Time, Death & Scar Tissue...

45. Remembrance of Things Past

Kathryn brushed her lips over the side of his hand softly and moved to stand up. He stopped her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, relaxing into him as he picked her up and crossed the hall in several long strides. She didn't know where he had been, she didn't care. All that mattered was that he was with her at that moment and hoped he needed her as much as she needed him. She kissed the side of his neck and held on a little tighter as he shivered. He set her lightly on her feet and turned the lock and switched on a small lamp while she tossed the quilt onto the bed. When he turned back to her Kathryn opened her mouth to speak but he laid his finger against her lips. She smiled and remained silent, and leaned into him as he kissed her. The way his tongue stroked hers lightly made Kathryn's knees weaken and left no further doubt in her mind. She moaned softly.

After a delicious eternity he broke the kiss and started to unbutton his jacket, she moved his hand away and opened the last button. Her fingers trailed around his body as she moved behind him and took it from his shoulders. She folded it over the footboard of the bed. She turned back to him and reached up to unfasten the sword-shaped pin he usually wore on his collar. She crossed the room to set it on the dresser and she could feel him watching every move she made. She was glad that she was still wearing the short, light blue nightgown. It was one that he had given her and while it was brief, it still afforded her some protection from his almost predatory gaze. He stroked her blushing cheek lightly with the back of his hand and Kathryn relaxed.

Her fingers worked the buttons of his deep burgundy shirt with a deliberate slowness. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath as her fingers trailed lightly down the front of his chest. Her lips and tongue caressed the hollow of his throat softly before she stepped back and took his left hand. She kissed the inside of his wrist and smiled a little as he groaned softly, she removed the cufflink. Her fingers trailed lightly up his arm, across his chest and down the other side. She nipped the tender skin on the inside of his other wrist and walked away with the jewelery, leaving him breathing deeply.

She moved behind him again and took the garment from his shoulders, tossing it on the loveseat. Kathryn slid her hands up from his waist to his shoulders, lifting his undershirt as she did. He removed it because she was a bit too short to do it comfortably, even on her toes. She could tell from his breathing that he was enjoying receiving her attention as much as she was enjoying giving it to him. Her arms reached around him from behind, her nails trailing lightly over his chest, her lips caressing his back as her fingers made their way to his waist. Kathryn opened his belt before moving in front of him again, her fingers never leaving his skin.

Her teeth grazed his skin and her tongue swept over his nipples lightly. He groaned and held her head still, Kathryn sucked softly until his grip relaxed. His arousal was obvious against her stomach, but Kathryn didn't see any reason to rush. She looked up into his eyes and then looked away as she knelt quietly. She could feel her heart racing and she couldn't maintain his gaze as she took his shoes and socks off. Her head was spinning, less than a minute ago she was full of confidence, now she felt completely subordinate to him and terrified of displeasing him. Her fingers trembled as she opened his pants and took them down. She brushed her lips over the front of his thighs before getting up again, even when she was on her feet she found she couldn't meet his eyes.

Kathryn's fingertips stroked lightly and uncertainly over his waist and lower back, she caught her lower lip between her teeth. He lifted her chin and a look of what she could only call recognition flickered in his eyes. His arms tightened around her and Kathryn found herself relaxing against his chest.

“Aufero vestri induviae.” His whisper was so soft she almost missed it, the fact that it wasn't English didn't surprise her. She found that there were times he lapsed into Latin or French. She barely noticed anymore and the only time that she called attention to it was when she didn't understand what he wanted.

Kathryn stepped away from the shelter of his body, then slowly lifted the nightgown over her head and put it in his outstretched hand. The longer he looked at her in the golden light of the one small lamp the more nervous she became. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears and the room spun around her as she looked away, overwhelmed by the intense familiarity of the moment. Kathryn heard him finish undressing. She felt him move her body, he sat on the bed, she sat between his legs, her legs wrapped around his waist. His soft touches renewed her awareness of her own body.

