Aphrodite's Touch Read online

  Aglaia bit her lip and sank into the pillows. She had almost broken through his tough exterior, but lost whatever she had gained with one question. Sleep was a long time in coming for her this night.

  * * * * *

  Hephaestus worked hard at his forge all night until he dripped with sweat and his striking arm was numb from fatigue. He made armor and shields, jewelry and trinkets for the immortals. He didn't mind working for them as long as they left him alone, and they seemed eager to leave him be as long as he fulfilled their requests.

  When Neda informed him it was after dawn, he realized he'd lost track of time and hadn't yet made the special piece he'd been thinking about—a golden headband for Aglaia.

  Hephaestus prepared the gold, then worked it carefully, decorating it with the same entwined flowering vines that adorned her greave and scattering stars among the blossoms. When the metal had cooled, he polished the headband until it glittered in the firelight. He hoped she would be pleased with his gift.

  Hephaestus was covered in smoke and sweat and he hastened outside to cleanse himself in the sea. Then he traversed the long passageways to the bathing chamber to rinse off the salt residue. He heard the water pouring from the spout, but he presumed Neda had started the bath for him.

  He stopped inside the doorway when he realized Aglaia sat in the basin allowing the hot water to flow over her face and hair. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed as if he'd caught her in a moment of ecstasy, and she was completely unaware of his presence. He should leave...but the sight of her alabaster curves, glistening with droplets and runnels of hot water, immobilized him, and his arousal, sharp and swift, was a painful reminder of what he shouldn't want.

  She scrubbed at her face and ran her fingers through her hair, separating the strands. Before he realized what he was doing he had taken a few steps forward, but stopped in time. What was he thinking? Well, he knew what he was thinking, but he shouldn't be thinking of the things he wanted to do to Aglaia and with Aglaia. He shouldn't be thinking of Aglaia at all except to help her heal and return her to Olympus. He whirled and left the chamber.

  His thoughts scattering like sparks in the wind, he was astounded he remembered the headband. While she finished her bath, he took the band of gold to the bedchamber and placed it in the chest with the greave. He could surprise her with both at the same time.

  He lingered near his forge until Neda told him the bathing chamber was once more unoccupied. He rinsed off, the hot water doing nothing for the state of his manhood, and decided he needed to locate a cold water spring as well. He dressed in clean underlinen, leather, and sandal and grimaced while he replaced the greave.

  In the bedchamber, Aglaia was seated on the little tripod next to the fire. Another Neda was brushing her hair, the glossy strands ablaze with metallic highlights of gold, copper, and bronze. He wanted to run his hands through her fire, and feel it spread across his chest. When she looked up at him with a smile that reached her lovely blue eyes, his mouth went dry and his arousal grew firmer.

  "Hephaestus! Talos was kind enough to carry me to the bathing chamber and back, and Neda found a chiton for me to wear instead of that tunic. I feel so much better. My ankle hardly hurts at all, but I can't put my full weight on it without it nearly collapsing beneath me."

  Hephaestus swallowed, trying to banish the images of Aglaia bathing, but they wouldn't disappear from his mind. He went to the chest and took out the greave and sandal. "This should help," he said and presented the greave to her.

  "Oh, Hephaestus, how beautiful it is! Here," she said and slowly slid the hem of the chiton up her shapely leg to just above the knee.

  Her ankle was now its normal size with only a slight discoloration around the bone, and all the cuts and scrapes had healed completely. His eyes followed up the curve of her calf to the bend of her knee, stopping there because of the chiton. He knelt before her, his arousal as well as his ungainly greave causing him difficulty.

  He gently cupped the back of her calf. Her skin was as soft as the petal of a rose. His hand quivered a little as he lifted her leg and placed it in the greave, but he hastily busied himself with fastening the closures. On her other foot, he tied the sandal decorated with the bronze blossoms to match those on the greave.

  He stood and looked down at her.

  She was smiling prettily, turning her leg one way and then another to admire his handiwork.

