Page 37 of Fantasy Lover (Dark-Hunter .5)
Grace looked about the yard until she saw the neighbors' children sitting on the grass between her house and theirs. But what stunned her most was Julian sitting with them as he showed them a game with rocks and sticks.
The two boys and one of the girls were sitting next to him, listening attentively while their two-year-old sister toddled between them.
Grace smiled at the tranquil sight. Warmth flooded her, and she wondered if that was what Julian had looked like with his own children.
Leaving the deck, she walked toward them.
Bobby was the eldest of the children at nine, then his brother Tommy was a year younger and Katie was barely six. Their parents had moved in almost ten years ago as newly weds and though they were friendly enough, they had never been much more than passing acquaintances.
"So, then what happened?" Bobby asked as Julian took a turn.
"Well, the army was trapped," Julian said, moving one of the rocks over a stick. "Betrayed by one of their own. A young hoplite who had sold out his comrades because he wanted to be a Roman centurion."
"They were the best," Bobby interrupted.
Julian scoffed. "They were nothing compared to the Spartans."
"Go, Spartans!" Tommy shouted. "That's our school mascot."
Bobby shoved his brother, knocking him over. "You're interrupting the story."
"You should never hit your brother," Julian said, his voice both stern, and yet strangely gentle. "Brothers are supposed to protect one another, not hurt each other."
The irony of his words wrenched her heart. It was a pity no one had ever taught his brothers that lesson.
"Sorry," Bobby said. "So what happened after that?"
Before Julian could answer, the baby fell and scattered the rocks and sticks. The boys shouted at her, but Julian calmed them while lifting Allison up and setting her back on her feet.
He touched the baby lightly on the nose, making her laugh. Then he set the game up again.
As Bobby took his turn with a rock, Julian began the story where he'd left off. "The Macedonian commander looked around the hills where the Romans had his army cornered. There was no way to outflank them, nowhere to retreat."
"Did they surrender?" Bobby asked.
"Never," Julian said with conviction. "Death always before dishonor."
Julian paused as the words echoed in his mind. Those words had been engraved on his shield. As a commander, he had lived by them.
As a slave, he'd long forgotten them.
The boys moved closer.
"Did they die?" Katie asked.
"Some did," Julian said, trying to banish the memories that surged through him. Memories of a man who had once known no master save himself. "But not before they set the Romans back on their heels."
"How?" the boys asked anxiously.
This time, Julian caught the baby before she interrupted their game.
"Well," Julian said, giving Allison her small red ball. She sat on his bent knee and he held her in place with one hand around her waist. "As the Romans were riding down upon them, the Macedonian commander knew the Romans would expect him to pull his forces together into a phalanx, making them easy prey for the Roman cavalry and archers above. Instead, the commander ordered his men to disband, to aim their spears toward the horses, and break apart the Roman cavalry lines."
"Did it work?" Tommy asked.
Even Grace was getting interested in the story.
Julian nodded. "The Romans hadn't expected such a tactic from a civilized army. Completely unprepared for the move, their troops scattered."
"And the Macedonian commander?"
"He gave a mighty battle cry as he rode his horse, Mania, across the field, and up the hillock where the Roman commanders were retreating. They turned to attack him, but it did them no good. With fury in his heart over the betrayal, the commander cut through them, leaving only one survivor."
"Why?" Bobby asked.
"He wanted him to deliver a message."
"What?" Tommy asked.
Julian smiled at their eager questions. "The commander ripped the Roman standard to shreds, then used the cloth of it to help the Roman staunch the bleeding of his wounds. With a lethal grin, he looked at the Roman and said, 'Roma delenda est.' Rome must be destroyed. Then he sent the Roman general home in chains to deliver the message to the Roman Senate."
"Wow!" Bobby said in awe. "I wish you were my teacher in school. I might actually pass history if you were."
Julian ruffled the boy's black hair. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't care for the subject either at your age. All I wanted to do was get into mischief."
"Hi, Miss Grace!" Tommy said as he finally caught sight of her. "Did you hear Mr. Julian's story? He said the Romans were bad men."
Julian looked up to see Grace standing a few feet away.
Grace smiled. "I'm sure he would know."
"Can you fix my doll?" Katie asked, handing it to Julian.
Julian let go of the baby and took the doll. He popped its arm back in place.
"Thank you," Katie said as she threw her arms around Julian and hugged his neck.
The longing on Julian's face stung her heart. Grace knew it was the face of his own daughter he saw when he looked at Katie.
"You're very welcome, little one," he said hoarsely, pulling away from her.
"Katie, Tommy, Bobby? What are you doing over there?"
Grace looked up as Emily rounded the side of the house.
"You're not bothering Miss Grace, are you?"
"No, they're not bothering me," Grace said to her.
Emily didn't seem to hear her as she continued fussing at the children. "And what's the baby doing out here? You're supposed to stay in the backyard."
"Hey, Mom," Bobby yelled as he ran to her. "Do you know how to play Parcelon? Mr. Julian showed us."
Grace laughed as the five of them returned to the front yard, while Bobby's excited chatter echoed around them.
Julian had his eyes closed and looked as if he were savoring the sound of the children's voices.
"You're quite a storyteller," she said after he moved to join her.
"Not really."
"Really," she said emphatically. "You know, it got me to thinking. Bobby's right. You would make a great teacher."
He smirked at her. "Commander to teacher. Why not call me Cato the Elder, and really insult me while you're at it?"
She laughed. "You're not as offended as you pretend."
"How do you know?"
"I can tell by the look on your face, and the light in your eyes." She took his arm and led him back toward the deck. "You really should think about it. Selena got her Ph.D. from Tulane and she knows the faculty there. Who better to teach ancient civilization than someone who actually lived it?"
He didn't respond. Instead, she noticed the way he shifted his bare feet against the ground.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm enjoying the feel of grass," he whispered. "The way the blades tickle my toes."
She smiled at the childlike action. "That's why you came outside?"
He nodded. "I love to feel the sunshine on my face."
And in her heart, she knew he'd had way too little of it to feel. "C'mon, I'll make us some cereal and we can eat it on the deck."
She led him back up the five stairs to the deck, and left him sitting in her wicker rocker as she went inside and poured the cereal.
When she returned, he had his head lying back and his eyes serenely closed.
Not wanting to disturb him, she stepped back.
"Do you know, I can feel your presence all over my body? With every sense I possess?" he asked, then opened his eyes to pin her with a hot stare.
"No," she said nervously, handing him his bowl.
He took the bowl, but didn't elaborate on his words. He just sat there quietly eating his breakfast.
Absorbing the warm sunshine, Julian listened to the soft breeze as he felt Grace's calming presence beside him.
He had awakened at dawn to watch the sunrise through her bedroom windows, and had spent an hour just letting Grace's body soothe his.
She tempted him in a way he'd never before known. For a minute, he allowed himself to think of staying in this time.
But then what?
He only had one "skill" he could use in this modern world, and he wasn't the kind of man who could live off a woman's charity and like it.
Not after...
He ground his teeth as the memory burned him.
At fourteen, he'd traded his virginity for a bowl of cold porridge and a cup of soured milk. Even now, after all this time, he could feel the woman's hands on his body, removing his clothes, grabbing feverishly at his skin as she showed him how to pleasure her.
"Ooo," she'd cooed, "you are a pretty one, aren't you? If you ever need more porridge, you just come back and see me any time my husband's not home."
He'd felt so dirty afterward. So used.
