What in the holy hell had she been thinking? Kat tried not to hesitate too long while she frantically decided how best to take off her clothes without seeming too enticing, and yet also not seeming like she was scared shitless and bolting for the concealing water.
Concealing water? Kat squinted down at the clear little pool. Where were algae and a good dose of clouding pollution when you needed them? Get if over with, Katrina, she ordered herself. She pulled off the light green silk outer robe that had replaced the new blue one the gross sea things had ruined. Her underrobes were soft layers of eggshell silk. Kat let them fall around her feet. She hadn’t really thought about the fact that neither panties nor a bra had come with any of her outfits—until then. Just remind yourself that you’re glad he’s looking at this tight young little body, versus your pushing forty-year-old, needing to lose fifteen pounds and take your flabby butt to the gym body.
Kat tried for regal looking as, naked, she stepped into the pool, bracing herself for what she expected to be freezing cold water. But at the first touch of the tepid pool she felt a shiver of delight and, with a happy sigh, submerged herself. Only then did she look up at Achilles. “Hey! It’s not cold.”
He had done as she’d instructed and was sitting, in a semirelaxed manner, on the blanket, leaning against one of the marble pillars. He had an uncorked wineskin in his lap. She thought he looked a little tense, but other than that completely himself.
“It’s too shallow to be cold, at least this time of the year. The sun warms it and the willows shade it, keeping the water a perfect temperature.” As he spoke she noticed he kept his eyes on hers, not allowing his gaze to travel down to her body, which the water did little to conceal. “When I first discovered this shrine I thought the pool must have been why it was built and then dedicated to Venus.” Achilles smiled a little sheepishly. “Seems a perfect place for a goddess to bathe.”
Kat grinned. “Why, Achilles, I do believe you are a closet romantic.”
He snorted. “I am no type of romantic.”
“Ha! You left a flower on my pillow. I would call that evidence exhibit number one of romanticism.”
He took a long drink of wine and then said, “How do you know I left it?”
“Oh, that’s right. It must have been Aetnia—or maybe Briseis. Both of them just love hanging out in your tent.”
He snorted again and tried, unsuccessfully, to cover his laughter.
“Exhibit number two is that picnic basket full of goodies for me.”
“This basket?” He pawed around inside it and pulled out a piece of cheese wrapped in flatbread. He took a big bite and around his full mouth said, “This basket is for me, not you.”
“Sure it is,” she said, scrubbing the bottom of her foot with a handful of sand. “Romantic evidence exhibit three is that blanket.”
“And why is that romantic?”
“Because you don’t want me to get my delicate skin dirty.” She lifted her other foot, the bottom of which was still dirty, and waggled her toes at him.
His laughter was free and easy. She thought it was the most wonderful sound she had ever heard. “The blanket is for me, too.”
“Oh, yeah. Because I know how obsessed you are with comfort and relaxation.”
He exaggerated a long stretch, causing it to be her turn to laugh.
“Hey, speaking of comfort, I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I like the tapestries in your tent. Are they of a particular place or just random scenery?”
“They’re all of Phthia. It gives me a sense of home to be surrounded by them.”
“Phthia must be very beautiful,” she said, scrubbing her hair and wishing she had her favorite shampoo and conditioner.
Achilles’ faint smile was wistful. “It is, indeed. Someday I would like to take you there.”
“I’d like that, too.” She paused and then decided she might as well ask him. “Achilles, why don’t you just take your Myrmidons and leave now? You’ve withdrawn from the fighting. You’ve broken with Agamemnon. Why stay?”
“I’ve thought of it. If it were just me, or even just you and me, I would. But my men are Greeks. Phthia is a part of Greece. It would go hard on them and their families should they return before the war is over.” He shook his head. “No, we stay until the end—whether we fight or not.”
“What are you going to do if the Greeks lose?”
“Go home.”
“And if they win?”
His lips twitched. “Go home.”
“So it doesn’t really matter to you who wins or loses?”
“It does matter. I don’t want Greeks to die. But Agamemnon and Menelaus are responsible for that. I am only responsible for the deaths of my own men. Hopefully I will not lose one more Myrmidon.” He paused before continuing. “I should not have come to Troy. I only did so because I believed my fate could not be changed, and because Odysseus asked it of me.”
