Sold and Seduced

by Michelle Styles

  ‘And what makes you think she will this time?’

  ‘She will have to,’ Lydia answered. ‘She is the mistress of the house now. She will have to do more than arrange flowers, a bit of light spinning and gossiping with her friends.’

  Aro felt the packet grow heavy in his hand. His mouth twisted as he watched Lydia writing away. Her tongue just poked out from her lips. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She looked earnest and determined. Exactly how much had she been responsible for?

  After she finished writing, he read it over. She wrote in a fair, precise hand. The tablet seemed innocent enough, a list of instructions. There was always the chance that Piso was correct. Rufus was overwrought from the fire. His mind wandered some days. Had he risked his marriage for nothing?

  He clapped his hands and one of the servants appeared, bowing low. Aro ordered the pills to be taken to the Veratii compound. After the servant left, Aro waited and watched Lydia like the falcon watches a mouse to see if she betrayed any sign of nervousness, but she stood in the middle of the room, her eyes accusing him. Many women he knew would have dissolved in tears or hysterics by now. But Lydia was different, fearless. She had argued with him.

  ‘There, you see, all is solved. There was no need for this subterfuge.’ He held out his arms and smiled, but Lydia remained where she was, watching him with wary eyes. ‘Next time, you have but to ask and the thing will be done.’

  ‘May I ask a question?’

  Aro smiled down at her. ‘If your request is reasonable, I will grant it.’

  She pursed her lips, started to say something and then stopped. When at last she spoke, her question was unexpected. ‘Why are there no women?’

  ‘I am not sure I understand.’ Aro was taken back. He’d expected her to demand a new gown or even bracelet for her wrist, as the widows in Baiae did.

  ‘Why no women, here, in this house?’ Lydia gestured about her. ‘There is not so much as a loom or a spindle. The servants I have seen are all male.’

  ‘Does that pose a problem?’ Aro leant forward, watching her. He had not thought about it, but Lydia had brought no slaves of her own, only her dog. She needed someone to look after her, female company. ‘All my servants are retired seamen. They are used to my ways. They strew the sawdust in the mornings to clean the floors, polish the columns, and scrub the cornices with a minimum of fuss. Women can be distracting.’

  Lydia longed to ask if she was a distraction. She pressed her lips together. It was obvious from the way he had behaved today that he did not intend her to be. He intended to lead his life as he had always done, while disrupting hers.

  ‘You needn’t fear,’ he continued, not noticing her annoyance. ‘They will obey you. Or by Neptune’s trident, they will answer to me.’

  ‘None has given me trouble,’ Lydia hastened to reassure him. She touched the knot of hair at the back of her head. Her curls were already escaping. ‘I would like to have a tire-woman, someone to help do my hair and look after my gowns. I left my old tire-woman with Sulpicia.’

  He stared at her and made a little gesture for her to continue. Lydia closed her eyes. She knew how it must look to Aro, how it would look to any Roman. A senator’s daughter who had to share a tire-woman. Her only consolation was that he did know something of their financial circumstances.

  ‘You left your tire-woman with your sister-in-law, the one who spends her time gossiping.’

  ‘Beroe and Sulpicia get along. I saw no reason to bring Beroe here with me.’ She kept her head high. He did not need to know her reasons. ‘I had hoped you would have had a woman I could use.’

  ‘Forgive me, it was not something I had considered.’

  ‘I was able to manage on my own for today.’

  ‘It is very pleasing.’ His hand moved a curl off her forehead. ‘I like it better than the hairstyle you wore yesterday or to the betrothal.’

  A flush of pleasure coursed through her—he liked her simple hairstyle. Ruthlessly she pushed it away. She was not ready to forgive him. Too often Publius or Sulpicia thought they could get around her with honeyed words. If she had followed her inclinations, rather than Sulpicia’s blandishments, she might never have married Aro.

  ‘I will need to obtain the services of a tire-woman as soon as possible. This hairstyle may do for around the house, but I will be expected to go out and meet my friends. You will want your wife to be thought a leader of fashion.’

  Aro regarded her with a steady eye. She needed a tire-woman and he knew of the woman he would choose. It would be a way to help Rufus’s family and break down the barriers that had arisen between Lydia and him.

  ‘I will see what I can do. It won’t be today, but there is no hurry. No one will expect newlyweds to entertain or dine out.’

  Her face became closed. All the warmth vanished as if it had never been. What had he done wrong now? He was trying to make it easier for her. To ease her worries.

  ‘Am I expected to remain here, then, alone and without a tire-woman?’

  ‘Yes, for a little while.’ Aro ran his hand through his hair as her expression turned thunderous. ‘Only until I can arrange it. I think I know the girl for you.’

  ‘How long is a little while? A day? Two? And why can’t I chose the woman I want?’

  ‘We need to discuss a few things.’ Aro crossed his arms and prepared to explain about the danger to her. He needed to discover who was behind the curse tablets, before he could allow her to wander freely about the city, visiting her friends. If Ofellius had been prepared to burn his warehouse, there was no telling what lengths he might go to. He refused to risk Lydia simply because a pirate could not behave himself and respect an agreement. The question was how to put it. He had no wish for her becoming scared of her own shadow. He had to choose his words carefully. ‘I want to explain—’

  ‘I thought you wanted a wife, not a slave.’

