Surrender to the Roman (15 page)

Still, she did not resist him when he gathered her into his arms. The desire to care for her overwhelmed him as his body warmed hers. He helped her to her feet, able only to focus on her well-being. As he maneuvered to the doorway, Lucia rushed in to help.

Flora stood back, her face the color of ash.

“Take her to my room,” he murmured, and let Lucia take over while he corralled the rest of his unwanted house guests.

He felt as if he’d ingested a stone. The realization of how this looked came upon him a little at a time. After the gossips learned of these events, Trajan would have no reason to excuse him or grant his petition. This split between him and his second over a slave did not make him look innocent.

All the more reason he had to uncover the root of the conspiracy against him before Trajan called him to explain.

When the house had been emptied—no small task—Marcus stalked to his
cubiculum
and drew back the curtain. Lucia ministered to several small cuts across Ademeni’s shoulders. Flickering lamplight lent softness to the two women as they sat side by side.

“I’ve given her something to help her sleep.” Lucia glanced at him. A knowledgeable Roman patron, she continued, “You may have gone too far.”

He stepped inside the room. “Tertullian is out of control.”

“Be sure that you are not also out of control,” she warned.

“Is this not what you had in mind when you counseled both of us?” he accused.

Lucia shook her head. So, she had not counted on them coming to care for each other. “You tread on uneven ground. This is all I am saying.” Laying aside the cloth she used to clean Ademeni’s scrapes, she rose and touched Marcus on the shoulder as she left the room.

Alone with Ademeni, he felt as if his hands had been tied behind his back. He could say nothing to remedy this night. Rather than using words, he sat beside her and wrapped her in his arms. She began to shake, and he held her until she exhausted herself, kissing her temples and cheeks.

Careful of her injuries, he nestled her in the blankets as she drifted into a fretful sleep. While he thanked the gods that no real harm had come to her, he wouldn’t be closing his eyes tonight.

He knew his enemy with all probability—now he just had to prove it to the emperor of Rome.

Ademeni stared at Marcus through the milky haze of an overcast dawn. She reached for his shoulder, then, tears scalding her eyes, she let her hand fall away. She’d already gone to wake him several times. Her mind whirred with the things she wanted to say to him before he left for whatever new post Trajan assigned.

But she let him sleep. He’d come to her rescue last night. Taken care of her as if she were kin. Now she must tell him her true feelings and accept whatever resolution he offered. For after he left the house today, there might not be another opportunity.

“How long have you been awake?”

Marcus’s gruff voice interrupted her thoughts. She steeled herself against her attraction to him, leaning toward the sound of his voice regardless.

“Not long,” she lied.

He sat, brow furrowed. “Long enough to become upset.”

She blinked and glanced away, and then studied the weave of the blanket coiled around her body. Lovely work, really, she should learn how…

He lifted her chin and redirected her attention. “What bothers you on such a beautiful morning?”

Beautiful? He had lost his senses. The humidity that clung to the seven hills threatened to stifle her. Each breath nearly gagged her with its weight.

“Tertullian will not come near you again.”

The thought of that awful man touching her sent a shiver through her soul. Marcus could not protect her once he was gone. She would have to look for ways to protect herself, as hiding behind these walls would serve little purpose.

She straightened her spine. “When will you leave today?”

“Soon.” He studied the rise and depth of the shadows. “I have things to do in the city.”

Ademeni pulled in a huge breath, apprehension eating at her heart. The words she sought deserted her tongue, and she sat before Marcus with her mouth half open, unable to speak.

He reached for her hand. “What is it?”

The dam burst, and words tumbled from her lips like rushing water. “Can you not see that I’ve fallen in love with you and I’m afraid you’re going to leave me to rot in Rome for the love of your emperor?”

His eyes grew wider, and she couldn’t look away from the dread on his face. Now he fell into muted silence, his mouth twitching without forming a response.

Her heart seized and she squeezed his hand. “Grant me my freedom, if you feel anything at all for me. You have been so kind to me, you have never made me feel small, and I only ask that you grant me my freedom that I may return to my homeland.”

Marcus snapped his jaw shut. She stopped rambling as his eyes fell dead behind a veil of impunity. His hands became like cold marble in hers, and she loosened her fingers one by one until she released him.

