Beloved

you now changed your mind?'

'I do not make promises I do not intend to keep, my flower. There is, however, a time for everything, and this is not the time to be discussing my government.'

'When is the right time?' she demanded angrily. 'Must I make an appointment with you, as do your ministers? Shall I tell your secretary in the morning that the Princess of Palmyra wishes an appointment with the Prince of Palmyra so she may discuss the government with him?'

'By the gods!' he exclaimed. 'We are having our first fight, Zenobia!' He reached out a hand, and stroked her shoulder. How beautiful she was with her midnight-black hair swirling about her shoulders.

'You must take the good with the bad,' she muttered, not easily placated, and shocked by the revelation that she was quarreling with him.

'I will share everything with you, my darling,' he promised, 'but we are just married; this is our honeymoon; and I do not want to speak of politics or finances with you at this moment. What bride would choose these things over love in her marriage bed?'

Her resistance began to melt, and he reached out and drew her into his arms. 'Oh, Hawk,' she murmured. 'I have so much to learn that I am impatient.'

'It is as I have said, my flower. You are yet a child in many ways, but I will teach you.' He nibbled at the corners of her mouth, and delicious little tingles of excitement ran through her. The prince smiled down at her, and then his lips took full possession of hers. There was no gentleness this time, only a fierce and burning demand that Zenobia found impossible not to answer. She returned his kisses passionately until her mouth was bruised and aching, but to his surprise she did not yield herself entirely. His hands moved to caress her marvelous breasts; his lips moved from her lips downward along a trail of soft, perfumed flesh that quivered beneath his touch.

She knew what to expect this time, or at least she thought she did, but the warm and softly breathing mouth that murmured love words into her ear, the mouth that moved teasingly along the straining muscle on the side of her neck to bury itself in the tender hollow of her shoulder shook her to the quick. He stayed but a moment in that sweet nook only to move onward to cover the swelling tops of her breasts with quick kisses before beginning his assault upon her nipples, which stood at attention eagerly awaiting him.

'Zenobia,' he murmured, then his tongue began a slow, teasingly sweet encirclement of a nipple. Round and round it moved, sending waves of heat through her veins until she wanted to scream, for the pleasure left her weak and breathless. It occurred to her suddenly that he was diverting her from the discussion she had been trying to conduct with him. Her first reaction to this thought was outrage that he held her opinion so lightly; but then, as his mouth closed over a nipple and he began to suckle upon her sensitive breast, all coherent thought vanished. She gave herself up to the delights of his lovemaking.

'Oh, my Hawk,' she whispered, afraid to break the lovely spell that seemed to surround them, 'I love you!'

Slowly he raised his head so he might look upon her beautiful face, and for a moment Zenobia thought she would drown in the dark, dark liquid pool of his eyes. His voice had an intensity that gave her the eerie feeling that he had divined her very thoughts. 'And I love you, my exquisite bride. I will share all with you, my love. We have an eternity of sharing before us.'

4

Marcus Britainus looked up from his inventory sheets. 'Yes, Severus, what is it?'

'The Princess of Palmyra is here, sir.'

'Here?' His heart leapt within his chest. Then he realized that she probably did not remember him.

'She wishes to purchase furniture and see our fabrics and accessories, sir.'

'Help her then, Severus.' He lowered his head again to the scrolls.

'Marcus Britainus!' Severus's voice was severe. 'You cannot avoid Princess Zenobia. If you continue to shun her, this fascination will increase until no other woman can match the woman you have created in your imagination. This is the ruler of Palmyra's wife. You must greet her.'

'How old must I get before you will realize that I am no longer a green boy?' Marcus grumbled.

'There is something of the boy in every man, Marcus Britainus,' came the quiet reply.

Marcus left his office and stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. She is here! Had she sought him out? Fool! His practical nature reared its head. Why in the name of all the gods would she remember him? She hated blue-eyed Romans. Besides, from all he could gather, her marriage to Odenathus was a love match. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he straightened the folds of his toga pura and entered the atrium of his warehouse with a firm step.

Zenobia rose from the bench upon which she had been seated, and watched him come toward her. The blue-eyed Roman! Of course! She vaguely remembered that he had introduced himself at their brief first meeting. Merchants were supposed to be old men, she thought irritably, but this was certainly no old man. He topped her by at least eight inches, and Zenobia knew few men to whom she must look up. It gave her a vaguely uncomfortable sensation, made her feel at a disadvantage with him. Around her, her maidens giggled and made rather pointed and suggestive remarks about the handsome merchant. Zenobia felt her cheeks flushing slightly. Newly awakened to sensuality, she could not help but look upon Marcus Alexander with a woman's eye, and somehow, she thought, that must be disloyal to her Hawk.

Reaching her, he knelt and paid her homage. 'Highness.'

'Rise, Marcus Alexander Britainus,' she said, and before she realized it the words were out. 'Why are you so tall? Are you a giant?'

'No, your Highness,' he answered her in an even voice, although he was tempted to laugh. 'I take my height from my mother's people, the Dobunni. My grandfather was their prince.' He smiled down at her. 'If I may say it, you are tall for a woman, Highness.'

'I take my height from my mother's people too, Marcus Alexander Britainus. My mother was an Alexandrian Greek descended from Queen Cleopatra.' Zenobia was openly proud.

'How fitting that Queen Cleopatra's beautiful young descendent should be the Princess of Palmyra, Highness,' came the reply.

Zenobia looked up at the Roman, but the deep blue eyes held no trace of mockery, only the deepest respect. 'This is a better beginning, Marcus Alexander Britainus,' she answered him.

That, he was amused to note to himself, was the only reference she made to their first meeting.

'Severus tells me that you seek to purchase furniture, Highness; yet I have heard Palmyra's palace is most beautifully decorated.'

'Palmyra's palace is, but the house that my husband and I share within the palace gardens is but newly built.'

'My warehouses are full, your Highness, and I, myself, will escort you.'

'Remain here,' Zenobia commanded her half-dozen maidens. For the first time he noticed the women who accompanied her; fluttering butterflies, all of whom admired him openly.

'Please follow me, your Highness,' he said, leading her from the bright atrium, through a corridor, and finally into a huge room filled with furnishings of every description; great bolts of multicolored silks, linens, and wools; and decorations of every type.

Stunned, Zenobia stood looking at it all. This gave him a moment to feast his eyes upon her perfect beauty. She was even fairer than he remembered. Her skin glowed with a radiance that told him she was well loved. His envy of Odenathus was tinged with sadness. She was wearing a sleeveless, low-necked pale-lavender-colored stola that had been belted at the waist with three narrow strips of gilded leather. Her long dark hair was no longer loose and flowing as he remembered it. Instead, it was parted in the middle and drawn into a heavy coil at the nape of her neck, affixed with amethyst-studded gold combs and long matching pins.

'It is so much,' her awed voice brought him out of his daydream.

'The shipment arrived but yesterday,' he answered.

'I have visited several other warehouses, Marcus Alexander Britainus, but I have seen nothing to compare with