Chapter 10
Antonia remained frozen as the impenetrable blackness of the night seeped into her soul. In some buried corner of her mind, she knew this was only a dream, but it didn’t stop the terror from pounding through her heart.
An unnatural breeze brushed across her arms, causing her to shiver although it wasn’t cold.
My future hangs in the balance.
She knew she had to move. Knew it was up to her to make the decision whether to turn left or right on the rocky path beneath her feet. But if she took one wrong step, she would plunge to her death.
On the far horizon, an eerie silver glow bloomed, highlighting the ominous clouds that hung low in the sky. From the ethereal luminosity came the figure of a woman—no, not a woman, no mere mortal could radiate such a devastating otherworldly beauty. Even in a dream? But the thought was ephemeral because she knew who this goddess was.
Juno. Queen of the gods.
The great goddess approached and a different fear clutched Antonia’s breast. It had been so long since Juno had honored her with a visitation that she had forgotten—
Forgotten that in her dreams, Juno didn’t resemble the glorious statues or paintings in the temples dedicated to her worship.
She looked too young and wore a crown of flowers, like a goddess of spring. Yet the majestic power that swirled around her was not that of a minor goddess.
“Antonia.” The feminine voice whispered through her mind, the power in that one word both mighty and terrible. “You must bring them home to me.”
“Domina.” Elpis’ familiar voice penetrated the paralysis that gripped her and she clutched her slave’s hand as the lingering tendrils of the dream faded.
She looked up at Elpis in the glow of dawn. Her heart hammered against her ribs but she couldn’t quite recall what had so terrified her.
“Did I speak?” Her voice was hoarse and when Elpis bowed her head, dread knotted her stomach. “What did I say?”
“You spoke in Juno’s tongue.”
Antonia pulled her hand from Elpis and speared her fingers through her hair, digging her nails into her scalp. It had been years since she’d had the nightmares of impending doom. Years since foreign words had spilled from her mouth while her future was determined by faceless shadows. Before Elpis had arrived, her father had been devastated by her inexplicable nighttime ravings. But the little Greek slave girl, who even now still worshipped Hera, the goddess of her people, had convinced them both that it was Juno speaking through Antonia, in the language of the gods.
As a child, she had accepted it. As she grew older, less so. If Juno was trying to tell Antonia something, why would she use a language no mortal could understand? But more than that, there was an uneasy certainty that, in the dreams, Antonia could understand every word the goddess uttered.
“Why now?” She pushed herself upright and hugged her knees as if she were still that frightened child. “Juno hasn’t spoken through me since the night before I left Gallia.”
The night before she’d left for Rome, for her new life as Scipio’s wife.
“I don’t know.” Elpis hesitated. “Perhaps it has something to do with the Cambrian, Gawain.”
Antonia trailed the tips of her fingers over the tender flesh of her shoulder where Gawain had marked her as though she belonged to him. Although unease flooded her veins, she smiled at the thought. Truly, she had chosen wisely when she’d decided to take him as her lover. Already his touch had done much to eradicate the memory of years of forced submission she’d endured with Scipio.
“I cannot see how. Gawain has his own gods. Why would Juno return because I had taken a Cambrian lover?” As the words left her lips, a dreadful possibility occurred to her. Was it because Juno disapproved?
Her smile faded. No, surely not. Why would such a thing give the great goddess pause? Antonia was no longer married, so she wasn’t even betraying her husband. And Juno knew how dedicated Antonia was in her desire to give Cassia a loving upbringing. Gawain was simply an intoxicating interlude.
No. She refused to believe the return of Juno had anything to do with her liaison with Gawain. It was a coincidence.
Her father joined her as she broke her fast in the opulent dining room. She hadn’t seen him the previous day after she’d left him with the praetor, as he had been occupied with business. Self-consciously she checked that Elpis had arranged her stola so that Gawain’s mark didn’t show. How would she be able to explain that away?
Shockingly, the thought caused her lips to twitch with amusement and she hastily pushed some dried fruit into her mouth. Now, as her father reclined by her side and regaled her with the success of his current business ventures and the benevolence of the great Mercury, was not the time to lust over Gawain’s sexual prowess.
She could do that later, when they were alone in a squalid tavern room.
Even that thought sent wanton heat blazing through her blood.
“The praetor thinks very highly of you, Antonia.” Her father smiled at her, pride glowing in his eyes. “I didn’t realize you were both so well acquainted with each other in Rome.”
Antonia wasn’t sure what her father implied by that, and was equally sure he was reading far more into it than he should.
“The praetor,” not that he’d been a praetor back in Rome, “would often visit my former husband. But so too would many of the other senators.”
Her father squeezed her hand. “You know, of course, that his wife died in childbirth over two years ago.”
Of course she knew. His wife had numbered among her friends. If she had lived would she, also, have turned her back when Scipio had made it clear he intended to rid himself of a useless wife?
“Her death was a tragedy.” Antonia had mourned for her friend. But at least she had delivered a healthy son for her husband. Wasn’t that all Roman patricians cared about? Her husband had never appeared distraught at her untimely death. But neither had he immediately taken another bride.
