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.
Still, she did not resist him when he gathered her into his arms. The desire to care for her overwhelmed him as his body warmed hers. He helped her to her feet, able only to focus on her well-being. As he maneuvered to the doorway, Lucia rushed in to help.
Flora stood back, her face the color of ash.
“Take her to my room,” he murmured, and let Lucia take over while he corralled the rest of his unwanted house guests.
He felt as if he’d ingested a stone. The realization of how this looked came upon him a little at a time. After the gossips learned of these events, Trajan would have no reason to excuse him or grant his petition. This split between him and his second over a slave did not make him look innocent.
All the more reason he had to uncover the root of the conspiracy against him before Trajan called him to explain.
When the house had been emptied—no small task—Marcus stalked to his cubiculum and drew back the curtain. Lucia ministered to several small cuts across Ademeni’s shoulders. Flickering lamplight lent softness to the two women as they sat side by side.
“I’ve given her something to help her sleep.” Lucia glanced at him. A knowledgeable Roman patron, she continued, “You may have gone too far.”
He stepped inside the room. “Tertullian is out of control.”
“Be sure that you are not also out of control,” she warned.
“Is this not what you had in mind when you counseled both of us?” he accused.
Lucia shook her head. So, she had not counted on them coming to care for each other. “You tread on uneven ground. This is all I am saying.” Laying aside the cloth she used to clean Ademeni’s scrapes, she rose and touched Marcus on the shoulder as she left the room.
Alone with Ademeni, he felt as if his hands had been tied behind his back. He could say nothing to remedy this night. Rather than using words, he sat beside her and wrapped her in his arms. She began to shake, and he held her until she exhausted herself, kissing her temples and cheeks.
Careful of her injuries, he nestled her in the blankets as she drifted into a fretful sleep. While he thanked the gods that no real harm had come to her, he wouldn’t be closing his eyes tonight.
He knew his enemy with all probability—now he just had to prove it to the emperor of Rome.
Chapter Fifteen
Ademeni stared at Marcus through the milky haze of an overcast dawn. She reached for his shoulder, then, tears scalding her eyes, she let her hand fall away. She’d already gone to wake him several times. Her mind whirred with the things she wanted to say to him before he left for whatever new post Trajan assigned.
But she let him sleep. He’d come to her rescue last night. Taken care of her as if she were kin. Now she must tell him her true feelings and accept whatever resolution he offered. For after he left the house today, there might not be another opportunity.
“How long have you been awake?”
Marcus’s gruff voice interrupted her thoughts. She steeled herself against her attraction to him, leaning toward the sound of his voice regardless.
“Not long,” she lied.
He sat, brow furrowed. “Long enough to become upset.”
She blinked and glanced away, and then studied the weave of the blanket coiled around her body. Lovely work, really, she should learn how…
He lifted her chin and redirected her attention. “What bothers you on such a beautiful morning?”
Beautiful? He had lost his senses. The humidity that clung to the seven hills threatened to stifle her. Each breath nearly gagged her with its weight.
“Tertullian will not come near you again.”
The thought of that awful man touching her sent a shiver through her soul. Marcus could not protect her once he was gone. She would have to look for ways to protect herself, as hiding behind these walls would serve little purpose.
She straightened her spine. “When will you leave today?”
“Soon.” He studied the rise and depth of the shadows. “I have things to do in the city.”
Ademeni pulled in a huge breath, apprehension eating at her heart. The words she sought deserted her tongue, and she sat before Marcus with her mouth half open, unable to speak.
He reached for her hand. “What is it?”
The dam burst, and words tumbled from her lips like rushing water. “Can you not see that I’ve fallen in love with you and I’m afraid you’re going to leave me to rot in Rome for the love of your emperor?”
His eyes grew wider, and she couldn’t look away from the dread on his face. Now he fell into muted silence, his mouth twitching without forming a response.
Her heart seized and she squeezed his hand. “Grant me my freedom, if you feel anything at all for me. You have been so kind to me, you have never made me feel small, and I only ask that you grant me my freedom that I may return to my homeland.”
Marcus snapped his jaw shut. She stopped rambling as his eyes fell dead behind a veil of impunity. His hands became like cold marble in hers, and she loosened her fingers one by one until she released him.
&n
bsp; Panic rushed through her body. She’d made a huge blunder. After everything, after his tenderness and his protective posturing, she had somehow miscalculated her situation. He did not feel for her—at least not in comparison to his duty and loyalty to an idea, to a tyrant.
The bitterness of rejection and fear mingled in the back of her throat. Once upon a time, suitors had come seeking her hand in marriage, even if only for political gain. What had she become?
Longing to hide her face, she sank back in the bed and turned her back to him. Her mind reached for new alternatives, new ways to find her way out of the maze that her life had become.
Embarrassment filled her eyes with blinding tears, and she choked back an onslaught of anger. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her weep or hearing her sob. Instead, she gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands.
If her future did not rest with Marcus, she would just have to find another way out of her most unfortunate circumstance.
* * *
Marcus had never been so stunned, even on the field of battle. He longed to take Ademeni in his arms, comfort her and tell her that he would grant her request in a heartbeat. That she could be free to choose him or not. That he was willing to lose her if that freedom made her happy.
But going into the city and procuring the proper paperwork would only fuel the rumors against him. Freeing her today could cost his life. Was he willing to pay that price? It had never been asked of him before, not even for Julia.
Only for Rome.
If she could wait just one more day, he could possibly give her all she asked and more. Once he found a way to prove his loyalty and Tertullian’s treachery, anything he requested would be his.
Or, he could give her what she asked regardless of how fate treated him. Take the risk, make the choice and live with the consequences.
Marcus hesitated. He’d put his life on the line too many times to count since reaching maturity and training for a life in military service. All without much forethought. His life had been mapped out, and he had simply followed the plan.
As he studied Ademeni’s graceful form, silken hair and proud bearing, he realized he’d never been forced to make any decisions. Even marrying Julia had been something that came along, a politically advantageous pairing and a boon to his career.
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