Tainted (21 page)

A part of her heart would break if Elpis decided to leave
her. They were not related by blood, yet she was the nearest thing to a sister
Antonia had ever known.

Indecision gnawed through her gut yet she knew she had no
choice. Tomorrow. She would arrange for Elpis’ manumission tomorrow. Despicable
relief licked through her at the unavoidable delay.

Another slave came into the courtyard. “Apologies for
interrupting,
domina
. A message arrived for you from the Lady Carys. She
deeply regrets she has to postpone your visit this afternoon.”

Disappointment seared through her. She had been looking
forward to seeing Gawain again.

But why couldn’t Gawain see her later? Had something
happened to him? No. Surely Carys would have found a way to let her know. There
were a thousand reasons why Gawain could not see her, and none of them had
anything to do with him wishing to finish their liaison.

Her afternoon was now free. She glanced at Elpis and knew
she could no longer put off the inevitable. Elpis, who had remained by her side
for seventeen years without complaint, deserved the chance to choose her own
future, not have it dictated for her.

The following morning Antonia answered her father’s summons
to the atrium without Elpis by her side. After the formalities of her
manumission had been completed, Antonia had arranged for Elpis to be given her
own quarters in the townhouse. She had offered her clothes appropriate to her
freed station, jewelry—even her own personal slave girl if she wished.

Elpis had remained oddly subdued by her enhanced status, as
though everything Antonia offered her in an effort to persuade her to stay did
not quite touch her. What else could Antonia do to ensure Elpis did not decide
to leave? She’d imagined—hoped—the other woman would continue to accompany her
as she always had. But Elpis hadn’t offered and she hadn’t liked to ask. Not
when she had just granted Elpis her freedom.

With a heavy sigh, she entered the atrium. Her father had
appeared to be avoiding her since his shocking disclosure the previous day. Had
he changed his mind, and now wanted to share more details of her mother’s
untimely death?

A thought stabbed through her mind. Had he called on the
mysterious wisdom of Druids in a last attempt to save her mother’s life? And
when the Druid in question had been unable to prevent the inevitable, instead
of berating Juno, goddess of childbirth, her father had laid the blame at the
Druid’s feet.

Although the scenario was scarcely credible, it
was
possible. Surely more possible than the idea her mother had been murdered in
cold blood.

But if her father now wished to confide, why had he summoned
her here? This was where they greeted guests, not where they—

Her thoughts severed as the
praetor
turned toward
her. Did he want his answer already? He’d said he would give her a few days to
consider his offer. Not that she had needed a few days. Her decision had been
made before she even left his office.

“Antonia.” Her father walked toward her and took her arm.
“The
praetor
has requested permission to speak with you alone. Is this
something you also wish?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the
praetor
shoot
her father a shocked glance. Clearly he hadn’t expected her father to ask her
opinion on such a matter. But there was a thread of granite in her father’s
voice that had never been apparent in his dealing with the
praetor
before, and Antonia knew why.

It was because her father knew the
praetor
was
acquainted with Scipio. And for that, the
praetor
no longer existed on a
pristine patrician pedestal in her father’s mind.

Rome had lost her glow.

It was better to get this over with sooner rather than
later, and it was not fair to keep the
praetor
waiting in hope for
something she had no intention of doing. “Yes.”

He stared into her eyes for a moment longer than necessary,
then nodded and left the atrium. But instead of disappearing, he sat on a bench
that gave him visual access. It was obvious he no longer trusted the
praetor
at all.

She turned back to the
praetor
and the two slaves who
remained in the atrium retreated toward the far wall to allow them some degree
of privacy. He stepped toward her, kissed her hand and visibly stiffened when
she firmly withdrew her hand from his prolonged clasp.

“My lady. I trust you have given my proposal some thought.”

She could not put it off any longer. “I have,
Praetor
.”

His jaw tightened at the use of his title, but he said
nothing. She swallowed and wished Elpis’ comforting presence was by her side.
“I thank you for the great honor you offer me, but I have to refuse. I have my
daughter’s well-being to consider and will never remarry.”

But how she would love to call Gawain her husband.
A
foolish dream, fit only for young, naïve girls. But still she wished it, with
all her heart.

