Tainted (15 page)

“One must learn to adapt to survive,” her father said. “It
is, after all, far better than the alternative.”

“Unless, of course, one is Roman.” The
praetor
smiled
but it did not reach his eyes. “Surrender is never an option for the Eagle.”

Tension crackled in the room, causing the hair to rise on
the back of her neck and along her arms. The
praetor
was deliberately
baiting Gawain. Did he imagine Gawain such a savage that he would forsake good
manners and attack his host in his own home?

Yet where were the
praetor
’s manners? She had known
him for many years and he had never displayed such overt hostility in a social
situation before.

“To the continuing good health of the Eagle.” Maximus raised
his goblet. He still held Carys’ hand. As everyone followed suit, Antonia
noticed Gawain’s hands remained planted on his knees. His face was impassive
but he radiated coiled fury. She did not blame him. She was furious with the
praetor
on his behalf. “Excellent wine,
Praetor
,” Maximus said before he turned
toward her father. “Is this part of your latest shipment, Faustus? Remind me to
place an order.”

Her father responded and the conversation once again
navigated calmer waters. But the animosity between Gawain and the
praetor
seethed beneath the surface, a poisonous serpent waiting to strike. And Antonia
had the chilling certainty that tonight was just the beginning.

The final extravagant course had barely been cleared away
when Gawain made his excuses and rose to his feet. Not that he really bothered
with an excuse. He merely stated his intention to leave without regret or false
apology.

“You are not staying overnight?” The
praetor
lounged
back on the couch. “You are most welcome.” Insincerity dripped from every word.

“I have a prior engagement.” Gawain inclined his head.
“Thank you for your hospitality. It’s been most…illuminating.”

Antonia could feel heat flooding her face at his choice of
words, but at least he did not glance her way. His gaze was intent on the
praetor
.
But she knew Gawain was really speaking to her. Why else would he have chosen
to use the same word she had after the first time they had made love?

Sex. It was only sex.
But the reminder did nothing to
calm the frantic beat of her heart. Because she knew that Gawain was now fully
aware that the
praetor
regarded her as more than merely an old
acquaintance.

She was not even sure why that revelation angered him. But
it did, and she had known it would, and that was why she had attempted to allay
his suspicions the other day.

Why had she thought it exciting, at the start of the
evening, when Gawain had glared daggers at the
praetor
for taking her
arm? She was not a foolish girl who found pleasure in having two men vie for
her attention.

She had no wish for the
praetor
’s attention. But she
desperately longed for Gawain’s. And the tragic truth was, his obvious ire at
how the
praetor
had lavished his attention on her throughout the evening
had thrilled her feminine pride.

Until that last conversation. Dynamics had shifted, as
though the
praetor
changed battle tactics and went on the offensive. And
while his attitude and questions angered her on Gawain’s behalf, it was more
than that. She didn’t know what, did not even know why that thought was so
adamant in her mind. All she knew was something fundamental had shifted and it
went far beyond the events that had unfolded this night.

Gawain made perfunctory farewells and strode from the room
and Antonia fought the suicidal desire to leap to her feet and follow him. He
was meant to be only a distraction. A means to educate herself on the pleasures
of sensual seduction. He was not supposed to invade her mind at inconvenient
moments of the day and night and he certainly wasn’t supposed to interfere with
her shield of self-preservation.

The answer was obvious. She should end this liaison before
she became more entangled in his hypnotic web. But even as the thought thudded
through her head, she knew she had no intention of following it through.

Not yet. She could not bear to lose him just yet. Another
week or two and the memories they made would sustain her through the years
ahead, when her life revolved around Cassia.

The
praetor
was laughing at something Maximus had
said. “You are too noble, Maximus,” he said. “I know that look on a man’s face,
and he was most certainly going to find the sweet comfort of a woman’s
embrace.”

Antonia’s stomach churned. She kept her gaze fixed on the
table and ignored the pounding of her temples. Gawain was not going to see
another woman.

But how did she know?
He had never said she was his
only lover. He could have several. After all, they hadn’t been together for two
days. Yet it had never occurred to her that he might have slaked his lust
elsewhere.

How bitterly ironic. Her relief had been overwhelming
whenever she’d discovered Scipio had taken a new mistress, since it meant she
could enjoy a brief respite from his demands. But the thought of Gawain
entertaining another woman caused nausea to rise.

Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. The conversation, the
musicians or the dancers the
praetor
had hired to entertain his guests.
Everything pounded in her mind, a cacophony of colliding noise. If she didn’t
leave now she feared she might scream, and she couldn’t embarrass her father in
such a shocking fashion.

She pressed her fingertips against her temple and thankfully
her father picked up her cues and made their excuses. The
praetor
held
her hand, helped her to her feet, and his concern for her welfare appeared so
very genuine. As he led her into the atrium, she caught sight of Carys’ face.
She looked mutinous. Clearly the thought of staying the night under the
praetor
’s
roof did not appeal to her at all.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening, Antonia?” he said as a
slave brought her
palla
.

“Yes, thank you,
Praetor
. It was most enjoyable.”
Illuminating.
The word mocked her, but she ignored it.

He smiled, but oddly appeared ill at ease. “There is no need
to be so formal, Antonia. I’ve been your friend for many years. I would be
honored if you would once again call me Seneca.”

Her chest constricted, throat tightened. It was true that in
the past she had addressed him more intimately. But she hadn’t seen him for
months, and in the meantime, he had been promoted. Calling him by the title of
his office gave a semblance of detachment.

She needed to maintain that detachment. Now that she was no
longer married, she knew he would look upon her use of his given name as a
tacit agreement to his… advances.

“You are very kind.” She allowed him to take her hand and
remained rigid as he kissed her fingers.

“We trust you will allow us to return your hospitality,
Praetor
,”
her father said.

“I would be delighted.” The
praetor
’s voice was
stilted. He had not missed how she had deliberately not used his name, but she
was too tired to care.

It was only a short journey home and in the flickering light
of the
carpentum’s
lantern, she gave her father an exasperated glare.
“Why do you encourage him? You know of my feelings on this matter.”

Her father sighed and took her hand. “If your heart is set
on adopting this child you told me about, then I am certain the
praetor
will have no objection to embracing her as your daughter. He even said how much
he longed for a daughter. It’s as if the gods themselves bless this match.”

She stared at him as horror clutched her breast. She didn’t
want the
praetor
knowing she was adopting a child at all—a child who was
the exact same age as her own, supposedly dead, daughter—but the scenario her
father painted was nothing short of a nightmare.

It would never happen. She took a deep breath and tried to
calm her mind. When her father entertained the
praetor,
she would affect
feminine indisposition and not join them. It was unforgivably rude, but surely
the
praetor
would finally realize she was not interested in what he
offered her?

Elpis met her in the atrium and with relief, Antonia made
her way to her bedchamber. The thought of having relaxing incense burning as
soothing oils were rubbed on her temples was seductive.

It might even take her mind off the thought of Gawain with
another woman.

“
Domina
.” Elpis’ whisper was scarcely audible as she
paused outside Antonia’s bedchamber. “I will be here if you should need me.”

Antonia blinked and frowned. Her headache was worse than she
thought, since she could make no sense of Elpis’ comment at all.

“Where else would you be?” Elpis had slept in her bedchamber
up until her marriage, and ever since her divorce.

Elpis smiled and opened the door. A low golden glow bathed
her bedchamber from the lamps. “Here,
domina
,” she whispered. “I will be
right here.”

Antonia’s breath caught in her throat and a quiver of
delicious alarm skated through her breast.
Surely not?
But she didn’t
ask Elpis the question hammering through her mind. Instead she stepped into her
bedchamber, and Elpis gently closed the door behind her.

From shadows beyond her bed, Gawain emerged, like a warrior
god from the beginning of time. Her mouth dried and heart lurched against her
ribs. He was here. In her bedchamber. Waiting for her.

“Are you speechless with delight or horror, my lady?” His
low, mocking voice wrapped around her, as sensuous as the incense from the
Temple of Venus. “Will you scream in pleasure or disgust at my touch?”

“I cannot believe you’re here.” Her voice was scarcely above
a whisper. Her heart thundered too hard to draw enough breath into her lungs.
“If my father discovered you he would…” She wasn’t sure what her father would
do. Run a dagger through Gawain’s heart or die of shame at her feet?