  Lydia turned on her heel and Aro was left staring at a vacant doorway before he had a chance to explain further.

  Lydia staggered a few steps down the hall and then put her face against the smooth marble that lined the walls.

  What had she done to deserve this?

  What did he think she would do if she went to visit her father? Or if she had a tire-woman of her own choosing?

  It made absolutely no sense. She wasn’t asking for much, simply a reason. And until she received one, she was determined to act like a prisoner, and seek a chance to escape.

  Chapter Nine

  L ater that afternoon, the porter brought Aro the reply from Sulpicia along with several other notes from the woman begging for Lydia’s advice on things such as where the amphorae of olive oil should be stored to how to make sure she was not cheated by the silk merchant, and a short tablet for Aro from Veratius Cornelius, thanking him for the tablets and expressing a hope that he found his new wife satisfactory. If Lydia had planned to escape back to her father’s, she was acting on her own. He frowned.

  Had he really expected anything else? He had allowed an old man’s embittered fears to twist his judgement.

  Aro tapped the sheaf of tablets against the table. He was tempted to keep back the tablets from Sulpicia demanding help with the house and give Lydia a brief respite, but she would probably want to see them. He had no wish to play her gaoler.

  Lydia was where he had expected, sitting in the bedroom, staring out of the window, where she had been since their quarrel.

  He placed the tablets on the table and stood awkwardly beside it. ‘Sulpicia sent you seven tablets, Lydia. It seems you were correct, she does need your advice.’

  She inclined her head and gave a polite smile that did not reach her eyes, the very picture of the haughty Roman matron. ‘Thank you. It is such a trifling matter I wonder you brought them yourself.’

  ‘No matter is too trifling where my wife is concerned.’

  ‘No doubt you have a thousand other things to do.’ She nodded towards the door.

  She was intent
on dismissing him. He might deserve it, but Aro tightened his jaw. He refused to be dictated to. Lydia bore some responsibility for the argument they had had.

  ‘If you had come straight to me, all this unpleasantness would have been avoided.’ Aro gave a stiff bow. ‘I’m sorry for the unpleasantness earlier.’

  She bent her head and Aro saw the cream of her neck, the curl of hair artfully placed on her shoulder so it pointed towards the swell of her breasts. A surge of desire throbbed through him as he remembered the feel of her warm body next to his last night, their wedding night. He had tasted passion on her mouth when they shared their marriage kiss.

  ‘I did try,’ she whispered, bottom lip trembling. ‘You refused to listen.’

  ‘I am listening now.’ He covered her delicate hand with his. Even after months of being on shore, it still bore calluses from the sea, so very different from her soft skin.

  She removed her hand from his and picked up a scroll. ‘I told you the reasons. There is no need to go over and over them. I had no other thought but my father’s welfare.’

  ‘You put your father’s welfare above our marriage, above what people might think about the omens and entrails. Such whispers could do much damage to my business, to my hopes for becoming a senator. I could not risk it on a whim, Lydia.’

  ‘The confidence was not mine to share.’ Her voice was low, without a hint of tremor. ‘I am sorry, but I did my duty as I saw it. If you do not wish such a woman for a wife, I understand. Give me time and I will sell my dowry and pay you back.’

  ‘We are married and that is the end to it. It remains for me to discover if I have made a poor bargain.’

  ‘I understand.’ She released a long breath, and he saw she did not.

  ‘Your father is lucky to have such a daughter. Do you ever consider yourself, Lydia?’

  ‘I am no paragon of virtue. I made a promise to Publius that I would look after things while he was away. Someone had to do it and Sulpicia can have feathers for brains.’

  ‘And now you have made a promise to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed, looking up at him with large eyes.

  His hand smoothed the top of her head, feeling the silk of her curls under the pads of his fingers. Sparks leapt through him. He wanted her, wanted to make her his and ignite the passion that he knew simmered under the surface. He needed to banish the lingering doubts.

  She did not draw away, but sat there, still as still could be, head tilted to one side, curls escaping from the bun at the back of her neck.

  ‘There was a fire at one of my warehouses last night,’ he said at last, breaking the silence and removing his hand. ‘It is why I was not there to greet you this morning. I intended telling you sooner, but our misunderstanding got in the way.’

  ‘You should have said something before. It explains so much. A fire.’ Her hand covered her mouth and her hazel eyes widened, becoming a deep green. ‘Was anyone hurt? How bad was it? Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘The watchman had a few burns, but we lost very little. Most of the cargo had already been loaded.’

  ‘The ointment I told you about works wonders on burns. I will go and…’

  She started to rise, but Aro moved his hand and kept her where she was.

  ‘He is under the care of the best surgeon in Rome. When he is better, I will take you to him. He would enjoy meeting you.’

  He wanted her here with him, not off administering to the sick and injured. He refused to give her another excuse to postpone their consummation. If she was truly frightened by the thought of coupling, delays would only make the fear grow more, not less. Or if his suspicious were correct, he was not going to give her another opportunity. The time had come.