  "It's so beautiful I regret that my chiton will hide it." Then she raised her head to look up at him, eyes flashing, and held out her hands. "I'm sure I can walk without assistance, but I do need help getting up."

  Hephaestus grasped her hands and pulled until she had gained her feet. She lost her balance and fell forward, the hard peaks of her generous breasts pressing into him. He had loosened her hands, and now they were flat on his chest, cool against his overheated skin. He stifled a groan deep within his throat that threatened to explode at her nearness.

  His arms had gone around her, but neither of them made a move to part. Aglaia's fingers stroked the thick curls on his chest and took his breath away. The top of her head came to his chin, and he tilted his head, rubbing against her soft fragrant hair. She carried the scent of fresh flowers and aether.

  Long past any reasonable amount of time, Aglaia leaned back, letting her hands slide down and away. He didn't let her go. She looked up at him from beneath red-gold dusted lashes, and her tongue ran over her lips, making them moist and plunderable. He was about to bend his head and do just that, but she spoke and brought him back to his senses.

  "I'm terribly clumsy for a goddess of grace."

  Hephaestus released her and cleared his throat. "I have something else for you."

  He retrieved the gold headband from the chest and held it out to her. Her blue eyes widened as she ran her finger over the winding vines.

  "Oh, Hephaestus, you do such beautiful work. Please put it on for me."

  He carefully slipped the ends just above her ears and pushed it beyond her hairline. Several strands of hair were out of place and he smoothed them down.

  "How do I look?" Aglaia asked.

  He was at a loss for words. She was lovely and her beauty enhanced the scrap of gold, not the other way around. Before he could decide what to say and how to say it, Aglaia laughed.

  "It doesn't matter. I'm sure I look fine. Let me practice walking before I leave this chamber." She took a few tentative steps, and he watched her master the art of walking with her foot and leg sheathed in bronze.

  Fine. The word was inadequate, but he couldn't think of a way to describe her accurately. He didn't think a word had been invented that would encompass her beauty and charm, her glorious smile and delightfully expressive eyes.

  "I was rude last night," he finally said, "and I apologize. You asked a reasonable question, and I should have answered."

  "No, it's none of my business, and I shouldn't have asked. It just seems to me..." She trailed off with a shake of her head and apologetic smile. "There I go again. Anyway, I think I have it now. I can walk across the chamber without stumbling. Watch."

  Aglaia crossed the floor with an ease he had never managed. For him, every step was an exercise in balance and willpower, but he had never known a time when his foot wasn't deformed. She had possessed elegance and poise before her injury. When she reached the other side, she turned to him for approval.

  He nodded. "Very good, Aglaia. But I would like to answer your question now."

  Aglaia didn't say anything to encourage or dissuade him, so he continued.

  "I've never felt as if I belonged on Olympus or with the others. I've always been different, and they've always treated me as an outcast. Wearing this greave won't change that."

  "You don't need their approval," she said quietly.

  "No, I don't! Which is why it doesn't matter if I wear the greave or not."

  "It would make you the center of attention if you wore it, and you don't want that, do you? I can understand that because some of
them would still be cruel without even being aware of how they hurt you." Aglaia bit her lip in thought. Then she said, "But you shouldn't care what they think or say. What matters is how you feel about you. If the greave makes you more comfortable, makes you better able to cope with the world around you, then that's all that should matter. Ignore them and their taunts would stop soon enough and they would be on to other things. Of course, it's your decision."

  Aglaia was right, and he'd known it all along. He just hadn't been able to move past the thought of their initial reaction and attention, as she had said. The familiar, no matter how humiliating, was always safer than the unknown. What he had always wanted was their acceptance of him just as he was, nothing more and certainly nothing less. He wanted to enter the Great Hall and be treated no differently than any other Olympian.

  Another lovely smile crossed her lips. "I'm ready if you are."

  He moved in and swept her off her feet before she could protest.

  "The passageways are long. There's no need for you to tire yourself before we reach the shore."

