Zenobia still felt pursued. She could not escape the feeling that the Roman authorities were not about to let an important imperial captive simply walk away. As much as she enjoyed being with Aulus's family, she was anxious to gain the safety of their island, for instinct told her that she would have no peace until they were there. One afternoon she and Marcus rode out across the vast estate owned by Aulus, stopping to dismount upon a little hill. About them spikes of purple lavender scented the air. They sat upon the ground, the sun warming their backs, and looked out over the valley below, the river winding its way across the green landscape.
"When will we go to the island?" she asked him.
"Soon, beloved. I want to go on ahead of you, and see what must be done to make it habitable."
"You have paid your brother for it?"
"He did not want the gold, but I made him take it. I could not feel the island was really mine if I did not buy it. I wanted no charity from Aulus."
"The rivalry is still there, isn't it?"
"Yes. And so it shall always be. I cannot forget it, and neither can Aulus. We are better friends when we each have our own territory."
"I shall be glad when we have our own home at last," she answered him. "Eada is kind, but it is her house… and the walls are thinner than I would wish. Last night when you slept I could hear Graf-ere and Leof-el with a servant girl in the room next door to ours. One of them, and I am not sure which, grunted like a boar in rut when atop the girl."
"So that is why you have been so reluctant, and so restrained," he chuckled.
"If I could hear them, Marcus, then surely they could hear us!"
"There is no one to hear us now," he said slowly, and then he ran a finger down her arm.
"Here?"
"And now," he said softly, and then he reached up, took down her dark hair, and began to undo the braids. "I far prefer your beautiful hair loose and flowing, as you have worn it in the past." His fingers threaded themselves through the waves, undoing them, spreading the hair like a dark silken mantle over her shoulders.
She felt a surge of joyous pleasure at his sensuous action, and rising to her feet, she loosened the girdle at the waist of her tunic dress and drew the gown and its undergarment off, letting them fall into the sweet-smelling grass. She stood tall and proud, her beautiful golden body with its softly blowing black hair swirling about her. The air caressed her body, and it felt good. "When and where you are Gaius, I then and there am Gaia," she said, repeating her wedding vow to him.
Marcus looked up at his golden wife outlined against the blue sky, and said, "Oh, Zenobia, how very much I love you!" Then he stood, quickly disrobed, and pulled her into his strong arms. Her hands caressed his back gently as he drew her against him. They stood, bodies pressed tightly against one another, for several long moments, and then he lowered his head to kiss her.
It was a deep kiss, a passionate kiss; a kiss that demanded and gave no quarter. His mouth bruised hers, but she kissed him back fiercely, her heart soaring wildly as the passion of his lips and the warmth of his hard body communicated to her their intense need of each other. Her hands ran down his long, smooth back to cup his buttocks, to fondle them, to feel the hard muscles within them.
He groaned, shifting against her, murmuring lover's thoughts against her lips. "Beloved! My beautiful beloved! The gods, how I want you! How I long to possess you-and be possessed by you!"
Her hands slid back up his frame to tangle themselves within his chestnut hair. She held his head with her hands, and pressed feathery kisses across his face. "I love you," she said. "I think I always have from the moment that we met in the desert outside of Palmyra!" Then her mouth found his again, and they kissed once more, hungrily, eagerly, greedily. Like bumblebees seeking the sweetest nectar from a rose, they drank of each other's mouths.
His big hands sat firmly upon her hips, and now he began to draw her down to the sweet grass. The earth was warm beneath her back as she drew his head to her glorious breasts. "Love me, my Marcus," she said low. "Love me as you have always loved me!" And then she lay quiet, her head thrown back.
He leaned over her, tenderly looking deep into her silvery eyes as they mirrored back his love of her, and then he kissed her gently, fleetingly upon the lips before moving slowly from the corner of her mouth to the soft hollow beneath her ear, just above her jaw. He lingered there for a few moments, enjoying the sweet perfume of her fragrance and the tiny pulse that leapt beneath his lips. Moving lower, he slipped along the side of her neck and down to her rounded shoulder, which seemed to him to be begging to be nibbled. Gently he nipped the firm flesh before returning to her throat, which beckoned him onward to the deep valley between her breasts.
One of his arms cradled her with tenderness, while his other hand moved to caress her breasts, trembling at the silky fineness of her skin. He had touched her this way a thousand thousand times, and yet it was as if this were the first. His touch brought a little cry of pleasure, which excited him greatly. Swiftly bending, he captured a trembling nipple and sucked deeply upon it while his hand kneaded her breast. For several long and wonderful minutes he gave all his attention to her one breast, and then he moved on to the other lest it feel neglected. Zenobia now began to writhe slowly beneath her husband's expert lovemaking, her excitement rising fast now.
Finally he laid his head upon her belly, and his fingers began a delicate teasing of her Venus mount, stroking, probing tenderly between the plumpness of her nether lips; finding the sweet, hidden bud of her womanhood; taunting it with a clever finger; bringing his dark head down to taste of her honeyed sweetness, coaxing the bud into blossom. She shuddered forcefully, and he swung a leg over her, mounting her gently.
She reached out to caress his manhood, her long fingers brushing him, exciting him with her very touch. Softly she cupped the pouch of his sex in her hands, her warmth communicating itself to him as she lightly fondled him. Then she guided him into her waiting body, sighing as he buried his lance to the very hilt. She wrapped her legs around him, allowing him to go farther, rejoicing in his skill as he began to find the rhythm.
For a moment her eyes focused upon the blue sky above her, and then Zenobia began to soar with the glorious pleasures he was unleashing throughout her body. She became one with the sky, floating free above the troubled earth. She became one with him, and they were invincible! Her cry startled the horses, who snorted and danced about the tree to which they were tethered. Her nails raked down his back, making thin bloody weals in the flesh, and he reveled in the sharpness, groaning his delight as his seed overflowed her parched and throbbing womb. Her hot sheath clutched at him, drawing the last drop from him, and then he fell exhausted upon her chest, their wild hearts matching beat for beat.
They both lay semiconscious for some minutes, and then he rolled off her and pulled her into his arms in a bear hug. "If I had died then, beloved, it would have been a glorious death."
"I thought I had died," she murmured back.
They lay a few minutes longer, the warm sun and the breeze lightly brushing their skin, and then he said, "We will have to go back, Zenobia, although I should far prefer to remain in this outdoor bedchamber of ours."