Surrender to the Roman (14 page)

It mattered little what he’d done to her. She’d fallen in love with him.

Marcus prowled through the dense crowd, careful to keep the appearance of levity and celebration—far from the roiling anger he tamped down in his gut. Flora handed him a goblet of honeyed wine, which he pretended to drink.

Too many had gained entry to his home. Most of them strangers entranced by light and noise. He was the only sober soul in the room. Straining out distractions, he searched for familiar faces.

His attention went naturally to Ademeni, half hidden in the portico at the rear of the pool. Her blank expression troubled him, pulled him toward her until caution jerked him back to reality. With great difficulty, he tore his gaze from her and continued to pick through the gathering.

Drusilla had already melted into the crowd, and he spied her lounging beside a longtime friend near the reflection pool. She sat still, with her head lowered and her shoulders bent, not her usual jovial self.

He caught her eye, and she offered a sad smile before looking away. This demeanor usually meant problems at home, and problems at home began and ended with Tertullian.

Where had that scoundrel gotten to? A cursory look showed him absent, but Marcus knew better. That hound had to be about—Tertullian wouldn’t miss a chance to mingle with society, revel in Marcus’s perceived glory.

Marcus turned in a slow circle, forgetting his quest for Tertullian when he saw Ademeni again. Dressed in a simple white gown, she seemed translucent, like a spirit. She moved with ease and grace, her hair escaping the golden bonds at the base of her neck. Her sister came and stood beside her, and they talked quietly for a moment before going separate ways.

If he’d known the trouble this woman would bring to his house—to his career—he would have sent her away before he’d grown attached to her. Her first impression should have been warning enough.

Not true. He felt for her the first time he’d seen her, admired her fire and determination. Fate had placed her in bonds and in his care. He would not mistreat the wisdom of the gods by mistreating her. Another way out of this maze would present itself.

He tore his gaze from her and refocused his attention. Drusilla and Lilah would not have come unaccompanied. Tertullian could not stay hidden for long.

On cue, the man stepped from the back of the house, near the kitchen, and into a burst of orange torchlight. For a moment, the shadows playing across his face made him look sinister, and Marcus’s first instinct was to reach for a weapon to protect Ademeni.

A broad smile broke the illusion, and Tertullian called out to Marcus, “Where have you been?”

Marcus put his head down and forced a path through the milling crowd toward his brother-in-law. Tightening his control, he answered, “Here and there, you know how these things go.”

“So you had your audience with Trajan today?”

Marcus nodded, appraising Tertullian with a scathing eye. “One of a hundred.”

Tertullian waved off his modesty, too drunk to notice he was being studied. “What great honor did he bestow on you this time?”

Looking for any hint of jealousy or accusation, Marcus answered, “None yet—he is considering my petition in addition to his own rewards.”

Tertullian turned empty eyes on him. “I’m sure you will receive all that is due a general of your stature.”

A cold breeze blew against Marcus’s heart. Tertullian’s ambition could blind him to the loyalty of family ties. Marcus had used a strong hand to keep his second from straying, but since their return, he had not been able to police his actions.

Instead of relying on Marcus’s loyalty for advancement, could he have sabotaged his general for his own gain? Would he be so stupid?

“You have done your part,” Marcus commented. “I’m sure the emperor recognizes your range of skills as well.”

Taking a swig of wine, Tertullian shrugged. “We will see what comes next. It would be difficult to break up a good unit, but staying close to home might suit me.”

Marcus nodded to appease him, wondering if the downgrade in rank he’d written for Tertullian had been made known. While he would be relieved not to have to monitor Tertullian’s rakish behavior, Marcus feared no one else could control his impulses, especially if he stayed in Rome. Only a handful of high-level posts existed in the city, and most of them held political implications.

“Will you and my sister finally start a family?” he asked. “She’s been anxious for children since Callia was born.”

“Perhaps,” Tertullian murmured, his eyes roaming the crowd. “She’s been patient with me, and it would fill her idle hours.”