She had no idea how she sat there looking into his eyes, but with each breath Kathryn took the world seemed to get smaller. By the time his lips touched hers for the first time, nothing existed outside the boundaries of the bed itself. His lips nibbled lightly at hers and she licked lightly at his, her hands stroked over his back and arms and his explored her familiar contours. Her nipples pressed against his chest and her lips traveled over his shoulder. When he growled softly and held her tighter she knew she had found the right spot. His mouth became hungrier and her body responded with an intensity that surprised her.

Her hips rocked, spreading her juices over his shaft and sending little jolts of pleasure through her body. She was so close and she could feel the tension building in his body as well. Waiting any longer seemed like some kind of torture for them both, Kathryn reached between them but he stopped her. His fingers slipped inside her and she muffled a cry against his shoulder. Her hips rocked, his thumb found and teased the slick little nub. She gasped and struggled to hold back her cries as her orgasm carried her.

He slid inside her before she had a chance to recover and she moved with him, her legs tight around his body, pulling him in a deeply as she could. Kathryn couldn't think about concealing her gasps and little cries of pleasure, the world outside of his arms had stopped being important. He drove her over the edge one more time. She didn't feel his teeth scrape over the side of her neck as he pulsed inside her and her muscles contracted, she just knew that with the addition of the slight sting the moment seemed complete somehow. The tension left her body and she melted against him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

LaCroix lay back against the pillows. Kathryn groaned softly but she settled next to him quickly. He let his hands wander over her back and then down to the swell of her bottom. She arched against him and sighed softly, even that tiny sound had a deeper familiarity to it now. That moment when she got to her knees in front of him the memory that had eluded him from the first night came sharply into focus.

This was Niobe.

He hadn't told Nicholas about her. He hadn't told Jeanette or Fleur or anyone else. The memory was one of those was so treasured and so painful that what was left of his heart had wrapped around it, hiding it from his own consciousness to protect himself from the loss.

Niobe had been a slave in his house. For that alone she wasn't memorable, his household was like any other of that time. At first, she didn't catch his eye, she moved quietly, kept her head down and did her best to stay out of sight when he or his wife were close. There was something about that alone that struck him. When she moved, when she fetched and carried, there was a quiet dignity about her. He began to watch her more closely and the more he watched the more curious he became. The few times he heard her speak the cultured sound of her voice shocked him.

Even then LaCroix was not accustomed to be so interested in a girl. He decided that the way to dispel that uncomfortable curiosity was to have her, and thus convince himself that she was no different than any other ordinary female. When he demanded her compliance she was taken by surprise, and then the emotion left her face and she simply complied, undressing him and then kneeling to remove his sandals. While she was on her knees, her face hidden, he saw the tremor that ran down her spine and something about it touched him. He was far gentler with her than he intended to be at the start, but when it was over she still curled up on her side and began to sob softly. That was when he noticed the fine scars that traced over over back.

“You've been beaten.” It surprised him only because he had never seen her be disobedient. His fingers traced one of the scar lightly. She jumped as if his touch burned her. She got up to leave, and he gripped her arm tightly, turning her around. The look of pain on her face flickered for a moment before it was replaced by her carefully cultivated impassive look.

“Yes I was.” She said.

“Why?” The reason shouldn't have mattered to him, he knew that.

“Why does it matter?” He was surprised by the flash of anger in her eyes. “I've given you what you wanted, I don't delude myself into thinking that you care about me. I'm just property now.” She looked away and he saw her struggling with her emotions.

“Now?” He held her face so that she couldn't avoid his eyes.

“It doesn't-”

“You will answer.” He shook her and she fought back tears.

“My father sold me.” He relaxed his grip.

“You don't speak like you belong to the filthy masses who usually sell their children.”

“I don't. My father is a merchant, I wasn't sold because my family couldn't afford me.” A father had the right to sell any of his children that he chose to. Usually it didn't happen in the better classes.