  "You're taking me outside!" She looped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

  He carried her out into the passageway and was pleased she didn't loosen her hold on him. Her arms were soft and warm against his skin and her breath tickled his neck. Her full lips were parted and it was all he could do not to taste them.

  "Slow down, Hephaestus," she said, bringing him back from the mesmerizing fantasy of a long and passionate kiss. "The tripod can't keep up."

  He halted and turned, arching an eyebrow. The tripod was painstakingly making its way behind them, but it was slow and could never keep up with his long-legged stride even with a limp.

  "I don't understand about the tripod at all. I endowed it with the ability to follow a few simple commands, nothing nearly as complex as Neda or Talos. The other tripods haven't acted this way."

  "You know, you should attach wheels to it," Aglaia suggested. "Then it could keep up."

  "I'll think about it," he said gruffly and continued up the passageway.

  He gladly moved at a slower pace. Not only to allow the tripod to keep up with them, but so he would have Aglaia close for a longer time. Her arms were still wrapped around his neck and her head tilted toward him occasionally, her hair brushing his bearded cheek.

  All too soon they reached the vestibule, and Hephaestus set Aglaia on her feet, taking his time releasing her. His hands lingered on her soft curves, reluctant to let her go. Aglaia flashed him an all-knowing smile, as if she was aware he didn't want to stop touching her, and limped toward the opening that led outside. The tripod tried to follow after her, but Hephaestus stepped between it and the opening.

  "Stay!" he commanded.

  The tripod tapped two of its legs on the stone floor as if to argue.

  "The sand," Hephaestus explained in a gentler tone. "You'll be even slower in the sand, and you know Aglaia will wait for you. She needs the exercise and the freedom to go at her own pace. You can come with her another day."

  The little tripod seemed to consider his words and then settled against the wall near the doorway. Hephaestus shook his head and went outside.

  Aglaia stood with her face up to the sun and her arms spread wide. She laughed as she turned in a circle, her resplendent hair glittering with sunbeams.

  "It's so wonderful to be in the sun again!" she shouted gleefully and twirled around once more.

  "Be careful," he called out to her. "The sand can be tricky and there are hidden rocks that can trip you up."

  "I will," she said and waited for him to catch up. "It just feels so good to be out and walking again."

  "I know how you feel," he said as they walked along the sand.

  "Yes, you do, so you'll have to forgive my exuberance," she said with a laugh.

  "Always." He was surprised when she reached out and grasped his hand.

  "In case I lose my balance. I hope you don't mind."

  "Not at all." And he didn't mind. He liked the feel of her small, soft hand in his. He shouldn't, he knew, but he did. He wondered what she would do if he swung her around and kissed her. >From the teasing way she had played with the hair on his chest when she'd fallen against him earlier, he didn't think she would mind at all.

  Did he really want that complication in his life? He was happy...or so he kept telling himself. Had he been happier before Aglaia washed up on his shore and into his life? He couldn't remember. Suddenly, she turned his hand loose.

  "I'll race you to that large egg-shaped boulder," Aglaia called out and started hobbling as fast as she could down the stretch of sand.

  Hephaestus watched her a moment then followed after her. His stride was longer and he soon caught up and passed her by.

  "Oh, that isn't fair!" she cried out in mock indignation. "You're accustomed to your metal contraption, and I haven't had time to get used to mine."

  He slowed enough to look over his shoulder at her—and smiled. The golden headband was skewed to one side. Strands of hair, the shifting colors of the flames in his forge, lifted in the breeze then wrapped around her shoulders. She had grabbed the skirt of her chiton with both hands and raised it above her knees for unrestricted movement. And she limped just like he did. Unlike him, she would heal in time and no longer need the greave he had made for her.

  Still, Aglaia was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, including his former wife. If Aphrodite knew his thoughts at this moment, she would be enraged even though she had never loved him. If she knew, she might exact her revenge on Aglaia and that he couldn't allow. If he and Aglaia became lovers, he would have to go to Aphrodite and tell her himself. He didn't want Aphrodite to hurt Aglaia in any way.

