After the Fall(44)

“Verica said you asked for me?” He came inside, but stayed near the doorway. He was wearing a clean tunic and new sandals, Placidia noticed, and she let her eyes wander over him, then blinked and swallowed, forcing her gaze to his face.

He looked as hesitant as she, and then his expression changed to shock. “You — you’re wearing the — the gown — from our first meeting!”

Determined, her eyes fixed on his. “True. Verica knew where to find it, since it was a part of the original siege ransom.” She held out her hand, her pulse racing, and she wondered if she would faint before … before …

“Come in.”

Athaulf slowly approached, then knelt and kissed her hand, but she withdrew it quickly. “Don’t, Athaulf. I’m not a princess any longer. Get up, please.”

He smiled at her, his gaze ardent. “I don’t kneel for a princess. I kneel to honor the woman I love.”

Moved by his words, she reached out and touched his cheek with trembling fingers, then his lips. She had kissed them once passionately, and her mind was filled with the desire to feel their heat again. “Please get up.”

Rising, he looked at her steadily, his beautiful eyes soft, warm, and anxious. “You wished to see me?”

She opened her mouth to respond, and then suddenly recalled a conversation she’d had with him once before, when he’d returned her necklace the first time. She blushed deeply, her face hot, her body frozen with discomfiture at the remembrance of that evening, her humiliation after she’d begged him to take her, after he’d honorably declined.

He took her hand again and turned it over, kissing her palm. “You’re terrified, like a trapped little bird. Why?”

“Because I love you,” she whispered.

He kissed her hair, then her temple, allowing his lips to linger. “And this frightens you, my love? Why?”

Placidia leaned against him, welcoming his gentle touch.

“Tell me, Placidia,” he asked as he drew strands of her hair over her shoulder, letting the tendrils run through his fingers, “why are you wearing this gown?”

“Because,” she looked up at him, breathing rapidly, “because it is time you returned the necklace to me properly.”

She looked to a silk bag on the table, and heard Athaulf stop breathing for the slightest moment, knowing he remembered.

He stepped to the table, opened the bag, and drew forth the emerald necklace. Hands trembling, Athaulf placed it at her throat, and she pulled back her hair so he could work the clasp. When he finished, he hesitated, then bent and kissed her, just above where the necklace lay. “I love you, Placidia.”

Sensations, tingling poured over her. “I don’t want you to refuse me this time, Athaulf. I want you to … stay … all night … please.”

Athaulf took her face in his hands and covered her mouth with his, kissing her with a fervor she had not expected. His tongue sought hers, gently probing, and she let him in. Weak with pleasure, she felt a melting warmth between her legs and moaned with desire.

He suddenly pulled back, concern etched across his face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You are so young, so … I will gladly stay, but if — if you’re fearful, after what happened in the palace — ”

“No! I mean, I’m not,” she insisted, flustered. Clutching him, she said, “There is nothing I want more than to be with you … joined with you … at last.”

Athaulf drew her to him, cradling her in his arms. His lips touched her brow.

She looked up, desperately wanting his kisses, but he was so very tall. Instead, unsure and tentative, she placed her hands against his chest and kissed him there. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, she grew bolder and brushed her lips against him again. The fabric of his tunic was thin, and she could sense his body heat, his rapid breathing. Moving her hands to the small of his back, kissing him still, she reveled in his taut skin and muscular physique. He moaned openly and she closed her eyes, her heart racing as she sensed the roundness of his backside at the edge of her fingertips.

“Athaulf, please.”

“What, my love?” His arms tightened and he pressed against her, kissing her hair, and she could feel him, all of him, ready, hard.

“Help me … Athaulf … my gown.”

He fumbled with the straps of her dress, then kissed her hungrily, his desire unleashed as her clothes fell to the floor.