"Roman," she concurred.
"Roses and perfume and oil," he said as they entered the hallway.
"Yes."
He stopped and drew her to him again, his lips lingering on hers, then brushing her cheek, her eyes, her hair. "Why didn't I do this when I first arrived?" he wondered aloud.
"Because you didn't want to," she said honestly.
"More fool me," he murmured, his hands fumbling with her paenula. "You don't have anything on under this, do you?"
"No," she admitted.
"Shameless, too." He nuzzled her neck, then gently caught her earlobe between his teeth.
"Careful," she warned him playfully.
"Why? you do it to me."
"That's different," she said, moving back a step and taking his hand. "Come. We don't want to entertain the servants."
He laughed aloud. "Of course not," he said, trying to sound prim and failing.
At the door of her bedroom, they kissed again, more intensely, tongues exploring, hands spread wide and moving over backs and shoulders. "For love of—"
"You," he finished for her.
"Of Aphrodite," she corrected, although it was not what she had intended to say at first. "Inside, and get out of those clothes. You are going to madden me if you make me wait too long for you."
"Will you rage and pull out your hair?" he prompted.
"No, I will seize heavy objects and throw them at you," she promised. "Inside."
Chuckling he allowed himself to be tugged through the door, and once it was closed, he reached to her tablion to unfasten it. "Let me. I want—" He could not speak of what he wanted; his eyes were eloquent, his hands explained, his mouth formed a poetry that was more sublime for its lack of words.
Olivia, carried by his passion, felt a wonderful stillness about her, a rapture that was so complete that it suspended both of them with its enormity and its tenderness. She opened all of herself to him, so that when he entered her he penetrated much more than her body. It was the sweetest de.lirium to move with him, to know his savor and weight, his fervor, his ecstasy. She was imbued with his ardor, discovering an awe within herself that had remained inaccessible until now.
As Drosos plunged into release, Olivia found her fulfillment, and so immense was their joy together that her special appetite was gratified almost as soon as her mouth touched him.
They remained as they had been, flesh held by flesh, now unmoving, neither willing to sacrifice their intimacy by separating even to lie in each other's arms.
Olivia looked up into his face, her desires so replete that she could say or do nothing that could add to her bliss. She could feel a thin ribbon of sweat down her ribs and another on her shoulder, and wondered idly if it might be hers as well as his. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her face and the smell of their passion blended with the scent of the roses around them.
They kissed slowly, their lips so sensitive that they barely grazed; exquisite sensations surged through them.
He started to speak, but she stopped the words with her lips, longing to sustain their glorious, prodigal delight. "I must be squashing you," he whispered some while later.
Reluctantly Olivia let herself slip from passion to contentment. "I don't mind."
"Um." He plucked a few stray hairs from his beard off her cheek. "I can't stay in anymore," he said with regret.
Finally they rolled to the side, still together, though the intoxication of their union no longer consumed them.
"Let me move my arm," she offered, shifting so that they would both be more comfortable.
They lay together, her head on his shoulder, her leg over his thigh, the hair of his chest making patterns on her skin. Their hands were joined.
"Every time I think that it cannot be better than the last, and every time it is," he said when he was starting to drift into sleep.
She turned her head so that her lips pressed his shoulder.
"Olivia?" he whispered a little later.
"Yes?"
"In two months, I am being sent to Alexandria." There was devastation in his words.
She felt her throat tighten. "Alexandria?"
"In Egypt," he explained.
"I know where it is," she said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.
"So anything that is going to happen has to be before then." He made an angry slash with his free arm. "I'm a toad!"
"Shhush," she admonished him.
But he could not stop. "I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't what I meant. I wanted to tell you all the things in my heart. I wanted you to know what you give to me. I didn't want to say anything about plots or Alexandria, and I did both."
Olivia moved onto her elbow and looked down at him. "It's all right, Drosos," she assured him, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt.
"I was going to say something later, when we'd slept, when it wouldn't matter as much." His fingers sought her face, tracing the planes of it.
"It would matter whenever you said it." She bent her head and kissed his nipple. "And it doesn't change what we have together."
"It doesn't?" he pleaded.
"No. And you're right. You had to tell me sometime." There was a fine line between her brows, but otherwise her features were tranquil. "We'll have to make the best of the time we have."
"Can we?" His fingers stopped moving and he looked at her with an intensity that was so pure that it was like a light among them.
"It's what we always do," she pointed out with great gentleness. "At least we know what time we have. That makes us more fortunate than most."
"Does it?" He sighed and fought to get the next words out. "I need you, Olivia."
Only twice before had anyone said that to her, and one had been her husband, who had admitted it with abhorrence. The other had been a boy struggling into manhood. Neither had moved her as she was moved now. "I love you, Drosos."
"And I love you; but that's not the same thing," he said, clearly and softly.
"No." She lay down once more, her head tucked under the curve of his jaw. "It's been so long since I mattered that much to anyone. Thank you for—" She stopped.
"For?" he echoed.
"For you." Under her, his chest rose as he stifled a yawn. "Go to sleep. In the morning we will make our plans."
"But… it was so perfect. I wrecked it." He patted her shoulder, suddenly ineffective.
"Things like that can't be wrecked, Drosos, no matter what comes after." She wished she could find a way to show him that she was telling him the truth, and it hurt her more than she wanted to admit when at last he drifted into sleep with a murmured fragment of an apology.
Drosos awakened shortly before sunrise, his mood terse. After a small meal of bread and figs he was able to jest about the hour and to remark that Olivia managed better in the morning than many soldiers on campaign did. Olivia accepted the compliment playfully; she did not mention that she hardly ever slept.
* * *
Text of an anonymous letter to the physician Mnenodatos.
To the learned Mnenodatos of the Crown of Martyrs' Church, on the Feast of Saint Iakobis of Nisibis, hail from one who wishes you well.
It is known of you that you have much skill in the detection and treatment of poisons, and that is what I must consult you about on this occasion. You certainly understand why it is that I will not reveal myself, for such inquiries are often misunderstood. I have sent a messenger and will send one for your answer in a day's time.
The person I am eager to have you assess is a woman of middle years, well-born and strong, with a tempestuous and commanding manner and a fit constitution. This woman has often suffered from extreme emotions, as women will, and when episodes of this sort occur, she is likely to do herself and others an injury.
Composing draughts have sometimes been tried, and have had some limited success, but it is apparent that they are not sufficient to the problem, and something stronger is needed if any lasting relief is to be obtained.