The Patrician

by Joan Kayse

  He shifted uncomfortably. How often had he called her that very name.

  Bryna continued. “I was hurt by Bran’s reaction. Angry, in fact, and told him as much. He reacted in like temper and stalked off to ready his curragh.” At Jared’s raised brow, she searched for the Latin word. “Sailing vessel?” He nodded his understanding, so she continued. “His plans were to cross the sea to the land of the Ileni.”

  Jared swung his legs over the side of the bed, waited till the dizziness passed. “Having a fight with your brother is hardly a cause of being captured.”

  She surprised him by walking over to sit next to him. The sweet scent of her filled his lungs, the warmth of her arm brushing his felt like a brand.

  “After Bran left, I had several visions. The first was vague and showed people standing by the water as a curragh floated out to sea. I decided that it must mean Bran’s vessel had leaked and knowing he was a good swimmer, decided to teach him a lesson by not acting on it. The second was very clear. It showed Bran’s party being attacked.” Bryna wrapped her arms around herself. “There was so much blood, so much screaming. I could smell the death.”

  She moved her hands to fist in her lap and Jared could see them trembling. Moving, he covered them with one of his own. They were cold, small, and so fragile. They stilled and began to warm beneath his touch.

  A guarded look flitted through her eyes, but Bryna did not pull away. “As soon as the vision passed I left our clan’s dun and hurried after the trading party. I ran so fast, as hard as I could to reach the coastline. By the time I arrived it was too late. The Ileni were attacking.”

  She lowered her head. “I didn’t even think. I raced down to the beach. Bran saw me, and in that moment of disbelief, he was overcome by a warrior.” She took a ragged breath. “If I had warned him in time. . .”

  Jared squeezed her hand. “Your brother was a man, a warrior?” He continued at her nod. “Then he knew how to fight.”

  She raised her eyes and the torment in them nearly undid him.

  “If I had not distracted him, he would not have been felled.” She set her mouth in a determined line. “I have to find him, I have to. I have to set him free.”

  The logical side of him was set to point out—again—the reality of her brother’s fate. Even if by some wild fortune he still lived, the odds of locating him were so low as to be nonexistent. It was time for Bryna to give up this false hope.

  But looking down into her troubled green eyes Jared could not say the words.

  Without thought, he slid his arm around her waist, pleased when she nestled against him, her body warm against his side. Gods, she smelled like a fresh ocean breeze beneath her own unique woman’s scent. “When we return to Alexandria I will help you find your brother.” It was insanity to make such a promise, one he could not keep. But the pain in her eyes touched something deep within him The fever had to have addled his mind to feel the need to comfort the woman who had caused him so much suffering. “After,” Jared added quickly, “you help me find my betrayer.”

  Long moments passed as she studied him, doubt and hope warring behind her eyes. “I will do whatever I can to aid you.”

  Jared was snared by the darkening of Bryna’s eyes from forest green to the deepest emerald. His gaze drifted to her luscious mouth, a mere breath away. With his finger, he traced the line of her jaw, dropping off at her chin to the slender column of her throat. Wrapping one hand at her nape he drew her closer, dipped his head and caught her lips. Gods, she tasted like wine and honey and female. He teased the edges of her mouth with his tongue before plunging in to explore the warm, soft recesses. His stomach clenched when she responded in kind, her tongue supple and tentative at first, then matching his strokes. Heat speared through his body, rising with the need, the want of her. He groaned and pulled her onto his lap, cupped his hand over her taut rump. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her and...

  A soft cough sounded from the doorway. Bryna jumped away as if she had caught fire. Jared scowled at the boy standing there staring with mouth agape. The youth had a pocked face with the barest hint of fuzz on his chin that was a shade lighter than the brown hair sticking out at all angles from his head. He looked like a startled goat. All limbs, he shuffled his large feet awkwardly.

  “Bryna. . . um. . . Mother says she must start the ovens early in the morn.”

  Bryna slipped off Jared’s lap, her breathing shaky as he struggled to steady his own. The loss of her warmth left him chilled. “Aye, Lito, I will be there in plenty of time.”