“Then why?” She hesitated, he tightened his grip again.

“I wouldn't marry the man he chose for me.” The words came out in a rush.

“What kind of woman refuses to marry?” He asked, his grip relaxing again.

“What kind of woman wants to marry a weak-willed man?” She countered. “I wanted to marry a man who could rule his own household at least.” The answer surprised him, he pulled her close and she rested against him awkwardly.

“Why did your father choose such a man?”

“My father owed him a large gambling debt and said he would forgive the debt I married him. He uses his money to get respect because it's all he has. When I refused my father became enraged and sold me to pay the debt.”

“And the scars?” There was no good explanation for why he was so curious or why he cared at all. He had never even thought to ask any of the others where they came from.

“Your wife knows my mother, and they are enemies.” She was cautiously relaxed against him now and he found that he liked it.

In the following days LaCroix found that his interest in her had only intensified. He couldn't intervene when his wife beat her, but he did make certain that the wounds she was left with were seen to. When he left to go into the field again, he took her and one of the male slaves with him. For those in his position it was not unusual to bring servants and sometimes family along on some campaigns. His wife made it clear from the beginning that she didn't want to go, and when he insisted she had made his life hell.

Niobe was the opposite. She thrived in the field, it was possible that she felt safer from the wrath of his wife, or that she simply enjoyed being left on her own to do what was expected of her. She cooked for him, she listened to him rage when he was angry, she learned his routines and after a relatively short time he had to ask for very little. She happily accommodated his sexual needs, but he wasn't always as selfish as he had been during their first encounter and Niobe returned his passion without using it to manipulate him.

If that was all there was, he would have enjoyed her but the depth of feeling he had would not have developed. Niobe was not only well-spoken, but she had a quick mind and the ability to listen very carefully to what was going on around her, while giving the impression that she understood nothing. More than once she brought him word of plots that were beginning against him from several different sectors.

The first time, he didn't believe her. He beat her, not to the point where he broke her skin, but it left her bruised crying at his feet. He wasn't a fool though, he sent one of his spies to make certain she was lying. Only she wasn't. From that time on she became his eyes and ears and he increased the small wage he paid her.

She attended him at home as well, but he was unable to spend the amount of time he would have liked with her. She had become relaxed with him and rarely forgot her place but when she did she accepted the punishment he meted out, and went to him for comfort after. It surprised him the first time, but he gave it willingly.

After several months he left home again and was able to pick up where he left off with Niobe. Most evenings when he returned he found her singing and ready to care for him. It was a novelty in some ways, his wife was seemed upset at having to interrupt herself when he required something of her. Three months into this latest deployment he returned and found her pacing. He stopped and watched her, waiting for her to realize he was there. She didn't. He grasped her arm hard enough to leave bruises and she whimpered.

“I'm sorry.” She mumbled her hands trembled as she poured him a cup of wine.

“You have found someone to daydream about?” He asked as she washed his feet. There was never any discussion of exclusivity between them, but he knew she showed interest in no one else.

“No.” She responded after a long pause.

“That does not inspire confidence.” She looked up at him and refilled his cup before taking the water away.

“I'm-” She started, tears stood out in her eyes. “I'll get your dinner.”

“Not yet.” He grasped her hand and pulled her into his lap, she curled up to him and started to sob against his shoulder. He rarely saw her cry, he knew that he had hurt her arm but it wasn't enough to bring this about. He held her and stroked her back. “Tell me.” He said softly when she had calmed.

“I'm afraid to.” She whispered. He lifted her chin.

“Have you done something to embarrass me?” He asked, his eyes narrowed.

“I don't know.” She looked away. “I-I'm.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I'm pregnant.”

“You are certain of this?” She couldn't look him in they eye. His thoughts raced, without thinking his hand covered her lower abdomen protectively. She nodded and grasped his hand.

