Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) (6 page)

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He’d stumbled from his bed to relieve himself, eager to return to the warmth of his blankets. Her silhouette had caught his eye and beckoned him to her side.

Seeing her without her veils brought him up short. While he’d been rewarded with a teasing glimpse now and then, he’d never had the opportunity to soak her in. He could not have anticipated how it would feel to look upon her.

In the pale cast of the moon, she appeared as an ethereal nymph. Her honey tresses spilled over her shoulders. The long line of her ivory neck arched as she looked up at him. Her face was…

He swallowed. There was nothing more lovely on this earth. He knew it.

“Mayhap the moon, or her Goddess Selene, was calling to me?” Her question, tinged with a hint of sadness, roused him. And when she turned her huge blue eyes upon him, he swallowed the knot in his throat to answer.

“Perhaps. It is not yet dawn.” He could find nothing else to say.

Her face softened as a small smile formed. But her gaze wandered from his and her brow furrowed.

If only he knew how to cheer her.

Master Galenus’ herder, old Nikolaos, had regaled the guards with quite a tale. Galenus’ home had an unexpected visit from two witches, witches known to this house. They had come with a dire message for the master and his niece, traveling from Corfu to deliver it. While Nikolaos only alluded to the contents of the message, he made it clear that its portent had been most upsetting.

Ariston had no means to learn the rest of it. If he’d sought the whole of it from Nikolaos, the old man might have grown suspicious. He knew no one else in Galenus’ household, as Galenus refused to acknowledge their presence on his property.

It was not his place to ask his mistress. No matter how much he wanted to help her, he’d hold his tongue.

Athena decreed him her protector. He must hold to that, honor his station. Whatever else she might stir within him was a temptation to resist.

But now, in the shadows of first light, his carefully crafted armor of indifference began to crumble.

She rose to her feet, sighing with barely repressed impatience. The look on her face revealed her longing. Was she anxious to escape the walls of her uncle’s homestead – to escape whatever burdens may have found her? He would gladly go with her.

“I fear I’ll miss the sunrise.” She lifted her head and spoke clearly, brooking no opposition. “Join me when you are ready.”

She took a few steps towards the gate.

He couldn’t let her leave, with no guard and uncovered. “It’s not safe, lady. Give me but a moment.”

She glanced at
him, one finely arched brow rising high. “I am Athena’s priestess, soldier. No one would risk Athena’s anger.”

“Yet not all who reside in Athens serve the Goddess. Not all would honor your service to Athena,” he said softly, imploring her.

Her shoulders fell, exposing the dejection she felt. The urge to pull her into his arms, to comfort her, rose within him. He took a steadying breath, holding himself in check.

“You are right.” Her voice dropped. “Even those professing fealty to Olympus dismiss duty and loyalty when it serves their purpose.”

Ariston again ached from the pain in her words. He spoke quickly, seeking to cheer her. “But they are not here now. They will not ruin this fine morning, will they?”

“No.” She gazed upon him. “But, I would ask you something, soldier. Today, I am free of the temple, my veil and my robes. So let us pretend that I’m only Medusa.” She started towards the gate. “Then you’ve no need to worry over me and I’ve no need of guarding—”

He stepped into her path.

“You need my protection, with or without your priestess garb,” he insisted. “It is not safe for any woman to venture out alone. I pray, mistress, be patient and stay but a moment longer.”

“I have little patience this morning.” She made to move around him.

He raised a hand to grasp her shoulder, desperate to stop her. As his hand descended, he remembered himself. It froze a hair’s breadth from her shoulder.

She gasped and took a quick step back. Her huge eyes stared at his outstretched hand in complete shock. When her gaze found his, he swallowed against the depths of her distress. He had been kicked by his father’s mule once, knocking the air from him. He felt more startled now.

His hand dropped and his body tensed. What had he almost done? He swallowed, fighting the anger and self-loathing twisting his stomach.

Yet these emotions warred with such pleasure, such awareness, that he could only stare at her. In the depths of her Aegean blue eyes, something shifted and changed. Whatever it was affected her as well – so much that she turned from him, breathing rapidly.

