The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance (4 page)

A very dangerous cat.

Gods, the man was persistent. Taking a different route he had showered her with flattery as well as costly gifts, all of which she refused. Quintus’ pride was dented, but he’d rallied and instead of being rebuffed had become all the more insistent. Her refusals seemed to fuel his ardor to the point that she knew it was only a matter of time before he used his power to get what he wanted. And for reasons she still could not fathom, Quintus wanted her.

She pulled the comb through her hair, winced as it snagged a tangle. The very thought of marriage to Quintus made her stomach turn. There was no love, no respect between them. Not one solitary virtue strong enough to form a union, certainly no idealistic love.

Her own happiness aside, Julia had the welfare of her family to consider. The worry and fear that elicited had set her on her present course, forced her to devise her plan. Julia chewed her bottom lip. That it included a dangerous, uneducated and unreliable criminal was beside the point.

Her thoughts drifted to the man locked in the vacant storage room. Kaj had grudgingly accepted her instructions to see him fed and his injuries tended. That had been a week ago and her servant reported the criminal was on the mend. She’d wanted to give him plenty of time to understand how fortunate he was to be alive before outlining her plans. Instead it had given her time to doubt her decision.

“Allow me mistress.” Dorcas, her maid walked up behind her.

Julia held up her hand. “No unwieldy sculptures of hair, Dorcas. I want it fastened simply here, at the crown.”

The servant curled her lip into a pout but gathered Julia’s hair at the sides and pulled it back, deftly twining a gold wire through her tresses. “Will Lord Quintus be visiting this afternoon?”

Why would today be any different, she thought sourly. The

man hadn’t missed a day in three weeks. Reaching up, she adjusted a stray lock of hair. “I’m sure Lord Quintus’ schedule is much too full to be concerned with us.”

A loud knock sounded from the front entry. Dorcas met Julia’s gaze in the mirror, doing a poor job of hiding her self- satisfied smile. Julia stifled a groan.

“My dear Julia.”

Julia swiveled on her stool and stared in disbelief at the tall, well-formed man striding into her private chamber. Quintus Marcellus was handsome with a fine aquiline nose, straight firm lips and arched brows set over intense dark eyes. The proud set of his jaw, the squared shoulders, even the manner in which he wore his toga spoke of a noble lineage. That might explain his audacity in entering her private quarters. It did not excuse it.

Julia stiffened as he waved a dismissive hand in Dorcas’ direction. She nodded her consent at the maid’s questioning glance, waiting until the girl had scurried from the room before sending him a censuring look. “My Lord Quintus. I did not hear my butler announce your arrival.”

A cool smile slid across his lips. “Forgive me, my lady. When you were not in the atrium to greet me, I became concerned.”

The silky edge to his voice reminded her of a slithering snake. Julia arched a brow. “And pray, my lord, why would that be? I do not make it a habit to stand about my entryway.”

His smile never wavered even as his gaze narrowed. He inclined his head. “I thought only of your welfare.”

“Indeed?” she answered stiffly. Standing, she lifted a saffron wrap from the carved chest where Dorcas had spread it out in readiness. She wasn’t cold in the least but Quintus’ intense gaze sent a chill up her arms. She felt exposed and wanted him out of her chamber, out of her house. Before she could cover herself, Quintus snatched it from her grasp. She stood rigid as he draped it over her shoulders, his long, tapered fingers caressing the bared skin of her arms.

“Julia,” he breathed against her ear.

He smelled strongly of mint. Gods, the man made her skin crawl. She wanted to slap him, upbraid him for his forwardness. But Quintus was a powerful man. It was common knowledge that he did not take refusal well. That knowledge had prompted the trip to the Captoline road seven nights past.

Tilting her head, she adopted the same imperious manner he had used on Dorcas and shrugged out of his hold. “Please join me in the dining room.” Willing herself not to tremble, she led the way out of her chamber.

Fighting the urge to see if he followed, she hastened to the dining area. Dorcas, bless her, had already seen to refreshments. Julia reclined on one of the couches, breathing a sigh of relief when Quintus sat across from her. Casually, she took a honeyed cake from the platter. “My lord, I admit to being somewhat surprised that my household is graced with another visit so soon after the last. Surely the Prefect of Rome has many duties that require his attention.”

