The Gladiator Prince Read Online Free PDF Page B

would not catch her, Bahar would forgive her and Hasani would not be disappointed with her performance. She had a good imagination. All she needed was a little more knowledge. Thane could teach her. Licking her lips and swallowing down the doubt, she said it again, her jaw tight. “Things will be all right. I will make them all right.”
    Wiping her eyes, Phaedra stood and headed for the ludus .

 
     
     
     
    Chapter IV
     
     
    Thane stared at the woman who had appeared before him, wondering again why it was women found him so appealing. He had not even visited the baths yet and had to douse himself in olive oil and scrape his skin quickly, since he had had little notice of her visit. The stink of the arena still saturated his pores.
    Standing up, he towered over her by a good four hands, but she did not shrink from him, which was encouraging. He detested the ones who came to him as if they had been forced. There was no doubt as to where the gold came for this tryst.
    “Do not rise on my account, Prince.” Her voice was deep and pleasant, the Egyptian accent adding a lilt that reverberated through his loin. With an elegant motion, she indicated the bench. “Please sit.” He nodded and sank back onto the bench.
    The woman was petite, yet well figured, with a strong set of hips and large breasts. Her face would have been beautiful had it not been for the mess around her eyes; Roman and Egyptian women both wore paint on their faces to entice men, which seemed strange to him, since women of his tribe only wore paint when they went to war. This one had heavy black lines around her eyes and bloody red lips, making her expressions harsh. He could smell her spicy perfume from across the room.
    Thane ran his eyes the length of her slowly; it was the first step in a dance he knew very well. “What do they call you, my beauty?”
    A whisper of demure colored her cheeks pink, and her voice came out quiet. “My name is Salihah.”
    “Salihah.” He rolled the name carefully over his tongue. Watching her open posture, he leaned back against one hand on the bench and spread his legs. “It is beautiful.” Tilting his head to one side, he raised an eyebrow. “It suits you very well.”
    A shudder ran through her, and he was satisfied that the baritone of his voice had done its job. Blowing out a breath, she tipped her head to the right and laughed. “They told me you had skill.”
    “It does not take skill to make love to a beautiful woman, Salihah. It takes desire and passion.”
    The smile faded from her face. “Do you desire me?”
    In answer, he removed the loincloth from his lap and watched his swollen erection stand. He broadened his smile. “What do you think?”
    Her eyes moved boldly to his phallus, and the soft smile returned. She raised both brows. “By the gods…” she whispered.
    Thane held out a hand to her and laughed. “Come to me, my lady.”
    Without a word, she slipped her hand seductively under one sleeve of her tunic to push it off her shoulder then the other, allowing it to fall into a white heap around her feet. She was naked underneath.
    The woman’s mouth rounded to an “o,” and her eyes sparkled in the muted torchlight in the garden. With a refined grace, she drifted to him and spread her legs to straddle his lap. Putting her arms around his neck, she searched his face. “You are large, Briton,” she said running her fingers down both of his shoulders. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. Her perfume was making his eyes water, but he endured it. Abella paid him well for this service, and he needed the coin for his children.
    Pushing that thought aside, he tenderly touched her face. Her deep brown eyes narrowed with desire, and her face, though severe earlier, now softened into that universal splendor all females carried at coitus.
    The dazzling strength of women always astonished Thane. He understood why the Romans chose to suppress these creatures; their power was impenetrable.