
,” Kered growled, and she went down on her
knees on the warm tiles and looked over the pots before her. It was not steamy
in this chamber and her duties were abundantly clear. She felt Kered’s eyes on
her and her blush deepened, and she noted his eyes as they followed the blush
down to her breasts. Her bottom felt cold and exposed to the room and she had
to fight an urge to whip about to see if anyone was watching her. She shook her
hair out and tipped her head back slightly to edge it a few more inches down
her back.

“Thank you for helping me back there, Ker,” she said. “I was
really scared.”

He stared and grunted.

“Is that a ‘You’re welcome’?” she snapped, futilely
attempting to cover everything possible with strategic curls of hair.

Kered grinned. “You are quite pleasing to me, Maggie, even
if I have you to thank for a sore nose and a battered throat.” He closed his
eyes. Suddenly, he looked as weary as she imagined he was, the lines about his
mouth deeply etched. “The blue pot first, please,” he requested.

Maggie lifted the lid from the glass bowl. She dipped her
fingers into the white cream. A spicy scent rose and a warm feeling penetrated
the skin of her fingers. She dabbed the cream tentatively on his shoulder. It
was like smoothing cream on a rock.

“We will be here for two sun-risings if you continue so.”

Maggie scooped up more cream. She spread it quickly across
his shoulders and began to massage his skin. He had no freckles, no scars, no
marks beyond those from his recent scuffle. The slash on his arm had healed as
flawlessly as his other wounds.

The cream and his perspiration combined to make a new
texture, one of silk, and she became mesmerized by the soothing motions of her
hands on his shoulders. She concentrated on the strange tingling sensation
beneath her fingers and tried to ignore his body. It was like ignoring a rocket
in your living room. The wide planes of his shoulders tapered to lean hips and
taut buttocks.

“All of me, Maggie,” he whispered, his voice soft and hoarse.
She peered at him, but his eyes remained dosed.

“I can’t,” she whispered back.

Kered suddenly rolled to his side, and grasped her wrist.
She gasped at the pain of his grip. “All watch, Maggie. They may seem occupied,
but they watch, for I have favored a personal slave and they wonder why. If you
do not want trouble, spread the cream from my shoulders to my feet and make a
fine showing of it.” He pulled her near, his lips so close she could have
kissed him. His breath washed warm across her face. “Samoht has brought the
twins to the pool. He is a potent enemy with a formidable list of grievances
against me. I have no wish to add his lust for you to the list. Play at the
role and be the attentive slave. You act like a virgin.”

“I am.”

He stared at her, stunned. “‘Tis not possible. You said you
were twenty-five turns of the calendar.”

“I am.”

“A slave is no longer a virgin at fifteen.”

Maggie leaned close to him, her lips a paper’s breadth from
his, her nose touching his cheek. “I am not a slave.”

“Were we not here, I would find out the truth of this.”

“How would you do that?” She could see amber flecks in his
turquoise irises, and his lashes were a thick sable tipped with gold.

Kered raised a hand and clenched his fist in her unruly
black hair. He drew as close as she had. Anyone watching must assume they
kissed. “I would take you and prove your words false.”

He dropped her hair and lay back on his stomach. “You test
the fates. Do the work or suffer some other man’s attentions.”

Maggie began the massage in earnest. She had to rise from
her knees to reach all of him. By the time he shook off her ministrations, she
knew every inch of his rock-hard back as well as his long legs. She had skimmed
her hands over his hips and buttocks, but he hadn’t complained about the
neglect. Her insides churned. She knew if he tried to determine the state of
her virginity, he would discover how aroused she had become from the intimate
task.

“She is a fine specimen,” Samoht said, coming to stand
before them. Tension emanated from the tall councilor. Two alert, burly
attendants sensed trouble and rose from their bench.

Kered shifted to a sitting position as if he had just noted
the other man’s presence. “Aye,” he said, drawing Maggie between his spread
thighs, his arms encircling her hunched shoulders.

“Where is she from, this ebony bitch?”

Kered shrugged. “I found her, injured, on Nilrem’s
mountain.”

“Then she is unclaimed,” Samoht said, lifting a lock of
Maggie’s hair and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

“I have claimed her,” Kered growled.

