Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) Page 11

  He nudged the horse onto the beach, slowing it to a walk.

  Thea sat in the tree, watching them with wide yellow eyes. She did not join Medusa, but emitted little purrs and clicks. He smiled at the owl, fond of her presence and the attentions she provided her mistress.

  “She approves,” Medusa said.

  He slipped from the horse and reached up for Medusa, his words for her ears alone. “She knows I am yours. We are alike, she and I.”

  She shivered as his hands grasped her about her waist. As he lifted her, her eyes searched his. The shadows on her face could not hide her smile. Even after he’d placed her on the ground, his hold lingered. It had little to do with ensuring she find solid footing on the soft sand.

  “Tis a good thing,” Elpis said. “If Thea did not approve, you might lose a finger, or your nose.”

  Ektor eyed the owl warily at the words.

  Ariston searched through the sack hanging from the horse’s flat wooden saddle. Inside he found the supplies he needed. The others waited while he scribbled two notes. He sanded them, rolled them and tucked them into his belt.

  Ariston led Medusa to the rock, stopping before the makeshift altar. He glanced at Elpis and Ektor, and they joined them.

  His voice was steady, strong and sure as he said, “I, Ariston of Rhodes, take Medusa of Athens, daughter of Phorcys and Ceto, as my wife. In her honor, I give Phorcys gifts of thanks. To Galenus of Athens, her guardian, I have made provisions for her loss to his household. Ektor, you will deliver these to Galenus.” Ariston handed Ektor the two rolls of parchment. “It is a fair agreement, binding according to the laws of Athens and Greece. Medusa is now my property and my family.”

  Ektor stared at them, clearly uncomfortable with the role he was to play. Elpis sniffed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  His gaze did not linger on them. Medusa was looking up at him, waiting for something.

  Medusa whispered, “Have I nothing to say?”

  Ariston smiled. “If Galenus or your father were present they would speak the words.”

  “What would they say?” she asked.

  “I give you, Ariston of Rhodes, my daughter to sow for the purpose of providing legitimate children and increasing your oikos.” Ariston waited.

  Medusa glanced up at him, her brows rising and her face thoughtful.

  Ariston knew them to be cold vows. He’d thought so when his father had said them at his sister’s marriage. But they were binding, they were the law.

  “I give myself to you, Ariston of Rhodes, for the purpose of providing legitimate children and increasing your oikos.” Medusa’s voice did not waver.

  Gazing upon her, he knew she meant them. And smiled broadly at her, his wife.

  ###

  Medusa was lost in his eyes.

  He was her husband now, he was hers. There was comfort in the knowledge. And she could look into his soulful grey eyes without censure, speak his name…or take his hand. She smiled.

  “We shall leave you then, mistress,” Elpis said.

  Medusa turned to her friend, “I thank you, Elpis.” She hugged her companion to her, whispering, “Thank you,” again.

  “I am pleased for you, lady. You’ve all you wanted now. Let your heart be peaceful and happy.” Elpis whispered into her ear, “He is a fine man. Being his wife will be no hardship.”

  “I’ve never known such happiness. The Gods have given me all,” Medusa murmured.

  A spark of apprehension found her, making her cling to her companion a bit longer. She knew what it was to be married, what was expected of a wedding night. She’d heard her aunt speak of it in less than pleasing tones. But she was a wife, and her husband would expect such things.

  “Fret not,” Elpis squeezed her hands as they drew apart. “He is a gentle man, for all his strength.”

  Medusa nodded in agreement. She must not forget how precious this time with Ariston was. And she would endure whatever needed to make their marriage contract binding – even if she did not enjoy it much.

  “You’ve been generous? The hedna provided will please her family, sir? The lady – your wife – is a great prize.” She turned, surprised to hear Ektor question Ariston. “I fear protestations of the match…”

  Ariston nodded, smiling at the younger man. “She is. And I have been. But if there is any question, I will double what I’ve promised. Make that known to Galenus.”

