She stood behind him, looping her arms around his neck and placing her cheek against his soft bearded one.
“You’re distracting me,” he muttered, placing one scroll to the side and unfurling the next. “I need to finish these reports. My visit to the sanctuary has meant I’m behind with my work.”
She was not deterred. She was familiar with his moods. If he wanted her gone, she would know it in his voice. She nibbled his earlobe. “I want you, my Wolf.”
His tone was firmer. “Don’t tempt me.”
She drew back and placed her hands on his shoulders, massaging the tendons at the base of his skull while he continued to read. She peered over his shoulder as he took a tablet from the pile. His stylus dug into the wax. His script was neat and sure. She wondered what the words meant. Like most girls, she’d never been taught to read or write. “What do the reports say?”
“Nothing that would interest you. Usual army business. Inventories. Sick lists.”
She rested her chin on top of his head. “Everything you do interests me.”
He chuckled. “Then you are easily satisfied.” He turned around to face her. “Tell me, how is Claudius Drusus?”
She smiled, pleased that he didn’t resent her sitting beside the sickbed of another soldier. “His flesh is healing. I removed the final stitches today.”
“You’re a worthy nurse.”
“It will be some time before his shoulder is strong enough to hold a shield.”
“It will be hard for him if he can’t. He deserved the three silver spears I awarded him.”
Pinna knew such accolades would never be enough for Drusus. He wanted a circlet of oak leaves. Or to be rewarded the mural crown—for being the first to scale the wall of the besieged city. “He’s jealous of Marcus Aemilius even though they are closer than brothers.”
His lips curled in a half smile. “Envy fuels acts of valor.”
“So you like to pit them against each other?”
“Competition is healthy. Roman men thrive on it on the battlefield, and in the law courts, and in politics.”
“But you’re fostering rivalry between two friends.”
“You’re na?ve, Pinna. I want my men to excel. I vie to do better than my older brother, Medullinus. He’s resentful that he isn’t in office.”
“And is it the same with your younger brother?”
“Spurius? Not so much. Although he is ambitious enough.” He turned back to his desk.
She was not prepared to let him ignore her. The touch of his skin beneath her fingers had aroused her. Close proximity to him always made her tingle, a shiver of expectation running through her like a breeze caressing water. She slipped off her shoes, then untied the strings of her tunic, stepping from the circle of fabric as it pooled around her feet. Then she loosened the pins from her bun, her fine black hair falling to her waist. She walked around to stand before him, the air chilly on her skin.
He laid his stylus down and pushed back from the desk, his eyes roaming over her tiny frame with its full breasts, rounded hips, and narrow waist. “Come here.”
He pulled her to him, his fingers edging around to cup her buttocks. She bent and kissed him, her tongue prying his lips open, her hair shrouding them. She drew away and knelt before him to untie his boots and unfasten his belt buckle. He stood, lifting his tunic over his head, while she unwound his loin cloth. Finally he was naked except for the broad leather girdle that supported his back. He resented having to wear it and was careful to keep it secret. To reveal such a weakness was the real reason why he would never have bathed in the sanctuary’s pool. She half rose, ready to unlace it, but he stopped her, sitting down on his chair again.
“Leave it on. I want you here.”
Kneeling again, she traced the scar that curved from his shoulder to under his armpit, before trailing her hand along the lump in his clavicle where the bone had never fully mended. She moved downward, running her fingers through his chest hair, feeling the contours of his muscles, the ridges of his abdomen. Then, teasing him, she bent to graze her mouth along the indented scar on his thigh.
He grasped her with strong hands and guided her to stand and then straddle him. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed his hardness. Muscled arms wrapped around her, almost squeezing the breath from her, as he helped her to grind and rock against him.
When they’d finished, he continued to hold her tight, regaining his breath. She laid her cheek on one of his shoulders, her arms encircling his neck. Her own heart was racing. It always amazed her that he would let her mount him. A woman was supposed to be supine, a mere receptacle for a man’s semen. His back injury meant he needed her to do more. She welcomed it. He never failed to satisfy her. Or she him.
He rarely admitted their lovemaking caused him discomfort. More than once she wondered if she should offer him relief by other means, but to do so would only shock him. It was also risky. How would she explain she knew whore’s tricks without revealing she had been a whore? For that is why lupae were paid—to do what good Roman wives wouldn’t. Not that she minded such practices in the brothel or graveyard. Using hand or mouth was better than the thought of a disease that could line her womb.
He stroked her hair. “What am I going to do with you, Pinna? The sun has barely set and you’ve made me forget my duties. Next you’ll have me knowing you in daylight.”
She smiled as she swiveled from his lap and stood, extending her hand to him. “Lie down beside me for a time.” She nodded to the pile of tablets and scrolls. “All this can wait. You sleep little more than a few hours each day. No man would begrudge you a break.”
He hesitated, then, with a small shake of his head, let her lead him to their pallet.
The coolness of the autumn night now intruded after the heat of their lovemaking. She shivered and pulled the wolfskin over them as he slid in beside her. “Let me remove this now,” she said, unlacing the belt. He winced in pain but said nothing, settling on his back next to her.
Lying on her side, she laid her head against his shoulder. She relished these times. Somehow, when holding her in the wavering light of a lamp, he was inclined to talk to her. “Were you surprised to learn that it is Mater Matuta who must be placated?”
“Yes. I never thought it would be the dawn goddess who was angry.”
She placed her hand on his chest. “She brings the power of the sun. You should worship her fervently. She will bring you victory.”
“Are you counseling me in religion and war now, Pinna?”
She chewed her lip, aware she’d been too forward. Then she noticed his smile, his features half hid in shadow, half in light.
“I have family holdings in Latium,” he said. “It’s in my interest as much as Rome’s to see the land drained. I’ll be happy to see the goddess appeased.”
“My mother came from Satricum,” she said. “The town is sacred to Mater Matuta. Mama taught me to revere her.”
“Tell me about her.”