by Joan Kayse
“Woman. Where is my property?”
Chapter Six
She was going to die after all.
Adria did not have to look over her shoulder to know it was the barbarian who stood behind her. Even if she had not recognized the deep, accented baritone, the anger that rolled off of him in palpable waves dispelled any doubt. Slowly, she turned and found her face pressed into a broad chest.
The wool of his tunic caused her nose to twitch. She inhaled. His scent was unlike anything she’d ever smelled before, at least not in the streets of Rome. An intoxicating blend of spicy musk and heat. Her nostrils flared. There was something else, something she could only describe as pure male. Why did she feel a sudden urge to press closer? Shaking the sensation away, she tilted her head back and looked into the face of Hades.
Her breath caught in her throat. No, not Hades. Apollo or perhaps Adonis, though Adria doubted either of the gods known for their handsome visages could compare to this man’s raw, masculine allure. From a distance he had been striking. This close he was—she blew out a shaky breath—devastating.
The scant light from the temple’s doorway did nothing to dampen her impression. The harsh planes of his face were shadowed by a day’s growth of beard which should have made him appear unkempt, but only increased his appeal. A straight nose that would make a patrician envious was set over firm lips pulled now into a thin line of displeasure. A muscle ticked in his square jaw, set tight against a rage Adria sensed was barely controlled. She lifted her eyes and met his gaze, her suspicion confirmed. Eyes the color of emeralds, hard and cold with anger.
Perhaps he was a god, Adria thought, for his glare held her enthralled. A distant part of her wanted to fall into those eyes but her survival instincts overruled the idea. She was adept at many evasive maneuvers including distraction and reasoning. Perhaps she could convince him to release her? She took another survey of his seething expression. No, she supposed not. Raising her arms as if to push against his chest, Adria resorted to the most reliable method she knew and aimed her knee at his groin.
His reflexes were like lightening. She never saw him move but instead of sending him prostrate on the ground howling in pain, Adria found herself teetering on one leg, her right limb caught in his broad, left hand. Her gasp of outrage mixed with his growled foreign curse as he released her. Adria recovered swiftly and made to dash past him but the brute shifted his stance, blocking her way. Using his intimidating height, he backed her against the stone wall of the temple.
“Are you deaf as well as a thief?”
Gods, had he just growled?
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head down to look into hers. “Where. Is. My. Property?”
“I do not know what you are asking?” she squeaked. She stifled a groan. How appropriate since she felt like a mouse caught by a cat. No, not a cat. A lion!
Adria suppressed a scream when he wrapped his large hands around each of her arms. Better than her neck, she supposed, but no less disconcerting than the heat of his callused palms on her skin. Gods.
“You are not a simpleton, woman,” he stated, lifting her as if she were a straw doll until her toes brushed the ground.
Adria’s mind raced. She could scream for help but the only assistance at hand was Tiege and his men—not a good choice. Pretending to faint might provide an opportunity to slip away. As if reading her thoughts, the pressure of his grip tightened. Her own temper flared. “You’re hurting me!”
Something shifted behind that penetrating gaze. If she wasn’t being held captive by an unprincipled heathen, Adria would have thought it guilt. Whatever the emotion, it was quickly replaced by a frightening resolve. He loosened his punishing hold but still held her fast.
“Where is the jewelry?” he repeated, his voice all the more frightening for its calmness.
Adria opened her mouth, prepared to deny her involvement when she looked into his eyes again. This man, this barbarian also was no simpleton. There was intelligence in those emerald depths. Admitting her guilt or not, he would soon discover that Tiege had the jewelry.
Tiege had the jewelry.
Hope flared in her chest.
Adria pushed against his arms, which was like pushing against granite and squirmed until he set her on her feet. Still caught between his well-muscled arms, Adria lifted her chin and motioned toward the tenement. “Your property is in there.”
The barbarian glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “My jewelry is in a kitchen?”
Fear stifled a bubble of anxious laughter. She shook her head. “No. In the tenement next to it...on the other side of this building. A thief named Tiege has it.” She settled back, waited for him to release her to go retrieve the items. What a brilliant solution. She would be free, she would still have the money and this barbarian and Tiege could take care of each other.
“Come.”
Adria had no time to recover from her shock and even less to protest as he grasped her wrist and started for the tenement.
“No, wait!” Adria dug her heels into the rocky soil. Her efforts did nothing to deter him, only caused the worn leather of her sandals to slip, the sides of her feet scraping in the rocky soil as he dragged her forward. She cursed as a shard of broken pottery sliced her toe. “I will only be a hindrance to you.”
“Does it appear I am being hindered?” he asked in a dry, mocking voice.
Adria’s mind raced as he strode toward Tiege’s lair. She could still hear echoed cries of the master thief’s men as they searched for her. This man had no idea the danger that awaited him. Tiege had at least ten men armed with knives, swords, and clubs with him at all times. Tonight there had been twice that number along with a ragtag group of street boys pretending to be men, which for all their bravado were just as dangerous. Even the handful of whores who served the master thief were known to carry blades. He was walking to his doom—and dragging her along with him.