Panic rushed through her body. She’d made a huge blunder. After everything, after his tenderness and his protective posturing, she had somehow miscalculated her situation. He did not feel for her—at least not in comparison to his duty and loyalty to an idea, to a tyrant.

The bitterness of rejection and fear mingled in the back of her throat. Once upon a time, suitors had come seeking her hand in marriage, even if only for political gain. What had she become?

Longing to hide her face, she sank back in the bed and turned her back to him. Her mind reached for new alternatives, new ways to find her way out of the maze that her life had become.

Embarrassment filled her eyes with blinding tears, and she choked back an onslaught of anger. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her weep or hearing her sob. Instead, she gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands.

If her future did not rest with Marcus, she would just have to find another way out of her most unfortunate circumstance.

* * *

Marcus had never been so stunned, even on the field of battle. He longed to take Ademeni in his arms, comfort her and tell her that he would grant her request in a heartbeat. That she could be free to choose him or not. That he was willing to lose her if that freedom made her happy.

But going into the city and procuring the proper paperwork would only fuel the rumors against him. Freeing her today could cost his life. Was he willing to pay that price? It had never been asked of him before, not even for Julia.

Only for Rome.

If she could wait just one more day, he could possibly give her all she asked and more. Once he found a way to prove his loyalty and Tertullian’s treachery, anything he requested would be his.

Or, he could give her what she asked regardless of how fate treated him. Take the risk, make the choice and live with the consequences.

Marcus hesitated. He’d put his life on the line too many times to count since reaching maturity and training for a life in military service. All without much forethought. His life had been mapped out, and he had simply followed the plan.

As he studied Ademeni’s graceful form, silken hair and proud bearing, he realized he’d never been forced to make any decisions. Even marrying Julia had been something that came along, a politically advantageous pairing and a boon to his career.

And while he’d loved Julia, he’d loved her the way one loves a member of their birth family. The passion he felt for Ademeni had been absent, and he hadn’t known what he’d been missing all these years until she emerged from that cellar in Dacia.

Sunlight swelled into the room, the early morning fog burned from an unforgiving sky. Time slipped away while he sat, considering complicated things that should have clear answers.

Having made his decision, he rose from the bed and readied himself quickly for a day nearly half gone. Ademeni did not know—nor did she need to know—the danger in which he found himself. He would do what he needed to do, and when the game had played out, she would understand no matter the outcome.

Marcus walked to the wash basin and splashed cold water on his face. His calloused hands scrubbed away the last of his indecision.

Throwing a fresh tunic over his head, Marcus turned and looked at Ademeni again, but she had not moved. A thousand words could do no justice to how he felt.

Reaching for her, he paused, hand in midair, and stopped himself. Withdrawing, he hoped that, even should he die, his actions would echo of his love for her to the end of her long years of life.

“You understand that I must go.” Without a backward glance, he left the room, put on his armor and went forth to prove to himself and to anyone who cared to see that something in this world was bigger than Rome.

* * *

Ademeni held her breath, listening to the clank of the sword against Marcus’s side as he tightened his weapon on his hip and walked away from the room. Away from her. His footfalls whispered on the stone, and she lifted her head, straining to hear his exit from the house.

When the heavy door creaked shut, she exhaled and dragged herself to a sitting position. Sounds of the house coming to life rushed in around the tired corners of her mind. Most had come to expect her silent escape from Marcus’s room in the early morning haze. Most respected her enough to pretend they did not see her.

The thought of slinking down the narrow corridor again this morning sparked anger in her belly. The shame she’d felt that first morning had long since vanished. She only carried the burden because it was expected of her.

She straightened her shoulders. It mattered little what any of them thought. Life could not have dealt a crueler fate, yet something unexpected and living and wonderful had come from the darkness, if only for a few precious moments.

Dragging her hands through her tangled hair, she gathered her dignity and reached into the past to recapture a portion of her royal bearing. None of them needed to know that Marcus did not care for her the way she cared for him.

For the day, she would be a loyal princess and damn anyone who could not abide her. With a tilt of her head, she swirled the sheet around her body and swept out of Marcus’s chamber.

The buzz in the kitchen stopped abruptly as Ademeni rounded the corner toward her own room. Rather than ducking behind the curtain, she stopped and widened her eyes as if she’d only just noticed they were there.