  Medusa cast a curious glance at Ariston.

  A hoplite soldier would not have the means to be ‘generous’ with men like Galenus or her father. His pay would be drachmas, and whatever spoils his battles might provide him. He might have a small kleros on Rhodes, such farming plots were passed down from father to son. But, even combined, these gifts would hardly be considered generous.

  “I will make sure Master Galenus knows this,” Ektor nodded.

  “When do we tell them?” Elpis asked.

  For but a moment, Medusa wished they’d never have to tell them. She knew it was unreasonable, but they had such little time – too little to share.

  Surely they could wait.

  “I go to the temple at sunset in two days’ time, Elpis. Athena has a gift for me, as you know. Let this news wait until then. Whatever her gift is, it may make news of my…marriage more pleasing to my uncle and father.” Medusa turned to Ariston questioningly.

  Ariston nodded.

  “And if your uncle asks where you’ve gone, I will tell him the Goddess sent you away until that time,” Elpis said. “But I will assure him you are safe, well guarded. It is all true, Mistress. She did tell you to go – to be free. And your guard is with you. Galenus can hardly argue with Athena.”

  Medusa smiled.

  “You are a good friend to my lady, Elpis. Should you tire of Athens, I would have you go with her to Rhodes,” Ariston chuckled.

  Elpis said, “I go where my lady goes, Master Ariston.”

  Medusa watched as Ektor helped Elpis onto the horse.

  Ektor and Ariston clasped forearms. “I give you my thanks, Ektor.”

  “It is an honor to serve as witness for you, Ariston of Rhodes.” Ektor smiled. “It is something I might share with my children in the years to come.”

  Medusa’s eyes traveled over Ariston. He was smiling as he stood back, allowing Ektor room to swing up behind Elpis. He glanced at her, his smile growing as their eyes met.

  She looked away, watching her dearest friend depart. Little was said, though she waved when they reached the hilltop. As they disappeared, Medusa regarded Ariston with renewed nervousness.

  He turned toward her. His jaw grew taut and his smile faded slightly.

  They stood, regarding each other in the flickering light of the tapers.

  He was so beautiful to her, just his presence teased flames of heat to life under her skin. His smiled brightened, fanning the flames higher.

  Thea clicked, resting on Ariston’s shoulder.

  “Thank you, little one,” Medusa heard him say, “for bringing me to my lady.”

  Thea cooed, a soft bubbling call.

  Medusa stepped closer, stroking Thea’s head. “She knew, Ariston.”

  Ariston’s eyes widened. “Not soldier? Or hoplite?” She suspected he was trying to tease her, his words were hoarse.

  “No. Though husband, mayhap.”

  His hand came up, hesitantly resting against her cheek. “What did Thea know?”

  His fingers were warm, his thumb a light caress. Breathless, she whispered, “That I would come to you.”

  Thea fluffed up her feathers and flew back to her perch in the tree.

  Ariston’s hand lifted from her, a small smile on his lips as he glanced at the bird. “She is wise. Like her mistress.”

  The sound of a lyre floated down the hilltop, wrapping them in its sweet song. Medusa turned toward the hill, searching for the player. But there was no one to be seen. A voice rang out then, a man singing to the rapid beat of a drum.

  She ached to reach out to Arist
on, to have his hands upon her.

  He watched her, but made no move to touch her.

  This would not do.

  After all this night had brought, could she ask him for more? She walked to him, so close she could feel him, the tension within him.

  “Do I not please you?” she whispered.

  His eyes grew wide.

  “I…” she faltered.

  “You please me,” he spoke softly. “You please me greatly, lady.”

  She placed her hand on his chest, “Too long I’ve wondered how it would feel, to have your arms about me…”

  “Wonder no more.” His arms came around her, pressing her to him.

