The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance

by Kayse, Joan

  But it had been a mistake, she thought, to let him out alone. He had no experience in conducting the delicate business of patronage and his ignorance could do irreparable harm to the Manulus reputation. She set her mouth in a determined line. Besides, the threat was to her and her family—she would not allow someone else to fight her battle.

  But that Damon was willing to, warmed a place in her heart.

  She turned her attention back to the anxious servant. “It’s all right, Basil. How much farther to the carpenter’s house?”

  “Only around the corner, mistress,” replied Basil leaning toward her and bracing his legs to shield her from the jostle of the crowd. “Surely the master has returned home by now.”

  After doing what type of damage? Damon knew nothing of her father’s business. Octavian had spent years establishing bonds with his clients, developing a vast network of loyal supporters. One misplaced word, one slip into plebian manners and irreparable damage would be done to the Manulus name.

  Basil dipped his head in apology before pressing his hand to her back to steer her down an alley. “This way, mistress.”

  In a matter of minutes Basil had gained them access to the carpenter’s workshop. Julia held her head high, ignored the stunned looks of surprise on the workers faces as she followed Silas’ servant to the rear of the workshop. She knew it was highly irregular for a Roman lady to visit any shop outside a silk merchant or jewelers, but the Manulus name was at risk.

  The slave bowed and asked her to wait while he informed his master of her arrival. Julia nodded her acquiesce, twisting her ring as she watched him approach two men standing with their backs toward her. She had not meant to interrupt his conversation with a customer, but she only needed a few moments to reassure the man that Damon did not speak for her father.

  The shorter of the men turned at his servant’s whispered announcement. Silas was close to her father’s age with craggy, worn features, his arms well muscled from years of wielding the tools of his trade. His brown tunic and leather apron were covered with wood dust which he tried unsuccessfully to wipe away with large, callused hands.

  Julia inclined her head in greeting. “Salve, Silas Decimus. I ask forgiveness for intruding.”

  “Nonsense, wife.” The second man turned in her direction. “Your presence is always welcome.”

  Julia’s mouth fell open as she looked at Damon, who regarded her with that same half-tilted smile she’d dreamed about all night, the one he had offered her this morning before arousing her with his touch. Kaj drifted into view from the side of the room, his scowl fierce.

  Damon handed the master carpenter the jointed piece of wood he’d been studying and strolled over to her. His manner was coolly polite but she caught the slight tightening of his jaw, saw the annoyance sparking behind his eyes. He was far from pleased and Julia felt a moment’s panic over what his reaction would be.

  “Dearest, I confess, I am surprised to find you here,” he said, leaning in and brushing his lips gently over hers.

  Julia’s cheeks burned with heat as several workers snickered. Propriety demanded she accept her husband’s attention without protest, even in such a public setting though she knew Damon did it on purpose. He seemed to get an enormous amount of enjoyment from causing her embarrassment.

  Her temper simmered. She lifted her gaze, prepared to respond with a pointed remark and froze, the words catching in her throat at the look of pure, male smugness filling his eyes.

  Generations of decorum disintegrated in the flash of fury that lanced through her. He was not going to stir her up and then retreat and leave her aching again. Julia reached up and cupped his face between her hands. Taking only a moment to savor the stunned expression on his handsome features, she captured his lips in a long, slow kiss.

  Before she could settle comfortably into a sense of triumph, he angled his head and deepened the kiss, folding her into his arms, pressing her against the hard lines of his warrior’s body that even the cumbersome toga could not disguise.

  Her mind insisted she pull away to save her pride but Julia could do neither. This was more than another ploy to annoy her, more than physical pleasure. There was a raw, primal need in his kiss, a powerful yearning that caught at her heart. It was as if he were pleading with her for something. Instinctively, she parted her lips, a soft moan building in her throat as his tongue slipped in, exploring the hidden recesses, caressing her with warm, bold strokes.

  An eternity filled with heat and sensation passed before Damon finally drew away. Dazed, Julia met his gaze and recognized heat mixed with confusion reflected in their silver depths, an emotion she could well identify with as they churned within her. He searched her face for a long moment as if seeking an answer to a question Julia did not know.

  “I thought you vowed that would never happen again?” he whispered, his voice husky with arousal.

  Gods, they’d done more than that this morning. The memory of the pleasure caused Julia to close her eyes lest he see the truth. She dropped her gaze to her hand lying against his chest. “It is not the same,” she whispered back. “I kissed you this time.”

  “Ahem.”

  Damon angled himself protectively in front of her but she found Silas watching them, arms folded and one hand trying unsuccessfully to hide an amused smile. Kaj stood at his elbow, near to foaming at the mouth, while Basil had a look of pure delight on his plump face.

  “My lord, my lady,” Silas said walking over to join them, “the gods have blessed this humble establishment with your presence today.”

