Chapter 3

The Invitation

From their struggling beginnings, Portia and Flavius fell into something of a pattern, albeit strained, with every day passing in a way that duplicated the day before. He would do his duty no matter what the personal toll on him might be, and she behaved with the decorum expected of a senator’s daughter.

He lay in bed, watching her prepare for her solitary bed, lingering ever longer as the moonlight fell on her pale alabaster skin. Normally, she unbraided and brushed her hair before dropping her gown to the floor. Tonight, however, she had dropped the gown and then combed her hair, enjoying the cool evening air caressing her skin, knowing that his eyes were caressing it also. As she combed, she turned to face his apparently sleeping form, the almost full moon drenching her in its light.

Ignorant of the ways of women, he was unaware that she was having as much difficulty as he in keeping her passions under control. Only her breeding stopped her from throwing herself naked into his arms. She remembered the press and smell of the leather armor against her face. The kiss on her hair. Every night as she got into bed, her eyes invited him longingly, but he did not see.

They were alone in the house, but he did not see the invitation her eyes extended. And as she lay in bed before sleep, thoughts of him excited her body. She’d never had this kind of excitement before and shivered with the anticipated pleasure and pain at the thought of him inside her, making love to her. She gasped imperceptibly at the mounting energy and the moistness between her legs. Such feelings were unprecedented in her sheltered experience and she was swept along by their unfamiliar intensity.

She tried to imagine what his body looked like under the leather armor that he wore so proudly. What does his chest look like? A lot of hair or smooth? It looks as if it should be smooth. What would it feel like against my skin? His muscles look taut and I want to feel them, kiss them even, but I know I want to feel them.

Her standing naked just a few feet from him as she combed her hair was almost more than Flavius could bear and, many times, he tried to tear his eyes from her form but could not. He was truly a prisoner because to say something to her about his torture would have admitted that he watched her through half-closed eyes, and that he could never do. Finally, she got into bed and, as sleep overtook her, he smiled as he saw the familiar shudder ripple though her body. Finally, he dozed off, sleeping fitfully and was up and out before dawn.

Portia awoke and her first thought was of her protector on his makeshift pallet bed outside her door. She started abruptly when she saw that he had already gone. She leaped out of bed, ran to the window, and was relieved to see him down in the courtyard with his horse. She quickly dressed, braided her hair and went downstairs. She wanted to see what he was doing, to catch sight of him when he was unaware of her. She slipped quietly into the courtyard so as not to disturb him or his horse. She saw him offering food to the animal from one hand while the other stroked the side of its huge muzzle. As the horse took the food, it making whinnying sounds.

She didn’t know the horse’s name or whether centurions even named their horses. Watching man and beast, the love between them was evident. She saw it nuzzle Flavius on his cheek, and Flavius laughed a deep belly laugh. Oh, the great joy there. She had never seen such a bond before.

No man she had ever met before combined such warm gentleness with the steely determination, resolve and loyalty that this man had. He was truly a noble man, more noble than she had ever seen in her home. On impulse, she wanted to trade places with the horse that she might nuzzle his cheek and make him laugh. Then she smiled at the ridiculousness of her being jealous of the horse and the rapt attention he paid to it.

He always seemed so brusque with her, not wishing to stay within her company, just doing what he had to do. And then he was on his way, leaving to check on his men, almost … almost impatient … seemingly in a hurry to get out of the room and tend to his other duties. His behavior puzzled her. She thought she was beautiful, alluring even. She had beautiful hair and a slender figure, and wore the finest clothes and jewels, but he didn’t seem to notice any of that.

All she knew was that he had arms that encircled her and made her feel safe, and she wanted to live there, that place in his circle. But he would not bend, no matter what she did, no matter how long she lingered naked before slipping into bed. She’d been sure that brushing her hair after dropping her gown last night would have provoked some kind of reaction, but still he did not come to her.

As he absently groomed his horse’s mane, Flavius reflected on the threat to Portia’s safety having been completely contained, at least for now, so the ladies-in-waiting and other servants would soon be back. His duty would be fulfilled. He would be glad to withdraw from the house. Being so close to Portia caused him too much pain. He did not want to smell her skin around the curve of the shoulder. Or see the wind blow her hair gently and the way her dress moved when she walked. Or the love she extended to her cat as she held it on her lap. He wanted to be that cat. He wanted her to pet him, and he was glad to be leaving.

He knew they could never be together, and being so close to this goddess was just too much. Yesterday, he had told her, “My duty here is done. I am reporting back to Rome to my garrison. All is in order here, and you are safe. The threat is gone and you can live in safety once more. I will take the ring back to your father, and he will come and visit you as soon as the Senate finishes their debates.”

A few hours later, her companions returned, laughing and glad to be back to the routine of the household.

Her reverie was broken by a soldier reporting that the column was ready to depart, so Flavius mounted his steed and rode off without looking back. Portia stood at the courtyard gate and watched him lead the column quickly down the lane. With each step his horse took, her heart fragmented a little more. There had been a change, and she knew her life would never be the same. He had come into her house and life with his strong arms, his curls, his face, his height and his hips. He had come and stolen her heart, and nothing would never be the same. And now he was gone! She wondered, will he ever come down that lane again?

Each day after Flavius’ departure, she stood at the gates, thinking the same thoughts, yearning the same yearnings, and wanting those strong arms around her shoulders, wanting him to kiss her ears, her throat and her breasts. She thought of little else other than what having him inside her would be like or just how wonderful it would be to have Favius again outside her bedroom door, even if all that happened was that she could look again upon those amber curls. His amber curls.

As the days turned into weeks, she noticed that things were not as much fun as they used to be at the house. She no longer enjoyed the garden as much, or the sun, or the flowers. She was lonely and didn’t remember being lonely before. What was the point if she had no one to share all this with? She wasn’t sure how she was going to resolve this.

How could there be any change in what has happened? How could she allow her life to stay this way? She had to find a way to bring Flavius into her life again. She had to find a way to explore his body, to see if it would be all she thought it would be. Every night as she lay in bed, her body yearned for his, and denying it of its yearnings was becoming very hard.

She had trouble keeping track of the passing days because they all seemed alike, no difference between any of them, blending into one interminably long day and night. Somehow her companions weren’t as much fun as they used to be and she began to resent their presence. I don’t like what’s happening to me. This is not a part of my plan. It is not my intention to be … to be what? I can’t even decide what I am. What am I? What is this bizarre state into which I’ve fallen? I’ve never felt this way before.

A hundred times a day, she thought, I don’t understand what’s happening to me or why it’s happening. All I know is that I just want to see that helmet with those curls underneath it. And I want Flavius in my arms … my arms. I want to hold him in an embrace. I want to hold him!  I want to wrap my body around him, with him deep inside me. That’s what I want and nothing can change it.

Chapter 12

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