Surrender to the Roman (9 page)

Marcus broke the kiss, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensations washing through her. Her muscles tightened, held, then released in a blissful wave of pleasure. She relaxed into the motions of her body, soothed by the way Marcus touched her now.

He pressed his lips to her skin, cool sweetness against the sweat of her brow. Her eyes fluttered open as the swell of relief passed all too quickly. Repositioning himself, Marcus smoothed the hair away from her face and placed a lingering kiss across her swollen lips.

Then he reclined, one arm wrapped around her waist, and pulled her tight against him. Heat radiated from her face, and even though darkness hid her, the shock of these few moments burst into a fiery confusion.

What had he done to her? How was it possible for him to touch her in a way that nearly brought tears to her eyes? And he’d done nothing for his own pleasure, although she now felt his arousal against her hip.

She’d failed. Or had she? His breath grazed her ear, and she felt satisfied and empty at the same time. She’d learned she could tempt him, although his restraint had proven greater than her own.

This time. She would have to work harder.

Drowsy, Ademeni laced her fingers through his, rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. His body shook with quiet laughter, but she didn’t care.

If he could be enticed thus far, she could still succeed. Gaining her victory would simply take longer and require more of these blissful encounters.

Ademeni opened her eyes to a thin veil of sunshine and hushed voices in the courtyard. She lifted her head, her cheeks warming as she remembered where she lay and why. Wrapped in sheets, she raised onto her elbows.

Marcus was gone, a cold hollow in the mattress the only indication he’d ever been there. Then she heard the rumble of his voice outside but couldn’t make out the words. She eased from the bed and inched toward the archway to listen.

“Today is the day?” Lucia asked.

The familiar sounds of Marcus strapping on his armor muffled his reply. “Trajan is near. He will send the slaves ahead. Today. He will likely wait until high noon on the morrow to arrive.”

“And you still plan to seek an audience with him?”

Ademeni held her breath at the pause in conversation.

“Nothing has changed,” Marcus answered.

She shivered. Why would he need to talk with his emperor? Behind the curtain, she wrapped the linens more tightly around her body. Nothing had changed.

Marcus continued, “If you need to go out, do so this morning. The streets are teeming with drunken soldiers, thieves and beggars. It will only get worse.”

“I cannot hide,” Lucia countered. “He will expect me.”

“He will send for you, as he always does.” Ademeni noted an unusual edge in Marcus’s tone. “You will see to her?”

“See to whom?”

Another tense pause, followed by the shuffle of feet. “Did you not instruct Ademeni to seduce me last night?”

Ademeni took a step backward, the cold flagstones sending a chill through her body. He’d known all along.

Lucia did not deny her role. “And if I did?”

“Nothing has changed.” He punctuated each syllable with the strength he carried. Ademeni imagined he pointed his finger with every word. “See to her.”

She sank onto the edge of the bed, tears of embarrassment searing her vision. She had not won any small victory, but had merely given him what he’d already expected.

In the distance, a door shut as Marcus left the house, questions swirling in his wake.

Lucia’s shadow appeared against the curtain. Ademeni dashed her tears with the back of her hand and waited, anger brewing in the pit of her stomach.

“I cannot find her.”

“Hush.” Lucia quieted Flora, who had no doubt noticed that Ademeni’s room lay empty. “Must you wake the damned?”

From her vantage point, Ademeni tried to pick apart the hushed whispers of the two women, but had little luck. Flora was perceptive. She would realize where Ademeni had spent the night. Ademeni had been made a fool by the whole lot of them and for no gain. If she wanted her freedom, it was high time to stop playing games and make something happen on her own will.

Gritting her teeth, Ademeni rose and dressed while they argued. Throwing back the curtain, she presented herself to both of them with her head held high.

“Are you going to the market this morning?” she asked Lucia, her posture making it clear that no one needed to “see to her.”

Ashen, Lucia nodded. “I planned to.”

“Let me prepare, and I will go with you.” She held Lucia’s gaze and ignored Flora, as she would have done in her own house, in her own country.

“Of course,” Lucia acquiesced.

Ademeni swept past Flora and entered her own room, where she changed her clothing and arranged her hair in the proper Roman manner. Her shaking hands belied the strong façade she’d tossed up in self-defense.

Nothing would keep her from the city today. Lucia had made her a bargaining chip in her relationship with her son-in-law, for what reason she could not fathom. And Marcus had made it clear that no matter what transpired between them, he would not change his course of action.

