In all his living years, Logan had never beheld a vision as magnificent as his goddess that night. She was a true goddess come to life and it pained Logan that he could not tell her so to her face. At present, he was the slave and she was the goddess. For him to talk to her would only cause them both more heartache. Logan knew that it pained his goddess to see him hurt on her behalf just as her pain hurt him. If he could, Logan would keep her safe from all hurts. He would protect her with his every life if need be.
“You have brought Venus herself to my humble garden,” Flavius cried, throwing his arms out like a child in the midst of a tantrum. “I am honoured, great goddess.”
It was all that Logan could do not to attack when Flavius addressed Marie as Goddess. Marie was his goddess. She had nothing whatsoever to do with Flavius and Logan planned on keeping it that way. Logan would not allow his goddess to be corrupted by that fat, old Senator.
His goddess’s mortal father was the one to speak next, angering Logan further. “She is a mystery that the gods themselves may have troubles solving.”
The man’s words angered his goddess, Logan could tell. She was scowling darkly, his gaze fixed on both men. That scowl faded as her father led her towards the couches Flavius had had set up in the center of his garden. For a brief moment, Logan met her eyes and was hard pressed to keep the smile from his face when he caught sight of her wide grin masked by her veil. Logan had at first wondered how he had been able to see through her veil when it was obvious from her facial expressions that others could not. Now Logan believed that he could see her face because he was meant to.
No other reason than that.
“Our goddess has arrived now, so it is time to begin our presentation,” Flavius announced to his crowd of worshippers. He strode purposefully towards where Logan stood, his destination being the pedestal that stood beside the bound Celt.
Logan could clearly see the abject terror on his goddess’s face and felt a sudden fear rising up in him as well. There was no way to tell what was under the cloth. Flavius was capable of anything, a fact that Logan was well aware of. Logan did his best to steel his resolve and not react when Flavius revealed his new surprise.
“After the great injustice done the fair Venus last night.... Or should I say, fair Aphrodite. The girl is a Greek after all. But, I forget myself. As I was saying, I considered it my duty to set things right,” Flavius declared, turning to face the crowd. “An enchanted beauty such as hers should not be corrupted by a creature as vile as a barbarian Celt. So I present, as an offering to the beautiful goddess herself, from the creature himself....”
At that moment, Flavius reached for the cloth and Logan felt the fear tightening around his throat. Within moments, Logan was convinced that Flavius would reveal a sharp knife which he would use to pierce his heart and end his life.
Logan kept his eyes riveted on Marie’s face as Flavius reached for the cloth. Watched as she squeezed her eyes shut as Flavius finally revealed what lay on the top of the pedestal.
“This ornate copper torc is the only beauty that such a violent people possess,” Flavius said, gesturing to the piece of jewelry.
At that moment, Logan felt all of his fear turn into anger.
Flavius was presenting Marie with something that was not his to give away. The torc was a solid rounded shaft of copper that had been curved to form a circle that didn’t quite meet in the middle. Each end was capped off with a delicately carved piece of silver and the rest of the torc had pieces of silver worked into the elaborate carvings. Carvings of his gods adorned the rounded shaft that formed the main part of the torc.
All that curbed his anger was the knowledge that it was Marie who was receiving the carved torc that had been a given to him by his father for his efforts in protecting their village from the Romans.... It was a gift that had been given three weeks too early.
“The barbarian was wearing this when he was taken prisoner by Caesar’s army,” Flavius went on to explain. “Jewelry such as this is fit for the gods and should not be wasted on a mere Celtic barbarian. Thus, I present it to you, fair Aphrodite, and beg your pardon for what occurred last night.”
“I assure you, Flavius, that my daughter is most pleased to receive your gift,” Magnus declared, striding over to the Senator’s side. “And, though I have no wish to steal any thunder from you, I find myself unable to keep secret some information that I am sure you will all be pleased to hear.... Last night, I am most honoured to say, that myself and Divinicus Bassus Scott came to an arrangement. We have decided that his son, Divinicus Panites Scott shall wed my daughter Antonia Marie on the twenty-fourth of this month.”