  Lito ducked his head shyly and scraped at the floor with his bare foot. “Ummmm. . .I brought you these.” From behind his back he produced a wilted bouquet of wildflowers.

  Jared snorted, absorbed the elbow Bryna dug into his side even as he felt a stab of jealousy at the warm smile she bestowed on the boy.

  “My thanks, Lito. They are very beautiful,” she said walking over to accept the flowers.

  Lito blushed a deep red, his expression pure adoration. Bryna kissed his cheek.

  Jared rolled his eyes and stood, stretching to his full height. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the boy. “Bryna is tired and needs her rest.”

  His stance had the desired effect. The boy shrank back, knocking against the side of the door, barely saved himself from falling to the ground. “Um...um,” was all he could manage to say.

  Bryna shot him a censoring look and placed her hand on Lito’s arm. “You are very thoughtful. I will see you tomorrow.”

  He brightened immediately, sent Jared a triumphant look before dashing down the short hall to his own quarters. Bryna slowly faced him and crossed her own arms. “Perhaps the fever is returning for you to act such a lout. Lito is a sensitive boy.”

  Jared snorted. “Lito is a pup in his first stirrings of lust.” Unlike himself who struggled to control the waves of hunger stirred to life by her kiss.

  He could seduce her, use the sweet murmurings that had never failed to ease other women into his bed. He could seduce her into giving what his body yearned, something he was adept at. Despite her denials, no slave so desirable in face and form would have gone unnoticed or untouched by her master. The man would have had to be both dumb and blind to overlook such a prize.

  Jared tracked her as she tidied the room and a smile tugged at his lips at the rosy tint of her cheeks. His kiss had moved her. It would be a challenge to persuade the fiery barbarian into succumbing to his charms. Fortunately for him, he loved a challenge.

  Would that satisfy your thirst for revenge?

  Jared’s gut clenched. He was a man of honor, or had been before living the degradation of a slave. He’d survived by envisioning how he would extract payment from the seer who had sealed his fate and none of the scenarios had been pleasant. He glanced at her features, softened by the flickering light of the oil lamp. That was before he’d seen her courage. Before he’d discovered her own journey of loss. His attention snapped back to the now when she spoke.

  “You are crazed. Lito is nothing but a shy little boy,” Bryna argued, plumping the pallet she had made for herself on the floor next to his bed. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.”

  He wasn’t about to waste time explaining the inner workings of an adolescent boy. She had never been one—he had. “I am well recovered. There is no reason to delay our journey any longer.”

  “We cannot leave for another two days. Aea has a large order of loaves and honey cakes for one of the local...” She struggled to find the word. “...chiefs. I cannot leave her to the work alone.”

  “Let the pup help out,” he growled. “It would go a long way to cooling his ardor.”

  Bryna gave him a pointed look. “In two days’ time, we will leave. Now, as you were so eager to point out, I am tired. I need my rest.” She stretched out on the second pallet and snuggled under a woolen coverlet.

  Jared sat down hard on the cot and rolled onto his side, annoyed that she’d use the same excuse he’d gi
ven Lito. When exactly had the decisions fallen out of his hands? Obviously, the lady was going to need a reminder who was in command.

  He opened his mouth to speak then closed it as the soft, even breathing of her sleep drifted to his ears. Scowling, he flipped back onto his back. He had just decided; two more days would not matter.

  ***

  Two days lasted an eternity.

  Jared stared at the calculi board, not really seeing the pattern of black and white stones laid out in rows before him, nor the intense expression on his opponent’s face. How could he concentrate on a game when all his thoughts were on Bryna?

  He hadn’t seen much of her since their kiss two nights past. Somehow, she managed to rise early each morning before he awoke, and came in late each evening, pleading fatigue before lying on her pallet and falling into exhausted slumber.

  Neither mentioned the incident. It was nothing more than a result of circumstances, of her gratitude. Jared rolled a white stone in his hand. He could still taste her, could still feel her mouth softening beneath his, her head tilting to meet him as he deepened the kiss. He was a man after all and what man in his right mind would pass up a chance to taste such a delectable morsel as his barbarian?