  Damon’s features settled into a congenial mask. Keeping one arm about her waist, which she was grateful for since she felt her legs would not hold her, he turned to their host and smiled. “Forgive my enthusiasm, Master Silas. I had not seen my beautiful wife since breaking my fast.”

  “Ah,” the older man answered. “A beautiful wife is indeed a true gift. The poets would have a feast weaving odes with such love and devotion you display with such enthusiasm.” He ran an appraising eye over them. “With such eagerness I dare say my patrona will soon enjoy the blessing of grandchildren.”

  Dear gods!

  Damon spoke into her ear. “You needn’t look so stricken. I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I would produce outstanding progeny.” Damon cleared his throat. “Since my wife is here, perhaps you could show both of us your workshop.”

  “Delighted, delighted.”

  For the next half hour, Julia followed the men around the shop listening as Silas explained the different types of wood and their uses. He boasted that his furniture was the best in the Empire and if the beauty of the carved chests waiting to be finished were any indication, Julia would have to agree.

  Damon asked intelligent questions about profits gained, material acquisition, the process used in the making of furniture. Silas appeared as surprised as she at his interest but readily demonstrated the various chisels, saws, mallets, and planing tools used to carve the raw material into a finished piece.

  Julia cast Damon a sidelong look as he listened with interest as one of Silas’ men explained the different properties of oak. Her husband seemed well versed in the craft already. Could he have labored at carpentry when he was a slave? A ripple of distress hit her. She could not imagine this proud, stubborn man bending to another’s will.

  “That is agreeable, Master Silas,” said Damon, drawing Julia away from her musings. “Can it be delivered by the end of the month?”

  What had Damon done? What were they talking about? Fool, she silently berated. How can you keep him from making mistakes if you do not pay heed?

  Silas scratched his chin. “It will be difficult as I have a contract with the city that must be met.”

  “A contract?”

  Damon’s tone was casual yet Julia sensed his attention directed fully at the carpenter.

  “Yes,” Silas answered. “A new section of insulae to replace the ones that burned last year.”

  Julia recall
ed the incident. One of the poorest areas of town had been destroyed when a wayward cooking fire had set one tenement ablaze. Crowded conditions coupled with inferior construction had caused the fire to sweep through a dozen buildings before the fire brigade could contain it. Fifty citizens had perished and ten times as many were left homeless. Her father had been outraged and encouraged the government to take responsibility.

  “The Emperor is generous,” Damon replied.

  Silas scowled. “Indeed you would believe it to be so, but his agents requisition low quality timbers at abysmal prices. We are all Romans, yet those who rely on the corn dole can hope for nothing better even in their housing.” Silas’ eyes widened and he stared at them in horror. He bowed low. “Master, Mistress, I beg your forgiveness for my bold speech.”

  *****

  Damon shot a sideways glance at Julia. How would her patrician sensibilities handle Silas’ honesty? Of course, if she had not followed him she would not have to be exposed to it. The headache that had begun with the news his mother was in Rome was rapidly expanding. It had taken an enormous amount of effort to hasten Lyris on her way with a message to his mother that he would come. If Julia had arrived just a bit sooner, had heard his mother’s woman...

  Damon pressed his lips together. If his wife had not arrived, had not seared him with a kiss that heated his blood to boiling, he would not now be hiding the evidence of his arousal behind the thick folds of the blasted toga. Hells, the mere spontaneity of the public attention fueled his desire to a level that would have shocked even a seasoned professional such as Lyris.

  He forced his attention back to the present situation. Prepared to soothe Julia’s outrage at Silas’ frank appraisal. Instead she graced Silas with a warm smile that went through Damon like an arrow. Gods, to have her smile at him so easily.

  “Do not concern yourself, Master Silas,” she reassured him. “My father has always appreciated honesty as do I.”

  Silas considered that then glanced around the room before leaning closer, his voice dropping. “All we ask is a fair price for our work. Three of the local guilds hope to petition Nero to hear our concerns.”

  A cold chill sliced through Damon. That had been one of the topics at the gathering he’d infiltrated. Emotions had been running high and he’d dismissed half the arguments as unimportant, preferring to focus on his own disgruntlement at Tertius. By the time he’d caught on to what the craftsmen were truly protesting, the Praetorian Guard had knocked down the doors and carted the entire lot of them away in chains.

  “Husband, it is time we left Master Silas to his work.”

  Damon inclined his head, and motioned for Kaj to give the carpenter his sportula. He slipped his hand beneath Julia’s elbow and steered her out the door.

  Julia tried to slip from his grasp the minute they stepped into the afternoon sun. He gave her a tight smile and kept his hold.

  “I am not a child that you must hold onto me.”

  Damon gave a short laugh. “Release you so you can dig your claws into me? I think not.”

  Together they nodded at a duo of Senators who strolled past, casting curious glances over their shoulders. Damon recognized one as a rival of Tertius and in fact had spent time last year in the man’s household posing as a gardener. He could still hear the man’s lament at how scraggly his flowerbeds had become under his care.

