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yours.” He lifted her arm back onto
his shoulder. “Let me,” he said softly as he bent to tenderly caress and kiss
her left breast and the scars over her ribs.
    She had thought the boar’s attack had changed that part of
her body beyond repair, and so was surprised to feel how sensitive the area was
to his touch. “Ah, Annachie.”
    Suddenly, she had to feel his skin against hers. She pushed
him back slightly and unclasped the leather belt at his waist. She gathered the
material of his tunic in her fists and he raised his arms to help her lift it
over his head.
    For a moment, she could only stare at his thickly muscled
chest. He had been muscular when she first met him but now, after all these
years of fighting, his body was as sculpted as the statues in the Forum. She
also noted the many scars he didn’t have before. It brought home to her again
how hard and how deadly his life had been since they had last seen each other.
    “Can you forgive me, Annachie?”
    “I told you there is nothing to forgive. Now the only words
I want to hear from your mouth are, ‘Oh, Annachie, I want you, oh, Annachie,
love me.’”
    She heard the smile in his voice and giggled. “Oh, Annachie,
I want you. Oh, Annachie,” her breath caught as she suddenly grew serious, “love
me.”
    “I do,” he said. “I will.” He urged her back until she was
lying down on the bed and slid her gown farther down her body. “Lift up.”
    She followed his command and he slipped the gown over her
hips and off her legs, leaving her naked before him. His calloused fingers
stroked down the outside of her legs, then back up the inside of her thighs,
erasing the memory of the guard’s mauling.
    Annachie lowered his head and kissed her belly, working his
way down to the curls on her mons.
    She gasped in surprise. She thought she should stop him, she
thought she would die if he stopped.
    “Oh, please, Annachie, please.” She didn’t really know what
she was begging for. She only knew there was an ache inside her she had never
felt before and only he could relieve it.
    “Sara, I must ask,” he hesitated for a moment, “Are you
still a virgin?”
    She sat up and stared at him in disbelief. He doesn’t
know! He doesn’t know what it means to be a Vestal Virgin, nor the vows that I
took.
    And she was not about to tell him.
    “Yes,” she replied.
    “My little love, I want you so much I ache.” It pleased her
to hear he felt the same way she did. “But I have no wish to hurt you. So I
have to make you ready for me. Lie back.”
    She had no idea what he meant, but she trusted him and again
did as he commanded. He rubbed his cheek against her curls and inhaled her
scent. She grabbed fistfuls of the blanket to keep herself from pushing him
away. “Annachie?”
    “Aye?”
    “Is this part of ‘making me ready’?”
    “Aye.” He chuckled. “Trust me, nighean. Open your
legs to me.”
    She began to relax just a little until she felt his tongue
stroking her nether lips. “Oh, blessed Venus,” she whispered with the little
breath left in her body. She had never known such pleasure was possible.
Annachie’s tongue probed inside her and her honey flowed out around his mouth.
She thought again she should stop him, for surely a man would not want to taste
such a thing, but her body wouldn’t let her. She felt as if she were floating
above the bed, out of that stark cell, and soaring to the stars in the night
sky.
    “Sara,” he mumbled against her sodden curls, “I cannot wait
any longer. If I hurt you, I am sorry, but I need you now.”
    “Yes, please, Annachie, please.”
    He rose above her and positioned his body between her legs.
Taking hold of his phallus, he guided it to the opening of her passage. Then he
pushed, but stopped when Sara gave a short squeal. “Forgive me, my little love,”
he whispered. Then he pushed again, harder this time, and Sara felt the thin
membrane of her maidenhead give way.
    Sara’s strangled cry stopped him.