Beloved

admiration. The next move was up to him, so she stood silently sneaking a careful look at him from beneath her thick, black lashes while she waited. She had to admit that he was a very handsome man in a virile, rugged sort of way. He was at least an inch over six feet in height, with a powerfully built body. He had a surprisingly elegant head for one of low birth, she thought. It was oval in shape, with high, well-sculpted cheekbones, a straight patrician nose almost classic in its perfection, extremely sensuous lips, a square chin with a deep cleft that was fairly well hidden by his well-cropped, short beard. The beard, like his close-clipped curly hair, had only faint touches of silver to mar its beautiful golden-blond color. The well-spaced, round eyes were sky blue with their odd-colored flecks, and edged in short, sandy lashes. They were eyes that pierced, but never divulged what they thought.

He began to undress. 'Help me with this chest armor,' he said briskly as he undid the buckles that held his protective plating.

'Call a slave,' she said.

'I am at a loss for what to do with you,' he said slowly, pulling off the beautifully decorated breastplate and then undoing the belt that held the strips of armor that hung from his waist. Warrior that he was, he carefully placed the armor in a small chest for safekeeping, then turned back to her. His muscular arms pulled the short- sleeved, knee-length red tunic off, and this garment was followed by a natural-colored linen tunica interior. He was nude except for his sandals and leg shields. Sitting down, he held out a foot. 'Will you undo my sandals?'

'I am not your servant, Aurelian.'

'You highborn wenches aren't good for very much at all. You refuse to help me undress, and you kiss like a child. I wonder if you will be worth all the trouble I am going to have to take with you.'

'Then return me to Palmyra!' she spat at him. 'Return me, and then fight me like a man, Roman!'

He looked up at her, now free of his sandals and leg shields. 'I am going to fight you like a man, goddess, and for probably the first time in your life you are going to have to fight like a woman!' She gasped, outraged by his words, but he continued. 'Therewill be no emperors or queens in this tent tonight, Zenobia, just a man and a woman waging the age-old battle between men and women!' His eyes blazed blue fire at her, and, startled, she stepped backward. It was all the advantage he needed. Stepping swiftly forward, he lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder.

He had made no attempt to be gentle, leaving her helpless to struggle, for she was too busy trying to catch her breath. Walking across the tent into his sleeping chamber, he unceremoniously dumped her upon his bed and then flung himself down atop her, trapping her face between his two hands.

'I have nothing to give you!' she hissed.

'You will before this night is finished,' he promised, and then yanked her head back to his. His lips claimed hers again.

This time Zenobia struggled against Aurelian. As his mouth ground down upon her an unreasoning fear welled up within her, destroying her intent to remain cool, increasing her panic as her heartbeat accelerated violently.

He quickly felt her terror, and suddenly his lips were gentle, barely brushing hers as he murmured against them, 'No, goddess, don't be afraid. Shhh. Shhh, I will not hurt you.'

She was unable to prevent the shudder that ripped through her. This was worse, she thought. She didn't want him to be gentle. She wanted him to assault her with violence so she might hate him even more. With an angry cry she raised her hands and clawed at him.

Forcing her arms above her head, he held them there with one hand while the other sought to gentle her. 'No, goddess,' he chided her, and then, 'What are you afraid of, Zenobia? Give me some of the sweetness of your mouth, beloved. There cannot be great harm in that.'

She almost wept then. Beloved! He had called her beloved -until now only Marcus, Marcus who had betrayed her and left her to this man, had called her beloved.

Aurelian sensed the weakness, and in that instant he descended on her again, his mouth tenderly taking hers in a kiss so passionate, and yet at the same time so gentle, that she was unable to resist any longer. Her lips softened beneath the insistent pressure of his. Finding her tongue, he sucked a long minute upon the tempting morsel, then released her from the kiss.