  His strength and scent assailed her. She closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his chest. His arms, thick and solid, cradled her. She felt his breath stir her ear, his cheek resting against her head, and pressed herself closer.

  Her arms slipped about his waist, her hands pressed flat against his back. And still it wasn’t enough. Her grip tightened, pressing him closer still.

  His breath hitched and the rise and fall of his chest quickened against her.

  With a sigh, she turned her face into his chest and breathed deep.

  “Is it satisfactory?” he whispered.

  She glanced up at him. “What?”

  He laughed. “Being held so?”

  She shook her head, teasing him with relish. “It is too soon to say, husband. Sit with me a while longer so I might better decide.” She sat on the sand, pulling his hand.

  He laughed again, sitting at her side, his arm wrapping about her.

  She leaned against him, but found too much space separated them. “Mayhap I prefer standing.”

  The look in his eyes silenced her, the pull of him sweeping through her. She rested her head on his shoulder, calming the fire in her belly.

  The music played on, though the rhythm changed and a new voice rang out. She strained to hear, but the words seemed slurred. “Do you know this song?” Medusa asked.

  Ariston cleared his throat, smiling down at her. “I do.”

  She closed her eyes, leaning towards the singer. “I’m not familiar with the story.” Her eyebrows arched as the singers proclaimed the many virtues of the nymph’s form and features.

  “No, it would not be sung for a priestess.” He seemed greatly amused.

  Medusa opened her eyes. “But I’m a wife now.”

  He nodded, his gaze lingering on her mouth.

  Medusa was vaguely aware of the rapid pounding on the drum. How could he look at her and inspire such feelings within her? How had she never known such feelings existed?

  A cry went up, jarring her. Shouts and laughter joined and the music began again, fast and spritely as it teased its listeners into movement.

  Medusa smiled at Ariston. She dearly loved to dance. If Elpis were here, she would dance with her. She felt his eyes upon her as she stood.

  “Is dancing permitted for soldiers?” her voice wavered, uncertain.

  He nodded once.

  She could hardly speak the words. “Do you dance?”

  “I can, mistress.” He smiled up at her, a lop-sided grin.

  She pulled her cloak from her shoulders and placed it on the sand. Standing, vulnerable, she held her hand out to him. “Show me?”

  ###

  She could not know how beautiful she was to him.

  His heart thundered in his ears as he stood and captured her hand in his. He removed his cloak and cast it upon the sand with hers.

  This contact was so new, so raw with his passion that he loosened his grip on her. His touch affected her too, he saw it. He must be careful of her innocence. Each touch brought new sensations – and worries that he would frighten her away.

  Each touch made him ache for more.

  He came to stand inches before her, and she froze. She tilted her head, staring up at him as he reached for her. He placed his right hand slowly, deliberately, cupping her left side. She gasped, sucking in her breath sharply.

  His hand tingled, aching to pull her against him, aching to love her.

  He waited but she said nothing.

  “Raise your hand,” he said. He demonstrated, raising his left hand and arching it over his head. When she lifted hers, he grasped her hand. Her skin was smooth and soft in his. He took a steadying breath. “Now place your other hand as mine.”

  Ariston’s stomach clenched as her soft hand slid across his skin, curling around his side. His muscles contracted as her fingers tightened, forcing him to draw in another steadying breath.

  “Now, hang on.” He smiled and held her, turning them both rapidly. Round and around they flew.

  Her laughter surrounded them, drawing a smile from him.

  When he expected her to pull away, she grasped the front of his exomie, the other hand sliding up from his stomach to rest on his bare shoulder. She did not know that her hands had moved over him so, for her eyes were shut. She did not see the hunger he felt for her.

  She clung to him so she would not fall. He would never let her fall.

  His arms came around her, holding her in a loose embrace. She weaved on her feet and leaned into him.

  ###

  Medusa felt his arms about her and knew she was clinging to him. He held her in his steady arms, securely – carefully. And yet she felt a new ache that troubled her. Was there something wrong with her that his gentle embrace made her want something more? She had no idea what was missing, yet she felt it all the same.