“And now you believe your fate can be changed.” She didn’t phrase it like a question but he nodded.
“Now I believe many things I didn’t just days ago.”
Kat smiled at him and then dunked her head completely under the water. When she surfaced, shaking water from her hair and sputtering, Achilles was looking relaxed and content.
She studied him carefully for a moment, and then decided it was time for her to get out of the water, and time for their relationship to move forward another step.
“Achilles, do you still desire me?”
He blinked, obviously surprised by her question. “Yes. Of course.”
“But there you are, relaxed and chatting with me. And here I am, naked.”
His brows went up. “That is true.”
“And, unless I’m wildly mistaken, there is no berserker possession going on—or even imminent.”
“That is not something easy to be mistaken about. No, there is no berserker here.”
“Or even close?”
“Not close, either.”
“So you think I can get out of this pool and come up there with you?”
Kat saw him swallow hard. “Naked?” he asked.
She smiled. “Actually I was planning on asking you for the blanket until I dry.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” He looked embarrassed, which Kat thought was a huge improvement over him looking stony faced and emotionless or scarlet eyed and completely crazy.
When he made no further move, she said, “Could you bring me the blanket?”
She’d rarely seen him awkward. Even at rest he had a warrior’s feral grace, but when he jumped up and gathered the blanket he definitely gave off a bull in the china shop vibe and Kat had to bite the side of her cheek to keep from laughing.
She stood up and walked out of the water. His gaze never left her eyes, even when he opened the blanket for her and she stepped, naked and dripping, into his arms. Kat felt a tremor go through his body as his arms closed around her. Kat stepped back and smiled at him as if he saw her naked every day. The struggle on his face was obvious. There were no signs of the berserker, but Achilles was no longer relaxed, and she understood if his relaxation level continued to decline and his stress level to rise, she was, quite literally, flirting with danger.
“Tell me a story,” she said.
His face was a question mark. “A story?”
“Yeah.” The hand that wasn’t clutching the blanket around her took his, and she pulled him up toward the shrine and the waiting picnic basket. “Tell me a story about your childhood while we eat. Something back in Phthia.” She gave him a mischievous look over her shoulder. “Something not flattering.”
His snort sounded amused. “What if I was the perfect child and I did nothing that was not flattering.”
“Then I’ll eat the basket instead of the lunch you bullied Aetnia into packing.” Kat sat beside the basket, arranging her blanket around her and wringing out her wet hair before checking out the food. “Yum! Cheese, meat, olives and wine. All of my favorite food groups—fat and booze and salt.” Achilles had taken his position next to her, leaning against the pillar again and making an obvious attempt to relax and not stare at her bare shoulders. She handed him some bread and meat. “Good thing this body is so young. Less chance all this cheese will go to my butt—or at least not immediately.”
“Back in your time you aren’t young?”
Kat looked up from the food to him. Achilles didn’t look shocked or upset at the idea of her being old, just curious. She smiled. “Back in my time I’m almost a decade older than you.”
He did look shocked then. “You left your husband and children to come here?”
“Oh, god no. I’ve never been married and I definitely don’t have any kids.”
“Did you take vows of chastity to a goddess?”
“You know, Hera and Athena were confused about this, too. In the modern mortal world women don’t get married so young. Okay, well, not educated women with any sense and decent teeth. Actually some of us don’t get married at all. Or have children. We don’t have to.”
“Then what do you do with your lives?”
Kat’s smile was long and slow. “Exactly what we want.”
“You’re like men!” Achilles proclaimed, as if he finally understood.
“I guess from your point of view that’s true.” She raised one brow at him. “And in case you’re wondering. I have no intention of changing that about myself, even if I have changed worlds.”
He gave her a considering look. “Does that mean you don’t ever want to marry or have children?”
Kat ignored the little sizzle of excitement his question had her feeling. “Not necessarily. What it means is that if I get married or have children it will be because that’s what I want and not because it’s what’s expected of me.”
“Agreed,” he said.
“Good. Now I want to hear a story about you as a little boy.”
“An unflattering story.”
“Absolutely, they’re the best kind.”
“All right.” He settled in against the pillar and crossed his legs at the ankle, occasionally taking a drink from the wineskin while he talked and she worked her way through the food in the picnic basket. “When I was a boy I didn’t believe I could drown.”