“Your daughter’s well-being is of paramount importance to
me, also.” His words were stiff but the very fact he had uttered them and not
either arrowed a withering remark her way or gathered his pride and left,
astounded her.

She struggled to find her voice. Clawed desperately through
her mind for a suitable response. It was unheard of that a man of his status
should attempt to persuade her, a plebian in the eyes of Rome, to accept his
hand in marriage.

They could dance with words for hours. The thought sent a
shudder of horror along her spine.

“Seneca.” Her voice was hushed. For all his faults, he had
never been anything but thoughtful with her. “I’m sorry. I endured one loveless
marriage. I could not bear to embark on another.”

The silence screamed in her ears as his unblinking gaze
bored into her. She resisted the urge to squirm, to look away; to call her
father to her side. Why didn’t the
praetor
accept her word and take his
leave? Why did he insist on prolonging this excruciating encounter?

“In time, my lady, I believe you could grow to love me.”

Her knees shook and she gripped her fingers together as his
words echoed and overlapped in her mind. Was he saying what she thought he was?

Juno, no. The
praetor
could not love her. She didn’t
want his love. She must have misunderstood.

“There is no room in my heart to love another but my
daughter.” Even as she said the words, Gawain’s face swam into her mind and she
felt blood heat her cheeks in damning denial.

The
praetor
’s lips thinned and a chill trickled along
Antonia’s arms. Instinctively she stepped back, and instantly his features
returned to their normal mask of civility.

But nothing could erase that fleeting moment and a terrible
suspicion surfaced. Did the
praetor
know of her affair with Gawain?

Nausea churned her stomach. She hoped she was mistaken. The
praetor
was a powerful man. He could have Gawain killed in an instant if he so desired.

“I’m a patient man, Antonia.” He sounded perfectly
reasonable but the unease persisted. “I’ve waited more than ten years for you.
I can wait a few more for your love. But when I leave Britannia, you will be by
my side as my wife.”

She let out a ragged breath. “I have no intention of leaving
Britannia or becoming your wife.” If he continued, she would have no recourse
but to call for her father. The
praetor
clearly did not believe she
meant every word. But a refusal from her father—that would carry all the weight
needed.

Again silence stretched between them. He did not move toward
her and yet his presence loomed over her. Finally he spoke. “I understand your
reluctance in this matter. But you have the rest of your life ahead of you. You
cannot fill your entire future with dangerous… infatuations.”

A skeletal claw closed around her heart and an eerie echo
filled her mind. He could not know for certain. He was merely playing with
words. She fought the overwhelming urge to collapse on the nearest couch.

“Infatuations?” Her voice sounded oddly high-pitched. She
sounded utterly guilty.

His mouth smiled but his eyes did not. “The savage lure of a
barbarian can be seductive. I do not blame you in this matter, Antonia. But you
must know it can go no further. The risk is too great.”

He
knew
. The words pounded against her skull,
amplifying every panicked beat of her heart. She did not much care if he
threatened to drag her reputation through the mud, but she knew that was not
his intention.

For Gawain’s sake, she had to persuade the
praetor
his suspicions were unfounded. “You speak in riddles,
Praetor
.”

His jaw tensed. “It would be unfortunate if my
investigations uncovered certain… criminal activities associated with a
Cambrian of our mutual acquaintance.”

The thinly disguised threat wrapped around her like a
poisonous fog, sucking the strength from her limbs and filling her mind with a
hammering terror. Somehow she forced words around her paralyzed tongue.
“Criminal activities?”

He could mean only one thing. And they both knew what it was
without the need to say the word aloud.

Druid.

“The last thing I wish is to cause you unnecessary
distress.” He reached out and took her unwilling hand between his. “As my wife,
any acquaintance whose company you may have enjoyed in the past will naturally
be above all such suspicion.”

The fog coalesced into a hard, unforgiving knot in the pit
of her stomach. “And if I refuse?”

He brushed his lips across her knuckles but his eyes never
left hers. “There will be another crucifixion within the week.”

Gawain stirred on his pallet and winced at the pounding in
his head. His entire body throbbed but that wasn’t the reason he was lying down
in the late afternoon. It was because that fucking interfering healer had given
him something that had knocked him out.