Meaning he would not free Ademeni. He would seek an audience with that vile murderer, Trajan, maintain sickening loyalty to him alone. She did not figure into his plans, and no amount of feminine wiles would change his mind.

Beyond this, she did not care what argument Lucia had with him, or why Trajan would expect to see Lucia. They would do well to keep that between themselves.

The Dacian slaves would arrive today. Marcus had said so, and he never lied. The city would be full of chaos. She must be in the middle of everything, see with her own eyes how Rome treated those it conquered. With Marcus occupied with his duties, it would not be difficult to slip away from Lucia, taking the household monies with her.

Leaving her room, she escorted Lucia outside the house without any further word. As a test to her memory, she led the way through winding streets that were, indeed, clogged with reeking, restless humanity.

The putrid odor of refuse and horses assailed her, but she did not slow her pace. Pausing only to ensure that Lucia kept time, she pushed her way toward the Forum with sure steps.

To her credit, Lucia did not broach conversation. Ademeni could think of nothing more demeaning than discussing the events that had transpired in Marcus’s bed. He had told her all she needed to know. She’d gone into the room hoping to best him. Instead, he’d turned the tables and pleasured her. His restraint highlighted his position as her master in all things.

Nothing had changed.

Stopping at their usual vendors, Ademeni took initiative, bargaining deftly, exchanging coin for fruit, grain and a skin of wine. She carried the bulk of the materials over her shoulders as they continued their circuit.

When she turned from the wine vendor, Lucia stood a short distance away, staring toward the avenue. Bile rose in Ademeni’s throat when she saw the column of soldiers, brass shining, marching through the street. Their considerable bulk forced the crowd aside, like a large boat moving through a storm. Displaced citizens gathered along the edges of the formation, raising their fists and their voices.

With dread, Ademeni dropped her packages and turned toward the rear of the column. Even at a distance, she recognized Marcus astride his black stallion. Beside him, the monster Tertullian tried to measure up. Behind him, his legion marched with their standard.

And last, an unorganized mass of humanity clothed in rags lurched forward. Held in check by a reinforced line of centurions, the imprisoned men of Dacia entered the Forum to rabid cheers from every corner.

People shoved by Ademeni, pushing by her, trampling her goods. Exuberant cries tore from their throats as if they had defeated an enemy with their own hands.

On the faces of her countrymen, anger, fear, disgust and exhaustion. All the things she’d felt not so long ago but had conveniently forgotten. They might never be free again, but she sensed an opportunity. The time had come.

Clutching the household purse in one hand, she turned against the tide and slipped away from the spectacle.

* * *

“Don’t you have a wife to go home to?” Marcus barked as Tertullian followed him through the doorway of his house.

“You’ve been a cur all day.” Tertullian slammed the door so the walls shook.

Marcus whirled on him, realizing at the last moment that, for a change, his poor temper had nothing to do with the man before him. He checked himself. “Go home.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re petitioning Trajan.”

Exhaustion ate at Marcus’s reason. “What difference does it make why I request an audience? I’ve done so on several occasions. None of which have been any business of yours.”

Their angry voices raised the household. Callia emerged first, rubbing her tired eyes. “Papa?”

Marcus groaned. “Yes, Sunshine, come here.”

She stumbled toward him, disoriented from slumber, and he scooped her up. As she rested her head on his shoulder, he spied Lucia in the hallway. Lucia stayed put, with Flora behind her.

He did not see Ademeni but supposed she might be waiting for him again tonight. The thought pushed excitement through his tired limbs. He glanced at Tertullian. Gods forbid his brother-in-law would catch wind of the tryst.

Callia raised her head. “She’s gone.”

Marcus’s heart stopped as his daughter whispered the news. “Who’s gone?”

Innocent green eyes widened. “Meni.”

He looked to Lucia. “What happened?”

She glanced past him, to Tertullian, as if she did not wish to speak in his presence. Marcus stepped between them and lowered his voice. “What happened?”

“At the market today. She slipped away when the procession came through the Via Sacra.” Lucia’s soft tone did little to soften the blow.

“What?” He lowered Callia to the ground, unable to wrap his mind around the idea. “How?”

“Flora and I searched as well as we could, but…” Lucia’s voice died away as she raised her hands to ask forgiveness.

Ademeni had run away just when she seemed to be adjusting. When they seemed to have reached some understanding last night. Why now? The bedlam of the city would give her cover, to a point, but could also be her worst enemy.

“How long has she been gone?” he asked, shooing Callia into Flora’s arms. When no answer came, he roared, “How long?”