  She looked up at him then, wondering if he felt this strange reaction.

  His eyes were heavy, waiting for hers.

  The ache tightened, making her glad he held her upright.

  His skin was warm. His heart beat, rapidly, under her right hand.

  Her gaze fell to her hand, glowing white against his shoulder. She saw the convulsive swallow of his thick neck and the unsteady breath he took. His scent – sun, earth, and something more – filled her nostrils. Instead of loosening her grip, she found it tightening upon him.

  Her heart. Her heart was beating… pounding. Her breath quickened as their eyes met.

  She knew what this was, what she could now admit. Beyond the stirring caress of his hand upon the base of her back or the rippling strength of his arm about her waist, she wanted his hands upon her. She wanted him to touch her as a man touched a woman.

  Still he watched her. She knew her wants, her thoughts, were visible upon her face. As hard as it was for her to breathe, to speak, she wondered at his silence.

  “Ariston,” she spoke softly, unsure of how to go on.

  His eyes were steady on her, his mouth tight and his nostrils flared.

  He felt the same?

  Medusa shook her head. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest. She took a shaky breath and turned her head, pressing her cheek tightly against his chest and wrapping her arms about him. Her hands clung to his back, twisting in his tunic. “Oh.”

  His arms tightened instantly, his breath caressing the top of her head.

  “Ariston,” she whispered against him, her tone betraying her nervousness, “I would have you show me…what it is to be a woman…loved by a man.”

  She felt his arms tighten about her.

  “You have my heart,” his words were hoarse, whispered against her forehead. “I fear my body is not as tender.”

  “I know only that there is something more I crave from you.” She pulled back, looking up at him. “Show me, please. Love me.”

  His hands moved up her back quickly, as if he’d been waiting. One hand caught her hair, the other cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, reveling in the fluid heat he unleashed. As he bent his head to her, she closed her eyes. She was lost to the feel of his hand on her cheek, his breath mingling with hers.

  His lips lightly pressed to hers. Once – soft and lingering. His lips were firm, but yielding. The heat of that touch seared her, melting her against him.

  There was more,
she knew it.

  She did not open her eyes, but slipped her hands about his neck. She was rewarded immediately.

  His lips were soft, surprisingly so, as they settled upon her again. Her mouth responded, fitting against him as his became more firm upon her. His hand turned, and his thumb grazed her lip, startling her so that her lips parted.

  His mouth kissed her lower lip, pulling lightly upon it.

  Surely the ground had fallen away beneath her feet.

  She gasped again, and felt his mouth test and pull upon hers. Their breath became one, their lips clung. Her knees buckled as his tongue touched hers and a small sound escaped her. But his arms caught her, steadying her against him.

  She’d never imagined such a thing, that a kiss could be so intimate.

  Yet this kiss went on, stoking the fire inside of her to a feverish burn. And his mouth fed the flame, enticing it ever higher. His lips, his tongue, moved on her, within her mouth, until she was breathless.

  When his lips tore from hers, his breath was ragged in her ear. He pulled her against him, and she burrowed closer. It was only then that she realized they were kneeling on the sand, tangled in each other’s arms.

  “My lady,” he whispered in her ear.

  She could not speak.

  He pulled back, cupping her cheek again. “You set me afire. I’d hoped—” His words ended abruptly, forcing him to swallow before he drew in a deep breath and said, “How could I know how it would be between us?”

  His words flowed over her. She, too, was on fire. And she ached for him with a fierce desperation. Her body, alive in a way she’d never known, was calling for him.

  Words would not find her. But the caress of his thumb across her lower lip elicited a most telling shiver.

  He stood slowly, reaching out to her. “Let us find our bed, wife.”

  Medusa took his hand, letting him pull her up and lead her down the beach. A light shone from the window of the watchman’s cabin, welcoming them.