Centurion's Honor (Imperial Desires, Book One) (5 page)

Her eyes sharpened on Olivia and she was already moving toward her. “Not again.”

“I am sorry,
domina
.
With everyone idling about the day, the damage was much worse this time.”

She cringed at that. “Who alerted you?”

“Hiram,
domina
. Despite your decree he went to check on the animals. Good thing he did too or all of them would be dead.”

“Dead?”

For the moment she’d forgotten that Cassius and Titus still trailed behind her.

She met Cassius’ gaze from over her shoulder, but as they neared the clearing where she housed her livestock, it soon became apparent to them all as to the meaning of Olivia’s words.

Her maidservant had not lied. She raised hundreds of goats and swine, but half of her stock appeared to be dead, their bodies littered about the pen she’d passed, what seemed to be only moments ago.

“Hiram has secluded the ones that still live?” she asked Olivia.

“Yes,
domina
. Hiram rounded them up and they are now in that part over there.”

Anan nodded, even as she whirled around and headed for her stables.

“What would you have me do?” Olivia called after her. “Should I gather Hiram and the others and have them remove the bodies?”

“No.” Anan stopped long enough to address the young woman. “Let it be until the morrow. Thank you for alerting me, but go about your day as you’d planned.”

Olivia wanted to protest, but Anan was already shaking her head.

“Go, Olivia.”

Anan almost smiled at the firm line of the young woman’s lips. She was a stubborn one, for which Anan could only blame herself. Olivia had been in her home since she was a young girl, orphaned by the war with Rome as many in her household had been. Against her husband’s wishes, she’d raised Olivia more like a daughter than a servant, and apparently infused her with some of her indomitable will, for which Anan was well known.

The young woman was as educated as any male, far more educated than a Roman girl of her age. Olivia could read and write, but she was also privy to the inner workings of a large estate. Her maidservant was better suited as a wealthy farmer’s wife than a slave, which was why Anan planned to free her when she turned eighteen and provide her with a sizeable dowry. She already had a suitor in mind for Olivia, but if she continued to lose livestock at this rate, she would not be able to provide the girl with the dowry she deserved.

Anan frowned at that. Someone had been poisoning her livestock for many months now. At first it had been little by little, so small that she’d thought it was a random illness or infection until she’d suspected the drinking water was being contaminated.

She’d had her servants keep a vigilant watch over her holdings, especially her livestock, but with everyone in their quarters for the day, it would be relatively simple to steal upon her estate, put poison into all the troughs and disappear without notice.

“Where are you going?”

Twice she’d forgotten the presence of the centurions and she spun around, surprise etched across her face. She was not used to explaining herself to anyone, but the rigid line of Cassius’ jaw told her this man could be as stubborn as she. It would simply be easier to just tell him.

“I am going to pay a visit to that blasted stepson of mine.”

“Why?” asked Titus. “You do not think he had anything to do with this?

“Of course not,” she answered as she began to saddle one of her mares. “But I need to speak with him about the damages. With the heavy taxes he burdens us with, and my steady loss of supply…” Her brow furrowed into a frown, full of worry and frustration. “I need him to waive his tax or give me a loan so that I can replace what I’ve lost.”

“Do you think he will assist you?”

The look in her eyes must have been telling because a dark glower crossed their faces.

“I do not know,” she said truthfully. She mounted her horse then and prepared to leave the stable but Cassius’ hand on the reins effectively stopped her.

“I do not need a guard to visit my stepson’s home,” she argued before he could part his lips and say what she gathered he would.

“Your livestock were poisoned. You require a guard more so than you did before.”

“Someone has been poisoning my livestock for many months and as you can see I am perfectly well.”

Instead of placating them, her statement only heightened their unease.

“Why did you not tell us this when we arrived?” Cassius demanded. “Just because no one has acted upon this threat to you and your estate does not mean you are not in danger.”

“Cassius is right. Why are we just learning this now? The poisoning of one’s livestock is a serious matter, not one to be taken lightly.”

“And I am not taking this lightly.” She sighed. “But until I catch this person, there is little else I can do.”

Cassius disagreed. “You will wait until Titus and I saddle our horses and then we shall accompany you.”

Her eyes raked him. “I take orders from no one, Roman.” She tried to wrench the reins from his hands, but his grip was firm. She stared at him crossly.

“Anan,” Cassius bit out tightly. The way he said her name was slow and deliberate and it caused a sliver of ice to creep down her spine, one part fear, the other dangerous arousal. “Tonight I have every intention of taking you to my bed and you can spend your time there experiencing unending pleasure, or you can spend it being punished, where I will keep your body hovering on the brink of pleasure long after you sob and plead for a release that will not come.”

Her gaze darted to Titus who’d heard every single word, and when he nodded, her breath seemed to lodge in her chest.

“Your choice, Anan. A night of pleasure or one of punishment.”

Her lips pursed into a tight line even as her body tingled with anticipation of what he’d do to her this night, and she trembled with desire. “This is not fair,” she managed to rasp out. “Your tactics are underhanded.”

He shrugged, a smug grin stealing across his face. She ached to slap it off him. “What shall I tell you? I am a Roman and as you well said, we Romans have no honor.”

She imagined she could have broken her jaw if she’d gritted her teeth any harder.

“Very well,” she finally gritted out. “I shall wait until you’ve saddled your mounts.”