She had no experience with barbarians. Did they respond to reason? She glared at the tense line of his broad shoulders and knew the answer was no. “This is not a wise decision.”
The barbarian halted in mid-step, causing Adria to stumble into him. A fleeting impression of his hard body beneath his tunic had her jumping back as far as his restraining hold would allow. They were mere feet from the noise and light of the lair entrance but all she could see was the fire in his eyes as he whirled on her.
A small muscle ticked in his cheek and his gaze seared her. “The lack of wisdom came when you decided to steal from me!”
A twinge of regret tugged at her, added to her disconcertion. She buried it beneath her own anger. “I did not steal from you. I stole from the jeweler, Paulin.”
The barbarian narrowed his eyes. “Moments after my bargain with the man had been struck.”
He was not only angry, she realized, but indignant as well. “You were not there,” she countered, the rationale sounding weak even to her own ears.
Another growl of frustration. “Woman, I have not the time to debate. I want my property.”
“There you are, you little bitch. I...”
Adria saw only a blur as her captor’s fist shot out. Tiege’s man crumpled to the ground in a soundless heap. She stared at the rivulet of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth then raised wide eyes to her captor’s expressionless face. With as much effort as an ordinary man might take to swat a pesky fly, he had knocked a man as tall and broad as he unconscious. “Is he dead?” she heard herself asking.
A shadow of disgust passed over his face and his voice had an odd hitch to it. “I do not kill for the sport of it.” He spared a glance at the unconscious man. “But had I wanted him dead, he would be so.”
Adria sensed a shift within him, an increased tension. Her gaze fell on the broad hand still wrapped around her wrist. Though he’d loosened his hold when she’d complained he was still very much in control. He was dangerous and, she thought as he turned and continued toward the tenement, insane as well.
/> Terror overwhelmed her pride. She had to forestall him, discover a way to escape before he confronted the master thief. “You can’t go in there,” she protested, pulling futilely against his hold. “They are armed.”
He paused and blew out an annoyed breath. “As am I.”
His free hand moved to a leather sheath at his hip. Swirled designs of bronze similar to the ones she’d admired on the jewelry framed its length. The hilt was bound with thick cords of leather, the pommel of beaten silver. If the blade within were half as well made as its covering, it would be a formidable weapon.
“Now be silent,” he snarled, moving forward.
Adria could not have spoken had she wanted to, not with panic clogging her throat. Oh, how the gods must be laughing at the mess she’d created. Tempting fate was never a wise thing and she had done just that by stealing for profit instead of necessity. Never mind that the underlying motive had been to help Miriam, pride and arrogance had spurred her on and now she would pay the price. As they reached the threshold of the lair, she began to beat her fist against his arm. “Release me!”
She thought she heard him laugh, a hollow, dark sound that sank her already pounding heart down to her stomach, but it also sparked her temper. Adria clung to that bit of fury and began to scratch and kick in earnest. Brushing aside the bite of her nails, the barbarian grasped the leather handle of the warped wooden door and flung it open.
The raucous crowd within the hall turned as one and fell into a dead silence. Adria stumbled around to shield herself behind the barbarian but he would not allow it, pressing her against his side in full view of her enemy.
Tiege raised a hand to ward off the few men who had overcome their shock and were moving in their direction. Adria shot a look at her captor’s chiseled profile. Jaw set, expression like a stone mask he showed no concern that he was about to die.
“Ah, you’ve found her,” said Tiege in a voice coated in honey and laced with vinegar. “My thanks for returning my slave.”
Adria tried to twist free, succeeded only in making her wrist burn. “I am not his slave,” she hissed, glaring at the weasel faced thief. Tiege responded with a smirk.
The barbarian made an impatient noise. “She is not your slave.”
Oh, thank the gods.
“She is mine.”
Adria’s eyes went round in disbelief then narrowed with fury. “I am no one’s slave! I am a freewoman!” A freewoman about to die a horrible death.
“And a thief,” he answered out of the corner of his mouth.
The anger she’d been clinging to fled as the master thief threw back his head and laughed. It was a foreboding sound that sent chills skittering down her spine. Ignoring the barbarian’s raised brow she grabbed his arm with her free hand and held tight. He was crazed—daring to call her a slave proved it—but at the moment he was the safer haven.
Sobering, Tiege took a step down from the dais. “No matter. We have business to settle, the girl and I. Leave her.”
A brittle smile cracked the barbarian’s stone visage. “Not until I have my property.”
Tiege paused. “Property?”
“Jewelry, fashioned of silver with amethyst jewels.”
Tiege studied the grime of his fingernails. “I don’t know what you are speaking of.”
“You do. I know the girl stole them. I know the girl sold them to you.” He snatched the pouch of coins from Adria’s belt.
“That belongs to me!” she protested, making a useless lunge for the purse which he dangled just beyond her reach.
Her tormentor ignored her and continued to speak to the master thief. “Return the items and I will return your money.”
“Why should I do that,” replied Tiege, “when I can have the jewels—” His eyes shifted back to them. “—the coin and the girl?”
