Healer's Touch (22 page)

“So have mine,” Isolda said in a small voice. She, on the other hand, had abandoned her husband and, just today, finally divorced him. Would he have a low opinion of her if he knew?

Never mind. He didn’t need to know. She was unmarried and not committing adultery, and any affair she had with Marius would be short-lived.

Marius took her face in his hands, angled her lips toward him, and kissed her. A shiver ran through her, and her body went soft. She liked letting him hold her, move her, position her where he wanted.
Do things to me
, she thought, not knowing exactly what she wanted him to do, just something.

“I have another confession to make,” said Marius. “I’m not terribly experienced in the bedroom. It’s not that I have no experience at all; it’s just that the affairs I’ve had previously didn’t last.”

Affairs.
Multiple. Isolda’s stomach clenched.

“I imagine you’re curious, so I’ll just tell you,” said Marius. “I courted a few women at the university while I was learning to be a Healer, and they were all pleasant at first, but when they discovered some of my less sophisticated habits, they either lost interest or tried to change me. These were fashionable women seeking a fashionable lover, and I didn’t suit. Eventually I got tired of trying to be what they wanted. It hurt that they didn’t actually like me; they only liked the idea of what I
could
be. I became bitter and stopped courting entirely.”

Isolda shook her head. She couldn’t imagine why any woman who had the opportunity to be with Marius would turn it down. Thank the gods these other women had failed to appreciate his “unfashionable” self, or else she might not be here in his bedroom right now. “I imagine you think I’m more experienced than you because I was once married, but I’m not sure that’s the case. All I had was the same experience over and over again.”

“A good one?”

“Not particularly.”

“I know a few things,” said Marius. “But mostly from the Potter’s Daughter books.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Perhaps you don’t have them in Sardos. They’re a series of...well, erotic novels.” His cheeks colored. “No one knows who writes them. There’s First Life of the Potter’s Daughter, then Second Life of the Potter’s Daughter, and so on.”

“I don’t wonder we don’t have them in Sardos,” said Isolda. “Even if someone translated them, they’d probably be illegal.”

“I only read the first two, but I picked up a few tips.”

She smiled. Marius was adorable when he was blushing.

“The books say that different women enjoy different things.” He slipped an arm behind her back to support her and eased her backward onto the bed.

Uncertain what to do, she let him mold her like putty.

He unbelted her syrtos. “So perhaps I could try some of those things, and you could tell me what you like and what you don’t like.”

Isolda stiffened. “I don’t think I have any idea what I like.”

“So we find out.” As he drew the fabric away from her breasts, his breath hitched, and he stared.

She felt a little shy under the scrutiny, remembering the scene with Lady Fabiola. Her breasts were only of moderate size compared to that woman’s.

“Gods, Isolda, I think your former husband must have been blind.” He leaned over and kissed her.

She liked the kissing—should she tell him?—but her body felt tingly, and she wanted more. She yearned for his touch. Not wanting to speak while her mouth was occupied, she reached for his hand and guided it to her shoulder.

He stroked her bare skin, and she arched like a cat. Her favorite part of Marius’s body was his hands. Broad and callused, they were rough against her skin in a way that sensitized all her nerves, much like the stubble of his shaven face when he kissed her. She was all smoothness and curves, while he was power and rough edges.

He left her mouth and moved downward, trailing kisses along her neck.

It tickled.

“Not something you like?” he asked.

“It tickles, that’s all.”

He did it again, more firmly.

This time it didn’t tickle. Instead it felt like nothing she’d ever experienced. Her insides went molten, and a small moan escaped her lips. When his hand found her breast, she was nearly overcome.

“Reading those novels was embarrassing at the time, but I’m glad I did it,” said Marius. He ran his hands over her breasts, stroking and sometimes squeezing gently. She didn’t care for the squeezing, but when his hand traveled over her nipples,
gods
. He was still working his way downward, and then he put his mouth on her breast.

She shuddered.