He suspected the punishment might be worth it if he were able to touch her for even the briefest moment.

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Her heart raced, her lungs gasped desperately for air. He’d reached for her. She’d wanted him to…

What had almost happened could never happen. He must never touch her. The Goddess would punish him, most severely.

Her chest tightened, a sharp, physical pain. Medusa could not abide such a thought.

He bowed awkwardly, his voice hoarse, “Lady, I beg for your forgiveness.”

Medusa stared down at him. Worry over losing him was troubling. If Ariston’s actions were witnessed her forgiveness would carry no weight.

She searched the grounds in the dim morning light, her gaze seeking out each shadow and movement. She could see no one present in the courtyard. It appeared they were alone. She prayed it was so. He would be safe. She would not lose him.

Her thoughts jarred her, and she corrected them. Athena would not lose a worthy soldier.

Her eyes settled upon him again. What had he done, really? Nothing.

His hand, so close that she’d felt his warmth upon her shoulder, had not reached her. It was her doing. She had forced him, pushed him without the wisdom or reason she should take care to use. She would not have him punished for her failings.

A gust of wind stirred the air about them, setting his wheaten curls dancing in the wind. Her fingers were intrigued by them. She wondered what they would feel like, slipping between her fingers...

She clenched her hand, trembling where she stood. “There is nothing to forgive. It is my fault – my doing.”

He stood straight, staring at the ground between them. “Allow me to gather my weapons, mistress, so that I may carry out my duty.”

Her heart pounded on. “I will wait for you,” her voice wavered.

He ran without a backward glance, tearing into the guards’ house. He returned quickly, carrying his spear, shield and a tangle of nets.

She smiled. He would fish for the Goddess in offering.

They made their way to the shore in silence. She used the time to calm herself, a greater challenge than she expected. But the peaceful sounds of the morning helped ease her strain. Birdsong, the whistle of the wind through the olive trees and the whisper of the waves bid them good morning. As they neared the shoreline the hill dropped, falling away to soft sand and rolling white-tipped surf.

She dropped her cloak and parcel onto the beach and ran to the water’s edge. Wriggling her toes into the warm sand, she relaxed. The muted waves roared, washing against the beach to froth around her ankles.

Pleasure erased all else. She loved the sea, and the peace it afforded her.

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Ariston watched her sprint into the shallow water, her glorious hair moving with the ocean breeze, the smile on her lips pulling one from his own. He walked slowly, desperately trying to rein his wayward thoughts.

Why must this woman wreak havoc on him, when there was no hope for them? He dropped his things with hers before coming to stand at her side.

Having viewed her beauty through the veils, he explored the features of her face in the rising sun. Her skin was alabaster, without freckles or imperfections. Her eyes, he knew all too well. Her nose was slight and straight. Her cheeks were high and soft, making his hand itch to touch her.

He could do nothing but stare, memorizing her as she was.

She seemed unaware of his fascination, lost in the pleasures of the morning. Her brilliant blue gaze was trained on the sun breaking over the water, watching its gilded fingers streak across the water to reach them. She smiled and closed her eyes, tilting her face towards the sun’s light.

If there had been any hesitation about his feelings, they vanished. He’d vowed to serve as her protector, he’d promised to look upon her as a handmaid for their Goddess. 

But now he loved her, as a woman.

He stared out at the sun, Apollo’s orb, grappling with this realization.

He would not deny the truth of it; he could not. Nor could he ignore the dread that filled his chest.

The Persians offered no threat, for his body was prepared for the challenge they brought with them.

But his heart… His heart offered him his most daunting battle.

He would fight against his love. He must. If he was found out, the wrath of Athena and Olympus would fall heavily upon him – and likely Medusa too.

He took a steadying breath, willing such thoughts from his mind. It would not come to that. He would make certain of it.

Two fish jumped from the water’s depths. Medusa laughed, pulling his gaze back to her.

She glanced at him, grinning. “Are you hungry, soldier?”