  ‘It might ease his injuries.’ She held out a stone jar. ‘If you will take me to him…’

  ‘One of the servants will take it.’

  Lydia sank back down, her body hunched. All the light had gone out of her eyes. Aro’s heart twisted, but he reminded himself why he was here. He wouldn’t force her. He had never forced a woman before and he refused to begin with his wife. But they had to consummate the marriage. In the end she’d want him as much as he wanted her.

  ‘But why?’ she asked with a catch in her voice. ‘Why are you trying to keep me here? What have I done wrong?’

  ‘You have done nothing wrong. By the side of my night watchman is not your proper place. I want you here with me, where you are safe.’

  ‘Is there some reason I should not be safe?’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘I am nearly twenty. I have lived in Rome all my life.’

  Aro walked over to the window. In the courtyard, the servants were busy cleaning the atrium’s pool, continuing on with their tasks and duties. Simple everyday tasks he had watched a thousand times before, but it was easier to watch them than to face his wife.

  ‘The fire was deliberately set.’

  ‘But fires happen all the time in Rome. Only last week, a large part of Subura caught fire. We could see the glow from the house.’

  ‘Curse tablets were found.’ He turned and stared directly at her. ‘One named my wife and threatened harm. I want to make sure you have some protection.’

  Her small white teeth caught her bottom lip. A line appeared between her brows. Aro released a breath. She had not tried to argue with him and find yet another excuse to immediately depart.

  ‘Sulpicia once had her litter attacked. Her brother was in a dispute about an election. I had not considered it in that way.’ She reached out. ‘Forgive me, but if you had told me where you had gone, I would have understood. I thought you had gone to see clients at the baths. That you had left me as soon as you could. That you regretted your choice in a wife.’

  ‘I had gone to the baths to wash the soot and ash from my body before I joined my wife. I had no wish to disturb her thoughts.’

  ‘I worry more when I don’t know. I thought I had displeased you.’

  Her hand touched his arm. Her warm scent held him and he was reminded of roses on a summer day. His fingers closed over her hand, holding it there. Her eyelashes fluttered and a small sigh escaped from her throat. Her tongue darted out between her lips, moistening them, making them as red as cherries in the summertime.

  Aro gathered her in his arms, bent his head and tasted her lips. Her body strained against his arms at first, but he increased the pressure and she melted against him, her curves moulding to his body. Her mouth parted, inviting him to drink long and deep. Desire throbbed through him. The memory of her body against his last night surged through him and he struggled to hold on to his self-control. He refused to use force if she was unwilling, but he felt that here, here without the revellers of last night, she would succumb.

  He cupped the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. He felt her slight shudder, and knew this time it was not fear, but the awakening of passion. He had guessed correctly. Aro resisted the temptation to crow.

  Her body arched towards and she tilted her head back slightly. The golden sunlight lit the column of her throat, making a path his lips ached to follow. The neckline of her gown showed where the two mounds of her breasts started.

  Aro’s breath quickened. This was his wife, the woman who would bear his children. It no longer mattered that she had attempted to play games, or that she might now be playing a game.

  His hands cupped her breasts, and his thumbs rubbed against her nipples. They hardened to points at the merest touch. She moaned in the back of her throat and her back arched towards him. Then she pressed her hands against his chest and spun out of his grasp.

  ‘Lydia,’ he whispered, his breathing ragged, ‘what are you playing at now? You don’t start something like this unless you mean to finish it.’

  Lydia swallowed hard. She knew what he meant, what they were about to do, but she couldn’t help remembering the time with Titus. How she had made mistakes and how Titus had turned against her. She didn’t want that to happen with Aro. Too much was at stake,
not only for her father, but also for her future. This man was the guardian of her future as well her husband.

  She forced herself to step backwards. The heavy wooden shutter pressed into her back. Her body protested at the sudden rush of cold air.

  She hated the way he seemed to see through her, and read her soul. It unnerved her. But by all the gods on the Capitoline, she wanted to feel his mouth against hers.

  ‘I had no intention of starting anything,’ she whispered. Her tongue tentatively touched her bottom lip.

  ‘But you have.’

  His fingers reached out and captured her chin, holding her there. Her lips quivered, aching for his touch. A whisper of a moan passed through them.

  He bent his head and recaptured her lips. This time his tongue licked them, demanding entrance. She parted her mouth and tasted him. Everything ceased to exist except the fresh clean sensation of his tongue teasing hers, overcoming her fears.

  Her hands reached up and buried themselves in his thick black hair, pulling his face closer.

  She felt the strength in his arms as they came around her waist and held her steady. A shudder went through her.

  ‘Please.’ The word was torn from her throat.

  He raised his head and his eyes were golden-flecked pools.

  ‘Please what? Please stop or please continue?’

  ‘Please don’t stop.’

  His mouth nibbled down the side of her throat, sending little pulses of warmth through her. They had started small but now they had become hotter than a charcoal brazier on a cold winter’s day.

  Her body arched towards him, her breasts brushed his chest, her tightly puckered nipples seeking some sort of relief.

  ‘You see what you are doing to me,’ he growled in her ear.