He licked one breast while stroking the other. Each time his tongue crossed her nipple, her whole body quaked. She had never had a lover like this. When Jauld had taken her to bed, he hadn’t spoken but two words to her. He’d kissed her a bit, stroked her breasts, and did his business. It hadn’t been unpleasant, just boring.

This was something entirely different.

“What do
you
like?” she asked.

“You could help me out of this.” He indicated the silk robe.

She pulled the loose belt free and peeled the garment off his shoulders. His bare chest was as lovely as its outline had suggested, firm and muscled with a smattering of dark hairs. Though she felt a little shy, she wanted to touch him. As he leaned over her, his body presented itself like a canvas, inviting her exploring fingers. She stroked his sides lightly, and his skin twitched. “Not there?”

“Touch harder,” he said.

She returned to the spot with a firmer touch, stroking and rubbing.

Marius groaned. “Yes—oh, yes, like that.”

Gaining confidence, she ran her hands over the landscape of Marius’s back and shoulders. What a wonder he was, and so different from Jauld. While she’d seen Jauld’s body on many an occasion, she’d rarely touched him like this. If Jauld had been a poor lover, she had to admit that she was equally at sea when it came to lovemaking, possessing neither experience nor any form of guidance, such as the erotic novels that had helped Marius. Her relationship with Jauld had been too fraught and uncertain for frank discussion about sex, and they’d muddled through without much satisfaction for either of them.

Marius groaned—she must have found a good spot. She stroked him there a while longer, and when she felt braver, she moved to his chest, which felt more intimate. She ran her hand through the sparse hair, felt the outlines of his pectorals, touched his nipples. Marius had used his mouth and tongue as well as his hands. Should she do that as well? She wondered what he tasted like.

Before she could find out, Marius moved downward.

She tried to rise, but he said, “Stay there. I’m going to try something I think you’ll like.”

She lay back, trusting him. He eased her legs apart. Then he lowered his head and made a tentative lick.

“Marius.” The sensation was intensely pleasurable, like nothing she’d ever felt. But it didn’t satisfy—it left her craving more. “Do that again. Please.”

“This one is from the Potter’s Daughter.” He licked her again, and then again.

Gods. All that burning sensation, that tingling in her body—it all came down to this, to his mouth and tongue on her sex, wringing the most delicious sensations out of her. She pressed herself closer to him, thinking,
stronger, harder, faster
, and he wrapped his arms around her legs, imprisoning them so she had no choice but to accept the rhythm he’d chosen.

She relaxed, submitting utterly as his tongue-strokes drove her into a frenzy of pleasure and increasing need.

“Something’s happening,” she said as the sensations built within her body, a growing tension that hinted at pyrotechnics to come.

“It certainly is,” he said, and drove her on.

“I can’t—I can’t—” Her words turned into a groan as all that tension transformed into intense and delirious pleasure. Her body shuddered in time with Marius’s tongue strokes. Her core turned to jelly, and the sensation spread, melting her from her insides to her toes and fingers. She lay back, panting.

As Marius returned, bringing his great body atop her again, she rubbed him in all the places he loved and showered him with kisses, grateful for that lovely feeling he’d given her.

“Has that not happened to you before?” he asked.

“No.” If she’d felt anything like that before, she’d have remembered. She felt sorry for Chari, stuck with Jauld, who lacked the knowledge or perhaps even the desire to give his partner such an experience.

His cock nudged her sex, and she parted her legs in invitation. Marius entered her slowly. She was tight.

She’d had no lover since Jauld. It had been years since she’d done this, and her body had reverted to a state similar to the one on her wedding night, as if she were a virgin all over again. But this time she was wet and ready for her lover. There was no pain, only a delicious sense of fullness as he slid all the way in. She wrapped her arms around Marius. This was as close to him as she could ever get, with his body sunk to the hilt inside hers.

“Has it been a while?” Marius asked.

“Over seven years,” she admitted.

“Then I’ll be gentle.” He moved inside her. “You feel amazing.”

He
felt amazing. She didn’t think she’d have another climax like the one before—her body seemed spent, like it wasn’t ready to do that again—but the sensations were lovely, and more than anything she loved the closeness and the intimacy. She stroked him all over, wanting his skin against her skin. Anything to increase his pleasure.

