The Patrician (36 page)

Even as pride swelled in him at the way Bryna had handled his cousin’s disdain, a new fear rose. As his wife, Bryna could very well become the target of the scum behind his troubles. If they came to know how much Bryna meant to him?

Slipping back into the house, he headed down the hall to find Damon. The urgency to uncover the truth just intensified tenfold.

“M
istress! Please! Talus will beat me if he finds I have allowed you to dirty your hands!”

Bryna sighed and lifted another basket of leeks. She cast a quick look at the slave girl standing in the doorway wringing her hands. Tian was a pretty girl with straight black hair, tawny complexion and almond shaped eyes which at this moment were filled with anxiety. She caught Bryna looking at her and immediately shifted her gaze to the floor. Bryna gritted her teeth. She hated when the servants did that.

“Do not fret so, Tian.” Miriam chirped from her perch on a basket. “Have you not already seen that my cousin’s wife does as she pleases.” She looked up at Bryna and smiled.

Bryna reciprocated, brushing her hand along the girl’s baby fine tresses. Jared’s young cousin had become her companion, following her everywhere, asking all manner of questions and making a general pest of herself. She’d admit there were times when the constant chattering wearied her, but she refused to admonish the lonely little girl. Besides, her company went a long way to easing her own solitude.

“My hands have been dirtied before and Talus will not dare lay a hand on you, for I forbid it,” Bryna answered firmly.“It’s all right Tian,” Miriam continued her reassurance. “Bryna’s a barbarian and Father says they are often quite gruff.” The child’s hand flew to her mouth. She turned anguished eyes to Bryna.

Bryna kept her smile fixed in place, waited for the ache to ease from her chest. “Be at ease, Miriam, you did not hurt my feelings.” She noted the number of baskets on a piece of parchment. “I am from a land that your world does not understand, so we are called barbarian. I am proud to be from
Eire
.” She encompassed both with a look. “I know it is unusual for the lady of the house to set her hands to the tasks of the household, but this helps me to learn the best way to manage things.” And, she thought, it helped keep her mind off Jared. A feat, she thought miserably, nearly impossible to do.

They had fallen into an easy, if not tenuous routine in the two weeks since their argument. Jared rose well before dawn each day, would remain gone until the evening meal where he acknowledged her with frivolous conversation. It drove her mad.

It was beyond her comprehension how he could care about the cut of meat on his plate when his enemy was still unknown. When she pressed for information on his search, he would tell her he had things well in hand, but to let him know if she experienced any visions that might be useful. She had tried, spent hours focusing her energy, but her sight, as usual, was uncooperative.

At night there were no words between them. At first, her hurt so deep, she’d thought to deny him her bed. But the fact was she ached for him. He’d come to her the night following their argument and without words he joined her beneath the covers, used those skillful hands to fire her blood. Gifted her with soul-draining kisses. Before she could recover, he’d make passionate love to her until she was limp and in no condition to respond—or argue. 

Bryna worried her lower lip. She was afraid that that particular nightly activity was doing more than forestalling her questions. She had not had her monthly flow for two months. She gave herself a mental shake. It was the strain she’d been under for so long. She shifted her attention back to the worried slave girl. “Now run and see if Talus has returned from his errand.” Tian rushed from the room.

“Where is
Eire
?” asked Miriam, biting into a ripe mango she’d appropriated from the stores. “Is it near Rome? I’ve never been to Rome. What of your family? Are they barbarians too?”

Bryna straightened several flasks of olive oil lining the storage room shelves. Gods, she did miss her family. Missed Bran. She closed her eyes, searching for that undercurrent of his essence, sighing with relief when she touched it. She had to help Jared find his abductors so that he would help her find her brother.

“Have I made you sad, Bryna? I’m sorry. Mother always says I speak too quickly.”

Bryna shrugged. “I am always a little sad when I think of home. And no, thank the gods, it is nowhere near Rome. Rome is hard and cold, the streets filled with the stench of too many people.
Eire
,” Bryna smiled wistfully. “
Eire
is filled with cool breezes scented with pine and the laughter of the
Tuatha de Dannon
, magical beings with great power. I miss the lakes blue as sky, the hills filled with soft summer grass.”