Perhaps, in private, he had cared. Despite how often his lustful eyes had glanced her way during the last eight years.
“He greatly admires you.”
Her teeth lodged in the soft fruit and she shot her father a probing look. Surely he wasn’t suggesting—?
“I have high hopes that, with the right encouragement, he will elevate you once again into your rightful sphere.”
She choked down the fruit. “I’m already in my rightful sphere. I have no desire to leave you again, Father.” She took a steadying breath. Perhaps now was the time to tell him of her plans to not only stay with him, but to ultimately adopt a child. “The truth is—”
“The truth is you are too modest.” Her father gazed at her lovingly and she stared at him, appalled. How could he imagine that the praetor might want to take her back to Rome? There was only one way he could do that, and it was if they were married. And she was certain that while he would have no compunction in taking her as his mistress, the praetor had no use for her as his wife. “After you left us, he made it very clear to me that he has your best interests at heart. You don’t belong in a barbarous province, Antonia. You were born to grace the highest echelons of the empire.”
“No, Father.” She hated to upset him, but he had to face the truth. “My mother was born to grace the upper echelons of the empire, not I. You know as well I do that in the eyes of Rome, I am but the daughter of a merchant.”
He winced at her blunt words, but she recognized the obstinate set of his mouth. “Your patrician relatives accepted you, Antonia. You were not cast out.”
Unlike her mother who, when she had married outside her social sphere, had been forever ostracized by her powerful relatives. Not for the first time Antonia wondered if her mother would still have married her father had she not fallen pregnant with Antonia before the wedding night. Her father had never confirmed this fact and she would cut out her tongue before she raised the matter with him, but she’d worked out the truth long before she had left Galli
a.
“Yes,” she conceded. “My mother’s relatives accepted me.” But would they have accepted her if she had not possessed the coveted Roman ideal of blonde hair and fair complexion? She’d overheard their relieved whispers. Bristled at the knowledge that they had feared she would be a coarse, uneducated Gallia-spawned pleb.
Had she been any of those things, Scipio would never have noticed her. Would never have gone to such lengths to secure her as his bride. But it wasn’t long before he took spiteful pleasure in reminding her of her lowly plebeian roots.
“I only want what’s best for you.” Her father sighed heavily and guilt chewed through her breast at how she was deceiving him with Gawain. And how she would soon deceive him about his own granddaughter. “I cannot allow my own selfish desire to keep you by my side blight your future. The praetor is a powerful man. He has the ability to protect you against anything.”
Antonia couldn’t imagine what her father meant. She didn’t care, either. “If you’re right about him wishing to marry me then I must tell you now. I have no intention of doing so. Not to him or any other man.” There. She’d told him. Relief washed through her, along with a thread of concern. She hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed in her.
He patted her hand, as though she were still his pampered child who knew nothing of the wider world. “Perhaps not yet. But when you’ve had time to think on it, I know you will feel differently. When the praetor returns to Rome after his tour of duty in Britannia, I am determined you’ll go with him—as his wife.”
As she and Elpis approached the public baths, Antonia still couldn’t get her father’s words from her mind. “He’s set on this course of action, Elpis. He’s deaf to my protests.”
“The dominus will never force you to do something against your will.”
It was true. She knew it. And she knew how rare that situation was. Had her father been a patrician, a member of the class he so admired, her wishes would mean nothing to him. If he decided she would remarry, then there would be no discussion.
She knew all this. But it didn’t prevent the spark of irritation that he was so set on doing something he believed was in her best interest, no matter how she tried to dissuade him.
“Beside the fact I’ll never marry the praetor, surely my father knows that if I did, I would once again be among those who shunned me during this last year?” It was a horrifying thought. Not least because she knew the women who’d turned their backs on her would, upon such an advantageous remarriage, be only too eager to take up the severed threads of friendship once again. As if nothing had happened.
“The dominus doesn’t know of the true circumstances of this last year, domina,” Elpis said, and their gazes clashed.
No, he didn’t know how she had been frozen out of the social gatherings and invitations. How, in the eyes of Roman society, she had become a persona non grata. If she told him, she knew he’d be devastated on her behalf. If she ever confided as to how Scipio had treated her, she feared the possible consequences of her father’s fury.
It was best he believed Scipio had divorced her for purely political reasons. It wasn’t a lie. It simply wasn’t the full depth of truth.
She drew in a deep breath. The situation with her father would be resolved eventually. But now she was moments from meeting with Gawain. She pushed her father’s ambitions to the back of her mind. Gawain was her secret fantasy, a fleeting diversion, and while they were together, she would not disturb it by thinking of reality.
They entered the building and swiftly Antonia exchanged her blue palla for Elpis’ plain one. It wasn’t much of a disguise but since she was virtually unknown in the city, it would suffice.
Heart pounding, she slipped outside and instantly caught sight of Gawain across the road. He didn’t acknowledge her. He merely turned and began to stroll down a side road.
She let out a ragged breath and glanced at Elpis, whose face was impassive. “Do you think me entirely wicked, Elpis?” she whispered, as they followed Gawain at a respectable distance.
“No, domina,” Elpis said dutifully. “But I don’t want you to end up hurt. And I fear this path leads only to heartache.”