Biting his tongue, Marcus glanced at Drusilla. No wonder she seemed sad, married to a fool like this. Tertullian couldn’t possibly be smart enough to undermine his general. After all, Marcus would be his strongest ally should he have opportunity for military or political advancement.

Who else in the room thought it expedient to climb over his achievements? No one knew him well enough for such treachery. Barely in Rome ten days in a row since Julia’s death, he’d shied away from the politics that typically led to trouble. He’d mistakenly thought himself safe if he kept his business private.

But some could see a pliable man like Tertullian as an ally for their cause. Whether such men desired a return to republic, or posed a political threat to Trajan, these men and situations never weathered the storm of true Roman cynicism.

“Drusilla looks tired,” Marcus said. “Is she all right?”

Tertullian furrowed his brow. “She wants me to sell the Dacian girl.”

“A small price to pay for peace in your home.”

“You know her best, Marcus. She always gets her way.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “But I don’t want to give her up. Not just yet. You know what I mean.”

Marcus pursed his lips to keep from barking his outrage. He understood all too well. Tertullian could not see the good in living a quiet life with a loving woman by his side. He always grasped for more.

Marcus had done no better by taking Ademeni into his confidence and into his bed. He questioned his adolescent mistake. Was she above reproach? Might she have found a way to ruin him and have her ultimate revenge? He might have compromised himself and his position—an unacceptable situation.

Yet giving up such a free-spirited partner also seemed out of the question. Fate and the gods had brought them together. Callia deserved a good mother figure, and he a good wife.

His thoughts moved to Lucia, who had promoted the idea of making Ademeni his companion. Maybe she had not meant the game to go this far, for them to feel for one another enough to consider a future together.

Tertullian droned on while Marcus stood at a fork in the road. One branch led to personal happiness at the expense of the life he now lived. At worst, his love for Ademeni could cost his life. Taking the other branch meant professional advancement and a home life devoid of any real contentment.

He took a gulp of wine that did little to calm his nerves or his senses. He understood, if only with his gut, that Tertullian was somehow involved in this scheme. He needed to find a way out of this fog. If his instincts were wrong, he only had himself to blame for his fall from grace.

* * *

The long night wore thin. Ademeni wiped sweat from her brow and let out a sigh. Half the crowd dwindled away as the hours rounded to morning, but she feared the others would never find their homes again.

Especially Tertullian. Having drunk to excess, he’d already angered his wife by groping the daughter of a senator. Even Marcus could not convince him to go home. He’d first become loud and boisterous, and now, sullen and angry.

She glanced at Drusilla, who hadn’t stirred since the incident with her husband. Lilah hovered nearby, and Ademeni could only imagine what type of bond the two women might have formed over the long weeks. Strange allies, they now seemed united against Tertullian.

She gathered a stack of plates and headed toward the back of the house, passing Marcus as he talked with a tight knot of his men. He’d barely looked her way all night, and she lifted her chin to fend off the frustration of being ignored.

She might only be a slave in Rome, but she was still royalty in her heart.

Rounding the corner, she entered a darkened kitchen. Alone for the first time in hours, she took her time scraping the plates and drawing a bucket of water.

“Let me help you with that.”

Tertullian’s low voice crawled up her spine as his shadow eclipsed hers from behind. She froze, the water tipping and splashing the front of her dress. Even without touching her, Tertullian made her shiver with disgust.

And fear, recalling how he’d chased her through the streets. Her mind reeled to find options for escape, but for the first time, her defenses failed as he pressed in upon her, caging her against the wall with his arms.

Rancid breath grazed her ear. “Look at the pretty princess in her slave dress. I wonder if Marcus truly appreciates all your…talents the way I appreciate your lovely sister’s.”

Dread lodged in the back of her throat, rendering her mute when she most wanted to scream. Leveraging her weight, she swung the bucket around the side of her body.

The wooden jug cracked against his hip. He fell sideways and lurched to find his drunken balance, snagging the hem of her toga.

Fabric ripped as he pulled her forward. Ademeni held the bucket to her body, a barrier between them until he tore it from her grip.