Quintus selected a fig and popped it into his mouth. “Ah, so I do, but the very nature of the position allows me to delegate those responsibilities to a vast army of underlings.” He leaned toward her, his expression serious. “I am concerned for you, Julia.”

Concerned like a lion is concerned with a gazelle. She smiled indulgently. “I can assure you, my Lord, my mind is unchanged from your last visit. Was it only yesterday?”

Quintus visibly tensed but his smile did not waver. “A woman alone is quite vulnerable.”

“I am far from alone, Quintus. My father—”

“Your father has been gone for six months,” he snapped. “I fear a mishap may have befallen him.”

Oh, she did not care for the course of this conversation at all. She forced a smile. “Six months is not such a long time. My father will return soon. In fact, I received a missive from him just this morning,” she lied.

A look of surprise flitted across Quintus’ face but was quickly masked. “What a pleasant surprise. I’m sure your mind is relieved.”

She could be arrogant when the occasion demanded it, distant when the need arose, but she had always been a poor liar. Julia forced a smile to her lips. “Indeed it is. He is eager to return home and expects his business to be concluded very soon.”

Quintus’ brows locked together. A cold chill went through her. Why did he look so puzzled?

“How fortunate. It will be a joyous day when Octavian Manulus returns to the Senate.”

Julia studied the fig in her hand. Quintus sounded more annoyed than joyous. That hardly mattered as long as he believed her lie, gaining her precious time to put her plan in motion.

“Julia.”

Startled out of her thoughts, she raised her eyes to find Quintus sitting on the edge of her divan. He braced a finely chiseled arm on the opposite side of the couch, effectively trapping her in her reclined position.

“Julia, you are a very desirable woman. Why, your pedigree nearly matches my own,” he said silkily. “A joining of our houses would rival the bloodlines of the Emperor himself.”

For an instant Julia was caught in the mesmerizing blackness of his eyes. There was power behind them, malevolent power, strong and beguiling. She remembered watching a snake charmer entertain passersby in a marketplace in the Forum. Man and serpent had stared at each other, swaying back and forth to the shrill tune of a flute. The crowds had clapped their appreciation until the charmer’s concentration faltered. That brief second of inattention had brought the snake’s fangs into his arm and had cost him his life.

She jumped when an icy hand slipped beneath the neck of her
tunica
and brushed against her breast. By the gods! Julia pushed his hand away. “You forget yourself, my lord!”

His lips twisted into a leer, while he casually moved his arm, daring to laugh as she scrambled to her feet. “Forget myself? On the contrary, my dear Julia, I have a very long memory.” He straightened the folds of his toga, held her stunned gaze. “Thus I recall the vast holdings held by your,” he paused, “absentee father and the lack of male relations to take over in his stead.”

Julia stiffened her spine in an effort to hold the imperious façade that had been her shield together, but the trembling in her hands nearly gave her away. She could see the determination in Quintus’ eyes. There would be no dissuading him with demure looks or clever phrases. She steadied her nerves with a deep breath. “I appreciate your concern Prefect, but my father’s business is well in hand. He will find everything in order on his return.”

A look of impatience washed across his face. “I tire of games, Julia. You know well what I am saying.”

“Your pardon, Mistress.”

Kaj stood in the arched entry of the dining room, arms crossed over his massive chest, his expression inscrutable. Dorcas peeked out from behind him, a worried frown crinkling her brow.

Quintus’ face mottled. “How dare you interrupt!”

Kaj stared past him as if he did not exist and addressed Julia. “Your brother has called for you.”

Lares? Anxiety flared deep in her belly, a multitude of horrible reasons why her ailing brother needed her ran through her mind. “I think, Prefect, you should leave now.”

Quintus eyed the three of them and squared his shoulders. “I will return, Lady Julia. This conversation is not finished.”

A mixture of relief and dread welled up in her as he spun on his heel and strode into the atrium. Both she and Dorcas jumped when the front entry door slammed while Kaj glowered menacingly after the Prefect. Julia gathered her wrap around her shoulders and turned. “Lares- -”

Kaj stopped her with an outstretched arm. “Sleeps, Mistress, as is his afternoon custom.”

