Olivia, swathed in soft olive-green silk shot with silver, rose from her low couch as Drosos came toward her, her hand extended to him, her lyre set aside. "Welcome, Captain."
The polite compliments died on his tongue as he touched her; his eyes darkened with emotion and he made a deep reverence to her. "Olivia."
Her smile was warm and lucid as sunlight. "How glad I am you are here." Her paenula whispered and clung as she moved. "It has been too long."
"Much too long," he said, his senses almost overwhelmed by her presence.
"It pleases me that you feel as I do." She turned to Niklos. "I will call you in a while."
"Very good, my mistress," he said, withdrawing and closing the door, leaving Olivia and Drosos alone with the lengthening shadows and the first scent of jasmine.
Drosos was used to much more complicated preliminaries, and he stood uncertainly, baffled by the directness Olivia used. "How is it with you?"
"Better now you are here." She sank back onto her couch and indicated the place beside her. "Come, Drosos; join me."
Drosos did not move for the space of two long breaths, and then, very slowly and joyously, he moved to her side. He put his hand over hers, letting them rest together. "The other time I was here," he said quietly, "I wondered if you would grant me this…"
She touched his face just above his short-clipped soldier's beard. "Why would I not?"
"It has been a while." He stopped and went on with difficulty. "You have been alone here, and you might have found another you preferred to me." His last few words came quickly and he could not bring himself to meet her eyes.
"Drosos," she said and waited until he turned to her. "I have not found anyone I prefer to you, not in many years, certainly not since I have been here." She reached out to her lyre, the strings murmuring under her fingers.
He listened to the sound, his mind drifting with it. There was a stillness around him that was as tantalizing as an embrace. He was afraid to break it with words, afraid that he would lose the joy that filled him. Finally he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm: he felt her lips brush his shoulder through the fabric of his dalmatica.
For some little time neither of them moved. The air around them was as quiet as they were, suspended in breathlessness and anticipation. Then a finger of air stirred the leaves; the silence turned to soft rustling.
"Drosos," whispered Olivia, moving back from him far enough from him to see his face clearly in the fading light.
He let her read his features, exulting in the yearning in her eyes. He pulled her closer. "I want you, Olivia."
"And I you," she said as she wrapped her arms around him.
"Now."
Olivia laughed low in her throat. "There is no reason to rush when there is time to savor. Pleasure is not to be squandered when it can be relished."
"But it has been so long," protested Drosos, before he kissed her mouth.
When she could speak, she said, "Be patient, Drosos. Now that we are together, we need not hurry."
He pressed close to her, urgency melding with desire. He felt her body with his need, knowing she would not deny him. He fumbled with her paenula, seeking the flesh beneath it.
"Here," she said softly, and unfastened the tablion that held the garment at the shoulder. The silk fell away, and beneath it she was naked.
For an instant Drosos stared, transfixed with wanting her. His flesh trembled, his entire being as inflamed as his organ. Abruptly he started to tug his clothes off, casting the garments around him until all he wore was his shoes.
Olivia had watched this in silence, and as he reached for her, she acquiesced.
The couch was wide enough for both of them, and they fell together in a glorious tangle, legs and arms intertwined, hands seeking. They had been apart long enough that some of their old familiarity had been forgotten; it was ineffably sweet to rediscover one another, to find once more the ways each awakened the other.
As the first rush of desire calmed, Drosos was willing to let Olivia set the pace for them, delighting in her explorations of his body and longings. She coaxed more pleasure from him than he had thought they could share, offering herself to him as wholeheartedly as she indulged him. Every caress, each kiss increased their ardor; both gave the full bounty of passion even before he entered the depths of her body.
"Lord God of the Prophets," he gasped as he felt her tighten around him. His senses swam with rapture as they moved together. Only when he had succumbed to fulfillment and released her did he feel the world return. He propped himself on his elbows and looked down at her.
She smiled up at him, her face radiant. Then she began to laugh, and he joined her. "Oh, Drosos," she said, her head pressed to his shoulder.
His laughter continued, warm and unfettered. Reluctantly he moved aside, gathering her close against him, kissing her eyes as his chuckles subsided at last.
"It is so good to have you here," she said with a long, satisfied sigh.
"I didn't remember how wonderful you are," he told her, his fingers brushing the planes of her face. "You delight me."
"Wonderful," she said, deeply content. "It's been a very long time since I have wanted anyone as I want you."
She stared up into the star-strewn night.
"So ancient you are," he teased, and was surprised when she responded quite seriously.
"Yes; so ancient I am." She touched him tenderly where her mouth had been at the height of their passion.
"You bit me," he said, amused.
"Yes." She kissed the place then kissed his mouth. "I used to think that it would not be possible to care this way again, certainly not after so long."
He was startled at her somber tone, and he smiled at her a bit uncertainly. "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing." She moved closer to him. "I'm being foolish; pay no attention."
"If this is foolish," he said, leaning over to kiss her yet again, "then I like it better than wisdom."
"So do I." There was a roguish light in her eyes now, and she pushed at his shoulder so that he rolled onto his back; she braced one arm across his chest and grinned.
He tangled one hand in her hair and drew her down to him. "You are the most awe-inspiring creature I've ever known. You're like an angel."
"An angel?" she asked, laughing again. "I thought that angels did not indulge in these things." As she said this she ran her fingers over his chest, just barely touching him; she smiled as he shivered with pleasure.
"Angels indulge in ecstasy," he said with unruffled calm. "So you are like an angel."
"I see." She kissed him on the edge of his beard. "Do all soldiers have these?"
"Most of us. It isn't convenient to be clean-shaven on campaign, though Belisarius managed most of the time I was with him." His expression darkened at the memory. "I delayed coming back as long as I could. It was hard to leave him."
"Is it bad?" She had stopped her teasing and was watching him with serious concern.
"Yes." He met her eyes. "We had to abandon your villa. I don't know what Totila's men did to it." It shamed him to admit this, and he was surprised that she waved his apology away with some impatience. "We tried to protect it as long as we could."
"You assured me that would be the case and I had no reason to doubt you. I was more concerned for you and your men than for the villa. I have lived there more years than I care to remember, and while I am fond of the place, it is only stone. Men are living flesh, which is another matter." Neither she nor Drosos assumed that she was saying this erotically.
"But it might be in ruins."
"So might Roma, so might all of Italy." She rested her head on his chest. "It is the waste of life that horrifies me."
"There are always lives wasted in war," said Drosos, trying to sound cynical and instead revealing more despair than he realized.
"I hate them for that, if nothing else." She gazed up at the sky. "And in the end, how little difference it makes."
Drosos shifted under her, his arms going around her as much to give him comfort as to embrace her. "Must we talk about war, Olivia?"
"You said you were sorry to leave. I wanted to know why," she pointed out. "But no, we need not talk about it, nor of anything else that displeases you."
"It doesn't displease me," he protested, then relented. "Yes, it does, and that is troublesome, because I am Belisarius' Captain and an officer of the Emperor. It ought not to displease me. I should be proud of the honor I have been given."
"And if you are not, what then?" Olivia asked, her voice soft and kind.
"I have failed," he said simply, with devastation of spirit.
"Oh, no," she told him, raising herself enough to be able to meet his eyes. "No, Drosos; dear dear Drosos."
"What else can it be?" He sounded lost now.
"Perhaps it is merely that you know you cannot save everyone you wish to save and this causes you anguish. You are a good soldier and a good man; you would not willingly see land lost and people killed if there were a way you could prevent it."