To Logan’s utter disgust, a runt of a man wearing lifted sandals made his way to Marie’s side. While the boy had a wide smile on his face, Logan could see the despair written so clearly on Marie’s features. She did not want to marry the highly flawed mortal who stood by her side.
“Then tonight is indeed blessed by the gods!” Flavius cheered, grabbing a cup of wine from the tray of a nearby servant and raising it high. “To Aphrodite and her Ares! May their love be as blessed as the gods themselves!”
Similar toasted were directed towards the pair, all of which the boy, Scott, accepted with smiles and slight nods towards the cheering guests. Marie was less enthused about it all and Logan longed to take her away from the place where he would worship her as a goddess should be worshipped. It pained Logan to see her so completely unhappy.
As Logan watched, Marie’s father placed the torc around her neck, being infinitely careful to avoid touching her skin with his own. As the weight settled about her throat, Marie raised a hand and ran her fingers along the complex carvings. Marie met his eyes as she reverently touched the torc, smiling sadly at him. It was as though she could sense the pain he felt at watching one of his most prized possessions given away as though it were a mere trinket.
Logan kept his eyes on Marie the entire night, confused as to why he never heard her utter a single word. She kept her head meekly bowed at all times, never making so much as a sound.
It dawned on Logan quite suddenly why Marie had been so kind to him the night before. Like him, Marie was a prisoner. Her life wasn’t hers to control and she was forced to act as her father instructed or else face the consequences. Consequences that could prove very severe if she displeased him.
Sometime during the third course, Flavius nodded to one of his servants. A tall, muscular man who quickly made his way to where Logan was standing. Logan knew what was coming and dutifully followed after the servant after he had unchained him. Unwilling to let Marie out of his sight, Logan kept his eyes on her as long as possible without making it look too obvious.
“Get in there, barbarian,” the man snarled, jerking his head towards the entrance of the small building that had become Logan’s temporary dwelling.
“Anyone ever tell you that your face looks like a pock-marked piece of dung?” Logan inquired as he stood in front of the door.
All his remark earned him was a solid shove into the building. Tripping over the chains around his ankles, Logan tumbled into the room and crashed into the far wall before collapsing on the pile of hay. While Logan gingerly pushed himself into a seated position with hands that were still a little tender from their bath in the vats of hot wax, the other man attached the length of chain that acted as his leash to its lock on the ground.
“Have a nice night, barbarian,” the man sneered. “Looks to me that it might snow tonight. Hope you’ll be warm enough.”
Before Logan could think of anything to say, he was alone once again. Heaving a great sigh, Logan carefully lowered himself onto his side, curling one arm under his head to act as a pillow. Using his free hand, Logan grabbed onto the thin blanket and draped it over himself. Away from the braziers now, Logan realized that it was actually quite chilly out. The only source of heat Logan had, besides the blanket, was the torch on the far side of the room that also provided the feeble light he used to see.
For the next little while, Logan dozed lightly, unable to fall asleep because of the loud noises coming from the other side of the screens as the gathered Romans became more and more drunk. Sensing someone standing in his doorway a short time later, Logan was on his feet in an instant, standing in a defensive posture.
As soon as he realized it was Marie standing there, Logan relaxed completely, even offering her a small smile. Marie returned his smile and stepped further into the room.
“Flavius should not have given me this,” Marie said softly, brushing her fingers across the torc that she wore around her neck. “It was not his to give.”
“No it was not,” Logan agreed, his smile fading. “I am glad, though, that he gave it to you. You are the one person I do not mind being its owner.”
Marie ducked her head slightly before once again meeting his eyes. “I am sorry that you had to witness Flavius’s presentation. It must have pained you greatly to see something you valued given away.”
“Aye, it did hurt,” Logan agreed, reaching a hand out so that he could once again touch the torc that he had worn so proudly. Karin had removed the bandages on his hands so it was his bare fingers that brushed against the cool metal. “My father gave it to me three weeks before the Romans massacred our village.”
“I am sure that your father is very proud of you,” Marie said softly.
Logan gave a disbelieving snort. “For what? Allowing our village to be attacked?”