Relief flowed through her. Fragile since the fever that had taken their mother’s life had sapped the strength from his legs; thirteen year old Lares’ health was not a matter to be taken lightly. She leaned around Kaj’s bulk, saying to her maidservant, “Would you see to him, Dorcas. I’d rest easier knowing he was content.”

“Of course, Mistress,” answered Dorcas, hurrying toward the sleeping quarters.

Julia waited the span of a heartbeat before turning to Kaj. “Time has run out. We must push our plan ahead.”

*****

Weren’t those damn birds ever quiet?

Damon stalked to the window, laced his fingers through the grill and stared out at the small flock of wrens hopping around the same small patch of green grass, the same length of stone walkway, the same rose bush he’d stared at every day since his arrival. No wait. There was something different.
Two
red blooms now graced the bush instead of one.

He made a disgruntled noise deep in his throat, pushed away from the window, and began to pace the tiny confines of the room. Twelve steps up and twelve steps across, if you discounted the space taken up by the thin pallet he’d slept on this past week.

It wasn’t the birds’ fault that he was in such a foul mood. Seven days he’d been barred inside this room, his only visitor the giant Kaj who came twice a day with food, glowering at him as though he were Hannibal himself knocking down the gates of Rome. He never said a word, just set the tray down and left. No questions, no instructions, no indication of why Damon was here and mindful of the pirate’s threat to dislodge his tongue, he hadn’t demanded an answer, though his patience was growing thin. He stalked back to the window. It wasn’t natural for him to go this long without talking.

Jared would have loved it.

Jared. His friend. His former master. Purchased by Jared’s mother Shifra as a companion for her eleven-year-old son, Damon had served the family for nine years and had seen Jared through the darkest times of his life—the murder of his mother and painful estrangement from his father. Focusing on Jared’s woes had helped Damon keep his own pain buried.

Their friendship had grown past that of slave and master and four years ago, at the age of twenty-two, Jared had given Damon his freedom.

They’d gone their separate ways for a time. Damon to find his family and Jared to build a successful merchant empire in Alexandria, an empire he’d almost lost when he’d been betrayed into slavery by his uncle. Damon shook his head. His friend had suffered the harshest type of enslavement and almost died before escaping with the beautiful barbarian seer who’d unwittingly led him to his fate. Damon smirked. A twist of fate that had led Jared and Bryna to fall in love.

His mind drifted back to his own twist of fate. At least his confinement had given his body time to heal. Gingerly, he stretched his arms above and behind him. There was soreness left from the lashing he’d received, enough bruises and cuts to ensure a fair number of scars, but nothing too serious. He smirked. He would only have to wrestle a giant to the floor, grab the keys to his cell and flee an angry goddess.

Damon’s lips curved into a smile. Ah yes, the goddess. He couldn’t recall much about the night of his rescue, but he did remember silky hair and a body of enticing curves designed to make a man go hard.

He threw a bit of crust through the bars, watched with satisfaction as the tiniest wren beat out the larger ones. Maybe there really hadn’t been a goddess. Perhaps she was only an illusion, some bit of fantasy conjured from the deep recesses of his imagination. Damon’s lips quirked. He’d never been that imaginative before.

The door to the room scraped open. A quick glance at the window told him dusk was hours away, too soon for his second meal. He faced Kaj who gave him his usual surly scowl.

“Turn around,” he ordered brusquely.

Damon clenched his hands and pressed his arms against his sides. He was stronger now, adept in the use of sword, knife, fists and the occasional club. He knew how to handle himself in a fight. He eyed the massive man. He just wasn’t sure if he was up to battling his way through a rock-hard wall of flesh and bone.

He gave his back to the pirate.

Deftly, Kaj wound strips of leather around his wrists. Damon pressed his lips into a thin line. You wouldn’t think a man with hands like lamb shanks could tie knots that fast. When he’d finished, the pirate spun Damon around, grasped him by the shoulder and pushed him out the door.

Damon experienced a moment’s disorientation at the change in scenery, but his senses, naturally keen and honed to a sharp edge by experience and necessity, began to make mental notes of his surroundings as Kaj steered him down the corridor.