“It sounds wonderful,” sighed Miriam. “I think I should like to go there instead of Rome.”

The depth of sincerity in Miriam’s expression caused Bryna to laugh. “Perhaps someday you shall.”

A sudden look of alarm crossed Miriam’s youthful face. “You won’t go back to
Eire
? You’re married to Jared. You belong here now. You won’t leave, will you, Bryna? ”

***

Answer the child, Bryna
.

Jared’s chest tightened as he leaned against the wall outside the door. She was taking too long to answer Miriam’s question. What answer did he expect? A declaration of loyalty?

Of love?

He ran a hand through his hair. In truth he didn’t deserve one. Not after acting the tyrant.

He’d thought to maintain a cool distance in public from Bryna, not a difficult task given the walls her anger and hurt had built against him. Damon, ever the keen observer and thorn in his side, had pointed out that doing so would raise suspicions in the household and leave her vulnerable. He’d argued against that reasoning until he witnessed Elizabeth baiting Bryna at every turn. He frowned. When had his gentle cousin become so harsh?

He returned his attention to the storeroom and Miriam’s anxious face. Bryna was sifting through a basket of ground wheat. “Why do you take so long to answer the child?”

Jared cursed himself as she jumped but when she glanced over her shoulder he saw a spark of heat. His cock tightened. He cleared his throat. “Miriam, I believe Aunt Neta is looking for you.”

“Mama has gone to the marketplace,” replied Miriam matter-of-factly.

“Miriam, I need to speak with my wife—privately.” He struggled to keep his tone, smooth and pleasant but filled with command. The girl’s eyes grew big. She nodded and fled through the door, her petite form dwarfed by Jared’s imposing figure.

A flash of pink colored Bryna’s neck. Temper or desire? She composed herself and lifted another basket which she set with some force on a shelf. Melons rolled to the floor.

“Ah, your temper remains in fine form,” he drawled. She shot him an irritated look.

“There was no need to scare the poor child.” She picked up one of the rolling melons, threw it into the basket where, it bounced right back out on the floor.

Jared hid his smile, moved closer, her sea fresh scent filling his senses. “I do not think Miriam was frightened. But can you say the same?” His barb hit its target. Her eyes flared green fire, her eyes narrowed.

“I am not afraid of you.”

“Really?” He brushed a finger down her cheek. He wanted to go further, wanted to trace his way down to her core. He held her gaze which burned with more than anger. She wanted him, but a flash of sadness in those green depths dampened his lust.

“What do you want, Jared? I would have thought business matters would have kept you too busy to be plaguing me.”

He raised a brow. “A husband does not have to have a reason to seek out his wife.”

She looked as if she would dispute him. He changed the subject. “Talus tells me you are learning your lessons well, that your Hebrew is improving with each day.” He eased himself to the seat vacated by Miriam, stretched his legs before him.

“I have learned a few words,” she grumbled. Her eyes narrowed and she shot him a venomous look. He had spoken in Hebrew, and she had answered in kind. She threw another piece of fruit at a basket, muttering a curse as it too, bounced off the wall.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “There was also the matter of the rumors circulating among the house staff, though I could not credit the truth of them. It was impossible to imagine the mistress of the villa laboring like a. . .”

“A slave?”

The word fell like a weight between them. Jared stared at her, his own memories of pain and degradation surging out of the far corners of his mind. He looked down to find he was rubbing his scarred wrists. The scar put there by an enemy. He’d come to tell Bryna why he’d been remote but now?

Bryna sighed. “Jared, I won’t be a pampered lady. I can’t be. I do not know how to be.” She crossed her arms in front of her, mirroring his own inflexible posture.

“You are my wife. I could order you to stop.”

“Like a master?”

Gods, this was not going as he’d planned. “No, Bryna, like a husband. A husband who can make a home for his wife, give her fine things.”

“You’ve already exerted that authority.”

Jared cringed at her bitter tone.

“You have not played the role of husband these past weeks.”

The underlying hurt in her voice caused his chest to constrict. Not played the husband?  “Have I not? Then who is that man who leaves your bed each morning?”