Adria shuddered. Terror rushed through her like a monstrous ocean wave, threatening to take her down and drown her. She scanned the periphery of the room. A dozen men had moved to stand at intervals along the wall with three taking a stance at the open doorway. Each held a sword, knife or club and self-assured grins that made her blood run cold. The madman—barbarian, heathen, foreigner, thorn in her side—surveyed the scene with a casualness that made Adria want to scream. “You may have a wish to die,” she hissed beneath her breath, “but I do not. Release me!”
“Do you not trust me, thief?”
She could only stare at him in disbelief. Trust him? He’d handled her like a sack of turnips, forced her into confronting her enemy and had the gall to call her a slave. Oh, she trusted him as much as she did the man glowering at them from the dais.
“My time is valuable,” continued the barbarian to Tiege. “I will return your coin. You will return my jewels.”
“A better proposition,” countered Tiege, “is that you return my coin and the girl and I allow you to live.”
One of Tiege’s men rushed them from a hidden spot behind a post. The attack took Adria by surprise but not the barbarian. He unsheathed his gladius in one fluid motion, spun on his heel and thrust her behind the solid wall of his body. He let loose a shattering battle cry and slashed the first attacker across the chest.
Stunned, the man lowered his weapon and stared, mouth agape at the slash in his tunic, at the torn edges of the filthy material turning dark with blood. Adria watched his eyes fill with confusion, made all the more stark as the color drained from his face. He stumbled backward, fainting into the arms of his companions.
Her captor stood still as a statue, but with her hand pressed against his back Adria felt his muscles quivering, not from fear, she sensed, but from restrained power.
Tiege’s reaction was less stoic. “A very impressive display,” he said between clenched teeth, “but you are only one man against many. I will give you one last chance to leave with your life and only a few broken bones.”
The barbarian uttered a foreign word beneath his breath. “And I will give you no more. Return my property.”
“Master,” said one of his men sidling up to the dais, “I know of this man.” He sent a fearful look in their direction and swallowed hard. “He’s a gladiator, I saw him fight in the provinces. It’s said he has killed hundreds.”
Adria’s attention shot back to her captor. A gladiator? While she’d never attended a match, she’d seen them paraded down the streets many times. Men trained to kill, men considered too dangerous to be free of chains. She slanted a look up at his implacable profile then down at the sword, stained with blood in his hand. Dear gods.
“I care not if he is Jupiter himself,” ground out Tiege, slashing his hand through the air.
Immediately, six men advanced on them. The barbarian fell into a crouched position, both hands on the hilt of his blade. Heart pounding in her chest, Adria managed to take cover beneath a three-legged table and watched as he met the onslaught.
Adria had never seen anyone fight as he did. It was as graceful as a dancer at a banquet, long, muscled legs balanced in a wide stance, strong arms sweeping out in a deadly arc as he buried his weapon first in one attacker’s gut before spinning with a single leg extended to send another sailing across the room. When a third attacker thought to take advantage, rushing him from behind, the gladiator sent his elbow flying into his throat. In a matter of minutes the ground was littered with four injured men. The other two, Adria knew, would never follow Tiege’s orders again.
The barbarian turned to Tiege, barely winded. “My property. Now,” he demanded in a regal and ominous tone.
Adria’s gaze darted to the master thief. He cast them both a dark look before snatching the sack from Parius’ wife and throwing it at the barbarian’s feet. “Get out,” he growled, “And take the whore with you!”
Escape! The thought merged with the ball of fear roiling in her stomach and spurred Adria to act. She crawled backward, her foot catching on Tiege’s bag of coins, dropped by the gladiator when pressed to defend himself. She snatched it up with one hand and scramb
led for the open door. She was fast and nimble; none could catch her-especially her captor, who was busy retrieving the sack of jewelry even as his attention remained focused on the thieves.
But the barbarian had other ideas. With one hand, he caught her by the ankle and dragged her to a standing position. Adria pushed and shoved at him using her fists and outraged curses to no avail. He grasped her by the hair and pulled her to his chest, forced her head up.
“Waste no more time,” he growled into her ear. “That bastard still thinks he can best me and get everything including you. Is that what you would wish?”
Adria shot a look at Tiege and his smug expression then back to the scowling man beside her. A choice between death and death. She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door.
They’d taken no more than two steps outside, when he bent at his knees and scooped her up over his shoulder. Adria’s protest was lost in a muffled grunt of surprise as her stomach connected with his rock-hard shoulder. He banded one arm around her knees and planted the other hand on her bottom. Before another thought could form, he sprinted toward the street.
By the gods, the man could run. He kept a steady pace, dodged through alleys as if born to Rome’s streets. Tiege and his men did not follow, which frightened her more than a pursuit. Adria grasped handfuls of his tunic in an effort to keep her head from bouncing off her neck. “Put me down!”
He did not answer though he slowed his pace down to a brisk walk. At least now she was able to catch a breath. Adria twisted around. “I can walk,” she snarled to the back of his head.
He gave a harsh laugh. “I am no fool, woman. If I set you down you will attempt to run.”
She rolled her eyes. Yes, that was her plan and it was working, she thought miserably, about as well as the one to trade the jewelry for Tiege’s money. She curled her hands in the cloth of his tunic. There had to be some way to persuade her captor to release her, cause him to lower his guard.