“Makes sense. Your mom being a sea goddess and all.”
“It would have made more sense if I had been an immortal, too. But I wasn’t, even though I acted like I was.” He shook his head, remembering. “I drove my nursemaids mad. And when I outgrew them, it was my tutors I drove mad. I took ridiculous chances—swimming too far out to sea, getting caught in undertows and barely escaping—silly, reckless things like that. It got so bad that my father was going to forbid me from going to the sea at all.”
“Bet your mom didn’t like that idea.”
He laughed. “No, not at all. But she also didn’t like the idea of her only son being killed in a childhood accident caused by his own foolishness. So the two of them got together and planned a little lesson for me.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” she said after motioning for him to pass her the wineskin.
“It wasn’t. I must have been, oh, not quite twelve years old, which made Patroklos not even seven. He was forever shadowing me, which annoyed me to no end, but this particular day he told me that he’d discovered a boat abandoned in a cove and he would take me to it.”
“And since you thought you were a sea god, a boat was perfect for you,” Kat said.
“Clearly you’re using the same reasoning my parents used. And, yes, I did insist Patroklos take me directly to my boat. On our way to the cove the weather changed quickly, as it often does in Phthia. A squall moved in. I actually saw fishermen returning to shore. I scoffed at them—cowards! And Patroklos and I set sail.”
“Patroklos was in on your parents’ scheme?”
“No, they’d just used him as a pawn. My cousin went with me to sea because he would follow me anywhere.”
Kat watched his face soften when he spoke of Patroklos. “You love him very much, don’t you?”
“He is brother and son to me,” Achilles said simply. “So we sailed into the storm. We were just far enough offshore to get ourselves in serious danger when a wave hit us and I was washed overboard. Patroklos was screaming for me and trying to throw me a line, but the storm-tossed waves were unusually violent.” His lips tilted up.
“Unusually? You mean as if a sea goddess had stirred them up?”
“That is exactly what I mean. I was foolish and reckless, but I wasn’t stupid, and it didn’t take me long to realize I was drowning. I remember trying to call for my mother, but the waves stifled my cries. I cannot tell you how much seawater I swallowed before the dolphins came, but it was enough to have me utterly panicked.”
“Wait, did you say dolphins?”
He chuckled and nodded. “Dolphins. They butted and bobbed me around, keeping me on the surface as if I were a melon they were playing with, until they got me up on the beach.”
“So they saved you?”
“Oh, yes, they saved me. They brought me safely to the main dock of Phthia, which was filled with fishermen and fishwives, and my parents, along with most of the royal court who just happened to be taking a stroll down to the docks at that moment. They were all there in time to see me butted out of the water, half drowned and completely naked, by a school of dolphins.”
“Naked?” Kat started to giggle.
“Naked.” Achilles nodded again. “Somehow while they were battering and butting me around they managed to pull off all of my clothes, even down to stripping me of my sandals.”
“You must have been quite the sight,” Kat said, while trying to control her fit of giggles.
“Apparently I was. They talked about it for years. You can still make some of the old servant women cackle hysterically if you bring it up.”
“Did it have the desired effect on you?”
“You mean did it scare some sense into my foolish young head?” He lifted a shoulder. “Yes and no. I realized I could drown, and I suppose I was more careful after that—or at least more careful about my arrogant proclamations. The boy it really worked on was Patroklos. To this day he loathes boats and turns a sickly shade of green just thinking about sailing.” Achilles smiled and took the wineskin from her. “And that, my lady, is my unflattering childhood story.”
Kat laughed and clapped while he took a long drink of wine. Then when he handed it back to her he leaned forward and kissed her, softly, on the lips. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. Not aggressively, just warm and inviting, letting him set the pace. When they finally parted both of them were breathing heavily, but she could see no sign of the berserker in his clear blue eyes.
“I can hypnotize you again,” she whispered.
“I know you can.” He touched her face and let his hand slide down to caress the slope of her bare shoulder. “And I will allow you to if you feel you must.”
“But?” she asked.
“But I would like to make love to you without the spell. I want to experience all of it, and not just as a wonderful dream. Will you let me, Katrina?”