Antonia laughed softly. “I have no heart left to ache, Elpis. Everything I have is devoted to Cassia. This is simply…” She hesitated for a moment. It sounded wrong, somehow, to encompass everything Gawain made her feel into one clinical word. Yet it was nothing less than the truth. “Physical.”
Elpis turned to look at her. “I hope so.” Her tone was not that of a slave to her mistress. Worry clouded her eyes. “There can be no future with this Cambrian, domina.”
Gawain disappeared around a corner and Antonia shot Elpis a scandalized glance. “I’m not looking for a future with him, Elpis.” Juno, where had that idea come from? Elpis knew better than anyone else why Antonia would never tie herself to another man. “Cassia will be here within the month. The day she arrives is the day this affair ends.”
Chapter 11
Gawain waited just inside the tavern and watched Antonia as she approached. Even in this back street, where no patrician lady should set foot, she had an aura of confidence in her step and a smile tugged his mouth.
When he’d seen her across the square, as she left the Roman baths, something had tightened in his chest. He wasn’t sure why. He’d been certain that she would turn up so it couldn’t have been relief.
He leaned against the open doorjamb and saw her face light up as she caught sight of him. In that moment, she looked so young, so carefree, as though she wasn’t risking her good name by meeting him here this day.
“Is this your idea of a disguise?” He tweaked the hood of her slave’s cloak, which covered her pale gold hair. She laughed up at him and swayed toward him as if she intended to wrap her arms around him. But she didn’t.
“Who will see me? Only you.”
“Make sure it stays that way.” The growled words were out before he could prevent them. Gods. He didn’t usually care if his conquests fucked around with other men. But the thought of Antonia doing so did not sit well with him.
She raised her eyebrows. “I do believe we’re talking at cross-purposes.” She appeared to find that amusing if the quirk to her lips was anything to go by. “You have no cause to be jealous, Gawain.”
That was taking it too far. He wrapped his arm around her waist and propelled her into the dark tavern.
“I’m not the jealous type,” he said against her ear as he led her to the room he had hired. But the image of Antonia sharing her charms with another goaded his mind. “But while you’re with me, don’t even think about taking another lover.”
Fuck, what had possessed him to tell her that? He thrust open the door and allowed her to enter before him, aware that her slave remained in the passageway. She would be safe enough. He had given instructions, and paid the tavern keeper enough coin, to ensure they’d be undisturbed.
He kicked the door shut and watched Antonia as she slowly turned, examining the room. It was little more than a hovel. The thought irked him, even though it had been her idea to meet here instead of the luxurious surroundings of Carys’ villa.
“This is quite charming.” Her voice was breathless and from the subdued glow that came through the dingy windows her eyes sparkled with mirth. He took one step toward her, ripped open her cloak and flung it onto the unsavory-looking bed.
“Do you often conduct assignations in such disreputable surrounds?” Perhaps she made a habit of it. The possibility stoked his ire. But why did it? Why did it bother him? Why did he give a shit where or how Antonia had taken her lovers in the past?
“Juno, of course not.” She sounded scandalized. “This is the first time I’ve ever set foot inside a tavern. I confess it is quite exciting.”
He laughed, even though he hadn’t meant to. But she said the most extraordinary things, and in such a way that he was hard-pressed not to believe she meant every word. Maybe she did. Why would she lie?
“You’
re easily excited, my lady.” His comment, and the unintended double entendre, sent another rumble of laughter through his chest.
“Oh yes.” She gave him a sinful glance from beneath her lashes. “I’m very easily pleased, Gawain. I’ve never craved a great deal from life.”
He pulled a jeweled pin from her hair and twisted it between his fingers so the gems glittered. “I believe you.” But what a gently bred Roman might consider the bare necessities would be unobtainable luxury for a noble born Druid. “So what is it you do crave from life, Antonia?”
Her smile faltered and for a fleeting moment he once again saw that haunting vulnerability cloud her eyes. What is she hiding? The demand thundered through his mind but before he could order his thoughts, before he could formulate the question, she gave a breathless laugh and shook her head, shattering the moment. Her ringlet bounced against her throat, captivating his attention, and she trailed her fingers along his jaw.
“No more than any other woman.”
“Other Roman women.” He covered her hand and pressed his lips against her open palm. Her gaze locked with his and he watched, bewitched, as desire darkened her ice-blue eyes.
“Are we so different from Celtic women?” Her question was barely above a whisper and he caught an odd vulnerability in her voice.
“Yes.” His hungry gaze roved over her aristocratic face, her intricately styled hair, the foreign gown she wore. But even if he dressed her as a Celtic noble, it wasn’t the way she looked that divided them. “We live in two different worlds, Antonia. You wouldn’t last a Roman month in mine.”
A small smile curved her lips. “I didn’t imagine you were so close-minded. How easily you could fit into the world of Roman politics.”
Her words were unexpected. Once again, she appeared less than dazzled with her cursed empire and her attitude intrigued him. He slid his fingers through hers and tugged her forward. “Did you just insult me, my lady?”
The Druid Chronicles: Mystical Historical Romance Page 96