* * * * *

An hour later, the three of them arrived at the palatial estate of what had once been her father’s home. Since she’d lived there, sturdy Doric columns fashioned out of marble and simple mosaics had given way to an array of ornate and grotesque bronze statues, dark gray colonnades and expansive atriums crowded with dozens of fountains that poured into an overbearing pool. The simple style of her childhood home with its Greek and Egyptian adornments had yielded meekly to the Roman architecture that effortlessly overpowered the once tranquil villa, as the Romans themselves had effortlessly overpowered her once peaceful homeland.

The soldiers who guarded her stepson Quintus’ home were all Roman, though of a different legion than Cassius’ men. Nevertheless, they acknowledged her presence, which many knew all too well, and the rank of the guards who accompanied her.

Within minutes they were escorted into an expansive dining hall where they were offered wine and food while they waited on plush couches for Quintus to grace them with his presence.

It was a long while before he did, and with each passing moment her temper mounted until she was fuming.

Truly, she did not gather the reason for her anger. Quintus was not responsible for what had happened. If anything, he suffered as much ill as she. She suspected whoever was poisoning her livestock and raiding Quintus’ holdings nursed some grudge against the royal line. That was the only thing she could think of.

Several suspected her, that she was at the root of all this, and they would, given their ignorance of what was going on at her own estate. She wished to keep them ignorant, which was why she’d resisted visiting her stepson for so long.

She did not want it to become common knowledge that her holdings were vulnerable to attack, lest someone decide to do just that and
attack
.

But she could no longer maintain this secret. She was dangerously close to losing all her livestock. Her reserves and surplus would sustain her. She simply needed a small loan until the next harvest that would not come for months, otherwise, times would be lean until then.

And the longer she waited, the more worried she became and with that, her agitation increased.

She had never quite learned the art of patience and she did not do humble all too well when it came to the son of the man who’d spent the fifteen years of their entire marriage visiting every woman’s bed but her own. Quintus was the glaring evidence of Maximinius’ infidelity and that her stepson had inherited what rightfully belonged to her, that he now hoarded livestock and grain that rightfully belonged to her people, made her blood boil.

She jerked in surprise at the gentle touch of a calloused hand lifting her hair to caress the back of her neck, but she did not pull away. It was a touch of reassurance, of tenderness.

She knew immediately it was Titus. Already she could discern the smell of him from Cassius, the touch of him. But it was simply because he touched her that revealed it was him.

Cassius still fought his desire for her, even after what had transpired in the stables earlier.

Titus did not fight his desire, he welcomed it, embraced it. She sensed he was the gentle soul to Cassius’ brutish dominance, but she did not mistake Titus’ gentleness for weakness. He was equally brutal, equally dominant, only he was capable of a tenderness, a softness that Cassius either lacked or like so much between them, he fought to deny.

At the sound of footsteps she rose from the couch and leaned into Titus for a brief instant before pulling away. She’d welcomed his strength moments ago, when it was just the three of them. But before her stepson she could not appear weak, for Quintus was a predator who would seize upon any weakness to gain his advantage.

“Dearest stepmother,” Quintus crooned, his voice as sweet as honey and full of artifice.

With a beautiful mass of raven black hair and fathomless sea green eyes, he was a handsome man of slight build, his entire body corded with lean, hard muscle. He held out his arms and she allowed him to embrace her in a hug that was stiff and cold, at least it was on her part. He was the illegitimate son of the man she’d been married to for fifteen years, and every time she looked at Quintus she could see nothing else but many nights of loneliness spent in a cold bed. It did not help her opinion of him that he was an arrogant Roman with no regard for others, especially the people he wielded power over.

“Quintus,” she greeted when their embrace came to an end and she drew away. “How is Maia?” she asked, truly not caring how the deceitful woman who had borne him fared, but nonetheless, Anan strove for some semblance of cordiality.

“My mother is well,” he replied with a nod, his smile still in place, but not for long. It soon disappeared, to be replaced by a shadowed frown.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, for the first time noticing the presence of Cassius and Titus. “You bring your own pair of guards into my home as if you do not trust me? As if I would ever harm you?”

“This is
my
home,” she blurted before she could temper her anger. “And these are the guards whom
you
requested because of the raids.”

He glanced warily between her and the centurions behind her. “If they are here because of the raids then why are they with
you
? Why was I not notified of their arrival?”

“Consider yourself duly notified. And as to why they are with me, I don’t know,
stepson
,” she said icily. “Could this have something to do with your report that
I
am the one behind these raids, hmm?”

His stunned gaze told her he did not expect her to be aware of such information, but he was a fool if he did not realize her people still remained loyal to her, not these foreigners. There was much that went on inside his household she was aware of, although there was still a great deal that remained shrouded in secrecy.

She praised Quintus for how quickly he recovered, the surprise of her statement so effortlessly replaced by the façade of charm and civility.

“Let us not dwell upon rumors, shall we?” He took her hands in his and guided her over to one of the couches where they sat down together. “Tell me, why have you honored me with your presence?”

She would have rolled her eyes at his words so full of guile, but she reminded herself she needed him.

“I require a favor,” she said directly, getting straight to the matter. “I have suffered an unexpected and regrettable misfortune.” She cleared her throat because the next words seemed to be lodged there. “I would ask, as your stepmother, as your family, that you would consider waiving the tax this harvest,
or
giving me a loan.” The last words came out on a rush. To ask that he waive the taxes was far easier than having to grovel before him and ask for coins.

For all Quintus’ faults, he was not as foolish as he pretended to be. Actually, quite the opposite. He was cunning—not the fool at all.