  His barbarian? He dropped the game piece on the board.

  “Ah ha! I win again,” said Cicero, rubbing his hands together in glee. He started collecting the black stones and replacing them in a leather pouch. “That makes ten in a row, boy. Your mind is not on the game.”

  Jared scowled at him. “I could beat you with my eyes blindfolded if I wanted to, old man.”

  Cicero scoffed. “I’ve never known a man to dwell his thoughts so much on his own wife. It’s not natural.”

  Jared clenched his teeth. Cicero had too much time on his hands and was by far too observant. “I was thinking nothing of the kind. We are leaving tomorrow and I was but planning the best route to take.”

  “I’d well imagine the best route would be away from the main roads where soldiers patrol or one might be recognized.” He waved away Jared’s narrowed gaze. “Be realistic, boy. I’m old, not blind. I know what caused those scars on your back, the scars around your wrists and your ankles.” Cicero placed the bag on the board and sat back on his stool, studying him. “Did you think it would not be noticed that you never leave this room? It doesn’t take a smart man to figure out you’re a runaway.”

  It took every bit of concentration to appear indifferent to Cicero’s revelation. Inside, his stomach twisted, every muscle tense. He had been feeling uneasy these past few days, recognizing the folly of staying in one place too long. He cursed himself for being ten kinds of a fool for going along with Bryna.

  He started to lie then realized, when he met Cicero’s knowing gaze, it would be useless. “How many others have you shared this insight with?”

  Cicero snorted. “I don’t want the authorities brought down on my head. The penalty for helping a runaway is as severe as it is for the fugitive. Aea is too busy with her bakery and too grateful for your wife’s help. As to my grandson,” he waved a dismissive hand, “he is too busy trying to figure out how to walk down the street without tripping over himself. No one else knows.”

  Jared released his breath. “We will leave tonight.”

  “No reason to do that. The morning will be soon enough. Besides,” Cicero spilled the calculi pieces back onto the board. “I haven’t had such a worthy opponent in a long time.”

  Jared smiled despite himself and gathered his game pieces together for another round. Just as Cicero made his first move, a loud crash echoed from the hall outside the room. The old man motioned for him to remain seated. “Never mind that, it’s just Lito knocking into a wall. Now impress me with your playing skills.”

  ***

  For once, he would be the one doing the laughing, thought Lito as he stumbled along the sidewalk. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on his grandfather and that bully who called himself Bryna’s husband. Husband. Hah! A surge of self-righteous indignation stiffened his shoulders. Poor Bryna, never realizing that she was married to a felon. He stifled a grunt as his shin hit a wagon. Well, he would set things right. The garrison soldiers would be very interested in the information he had, and only too glad to take care of his—and Bryna’s—problem.

  Chapter Fifteen

  There wasn’t enough to fill the sack halfway, yet Jared spent the afternoon packing and repacking their meager possessions until he had driven himself nearly mad. Ironic for a man who once had had belongings enough to fill large chests too heavy to carry. Aggravated, he tossed the flimsy sack onto the bed.

  Cicero’s revelation had sharpened his unease. Even before Bryna had decided that their departure could wait—and why he had allowed that to happen only proved her adeptness at manipulation—he had known that they had stayed in one place too long. And that was dangerous for fugitives.

  Sliding his knife, now finely honed and razor sharp thanks to Cicero, into the belt around his waist he began to pace the room. There would be no more delays. When Bryna finished her tasks in the bake shop this afternoon, they were leaving and he’d not suffer any objection on her part.

  Cicero rushed into the room, limping, his face mottled, and his eyes full of dread. “Go!” he wheezed.

  In two strides, Jared reached the old man, helped him to sit. “Calm yourself, Cicero. It’s only a board game. I promise to let you win.”

  Cicero clutched at his hand. “No, no!” He gulped. “They’re coming. I saw them from the front of the shop.”

  The hair on the back of Jared’s neck raised. “Who is coming?”

  “Soldiers. At least six of them along with two men who look like they’d kill just for the sheer enjoyment of it.”