He nodded, rendered speechless by her beauty.

She ran back to their things, left on the edge of the rocky shore. She sat gracefully on the soft sand and waved him to her. Within her bundle she’d packed a fine breakfast for them – cheese, fruit and crusty bread that she ripped into equal portions with nimble white fingers. 

He watched her fingers, her hands… He took a steadying breath.

“You should have a larger share. You need your strength more than I.” She held a larger piece of bread to him.

He took it, carefully avoiding her fingers. “I need no more than you, lady.”

She nibbled her bread, watching him curiously. “I suppose mistress or lady is better than my lady. But it is still more than my name.” She looked displeased as she offered him cheese.

I cannot speak your name, for it will reveal my affections for you.
He regarded her silently, before asking, “What will you find here? To take to the Goddess in offering?”

She turned her attention to the beach. “Shells of white and lavender and pink I shall string as a necklace or bracelet. Athena has a most discerning eye, so only those fine and delicate and whole are acceptable.” She ate a grape, silencing the conversation briefly. “I once found a pearl. After swimming for hours, that is. Athena was very pleased.”

Ariston imagined her, her tunic tucked up to allow her to swim, emerging from the sea with a triumphant smile and a pearl. Her long hair would have dangled about her thighs, her face alight over her treasure – beautiful and tempting. He shifted, his arousal immediate.

“A pearl?” His voice revealed nothing.

“It was a gift from my parents, I think.” She mused, her face closing. “They dearly loved to surprise me.”

His brow furrowed at her sudden change in disposition. “Should we try to find another?” He would cheer her – that much he could do.

She shook her head. “There will be no gifts now.”

“I will look.” He stood, seeking her approval. He would stay close and protect her, but do his best to make her happy as well.

Her face lightened and she smiled up at him, blue eyes sparkling. His heart ached anew. “You may try.”

He tossed his cloak on top of his shield and ran to the water’s edge. The water was warm, inviting him into the crystal clear depths. He turned to see her, tucking her skirts up around her legs and wading into the shallows behind him. The flash of her thigh, white, amidst the fall of her thick honey hair, gave him pause.

Sucking air into his lungs, he dove deep. Knife in hand, he began to chip away at the larger oysters at the base of the oldest rocks. If there was a pearl on this shore, he would find it for her.

For the Goddess
.

The pale morning sunshine turned bright and hot, and still Ariston continued to dive and cut loose oysters from their rocky anchors. Each one he removed brought a twinge of hope. Only to have it dashed once he’d pried the shell apart to find it empty. This news had not surprised his lady, but he’d seen the sheen of tears fill her eyes. It pained him to see her sadness.

After collecting a pile of empty oysters, he collapsed on the beach with a sigh. He could not bear to further disappoint her. His arms ached and his lungs protested any further dives, anyway.

He whistled, echoing the call of a gull as it swooped closer to the scraps of the breakfast. The gull answered, settling close to the blanket. He threw it the last bits of crust.

He felt her kneel beside him in the sand. “Can you teach me?” she asked as the gull lifted, riding the sea breeze higher into the midday sky.

“Possibly – it’s no easy trick.” He arched an eyebrow at her, knowing she would accept his challenge.

“It is said that a student’s only as good as her teacher, soldier,” she returned, smiling.

He laughed and she joined him. It was a glorious sound.

He taught her how to make the call of the gull. And when she mastered the call, she laughed with such delight that his pulse quickened.

“I fear I’ll not have enough for Athena, soldier, if you keep distracting me.” She stood and made her way back to the shore to wade into the water once more.

She trawled the shoreline, scooping bits of loveliness from the water and assessing their worth. If she was pleased with her find, she dropped it into the pocket the tuck of her tunic provided. If she deemed something unworthy, she tossed it over her shoulder to fall back into the water.

Normally, the bright sun and roaring waves reminded him of his tiny home of Rhodes, making him homesick. But today, watching her in the morning sun, he felt only happiness. She was a tribute to Athena, taking time to find only the best for her Goddess. It served as a reminder to him…