“Registered, too?” Samoht arranged her hair on her shoulder,
his knuckles skimming against her skin. She shivered in Kered’s arms, despite
the warmth of his hard body.

“Not yet.”

“I will challenge you for her. I want to breed her. Think of
the whelps she would produce. Look at that black hair, from head to nest!”

Maggie heard the steel in Kered’s voice. “She is already
breeding,” he retorted.

Samoht stepped back, his fists clenching. Vad surged through
the crowd in the pool, but froze in mid-stride with a lift of Kered’s hand.

“Indeed,” Samoht said. “Perhaps when you tire of her, we may
come to some arrangement.” Samoht licked his lips and moved off to another
bench, one in plain view of theirs.

“How can you stand this place? I want to leave!” Maggie
hissed. Her hands trembled on her knees, and she clenched her fingers into
fists.

“I have no intention of granting that tyrant any pleasure.
Come, Maggie, we dally overlong.” Kered led Maggie from the large bathing
chamber. Every eye followed them.

Cool air washed Maggie’s heated body and tightened her
nipples. His long strides took her through a curtained archway. She stood
quietly behind him, averting her eyes as he accepted a basket containing their
clothing. He entered into a heated discussion with the tiny old woman who
attended this final stop in the bathhouse.

When he turned away, she knew something was wrong. She
crossed her arms about her waist and shook her hair over her breasts in an
unconscious effort to shield herself from his knowing gaze.

“Your garments were burned.” Kered held the basket out.

She stared blankly at the cascade of blue silk that rested
next to his own finery. “Burned?’’

“The bathhouse replaced them. The garments were deemed—’’

“Unworthy? Too weird?”

“Hush,” Kered hissed, drawing her away from the old woman’s
avid attention. “There is naught to be done. They are ashes.”

Kered steered her to a row of chambers opening off the
central room and concealed by long silken draperies—no common woolen stripes
for warriors and councilors.

Inside the chamber, the marble floor was veined in pink and
salmon. A narrow satin padded bench stood against a wall. Masses of flowers in
stone pots flooded the room with their heady fragrance.

She turned to berate him as he drew the curtain, but he
pulled her into his arms.

“This has been torture, Maggie. I must know if you tell the
truth.” He pressed her back on the padded bench, stretching out above her. She
struggled beneath him, slipping and sliding on the satin, unable to get any
leverage against his relentless hold. Each of her movements aroused him to
greater rigidity. Yet his mouth came down on hers with a slow gentleness that
made her fall still. She lost track of his hands as his tongue caressed hers
with a heated demand. He parted her thighs and placed a hot palm on her.

He lifted his head. “The truth. Tell me the truth, Maggie.
You inflame my desires like the most practiced of women, then swear to your
innocence.”

Maggie arched, sweat breaking out on her back. His hand
gently massaged her and shards of pleasure shot through her. She flailed her
head on the cushion. Words were pointless, but she didn’t want him to stop his
caresses. She wanted his touch to continue, wanted him to finish what he had
started.

He’d soon find out the truth—
or would he?

Did women still bleed their first time? Was it just a myth
of romance novels? Did it hurt? She didn’t know. In fact, she was deathly
afraid that all the hymeneal rituals in romance novels were overdone. What if
he felt nothing? What if they made love and she didn’t bleed? Where was a vial
of chicken blood when you needed it?

If she couldn’t prove her virginity, she’d be a liar to him
forever, a fornitrix who’d spun a tale. He’d never trust her—ever. He might
barter her to Samoht or another equally odious man.

Tears gathered along her lashes and her chest heaved. Kered
paused over her. He snatched back his fingers as if burned.

“Forgive me.” Kered struggled off her and sat at her side.
He dropped his head into his hands. “Forgive me, Maggie. ‘Tis just like the
undergarment. I became carried away, thought naught of your feelings, and
shamed you.” He turned to her and took her hand, raising it to his lips. “You
have saved my life, endured much for my quest, and I have given you nothing. At
least, I may give you my trust.”

She knelt next to him on the bench and laid her head on his
shoulder, kissing his smooth skin and linking her fingers with his. “Thank you,
Ker.” She was exhilarated that he would put aside his desires to demonstrate
his trust. She was also heartily disappointed that they weren’t going to make
love.