  "You are so cruel!" Aglaia shouted at him, but she was smiling. "You're supposed to let me win."

  "Am I?" he called out over his shoulder. He had almost reached the oval boulder, standing on its end, that she had designated as their goal.

  "Of course! To boost my confidence, to show me I can do anything as well as before. Shame on you, Hephaestus," she scolded, but the words were spoken between giggles and he didn't take her seriously.

  He was breathing heavily when he reached the boulder. He leaned back against it and leisurely crossed his arms, as if to say what's taking you so long? She was only a score of paces away when her greave-clad foot hit a small rock half-buried in the sand and her leg flew out from under her.

  Aglaia landed on her backside with a small sound of surprise before she toppled down the steep incline toward the sea. Hephaestus pushed off from the boulder and ran after her, but she had rolled to a stop just above the waterline when he reached her.

  His knees went weak and he fell beside her. She was positioned too much like the way she had been the day he had found her all bruised and battered and littered with sand. Her head was turned away from him, but the golden band had somehow managed to stay in her hair although it hung loosely to one side. She was a goddess, he reminded himself, and she couldn't die, but even such a simple tumble could cause more grievous injuries.

  "Aglaia," he whispered and turned her face toward him. Her eyes were closed and she didn't move. He leaned in closer and her eyes sprang open, surprising him.

  "Boo!" she said.

  He sat back on his heels, aggravating the discomfort in his deformed foot, his hands spread wide on his thighs, and scowled down at her.

  "Oh, Hephaestus, don't be angry." She tried to mimic his dour face, but she couldn't hold it for long. She laughed and this time he found himself laughing with her. "You have a wonderful laugh, so deep and rich. You should do it more often," she said between gasps for air.

  He didn't want to spoil the moment by telling her that he'd never had much to laugh about. In truth, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed. Aphrodite had never made him laugh or laughed with him. Only Aglaia.

  "You aren't hurt?" he asked when he'd caught his breath.

  "No, not a bit. I was only teasing you." She rose up
on her elbows, the headband slipping from her hair. "I'm sorry—"

  "Don't apologize. It was a fine trick, and I should have suspected."

  "No, you shouldn't have. That's what made it a fine trick."

  Hephaestus reached out to straighten the headband, but his hand touched her brow and swept back over her flame-red hair, catching her at the nape. He found himself moving in closer to her, so close their lips touched. Aglaia's neck bowed and her lips parted against his, warm and inviting. He felt her arm glide to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. He closed his eyes and lost himself in her kiss.

  When they parted, Aglaia ran the tip of her tongue over her lips as if to savor the last taste of him. The simple yet provocative act drove him wild and would have brought him to his knees if he wasn't already there. He throbbed with desire.

  Her eyes opened lazily, their dusky luster mirroring his own need. "Mmmm," she murmured and licked her lips again. "I'm so glad you did that. Could you do it again?"

  "If I do, I won't stop at a kiss," he warned huskily.

  She smiled sweetly. "Good. I was afraid you might."

  Hephaestus caught her up closer to him, their lips sliding together urgently. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and hers darted against his until he captured it and suckled gently. She moaned, deep in her throat and pressed closer to him. He freed one hand and unfastened the clasp at her shoulder so that the drape of her chiton slipped down. He cupped her breast, and the hard peak jutted into his palm as if seeking his touch.

  Aglaia moaned again and arched into him, and he thought he might burst through his underlinen if he didn't have her now.

  "Here?" he whispered against her luscious lips.

  "And now," she demanded.

  He laughed. "The bed would be much softer."

  "But it would take forever to get there," she whimpered, running her hand over his chest, stopping at the hard tip of his breast. Her busy fingers further enflamed his desire.

  His head bent to place a kiss at her throat as he lifted her into his arms.

  "I want you in my bed," he rasped between kisses over her petal-soft skin to the generous swell of her breast. She tasted sweet, as if her skin were glazed with honey. "I plan to keep you there a long time."