Zenobia was stunned by the sense of loss she felt. Why did she feel this way? She detested this man, and had a weapon been available she would have used it on him. Opening her eyes, she found him looking down on her, unsmiling. His free hand came up to caress her face. 'Your skin is like silk,' he said softly, and then his hand began a lengthy exploration of her body.

Shifting his weight off her, he released her hands and put the arm that had imprisoned her about her shoulders, pinioning her as effectively as he had before, but allowing him the freedom he needed to caress her. A warm hand moved down her throat, a hand, she thought, that could as easily strangle her as make love to her. He read the thought in her gray eyes.

He dallied a moment in the soft hollow of her neck, and she could feel the blood coursing beneath his fingers. His hand next moved down to stroke the high swell of her breasts, trailing leisurely downward between her cleavage. A single finger teasingly encircled each nipple, shocking them, despite her best efforts to resist, to tight and tingling peaks, which he bent his head to kiss.

She could feel the cry welling up in her throat, and with a supreme surge of willpower she forced it back. He must not know-she would not let him know that his hungry mouth now sucking on her breasts was beginning to elicit a tiny response deep inside her. She could not understand it, and it not only puzzled her, it frightened her. She began to tremble, and tried to draw away from that insistent mouth.

Slowly he raised his head. His eyes were glazed with passion, and something else she could not fathom. She turned her head away from him so he might not see her fear. 'You will not deny me, goddess,' he said softly. 'I will possess you.'

'No,' she managed to whisper, 'my body, but nothing else!'

'I will possess all!' he answered her. 'You will belong to me alone, goddess, for never have I been beaten in battle, and I will not be beaten in this one.'

Scalding, slow tears began to course down her cheeks, but no sound came from her throat. This was what it had been like for her mother those long years ago; pinned beneath a Roman who demanded everything of her and took it without a care for her soul. They had destroyed her mother, but whatever happened between Zenobia and this Roman, she would not allow him to destroy her.

'No, goddess,' and his voice was deceptively soft. 'Don't weep. I will not hurt you. I will only love you,' and he raised himself up so he might kiss the wetness on her face.

It was too much for Zenobia. With a wild cry she fought to escape him, but could not fight her way free, for his strength was too great. Aurelian laughed, her confused and terrified resistance seeming to give him great pleasure. He shifted his body once more, this time to cover hers. She could feel his muscular thighs with their soft blond down pressing down upon hers, and to her horror she felt a great flash of heat suffuse her body. His broad chest crushed her full breasts, his mouth again captured hers in a kiss of such blazing passion that she could feel her strength ebbing away. Against the inside of her thigh she felt his staff lengthening and growing hard with his desire for her.

He caught at her tongue and began to suck upon the velvet of it again, sending shock waves of desire- dear Venus, it was desire!-throughout her feverish body. With that admission to herself it was as if a dam had burst within her. Unwillingly her arms went about him, and she felt him seeking entrance to her unwilling, yet willing body. He thrust deep, and she cried out, her breath coming in quick pants, her long golden legs wrapping themselves about him. Again and again he plunged himself into her burning and wet sheath, making her cry with pleasure in spite of herself. And then with a pitiful sob she whimpered low '/ do not understand! I do not understand!'

He stopped in his rutting, and with a roar of laughter he caught her frightened face in his hands. 'It is lust, Zenobia! Sweet, hot lust! How is it that you have never before experienced lust?' He drove again into her and, bending, murmured against her ear, 'I will teach you to enjoy lust, my goddess, to revel in it, to yield to it!' His hands moved beneath her to cup her buttocks, and he squeezed them possessively. 'Do you feel it, Zenobia? Do you feel the fire coursing through you? Lust! It is lust, and you have no choice but to give in to it; give in to me! The victory will be mine, goddess, as I warned you! The victory will be mine!'

Shocked, Zenobia realized that what he was saying was true. She had no control over her body at that moment. Ripple after ripple of pure, sensuous pleasure was starting to wash over her, and she had not the strength