Chapter Thirty
CHAPTER THIRTY
For five perfect days, there was not a cloud in the sky.
Five of the happiest days of Julia’s life. Five perfect mornings in Alaric’s arms. Sometimes in a haze of sex, skin against bare skin in the dim light before dawn. Sometimes just lying together, tangled in each other, not speaking. Julia never tired of watching him sleep.
Alaric always disappeared for some part of the day. He came back with game from the hunt, or armloads of wood for the fire. Sometimes he returned with nothing, his demeanor grave; he would brush off her questions then, hiding his worries behind a quicksilver grin and a change of subject that did little to quell her fears.
When Alaric was gone, she was happy to run with the twins through the overrun garden, weeds rising up to her eyebrows. Together they explored a barn with a ceiling like the underside of a great ship, lay in the grass and picked shapes out of the clouds. Thorismund improved with every day, the gray tinge to his skin fading; once she spent a pleasant afternoon watching him repair the grip on his ornate shield. She examined the rich detail of the great oak tree, sigil of his family, and he told her legends from a people long since vanished.
That had been the Romans’ doing. Her own people. Julia understood why he could not stomach her before. Why she still didn’t deserve his friendship, even now.
And one day, in the late afternoon, the three of them—Riga, Thorismund, and she—shared a clay pipe of Riga’s smoke. The afternoon stretched endless, and when Alaric returned from across the field with the twins in tow, her heart lifted with joy. She thought he might be angry with her for smoking, but when Thorismund offered him the pipe, he took it. Nothing was more captivating than watching him lay back in the grass and exhale smoke in elaborate rings like a sunning dragon, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up to his forearms.
That night, Julia learned that lying with a man under the influence of Riga’s smoke was eminently satisfying. They didn’t even make it down for supper.
When Alaric wasn’t gone, they were inseparable. He took her up into the hills to show her a breathtaking view from a nearby peak, or walking in pine-scented woods next to clear, cold streams. The angry tension between them had dissolved entirely, and Julia found him incredibly easy to talk to. Alaric listened with an intense, kinetic interest; soon she was sharing things about herself that nobody knew except Verina.
Julia wanted to know everything about him too. But he dodged her questions with his easy laugh. That was the only stain on her happiness—Alaric’s refusal to speak of anything serious. He avoided her questions about his past and those about her future in Noricum, the possibility of coming war. Each time she brought it up, he deftly changed the subject or distracted her with kisses. And the men were equally closemouthed. He’d gotten to them first.
Alaric appeared to be trying to keep her in the present, and was very good at making the present a beguiling place to be. He made her laugh, real, side-splitting laughter, the way people never laughed at court. He split a wineskin of ealu with her in the sunshine on a high, steep slope above the farmhouse, then laid her down in the grass and made love to her in a way that turned her bones to water.
She resolved not to think about the future. She would cling to the present as hard as she possibly could.
* * *
Alaric had always assumed he would one day die for his people.
In battle, most likely, his luck running out in some ambush or a desperate charge into a hail of arrows. Of course, there was also the chance of his own doing him in. Assassination, maybe. A few too many hungry months; too many lost battles and all his people might start to believe the gods were no longer behind him. When that happened, in the old days, the people made a sacrifice of their kings. He thought it just as likely his end might come with him giving his blood for the sake of his people. He’d even accepted it, in a way.
But now, with Julia’s cheek pillowed on his shoulder, Alaric found that he wanted to live .
The morning of the fifth day dawned warm and full of sunshine. Alaric lay in the massive bed, one forearm flung up over his head, the other cradling Julia to him. They had made love twice last night in the great bed; she had been on top the last time, her red hair falling all around him. Now Julia was fast asleep, her breathing filling the quiet. Alaric had known little peace in his life; this was a rare kind of contentment.
In Noricum, there would be no peace. His chieftains had been on the edge of rebellion when he left, and that had been more than two months ago by his reckon. He had no idea what he would find when he returned. Julia’s status as his wife would protect her, but it could also inflame tempers.
The last thing he wanted was for her to discover the vast size of the ransom, or how close the threat of Stilicho loomed, or how precarious his situation in Noricum was. He wanted no unpleasant thoughts to enter her mind. He never wanted to see that far-off stare in her eyes again, like he’d seen in that cave.
She certainly made that part difficult, with all her incessant asking .
Julia snuggled closer. As always he felt his body rise to hers, but he’d worn her out over the past few days. She was new to all this. Better to let her rest.
