After the Fall(32)
Athaulf dipped his head, very formal. “Princess, you requested my presence?”
Placidia’s heart pounded, and she found it hard to speak. “You … Athaulf, you brought us food. I knew it was you from the first, because of the, the … your scent was on the satchel.”
He looked taken aback, unmasked as he was.
“Tell me,” she asked, breathless, trying to focus and remain calm, “why did you endanger yourself for … for us?”
“I did it for you alone, Placidia.”
She stood without responding, his beautiful eyes boring into hers, and she longed to rush into his arms.
“I couldn’t bear to think you were suffering,” he added. His hand moved slightly, and for the first time, Placidia noticed he held a silk bag. “I return this to you with the gratitude of a people and with my heartfelt thanks.”
Placidia approached him, her knees wobbly, her steps slow and uncertain. She felt small and vulnerable when she finally reached his side, for he was almost a head taller than she.
He pressed the bag into her hand, then stood back. “We shall never forget your generosity, but this is yours, must always be yours. You wore it when first we met.”
She smiled, feeling the weight of emeralds and gold, her necklace returned, the gesture so touching. “Thank you,” she said, then impulsively added, “I owe you my life, and I would bestow a kiss of gratitude upon you, but you must kneel, for I cannot reach so high.”
Athaulf went down on one knee, still keeping to protocol, and Placidia breathed in his scent. Leather. Lavender. She leaned in and touched her lips to his right cheek. Closing her eyes, she lingered against the warmth of his skin, then moved back slightly to kiss his other cheek, but her will gave way to desire and she brushed her lips against his instead.
“Athaulf,” she whispered.
He returned her gentle kisses, his fingers touching her arms in a light caress. The heat of him sent a pulse of desire straight to her core.
“Take me in your arms, Athaulf.”
She felt his hands at her waist, drawing her down, and she moaned as he grasped her to him, as his mouth covered hers. She wrapped her arms around him. The sensations were overwhelming, and she pressed her body against his, feeling his desire, willing him to keep going, to demand more.
“Placidia,” he held her face and stared at her, his breathing heavy.
“Take me with you,” she pleaded, looking into his wonderful eyes. “Take me away from here, take me … take me — ”
“Don’t speak like that! You don’t know what you’re asking,” Athaulf said, his voice ragged and low. “You are a princess of Rome.”
“Then you don’t feel as I do?” Placidia asked, desperate, searching his expression for an answer. “I was so certain you loved me.”
“Of course you have my heart, but it is impossible what you ask. Impossible,” he said wretchedly, holding her close. “You would be hunted mercilessly for having abandoned the Empire in such a manner. And I could never impose exile on you. It is too harsh, too bitter to live without a homeland, condemned to wandering.”
“You are all the homeland I will ever need, Athaulf. I know it. I can’t breathe without thinking of you, day and night, every night … all night.” Placidia reached up and touched his cheek, then kissed him again. “If you can’t take me with you, then stay tonight at least, make love to me … Athaulf, please … we will make a bond, seal our love forever.”
“Stop, Placidia! Say no more. I love you too much to inflict such a fate upon you.”
“But it is a fate of my own choosing,” she insisted, trying to kiss him again, but he tilted his head away. “Athaulf, don’t fight this. Make love to me.”
“No, you do not understand. You are a maid — ”
“I am fully aware — ”
“No! I swear if I so much as kiss you again, I will take you here, now, on the floor, and it would be no fitting thing for a princess, I assure you!”
The brutality of his words stunned, but also stirred her, and she imagined feeling the weight of him upon her and yearned for the act.
“Athaulf … ”
“Placidia, do not ask more of me than I can bear. You would hate me for it afterward.”
Crushed and ashamed, Placidia turned her face away. She’d made her bid, uttered words, begged him. She had admitted to feelings she thought could never be possible for her, yet he’d refused, placing honor above all else.