He was panting now, moving faster. She bent her legs, spreading them, urging him deeper.

His hand found her breast, and she moaned as he thumbed her nipple. She no longer felt that sensation of tightness. He’d become forceful, almost fierce in his movements, and it felt wonderful. His power, his beauty, his strength—he was spending it all on her body, spending it on loving her.

“Gods,” he said, and shuddered. She recognized it, the same body motions she’d gone through, or nearly so, that wondrous peak of pleasure. She stroked him through it as he had done with her.

When it was over, he gave a great sigh and collapsed beside her.

I love you
, she wanted to say. But she didn’t want to ruin the moment by suggesting that this affair could be more than a casual dalliance. He knew better, and so did she.

Chapter 23

Marius was worried about his cousin, the emperor.

He never imagined he’d one day be concerned about the well-being of someone so wealthy and powerful. During his days in Osler, far from the imperial seat, he’d envisioned an emperor’s life as one of comfort and ease. Not once in Lucien’s life as emperor did he have to work a shift, cook his own food, or wash his own clothes. When he wanted something done, he simply expressed his wishes to his underlings, and they made it happen.

Even so, Lucien looked harried and pale where he sat across the desk from Marius in the imperial office, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Rough night?” Marius asked carefully.

Lucien rubbed a hand across his face and did not answer. He turned to a servant who waited by the door. “Tea. Make it strong.”

The servant disappeared.

“Is the empress well?” asked Marius.

“Perfectly so,” said Lucien.

Marius nodded, relieved that the problem didn’t appear to be with Vitala.

“It’s this harbor business,” said Lucien. “Funding it, you know, and then there are the land issues in the east, and this business with the Sardossians.”

“Should I come at another time?” asked Marius, not enthusiastic to discuss “this business with the Sardossians.”

“Oh, no,” said the emperor. “You and Drusus promised to tell me about this Sardossian you’ve been employing.” He turned to Drusus, who was leaning against the wall, pretending to be invisible. “Come and have a seat.”

Wordlessly, Drusus sat next to Marius.

“Well—” Marius began hesitantly, but the servant returned with a tea tray, and he paused.

Lucien accepted the tea tray, waved the man away, and poured, filling Marius’s and Drusus’s cups before his own. He blew the steam from his cup, sipped, and sighed. “There’s nothing like good Dahatrian. What were you saying?”

“The good news is that I’m turning a profit at the surgery now.”

“Excellent. Does this have something to do with the Sardossian woman?”

“Yes. I hired her as my business manager.”

Lucien wrapped his hands around his teacup as if to warm them and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about her. What’s her history?”

“Her name is Isolda. She spent her early years in Sardos helping her father run his apothecary shop. Later, after she married, she ran her husband’s general store and apparently grew the business to several times its original size. But then the blood wars started, and her husband was killed, so she came here with her young son.”

“Illegally.”

“I assume so.”

“Sardossians often have fascinating histories,” said Lucien. “Some are just army deserters with no skills beyond carrying a musket. But you do find some like this Isolda with education and talent. Did you serve the writ I gave you? Were you able to get her out of custody?”

“Yes, she’s back at work now. Thank you, sir.”

“If she was working for you and not at the gunpowder factory, how did she happen to be picked up by the city guard?”

Marius hesitated, and Drusus jumped in. “She’s made enemies at the surgery, sir, through no fault of her own,” he said. “A man who owed Marius money took out his frustration by bringing a friend and attacking Isolda—”

“He attacked her physically?” asked Lucien.

“There was a knife involved,” said Marius.

Lucien rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Why did he bring a friend?”

“One can only imagine he found Isolda too intimidating to tackle on his own,” growled Drusus.

“Go on,” said Lucien.

“Marius and I subdued them, and I administered a little rough justice—”

“You didn’t call the city guard?” asked Lucien. “Oh—because she’s illegal. Continue.”

“I thought that would take care of the problem, but the next day, they started leaving angry messages. A dead rat on the door of the villa, something about ‘piss-heads’ painted on the door of the surgery.”