“There is more to being a husband.”

Jared bit back the question that sprang to the tip of his tongue—how many husbands had she had to compare? He sniffed. “There have been many matters requiring my attention.”

She reacted by stiffening her shoulders and Jared clenched his jaw as he felt the distance between them widen by a fraction.

She turned to face him. “I told you,
promised
you I would help search for your betrayers, yet we’ve not spoken of them since our return.”

“We have spoken of it,” he muttered.

“We have not,” she insisted, waving a hand in the air. “You talk of your precious cargos and inventories with your uncle, conspire with Damon.”

“They will be found.”

“How long will it take?” she asked, “How large is Alexandria?”

“Damon and I will find them.” He shifted under her intense regard.

“Two men? When I might be able to sense their presence? Their plans?”

“I have told you to report any impressions, visions.” To stay safe.

Bryna nudged a basket out of the way and stepped closer. “My sight may show itself were I to venture into the city...”

“To search for your brother! It is too dangerous,” he snapped, glaring at her. “I will not risk your life outside these walls. You will stay here, be as a wife to me and question me no further.” Bryna stared at him, her eyes equal parts temper and that damnable hurt.

“I’m not as naïve as you believe me to be. I know that Bran’s conditions are not good, but I know here...” She pressed her hand to her heart. “...that he lives still. But he might not if I delay any longer.” She looked down, visibly collected herself then met his gaze. “I thought there were feelings between us. I thought...” her voice trailed away.

He did love her, could she not see that? He was protecting her, saving her from dangers he had been too thick-headed to see before, that by the very nature of his return had increased tenfold. She knew nothing of his world, had been hurt by it in ways he now understood all too well. And if she needed to think him callous and arrogant to keep her away from harm, then so be it. He stood up. “I do care for you, Bryna.” He paused, “As a husband should. Leave the labors of the kitchen to the household staff.”

Bryna pressed her lips together, gave a short nod. Jared wanted to take her in his arms, but the rigid set of her shoulders warned him away. He spun on his heel and stalked out of the storeroom.

***

“And here!” Exclaimed Damon, scanning the text of the scroll with his finger. “The name Hapu appears three times in as many months.” He swung his gaze to Jared.

Jared forced his thoughts from Bryna to the present.

“The pattern is obvious,” continued Damon, his tone reflecting his mounting excitement. “Hapu, an Egyptian from the poorest district lists large inventories of goods for taxation in the months prior to your abduction.” Damon looked up from the papyrus. “The inventories match to the letter, the items stolen from your warehouses.”

“Who is this Hapu?” asked Jared, puzzled. “I know all the merchants who do business in Alexandria and many in the ports and cities where I trade. I do not recall a trader by that name.”

Damon picked up another document. “I sent some men to make inquiries. They report that Hapu, son of Reshef, was a farmer. He tilled three separate parcels of land along with his father and five brothers. Two years past, he suddenly left the fields behind and came to live in Alexandria.”

“The farms must have been very successful.” said Jared.

“Perhaps,” answered Damon, squinting to read the fine lettering of the document. “It seems Hapu took his portion of the land, sold it and moved to the city. All without the permission of his father, who petitioned the local authorities to return the land and punish his son as a thief.”

Jared raised a brow. “Rashef won the case?”

“No. It seems that Hapu sold the land that had come with his mother’s dowry. She was the third of Rashef’s wives and felt quite neglected. She allowed her son to sell the land with her blessings. The magistrate ruled in Hapu’s favor.”

Jared turned this information over in his mind. This man Hapu, had sold his mother’s land and come to Alexandria to seek his fortune almost a full year before his own started to disintegrate.

“I am certain that he did not take his profits and start a merchandising enterprise,” Jared said slowly. “I would have met him or at the least heard his name mentioned. I always make a point of knowing my competitors. Do your sources say what he did in those preceding months?”
Damon scanned the parchments. “He bought a large house in dire need of repairs along the northern shore, sundry house wares, a staff of two slave women and,” he raised questioning eyes to Jared. “four male slaves with which he started his own gladiatorial school.”