He sighed. Perhaps he was doing this all wrong. Perhaps he ought to stay here in this farmhouse and tell everyone in Noricum to go piss into a headwind.
If he did, he could make Julia his world. He’d spend a year in bed, perfecting every possible way to bring her pleasure. He could take her riding; show her the mountain’s treasures and play latrones with her by the fire. He could hunt and fish, husband those half-wild sheep while Julia replanted the garden.
It was a stupid dream, of course. He knew little of planting or animal husbandry, and his woman knew even less. They’d both starve.
Julia was awake, fingertips grazing his chest. He caught her hand in his. “Hello, Julia.”
“Hello.” Her fingers laced through his. “I have a favor to ask.”
A favor. He was ludicrously happy for the chance to give her anything. “What is it?”
“I want a bath.”
He rolled her over, burying his face in the junction between neck and shoulder. “You had one yesterday. And you smell incredible.” He nipped at her delicate skin. “Like roses.”
Roses and sex. She was laughing, her hands tracing the contours of his muscles. Eyes bright with invitation. But the day was blazing, and there was so much more he could give her.
“Get up.” He rose from the bed. “I have something to show you.”
* * *
Julia gazed up in wonder to where the mountain stream tumbled down, cascading into pool after pool before streaming into the one at her feet. The kind of pool druids might have gathered at, its waters black and mysterious, its bottom littered with broken swords and chalices. Alaric had a spectacular talent for surprises.
“You did say you wanted a bath—”
“I did.” She eyed the water uncertainly. “But it looks cold.”
“I’ll keep you warm.” He pulled her closer, his lips brushing her forehead. Then he was stripping out of his clothes, leaving Julia to gaze in open wonder at the sight of his naked body.
She raised a hand to trace a scar that ran along the ridged muscles of his abdomen. She didn’t know its story, and she wanted it. She wanted all his stories.
Alaric caught her hand, raised it to his lips. The brush of his mouth against the tender skin of her inner wrist made her tremble. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
She’d have done anything for him when he looked at her that way. Strip naked in a snowstorm. Anything. Julia let Alaric help her out of her tunic, then her leggings, his knuckles brushing her thighs. When it was done, she stood bare before him, gooseflesh rising on her skin. Not from the air. From the look in his eyes.
Julia’s hands slid across the lean, strong muscles of his flanks, the weight of his arousal pressing against her stomach, but he pulled back, his lips grazing her throat. She made a sound of frustration. “If you want it,” he whispered in her ear, “come and get it.”
Then he went striding into the dark water.
Unfair. Naked, he could have been sculpted from marble, not an ounce of spare flesh on him. But he was also marked by scars—a distressing reminder of his mortality.
“You aren’t really going to make me go into that water, are you?”
His mouth curved in an answering smile. Daring her. Then he dove into the rippling pool, emerging close to the waterfall. “Come here, Julia. Unless you’d rather I come out and drag you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Don’t tempt me, woman.”
He was striding toward her now, through water up to his chest. Sunlight gleamed on his bare shoulders. Julia’s mouth went dry. She eyed the water. Large rocks loomed beneath the surface. They looked slippery. She dipped a toe in. “Are there eels in here?”
A stifled laugh. “No eels.”
She put one foot into the water, gritting her teeth against the icy cold. Here was a rock she could stand on. Slippery—she curled her toes, gaining no purchase whatever. Risked putting her weight on it and slid.
“Careful!” came his laughing admonishment.
“I’m trying !” She found her balance, her other foot on a stony ledge. “How in hell did you run into this pool as if the bottom was smooth gravel?”
“I didn’t think it to death.” He gave a lazy shrug. “Jump in. I’ll catch you.” His smile lit up the whole sky. “Come, Julia. When have I ever let you fall?”
Oh, that wasn’t fair. Using that smile on her, those words, and all that glorious nakedness. He held out a hand and there was nothing in the world she could do but reach out and take it.
He grinned. Then he pulled her forward, into the frigid black. Julia laughed as his arms came around her, pressing her to his chest. Hard muscle glazed in icy water. “You beast ! Let go!”
“If you insist—” And then his arms opened and she sank like a stone, toes grazing the bottom, the frigid line of the water rising past her shoulders.
She gasped, held tight to him. “Don’t let go.”
Something fierce blazed in his eyes. “Never.” He held her close. His skin so warm and she heat-starved. “Are you warm yet?”
“Almost.” She drew him down to her. “I’ll take the rest of my kiss now.”