“And the child is someone else's?” She gave a short, derisive laugh.

“If it was I wouldn't be so upset. The answer would be obvious.” She squeezed his hand. “Because it is your child I'm at a loss. I can't raise your son as a slave and you can't take him into your house as yours.”

He picked her up and laid her on his fur covered couch.

“I-” His mouth came down on hers and he lifted her the hem of her shift. She took it off and allowed him to look more closely at her body. He couldn't help but smile when he noticed the changes that the pregnancy were making in her body. She was very slim, and the rounded bulge in her lower tummy was apparent. He had noticed before, but thought she might have gained a bit of weight. He trailed his fingers over it and Niobe squirmed, he first hint of a smile growing on her lips.

“A son, is it?” He had smiled at her then, and she relaxed.

“Well, I hope it's a boy.” She blushed and snuggled close. In that moment LaCroix knew that he would do anything for her and for this child. His other children were a happenstance of marriage and he barely knew them. He saw Divia as a ploy on the part of her mother, and even though she was his favorite it was only because he saw her cruelty and was reminded of himself. This was the child that he wanted and he would tear the Empire down brick by brick to have it. He kissed her again, this time more insistently and she yielded to him as easily and happily as she always did.

“Your dinner!” She jumped up and brought the meal to him. He ate and made sure she ate too, after he was finished of course, but he made certain she had enough. When she returned again he pulled her close. When she was relaxed against him she spoke again.

“We'll be returning home in a month or less. I'll see to it that you have your freedom.” She sighed and shook her head.

“That's impossible, even with the generous wage you pay me I can't afford to buy my freedom. Even if I could I have to have a way to support myself. What can a woman do other than prostitute herself? I won't do that.” The night was getting chilly and he wrapped one of the furs around her.

“Do you really think that I can lead the greatest army in the world but that I am somehow unable to make arrangements for a woman to live comfortably in freedom?” She lowered her eyes.

“No.” She said softly.

“Then you won't speak to me of impossibilities. Understood?” There was an edge in his voice but the way he held her hadn't changed.

“Yes.” She said, her head resting against his chest.

They stayed several weeks longer than what he had anticipated and when they returned Niobe's pregnancy was beginning to show. His wife had always seemed sickly during pregnancy, but Niobe glowed and for the most part the only real difference he noticed in her behavior was the fact that she seemed to tire more easily. The trip back drained her and he made arrangements for her to ride in one of the carts that carried his possessions when she needed to. When they returned he freed her and set her up on a small farm with a slave of her own. His wife had questioned him as to where Niobe was, and he told her that she had earned her freedom. She had let the subject drop. That was out of character for her and it bothered him at the time, but after a few weeks of calm in both his households he pushed his doubts from his mind.

His plan was that Niobe would continue to serve him on campaigns as she always had, but as a paid servant. His plan was interrupted when he was called back sooner than expected. Niobe's time was drawing close and he decided that she shouldn't travel. She had protested vehemently but he was unmoved, telling her that the risk to the child was too great.

The last night he spent with her she sat naked between his legs, her back against his chest, his hands stroking her swollen stomach. He could feel the child moving inside her and he could feel her tension. He spent most of the night reassuring her that he had arranged for a midwife to be with her and that when he returned he would be able to hold his son. Looking back, he was certain that if Divia had offered him eternity at that moment he would have refused.

That was not how it happened though. When he returned he found the house empty and the fields overgrown. The midwife told him that Niobe died giving birth and that the child never emerged. He believed she was lying, but there was no way to prove it. There was nowhere he could go with his grief, so he channeled it into cruelty, the kind of cruelty that inspired rumors and made everyone keep their distance. That was fine, he wanted no one near him except the two people he couldn't have.

Several months later, while the pain was still fresh, Divia made her offer and he chose the to continue as something other than human. He realized later that he hoped that by shedding his humanity he would shed the pain that went along with it.