She lifted her chin and focused on Flora, who had been spoiling for a fight from the beginning. “Is there something you wish to say?”

Flora’s face reddened, but she held her tongue. Ademeni turned her attention to Callia, who smiled at her from a seat at the table. The sun warmed her shoulders as the child’s favor warmed her soul.

“Would you like to go into town today?” Ademeni offered. No one stepped forward to contradict her, although Lucia’s lips quirked downward.

Callia looked to her grandmother, who smoothed the child’s hair with her fingers, then consented with a nervous nod. As Callia scampered away to dress herself, Lucia warned, “The climate in Rome is tepid. Be on guard while you are out.”

Ademeni took the words under advisement while she dressed and selected a garment that would partially hide her face—and entirely hide a dagger. If faced with a hostile crowd, she would not be caught unprepared again.

If anything ever happened to Callia, she would have no laurels upon which to rest. Once on the road, she advised Callia that they would play a game to find good hiding places on the way to the Forum.

“When we get to the market, we will pick the best hiding place. Then if we get separated, we will know where to meet.”

The little girl’s eyes glittered. She knew nothing of danger, and perhaps no harm was in the air. But if Ademeni’s intuition had not faded, tension pinned the city at all corners just when the patrons of Rome should be enjoying their precious gladiatorial games.

Holding tight to Callia’s small hand, Ademeni navigated the street vendors as if she’d been born to Rome. She bargained for the few things the household needed, lingering to listen for any gossip sweeping up the street.

Her patience was rewarded when, after a company of soldiers rode up the street in a cloud of dust, she heard the declaration, “Those are Tertullian’s men.”

Since when had Tertullian his own men? He was one of Marcus’s men. Pulling Callia against her skirts, she busied herself in a silk vendor’s stall and strained to hear more.

“There’s to be a fight among them for sure…”

“He’s got no chance, man to man.”

“You think Trajan will play things out that way, then?”

“If he wants to entertain us, he will!”

Laugher scratched down her back. She needed more information, but dared not look at either of the two men for fear of being recognized as belonging to Marcus.

“Still, to risk losing a good general like Marcus Cordovis? There must be good evidence he’s turned traitor.”

Ademeni’s heart stopped. Traitor? Who on earth would believe such a thing? A more loyal man Rome never knew.

Callia tugged on her hand. “Why are they talking about Papa?”

Her sweet voice cut through the thick noise of trade like a sword in the heat of battle. A quick glance told Ademeni they had been noticed and clearly heard.

“Go.” She turned Callia away from their shocked faces and back into the street. No sooner had they weaved into foot traffic than she heard, “There’s his whore now!”

Accelerating her pace, she picked up more snippets of conversation.

“Turned on his own family…”

“…one thing to take a slave, another to let her run your house like a wife.”

She’d heard enough. Snatching Callia into her arms, she pushed through the crowd, looking for a safe place to duck into so she could regain her bearings.

“There.” Callia pointed out one of their possible hiding places. The girl had more sense in a crisis than ten men, truly her father’s daughter.

Ademeni ducked into a low, narrow opening behind a row of livestock vendors. She braced herself against the stench of manure as Callia’s scowl reflected her own disgust.

She covered the child’s mouth before she could object in any way, and lowered them to the shadows near the ground.

“Shhhh.” She held a finger to her lips and released her hold on Callia. Leaning her head toward the opening, Ademeni strained to hear anything more over the thundering of her heart.

What she heard confirmed her worst fear. People believed that Marcus had become besotted with her and sat ready and able to turn his back on Trajan at her command.

“…raising a force outside the city to unseat him.”

Bile rose in the back of her throat. How could they believe such things about Marcus? And how could they say such things about him?

As though they’d been inside his house.

Her heart seized in her chest as she peered outside, realization fueling her fear. Where was Marcus now? Had he risen this morning only to ride into a trap?

Desperate to both make her escape and keep Callia safe, she bided her time in their putrid hiding place. Soon, the din settled into dust and she felt safe enough to slip away, Callia in tow.

By the time she reached the gate to the home of Marcus Cordovis, her anger had reached the point of eruption. Someone inside this house had betrayed Marcus, and she would find out who would be foolish enough to cross the most powerful general in Rome—and the woman who loved him.