“Then we had best ensure your father never finds out.” He
took another unhurried step toward her and her foolish heart twisted at the
magnificent figure he presented. The glow from the lamps heightened the bronze
of his skin and dark blond of his hair, and enhanced the breathtaking muscles
of his biceps. If Celts sculpted images of their gods in marble, Gawain would
be their chief deity made flesh.

She walked toward him until merely a hair’s breadth pulsed
between them. She longed to wrap herself around him, breathe in his unique
scent and forget the outside world in his arms. But she feared if she did so,
he might guess that her feelings were deeper for him now. And she did not want
to give him any reason to end this insane liaison any earlier than fate had
already decreed.

“How are you here?” Of course, Elpis must have assisted him.
But even so, the dangers of evading the guards, of being seen to slip into her
room, were immense.

“I have my ways.” His teeth flashed in a mirthless smile and
with a jolt, she realized that he still seethed with fury. “It was not so very
difficult for a man with my talents.”

His self-scathing comment lashed across her heart. How many
times had he evaded capture in order to meet an illicit lover in her
bedchamber? Why had she imagined this was something as shocking and novel to
him, as well as for her?

She smothered the questions before they consumed her. It did
not matter how many times in the past he had done this. At least he was with
her now, and not with a strange, faceless woman. The knowledge eased the ache
in her heart and she cradled his jaw with one hand, rubbing her thumb across
his light stubble.

“Your talents,” she whispered, “are impressive.”

His lips quirked in obvious reluctance. “Don’t flatter me
with pretty words, Antonia.”

“Why not?” She trailed her fingertips along the strong line
of his jaw. “You flatter me most charmingly.”

His large hand covered hers. For a moment, she thought he
was going to thrust her from him, but instead his fingers threaded through
hers.

“No.” His voice was harsh. “I don’t. It’s one of my
irresistible traits, Antonia. I am blunt to the point of barbarity.”

His self-condemnation caused her heart to squeeze. She took
that final step and sank against the hard ridges of his body. “I have yet to
see this barbarian of whom you so freely speak.”

Tension radiated from him, coiled and waiting to spring. Did
he truly imagine that she compared him to the
praetor
—and found Gawain
wanting? How could he be so blind?

How could she prove how wrong he was?

“That Roman.” Gawain’s breath seared her ear as he wound his
arm around her waist and held her in a punishing grip. “Every time he looked at
you he stripped you with his eyes. His lust polluted the air. He will not rest
until he has you in his bed.”

Unease shivered along her spine at his words, but she forced
it aside. She was not as easily manipulated as Gawain appeared to think.

“I have no intention of sharing his bed. But I have every
intention that you will share mine this night.”

She felt his body shake in a silent laugh and then he pulled
back so he could look into her face. “I am enraged. How dare you attempt to
mollify me with false promises?”

“It’s not a false promise. It is night, you are here and my
bed is beside us.”

He glowered at her, even as his tempting mouth fought to
smile. His frown lost the battle. “You are an enchantress. There’s no other
explanation. What magic have you cast upon me, my lady?”

“A lady never shares her secrets, Gawain.” And then she
laughed at the absurdity of her comment, at the relief Gawain was no longer
vibrating with repressed fury and the knowledge that, for a short time at
least, she could hold him close and savor each precious moment.

He grunted and began to pull the pins from her hair. “As
long as I’m the only one you enchant. I don’t share what is mine.”

A foolish frisson of delight ignited deep in her heart. She
knew he spoke purely from lust when she—ah, she could no longer deny the truth.
It was so much more than lust for her. But what did it matter if she hugged his
words close and gave them a meaning he did not intend? “And am I yours?”

For a second he paused, his hand in her hair, his gaze
boring into her as if he wanted to peel back the layers of her mind and read
her most secret of desires.

“Yes.” His voice was raw, primitive and another delicious
tremor claimed her sensitized flesh. “Tonight you are all mine, Antonia. I
intend that you will never forget what we shared together.”

There was little chance of that when Gawain had slid,
unbidden, into her heart. She would remember him until her last breath.

“But will you forget, Gawain? Will I be simply another Roman
woman you passed a few pleasant weeks with? Will you even recall my name a year
from now?”

Somehow she kept her voice light, playful, as though she
didn’t mean every word from the bottom of her soul. It would do no good for him
to discover just how devastated she’d be if he forgot everything about her as
soon as their liaison ended.