“You still have not learned your place,” he hissed. He tossed the bucket aside, and it bounced out of sight with a series of hollow thuds.

The noise jarred her to life. “You are not my master.”

“I will be tonight,” he countered from a defensive stance, ready to catch her no matter which direction she darted.

She glanced at the doorway, but help lay beyond the thick walls. Tertullian grinned. “Scream all you like, but they are too drunk to come to the rescue of a mere slave. Even your blind hero, Marcus.”

Despite his own state, Tertullian was likely right. She swallowed the fear balling in her throat. She would have to fight him off on her own.

As if reading her mind, he closed the gap between them with swift steps. She sidestepped his advance but tripped over the torn material of her dress and fell to one knee.

As Tertullian bent and jerked her upward by the waist, she whirled and caught his cheek with her fingernails. She raked her hand clear across his face to leave evidence of their encounter, no matter the end.

He cried out, pushed her away and clamped a hand to his cheek. Anger radiated from his glazed eyes. “You’re going to regret ever laying a hand on me.”

Ademeni had no regrets, and even as he charged forward, she refused to let her spirit break. If he would take her against her will, she would not let him steal her strength.

Tertullian shoved her backward and she fell against the edge of the hearth, losing her balance. He pounced upon her like a wild animal, ravenous and desperate. His teeth scraped the skin of her neck, and his hot breath scuttled across her ear.

Pushing against his chest proved futile, and her blows fell against his face and body to no effect. Her hands searched the ground for any weapon, and she knocked her knuckles against the large storage pots.

With a burst of energy, she stretched to the side and knocked against the clay jar. It rocked forward then back. She shoved harder, and the pot fell against the next, which fell against the next, each one crashing to the floor in shards until all five had shattered.

Tertullian rolled her over, the potsherds tearing into her skin. Panic rose as his calloused hands slid up her legs. She closed her eyes and shoved against him, her scream echoing in the empty room.

* * *

Marcus sat upright at the sound of breaking pottery. Anything out of the ordinary caught his attention, and he tried to decipher the origin.

Inside. A scream followed. The kitchen.

A quick survey of the courtyard gave him enough information for him to leap to his feet. Tertullian and Ademeni, both unaccounted for. His imagination urged him forward.

He pushed through the few remaining guests and skidded to a stop just inside the kitchen wall. The shadows could not hide his brother-in-law as he wrestled Ademeni to the ground.

Not a moment too soon, Marcus jumped into the struggle, locking an arm around Tertullian’s neck and jerking him back. The two men tumbled to the floor.

A stream of slurred curses flowed from Tertullian as Marcus flipped him on his face and pinned him to the stone with ease.

Once Marcus subdued Ademeni’s attacker, he turned his attention to her.

She lay motionless, her hair mussed and her gown pushed up around her knees. When he reached for her, she scurried backward and wedged herself into the corner where the hearth met the outside wall. She stared at him with large, unblinking eyes.

As she had inside the Temple of Venus.

His body flashed hot, then cold that he’d allowed such a thing to happen. Likely twice, though she’d never said so. Had refused to discuss that event any further. This had been coming, like a thunderstorm, since they’d returned to Rome. He’d let down his guard.

Two of his men had followed him inside. Marcus turned his brother-in-law over to them. “Get him out of my house. Now.”

They stared at him. “But sir…”

“He’s no longer welcome in my home.” Marcus narrowed his gaze on Tertullian’s slack face. Long, red scratches ran from his temple to his chin. “Put him out in the street like the dog he is.”

With Tertullian’s inebriated state, the soldiers used little force to remove him. Marcus didn’t care what his guests thought. Soon enough, everyone would know Tertullian had fallen out of his favor. “When you’re done with him, clear the house.”

Marcus turned his full attention to the woman whimpering at his feet. Careful not to startle her, he knelt close to Ademeni and reached out a hand.

He felt her accusation in the angry glare she leveled. How had he let this happen? How indeed. “He’s gone, and he won’t be back. You have my promise.”

She looked away. His words meant nothing to her—and why should they? So preoccupied with his own investigation, he’d failed to keep her safe.