  Bounty hunters? Jared’s hands curled into fists. “They must be on a routine patrol.”

  Cicero’s eyes filled with pain. “No, they are not. Lito is leading the way.”

  Before the thought could register in his head, a shout sounded from the front of the building. Jared snatched up the sack. “Bryna! Is there a back way to the ovens?”

  Cicero’s shoulders sagged. “Bryna is not here. She went with my daughter to make deliveries.”

  There was no time to consider the terror and relief that washed through him knowing Bryna was safe—for the moment. He had to find her before she returned to the shop. As if reading his thoughts, Cicero said, “They should be nearly done by this time of day. Aea said the last delivery was to be at the magistrate’s house near the temple of Ceres.”

  The clanking noise of scabbard against leg drifted from the shop. Cicero pushed at him, urging him down the corridor toward a storage room. He sprinted around the corner, finding only a window, one just large enough for him to squeeze through.

  Behind him, he heard Cicero expressing surprise at the mere thought that he should be harboring runaway slaves. Through the muffle of voices he heard the excited, cracking voice of Lito, followed by the sound of a slap and a squall of pain. Wishing he could have had the pleasure of meting out the boy’s punishment, Jared hoisted himself through the opening and slid to the ground.

  ***

  Bryna sighed, leaned her shoulder against the smooth marble of a column and raised her eyes to the blue sky. It wasn’t the rich sapphire blue of home but closer than she had seen in all these past months. Perhaps it had always been blue, but then as a slave she’d done well just to survive, never mind noticing the color of the sky.

  The morning had passed by in a whirl of activity. Leaving Jared sleeping like a babe, she’d helped Aea finish baking the last of the order. Together, they loaded a handcart and after making several deliveries ended at the Roman official’s house with his order of fragrant honey cakes. Aea was with the man’s steward now, collecting payment.

  Her thoughts drifted to Jared. He would be furious if he knew she had left the shop. She smiled at the image of his broad shoulders drawn back arrogantly, the muscle ticking along the firm line of his jaw, those incredible eyes ha
rdening into points of glittering gold.

  Oh, she had taken precautions, wearing that dreaded veil again, keeping her head tucked down whenever they interacted with the customers. Still, she reveled in the sense of accomplishment, in the working for her own purpose instead of a hated master. She appreciated the normalcy and allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to manage a business, to run a household, care for a family, a husband.

  Her sense of contentment scattered like a flock of sheep stalked by a predator. A predator called Jared, she thought wryly. Oh, aye, he was that. At least that’s the argument she tried to convince herself with. Never mind that she had all but melted in his embrace. Oh, how she had enjoyed the taste of his lips, so rich, so smooth, like sweet wine. A delicious shiver went through her as she recalled the touch of his work—worn hands against her skin, his lips trailing a path of heat in their wake. Unconsciously, she raised a hand to her throat.

  She snatched it back to her side. What was the matter with her? She was acting like a young girl with star—filled eyes. Circumstances, that was all it was. A moment of physical attraction dictated by months of tension and fear and worry.

  Determined to push all thoughts of Jared from her mind, Bryna strolled over to a nearby jewelry vendor. She nodded shyly at the merchant’s greeting. The gold rings and necklaces were rough and of poor quality. Bran would have a fit to see such beautiful metal so abused. Shaking her head, she began perusing another stall’s selection of cooking pots.

  “Are you positive you’ve not seen them?”

  Bryna froze at the familiar, hated voice. She forced her hand to pick up a pot, pretended to study the workmanship.

  “No, I’ve not seen any strangers,” replied the jeweler.

  “Let me describe them again. One is a male, tall, with dark hair, the look of a rebel. Scars aplenty as proof to his stubborn ways. The other a female, about so high with cropped hair and unearthly green eyes.”

  Bryna pulled her veil out to better conceal her face, then peeked cautiously over her shoulder and her mouth went dry. Baal stood at the front of the jeweler’s booth, his stocky form as intimidating as it had ever been, accentuated by the coiled leather whip secured to his belt.