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Marcus did not call for her, nor the next day, but late the following afternoon a package was brought to her in her room by a very surly Lynda. “Tomorrow is Market Day and our Master commands you wear this and look your best,” said Lynda perfunctorily, then turned on her heel and left.

Julia undid the wrapping to reveal a soft, beautifully designed day dress in a deep blue the color of the sea. It was finer than anything she had ever worn, and there were also matching slippers, soft but with sturdy leather soles for walking. She lifted the dress and admired it, the perfect pleats, the silver beads cunningly sewn at the bodice. It was designed to reveal enough to be alluring, without sacrificing elegance and good taste.

She tried it on. It fit perfectly, and even without a looking glass she could tell it would set off her hair and bring out the dark blue of her eyes.

That night, once again Julia was left alone. A hard rain passed through before midnight, and Julia lay in her bed listening to the comforting hiss on the roof. She closed her eyes and imagined herself back at home, the city celebrating a feast as it had done when she was young. She wore the blue dress and all the young men watched her dance.

Then a strange image came to her, of Marcus arriving at the feast. He was magnificent in his dress clothes, quietly elegant and completely entrancing. They stood at opposite sides of the torch lit room. His eyes met hers, he lowered his chin and looked long and hard at her. Then she read his lips as he told her, “Come to me.”

She crossed the room, her eyes never leaving his. As she approached him he reached for her, taking her by the waist and drawing her near. Her head tipped back and his face was over hers, so close. She put her hands on his broad shoulders. The room began to spin around them and Julia felt weak and intoxicated.

“So quickly you’ve enslaved yourself to me,” said Marcus. His eyes burned darkly.

“I’m completely free,” she protested. “No man owns me.”

“I bid you come and you came.”

“I wished to come.”

“If I wanted to take the lash to you again, would you not submit?”

At the thought of it she felt her loins kindle. She bit her lip. The spinning room grew warmer. She felt Marcus’s hands tighten at her waist.

“The truth, Julia,” he said.

“I would submit,” she answered, lowering her eyes.

He smiled and pulled her closer, until her breasts were pressed to his chest. He was so warm, and his strength so potent she only wanted to feel more of it. The heat in her loins shimmered and grew moist. He leaned so his cheek touched her temple, and she felt sweet coarse stubble against her skin. He spoke softly into her ear: “You would submit, and if I called you to my bed and said, ‘disrobe, Julia,’ you would be glad of my command. And if I lay you beneath me and pierced you and said, ‘please me, Julia,’ you would rejoice. But if I leave you cold and alone in your bed, you weep with longing for me and ache for me to command you, even to punish you.”

He drew back his head and looked down at her, his brows stern, his lovely nostrils flaring. Julia was seized with a fit of trembling, and whether from fear or lust she hardly knew.

“The truth, Julia,” he said again, a velvet whisper.

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied.

“So, should the master do the bidding of the slave?” he asked, suddenly releasing her. The withdrawal of his body was a shock.

“My Lord?” she asked, her throat tightening.

“You are completely free,” said Marcus with an ironic smile. Then he bowed, and departed swiftly into the dancing throng.

Julia was weeping, even though this was her own fantasy. Her grief and longing shocked her, made no sense to her, nothing did. But it was real and she ached with it. She rose quietly from the bed, careful not to awaken the others. She crept to the wardrobe, opened the door, and reached in to feel the fabric of the blue dress.

It was a gift from her master. She knew he had bought it that he might show off his new treasure in the marketplace, but all the same, somehow she believed he had hoped it would please her....

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©2008 Romance at Heart Magazine.

Book ©2004 by Diana Laurence.

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