Clockwork Countess (10 page)

Or perhaps she was just someone he hated. 

As she opened her mouth to speak, he smiled.  His full sensual lips revealed animal-white teeth and he growled out a low deep laugh. 

Tossing his horse’s reins to his attendant, he bowed mockingly, his scarlet general’s cloak hanging off his broad shoulders and dusting the ground.  “Good evening, Queen Cleopatra of Egypt.”  It was spoken like an insult.

She drew herself up.  He was drunk––as usual.  If this were not Caesar’s closest friend she would ignore him and walk away.  With the grace of a practiced courtier she kept her voice cool as she returned his greeting. “Good evening, Lord Antony.”

Marc Antony raised his head, pushing his dark hair from his eyes, and staggered a few steps forward until she could smell the sweet scent of cloved wine mixed with his own musky sweat.  He was close enough to take her in his powerful arms, crush her against him.  And what?  Strangle her?

These Romans were barbarians.  None of her subjects in Alexandria would dare look at her like this.  She drew her mantle closer across her breasts but forced herself not to step back. 

His low laughter rumbled out from his deep chest again. “You have more courage than even I gave you credit for.  Coming to Caesar at his own villa while Calpurnia sleeps innocent as a babe by his side.”

She let out a long breath to control her temper.  He knew better than anyone that Calpurnia and Caesar had not shared a bed in many years.  As for Caesar’s wife being innocent as a babe, it was on the tip of her tongue to reply that Antony could tell Cleopatra better than she could ever guess herself the nature of Calpurnia’s character; as it was rumored the handsome soldier had swept his best friend’s wife off to his bower––just as he had the rest of Rome’s female population.

Antony wavered on his feet for a moment, unconsciously clutching the hilt of the thick sword that hung carelessly at his waist.  His challenging eyes never left hers. 

Why did he hate her so much?  But all of Rome hated her––except Caesar. 
Caesar whom she was here to warn.

She gave the inebriated general a dismissive nod. “Good evening, Lord Antony.”

Before he could respond, she turned away and began to head towards the villa.  But after she had gone a few paces, Cleopatra stopped and glanced back. 

Antony had climbed into his chariot, looking for all the world like a statue of Mars with his bronze breastplate aflame in the torchlight, the muscles of his arms rippling as he held the powerful stallions in check, his dark blue eyes kindling some unholy light. 

“Lord Antony.”  She spoke quietly, but he looked up the instant he heard her voice.  “Stay close to Caesar tomorrow.  He will need his friends.”

Antony narrowed his eyes.  “Who needs friends when they have an Egyptian witch to do their bidding?” 

He snapped his reins with a sharp crack across his stallions’ backs and the chariot tore across the stable yard out into the street, as if he were leading a battle charge. 

END OF EXCERPT