“No. For surviving. For not letting the Romans break you. It is a rare man that can survive as you are,” Marie told him, the look on her face assuring Logan that she meant every word that she just said.
“Even though you have been called it all night, I would still like to tell you that you look like a goddess,” Logan murmured, his forefinger tracing the image of a stag on the torc.
Smiling brightly, Marie lifted her veil. “It means a lot more coming from you. I know that you are not trying to impress me like Flavius and the others out there are.... You should be careful, Logan. A touch of my skin could very well kill you.”
“If I am to die, I would rather it be by your hands than anyone else’s, my beautiful goddess,” Logan whispered as his fingers slid from the heavy metal of the torc to the delicate skin of her throat.
Marie let out a shocked gasp, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. Her hands flew instantly to his, grasping his wrist and pulling his hand away. In the process, however, the wrap that had been covering her hands and arms fell away, leaving only her bare hands to come into contact with his skin. As she held his hand in front of her, Logan could feel her start to tremble, a few tears sliding down her pale cheeks.
“Nothing is happening,” Marie murmured in shock, her voice sounding much higher than it normal. “Nothing is happening to you.”
Logan reached out a hand to reverently cup her cheek. “Was something supposed to happen to me?”
“You should be dead,” Marie gasped. “I was told that my skin was poison.”
“Is that why you were always covered up?” Logan inquired, talking softly so as not to startle her further. “Have you never touched another person without some type of barrier between you?”
Releasing his wrist, Marie reached up to cup his face. Her skin was warm and softer than anything he had ever felt. Her dark brown eyes were alight and trained on his face. “You are the first person that I have ever touched. Until now, the only flesh I have ever known has been my own.... I can touch you....”
Logan lifted his other hand and lightly began tracing her features with his fingertips. Marie’s eyes slid shut as he lightly caressed her forehead, a quiet moan escaping her full lips. His attention now focused entirely on her mouth, Logan trailed his right hand down from her temple and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. It was as soft as the rest of her skin and a little moist from having her tongue brush over it a few moments before.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld in all my life,” Logan whispered, sliding his left hand along the arch of her brow.
“As are you the most beautiful man I have ever seen,” Marie murmured as she blinked her eyes open.
Looking back on it, Logan would never be completely certain what had started it. All that he would be able to recall were the feel of Marie’s lips as they slid over his own. The exquisite taste of them as he ran his tongue over her top lip before lightly sucking it companion between his own lips. Logan couldn’t contain the moan that escaped his lips as one of Marie’s hands snaked into his hair, her fingers tangling in the thick strands. Her other hand slowly made its way to his chest where her fingers idly toyed with a nipple.
“My blood feels like it’s humming,” Marie gasped, her lips sliding over his as she spoke. “I have never felt anything like this.”
Logan’s voice was lost as he succumbed to his goddess, allowing her to guide his head down and map out a path of soft, open-mouth kisses along his cheeks and forehead. He could only moan and slide a hand along his arm, eventually linking his fingers with hers where they were still tangled in his hair. His other hand was on the back of her neck, squeezing it lightly in his fingers.
“Mistress, where are you?” a soft voice called from a nearby part of the garden.
This time it was Marie who moaned, obviously recognizing the owner of the voice. “I don’t want to leave you,” she whimpered against his cheek. “I don’t think I can.”
“Mistress, please answer me.”
Gently taking her face in his hands, Logan pulled away to stare in her face. “You must go. If they know you are here you will be punished. I could not bear that. So you must go, my Marie.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on Marie’s face then. “Say it again.”
“You must--”
Shaking her head, Marie placed two fingers over his mouth. “No, I want you to say my name again. You have said it only once before.”
Logan pressed a kiss against her forehead before pulling her veil back over her face. “Marie. My beautiful Marie.”
“If I am your beautiful Marie then you are my strong Logan,” Marie whispered, trailing a hand across his cheek before disappearing from his small room.
For several long minutes after she had left, Logan stood stock still, staring in the place where she had been.
“I am yours forever,” Logan said softly, raising a hand to his lips which were still tingling from Marie’s kisses.