Lucia winced. “Midmorning.”

Marcus’s hands turned cold. The sun was setting while they wasted words. Hand on his
gladius,
he turned and barreled toward the door.

“How gallant.” Tertullian stepped in front of him. “For a slave you plunge headlong into the night?”

Marcus shoved him against the wall, his forearm pressing against Tertullian’s throat. “Go home now and the gods will bless you.”

With no time to waste, he released his second and charged from the house. Picking up speed, he maneuvered through the narrow streets, his eyes sharp for any sign of Ademeni.

She didn’t know the city well enough to find her way outside the labyrinth. Or maybe she did. Despite her haughty attitude, she could not overcome a well-trained soldier on his first night home, or even a drunken fool with the slightest of poor intentions.

Jupiter forbid, someone might recognize her as Dacian and throw her into the holding pen with the rest of the prisoners. Fear pumped through his veins. Yet now that she dressed like a Roman, he might never find her.

Torn between checking the confines and moving more swiftly through the crowd, he opted to scour the area around the Forum. If all else failed, he would see if she’d been taken prisoner.

Never in battle had he tasted this kind of fear. Not even when Julia had arrived in Dacia. More personal, this bitterness kept him sharp. The further into the poor districts he moved, the more acute the scent of wine and urine, the rowdier the crowd.

No one respected his uniform here. No pause was given when he entered a room full of lawless brawlers and prostitutes. By all that was decent, he hated this city.

If nothing else, if the gods sent him home empty-handed, he knew nothing Lucia said or did would keep him in Rome. Her politically motivated plans for him had gone too far.

He clenched his fists. If her scheming turned out to be the one thing that pushed Ademeni away or caused her harm, he would never forgive her for meddling.

He forged ahead. He would find her. The last thing he needed was the weight of more ill-gotten guilt.

* * *

As the last rays of an orange sun sank over the horizon, Ademeni swallowed a trickle of fear. She turned in a frantic circle, looking for some familiar marking on a building or a friendly face in the crowd.

She’d come so far outside the center of the city that nothing made sense any longer. Quickly losing her bearings, she’d made one wrong turn after another. She chastised herself and headed east, but the city stretched on and on.

She slogged through dank puddles, assaulted by the stench of sewage and cooked fowl. Light and raucous laughter spilled from the open doorways of taverns, but she’d learned fast not to step inside.

As the light of day waned, morals and inhibitions faded. While she pushed through the crowd, people become bolder, offering lewd comments or sweeping their hands over her body. Disgusting suggestions pelted her, as if she were a temple whore.

“Come here, beautiful, we’ll show you what real Roman men are made of…”

She thought of Marcus. He would never have said such things to her, even when he knew nothing of her royal station. She had made a great error, leaving this way. Even if nothing had changed for him, that heartache was better than this.

On the heels of that thought, three drunken merchants approached from the end of an alley, one of them holding a hand to his crotch, the others holding weapons.

“What have we here, fellows?”

She whirled and backtracked through the streets, their laughter following long after she’d outstripped them. Once she regained her breath, she looked for any markers that might lead to more familiar territory.

And after she’d found her footing, then what? She slowed again. She couldn’t return to the house. If Marcus didn’t beat her, Lucia surely would.

In the distance, a great cheer rose into the night. Such noise only came from the heart of the city. Aiming for the sound, Ademeni sucked in rancid air and wiped the sweat from her face with her cloak.

She came upon a makeshift prison rather than some gladiatorial event at the Circus Maximus. Hiding in the shadows, she lost her breath at the sheer number of captives brought by Trajan from Dacia. Their horror and misery shook her, and she stepped into the light before realizing she’d even moved.

A strong hand grabbed her upper arm and spun her around. Face to face with Tertullian, she choked on a scream. Struggling to pull free of his grip, she brought more attention to herself.

He jerked her by the arm, pulling her into the shadows, pressing her into a corner. His breath, tainted with wine, stifled her, his words covered with lust. “Alone at last, Princess.”

Ademeni gagged and pushed him, but made no headway. Her skin crawled as he dragged his hands up her body. She turned her head, avoiding a brutal kiss. She gasped as he leveraged his weight against her, robbing her of breath to cry out.

His mouth attached to her neck, and she lashed out, nails gouging his cheek. He jerked away. “Damn you!”

A well-placed blow to his groin doubled him, and Ademeni slid free. His grasp slithered down her back, tearing the wrap from her shoulders.