That morning he’d intended to visit a nearby village whose
inhabitants had been ousted from their land when the Romans had taken
Camulodunon. Unlike the Iceni, they hadn’t received bounty from the invaders
and he’d wanted to gauge the extent of their discontent. If the
praetor
believed their previous day’s encounter had cowed Gawain into submission and
flight, he was deluded by his own sense of grandeur. The clumsy threats had
merely fueled Gawain’s obsession to stir any embers of rebellion he could
uncover.

He’d accepted the cup of herbal tea from the healer,
assuming it would ease his aches. Instead it had stolen his senses.

He was under no delusion that the sleeping draught had been
given to him to help him sleep off his attack. It had been a deliberate measure
to prevent him from seeking retribution. He was going to throttle the bastard
healer the next time they crossed paths.

No one dictated his movements in such an underhanded manner.
There was still time to get to the village and request audience with the Elders
before it grew dark. With a grunt, he forced himself upright and leaned against
the wall, his legs outstretched along the pallet.

He needed to get word to Antonia. Had intended to earlier
this day, before he’d been outmaneuvered. There was no physical reason why he
couldn’t see her today. Yet he knew he would wait another two or three. Because
he didn’t want her to witness the aftermath of his encounter with the
praetor
’s
hired men.

She wasn’t used to the brutalities of the street. She would
be horrified by his battered state. But even as the excuses thudded through his
mind, a mocking grin twisted his lips.

He’d never imagined avoiding a woman because of personal
vanity. But no matter how he tried to convince himself it was because he wanted
to protect Antonia from seeing a seedier side of his life he knew it was more
than that.

Of course, she could cope with seeing a few bruises and cuts.
She had coped with far more in her past. She would see far worse in the future
they would share. The truth was he didn’t want her to see how the
praetor
had bettered him. It stung his pride.

His attempt to communicate with Lugus last night had also gone
badly. The god had remained elusive, disdaining Gawain’s sacrificial rituals
and naked worship. Perhaps the sight of Gawain’s battered body had offended the
god. Or perhaps Lugus deemed the attack had not been sufficiently severe to
compensate for Gawain’s lack of faith recently.

Maybe he’d simply been unable to hide his anger that the
gods had chosen to use Antonia in the way they had. Yet why would they go to
all that trouble only to ignore Gawain when he answered their summons?

What in the name of Annwyn did Lugus want from him?

A knock at the door jerked his attention back to the
present. He darkened his features into a scowl, waiting for Carys to enter. She
would have known of the healer’s intention. The order to prevent Gawain from
leaving the villa earlier today had likely come from her in the first place.

“Enter,” he growled when it became apparent she had no
intention of opening the door until he invited her to do so. How unlike her
normal disregard for his privacy. The door slowly opened and his heart
jackknifed against his ribs at the familiar silhouette.

Antonia.

She stood at the threshold. In the distance behind her was
the newly constructed villa that encompassed her Roman world. And if she took a
single step forward it would bring her into his.

Time slowed and his breath tangled in his chest. She was a
vision in her pale blue gown with her blonde ringlets framing her face and
dusting the elegant curve of her shoulders. Beyond the door, sunlight cast a
golden glow and dark shadows across the wild grasses and ancient trees, somehow
enhancing the absolute stillness of the woman caught between two opposing
cultures.

He couldn’t drag his mesmerized gaze from her. And yet with
every thud of his heart the sordid baseness of this wattle and daub roundhouse—
his
hut
—dug deeper into his heart.

No matter how noble his heritage or that the blood of the
gods ran through his veins. He could never offer her the kind of lifestyle she
was accustomed to. Even with slaves or servants to undertake the menial tasks of
living, they would never possess the type of wealth patricians took for
granted.

For a moment, his conviction wavered. But only for a moment.
Antonia was his light in a world of dark and he would not leave her behind.

“Gawain.” There was a catch in her voice and then she
stepped into his world and closed the door on her own.
She had made her
choice.
Even if she did not know it. The tension in his shoulders eased and
he released a breath he did not even realize he’d held. “Oh gods, Gawain. What
happened to you?”

He hadn’t wanted her to see him like this. The pain in her
voice speared through him. Yet her concern enveloped his chest with fierce
warmth that flooded his veins and thickened his cock and vanquished any
lingering doubt.