‘You were upset.’
‘No, I mean sorry about everything.’
Lucilla hugged him closer. Then she stretched up, turned his face towards her with one palm, and kissed him quietly. Gaius was welcoming, though seemed restrained.
Had he never recovered? Was he incapable? She feared the worst. He read her thoughts: ‘I don’t know. I never tried. I only wanted you.’
Despite years of hairdressing gossip, Lucilla realised she had no idea how to deal with this. One false move could be fatal, she guessed. She let him lead.
‘Too tired.’ Gaius shelved the issue. ‘Here is my plan: we will lie here like this, cosy and comforting. In due course we’ll sleep. When we wake, we’ll do it.’
Lucilla teased him: ‘Does everything in your life have to have an agenda?’
‘Nothing beats it,’ Gaius assured her gravely. He ticked off items: ‘Opening remarks. Snuggle. Sleep. Love you. Any other business
…’
Lucilla accepted it, settling against him as if this had been her place for years. His hand struggled under the neck of her tunic, not exploring, not sensual, simply seeking her shoulder’s bare skin. She curled her own hand lightly around his wrist. It was the touch of ownership, on both sides. They lay together, relieved, relaxed, contented, resting.
Time passed. They did not sleep. Neither could bear to lose the intensity of this companionship.
Gaius moved. It seemed more than a readjustment for comfort, and at Lucilla’s small murmur, he gathered her so they could kiss again. His lips tasting hers were positive; some decision had been reached. Her heartbeats speeded. Still mouth to mouth, Gaius rolled them, so Lucilla was in the position that would always be her favourite, feeling his weight on her. He was tender, appreciative, leisurely but purposeful. She had no doubt where he was taking them.
As a master logistician, Gaius removed his clothes and hers, somehow without spoiling the moment. Taking his time, he positioned Lucilla and himself as he wanted them to be. ‘Never fear. The omens are promising.’
‘Omens?’ She kept it light. ‘You went to a priest, Gaius?’
She felt him shudder; he had had enough priests at the Campus Sceleratus to last him a lifetime. ‘You sent me to a doctor.’
‘ Sent you?’
‘I’m obedient. Take the auguries yourself.’ He moved Lucilla’s hand down so she could see there was no problem now. She heard him gasp and felt him tense as she touched him. Neither could bear to wait.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
They gasped slightly, as they always would, at the moment they joined together. An exquisite welcome, which they would never take for granted.
On that first return to each other, they made love as their ancestors the old Romans must have done, when the man came in weary from ploughing and the woman who tended his hearth welcomed him in their rustic bed before they slept. Nothing fancy, nothing too drawn out. The straightforward unashamed pleasure of two people who would share life as long as they were allowed to do so.
There would be other times to be adventurous, for more extended passion, for raucousness and ribaldry. This was the uncomplicated, intimate communion of a couple who liked to end their day by expressing their love.
27
Light altered subtly throughout the apartment, although it was still dark. Outside, a bird began to trill a piercing and joyous soaraway song that suited Lucilla’s waking mood. The last few delivery carts trundled away into the distance, trying to beat the daylight curfew when wheeled vehicles had to leave the streets. The earliest workers were out in Plum Street, visiting the food shop on their way to menial jobs. Their voices came loud, seeming thoughtless, as if they had to be up and about, so why not others?
Inside, everywhere lay still.
Gaius, beside her, had curled on his side, facing away in such deep slumber that at one point Lucilla had wrapped herself around him, pressing against his back to listen to his lungs as if she needed to check he was still alive. She knew without asking, he had not slept so well for years; some long-held grief had slid away last night, to give place to healing.
He sensed she had woken. Dragging himself from unconsciousness just enough, he struggled over towards her, flung arms around her, hauled her into his embrace, then sank back into further sleep. His warm palm was spread against her head, his fingers had run into her hair.
Lucilla held him, shaking and overwhelmed with gratitude for what she now had. Gaius roused enough to make a small protest at her emotion, his fingertips stroking her temple until she too was soothed and began to sleep again.
He came awake soon afterwards. He lay on watch, as the morning sun grew in strength to flood through gaps in the shutters, while street-sweepers came and went in Plum Street, then shoppers and people on business occupied the neighbourhood. For half an hour schoolchildren clamoured uninhibitedly on their way to lessons. Then the voices were less shrill. After a while, Gaius drowsed gently, waiting until Lucilla awoke so they could spend their day together.
He was a happy man. It went beyond the morning bonhomie of any fellow who had screwed a girl he liked. He knew their lives had altered fundamentally. Still, he would have to exert himself to hang on to this — fight off all the other bastards, keep her permanently sweet — he was looking forward to the process. When she stirred, he greeted her with kisses, unable to stop smiling.
At first they lay in silence, foreheads together, blissfully lost in their reconciliation. As they gazed like soulful doves, Lucilla realised she rarely thought of Gaius as one-eyed. She knew him so well she would read his expression, tell his thoughts, just as if he had two eyes to communicate like anybody else. Whether he was handsome or hideous did not matter either. All she loved came from his character.
‘What are you thinking?’
‘Your action list got abandoned!’
‘Perfectly decent action list,’ declared Gaius. ‘I shall complete it.’ Lucilla smiled and Gaius enjoyed her benevolence like a dog lapping gravy. ‘Any agenda of mine,’ he offered, at his most cheerful, ‘always receives systematic treatment, item by item, as steered by a man who knows the lazy, incompetent bastards he is forced to deal with
… Listen, sweetie, this is important stuff; stop tickling my balls for a moment — ’
‘Can you not be fondled and talk nonsense at the same time?’
‘Can’t concentrate. I am not a demigod… So: in my office there is an agreed programme, but other activity may be authorised, if I decide it necessary. Loving you last night was a special exercise. The agenda remains active. I will work through the damned thing. Clear?’
‘Perfectly. When does it start?’
‘About two heartbeats from now.’
Then Gaius fulfilled his agenda in an orderly manner — with passion, inventiveness and the energy of a man who had had a thoroughly good night’s sleep.
Later, they let half a morning go by, talking and teasing and languidly exploiting their first real chance to spend time together, with no pressure to do anything.
While they were still in bed, Lucilla could not resist asking, ‘You said something outside the theatre that time, but you were angry — Was it true?’
‘This is what a grammarian would call “a question expecting the answer yes”. Let’s not play games. You know I love you.’
Thinking of his dogged pursuit, how could Lucilla doubt it? She lay gazing up at the old wooden ceiling. ‘And are you going to ask me?’
