The Perfect Concubine. Michelle Styles
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to know if he did.’ She stood there with her head proud, shoulders back. Her layers of tunics clung to her curves, enhancing her figure rather than hiding it, but there was no denying the slight fraying around the hem and the uneven dyeing of the cloth. Valeria had fallen in the world and he should rejoice in it.
But she stood wrapped in her stola of Roman respectability with a beseechingly earnest expression on her face, and the temptation to believe her coiled itself around his brain.
‘I’ve no interest in the answer,’ he said, quashing his feeling.
‘It would have been kinder to turn me away at the door.’
‘I’ve never been kind, Valeria. Kindness is something that gets stamped out at an early age on the streets of Rome.’ Piso pressed his hands to his eyes and regained control over his emotions. ‘You intrigued me. It took courage to come here.’
‘Thank you.’ She took a step toward him, holding out her hands. There was a latent sensuality about her eyes and mouth. Against his will, Piso remembered the cherry and summer wine taste of her lips. ‘Is it wrong to wish to find out if my brother survived?’
‘And this was how you planned on convincing me? You had to know I would not need gold. You must have thought of something else.’ He watched her with steady eyes. Even now, despite everything, he wanted her in his arms again, tasting her skin and delving deep within her.
Her tongue flicked over her lips, turning them cherry ripe. ‘I will do anything to get my brother back. When he was here, the family thrived.’
‘Anything?’
She gave a nod as her long lashes swept down, hiding her lying eyes.
‘Shall we test that theory?’
Piso reached for her, gathered her unresisting body to his and lowered his mouth. Her lips reminded him of why she lingered in his dreams. He deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue, slaking his thirst until her hands came up and gripped his shoulders. Her black hair tumbled down her back, the hairpins scattering over the floor. She moaned slightly in the back of her throat. With his last ounce of self-restraint, he put her from him.
‘Now you will take me to Cyrene?’ Joy and relief sounded in her voice.
‘That served a different purpose.’ He steadied his breathing.
‘To demonstrate your mastery over me?’ she asked in a shaky voice. She dropped to her knees, picking up the scattered pins.
‘You planned to offer me your body.’ He held the last pin out to her. ‘I decided to sample to see if I liked what was on offer.’
‘I … I …’ She froze, fingers outstretched towards the pin and her green cat eyes wide.
‘We both know what you are, Valeria. You proved it six years ago.’
‘Have you finished your humiliation? Your kiss was unwelcome,’ she said in a breathless whisper that gave lie to her words. Her lips were too red and swollen; her heart beat too fast in the hollow of her throat.
Piso belatedly realised that he also had erred. His body demanded more than a solitary kiss, but it was within his power to get it.
‘Before we discuss North Africa, you must be prepared to give me something.’ He held out his hand. ‘I want more than a quick tumble in the atrium for my trouble. I want you as my concubine. Come share my bed.’
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