  “Why are you in such an ill temper?” Julia asked. “We agreed to maintain appearances.”

  “Which means you should be at your domus doing,” he waved his hand in the air, “whatever it is you patricians do.” He knew he sounded insufferable but his senses had not quite recovered from her welcome. How in the name of Jupiter was he to concentrate when his mind and body were reeling?

  Julia narrowed her eyes. “Do not patronize me. I finished my marketing, my routine marketing, and decided to join my husband.”

  “Your father’s clients have been neglected for months,” Damon answered in a clipped tone. “The connections and contacts he spent years cultivating damaged some, I suspect, beyond repair. Do you not comprehend the impact of this? In order for the Manulus name to maintain its standing in the community it was imperative that a family member strengthen these ties.” He caught her gaze. “Someone had to do it. You failed to do so.”

  Damon forced himself to hold her hurt-filled gaze, set his jaw against the urge to recant his harsh words. He knew the agony she was feeling, had known the fear and worry that drove one to make drastic decisions to save those you loved. But the sheer intensity of such feelings would not save you from making mistakes. His had been to trust Tertius while hers was the belief that she could control and manipulate him which could not be done—not even with loin-stirring kisses.

  Julia, for all her levels of sophistication, had no concept of the fire she ignited within him, nor the intensity with which it burned. He was a man, after all, and he was developing an appetite for the taste of her lips. It made him hungry for other things. Another careless attempt to exert her control and she might find herself devoured.

  “Is it my fault that my father’s clients found a woman’s benefaction abhorrent?” she asked, a faint tremble lacing her words.

  “No,” he had to admit. Even Julia with her sharp mind and strong will could not overcome society’s misconception about a woman’s abilities. “Julia, we have much to discuss...”

  He sensed the blade a split second before he saw the glint of it from the corner of his eye. He wrapped his arms around Julia and shoved her to the ground beneath him. A woman screamed.

  Damon looked over his shoulder and saw Kaj bent over Basil, who lay on the ground with the hilt of a knife protruding from his left shoulder. The big man lifted his head and with one glance Damon knew he was thinking the same as he—that had he not moved, Damon would be the one prostrate on the ground. The assassin had hit the wrong target.

  “Oh, Basil.” Julia wriggled beneath him.

  Damon eased himself to his feet, bringing Julia with him. He scanned the excited crowd, looked for anyone who appeared too calm or too disappointed. He kept a firm hold on Julia, pressed her against him when she would have rushed to her servant’s side. He sent her a warning glare. Roman mistresses did not show concern for slaves in public. “Not here, not now,” he growled. Julia looked genuinely distressed. She cared for the man. Actually cared that her slave was injured.

  Silas, who had rushed out at the first cry, instructed a handful of his slaves to hold the crowd back. Damon noted that he set several men as guards behind them. Damon guided Julia to her servant. Basil was pale and not entirely coherent, though Damon suspected most of it was from shock rather than blood loss. The knife was a bit longer than the one he carried but had been thrown with force and precision, buried to its hilt in the thick flesh of Basil’s shoulder.

  “It did not do severe damage,” said Silas, bending to look at the wound, “but I would wait for the physician before removing it.” The carpenter smiled sheepishly at Damon’s questioning look. “Fifteen years spent in the army, Ninth Hespana legion. You learn quick enough how to treat wounds.”

  Julia interrupted. “Kaj, you will hire a litter and take him home. Call the physician immediately.”

  “I will also hire a litter for you, Mistress.”

  Julia was not leaving Damon’s sight. The knife had been meant for him, but one movement in the wrong direction, a moment’s hesitation and she could have been the one injured. His gut clenched. His goddess could have been killed.

  He spoke to Kaj. “Litters are scarce this late in the day and getting Basil home takes precedence. We will return on our own.”

  “It is too dangerous,” Kaj protested.

  Before Damon could reply, Julia spoke. “No, Damon is right. What is dangerous is to delay getting Basil the help he needs. We will meet you at the domus.” She glanced up at Damon. “I will be safe with my husband.”

  Julia was becoming quite good in her role, the earnest look in her face even convincing hi
m for a moment. Damon gave Kaj credit for being wise enough to realize that any protests on his part would appear odd to the growing crowd of curious onlookers. Feeling the big man’s glower burning a hole in his back, Damon thanked Silas for his assistance and taking Julia by the arm, guided her into the safety of the crowd. Their attacker would not want to waste another blade in the throng.

  “We are going in the wrong direction,” Julia said beneath her breath.

  “We are going to go about our business as if nothing happened,” he replied evenly.

  “You lied to Kaj.”

  “Not at all. We will return home in a few hours, after we send a message to whoever aimed that knife that we are not easily intimidated.”

  Julia smiled and nodded at a jeweler who held a sampling of his goods out to her as the passed. “The knife was meant for us?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “Me, more specifically,” he answered, scanning the area around them, feigning interest in the street markers. His gaze snagged on a youth walking twenty paces behind them. The boy was all of ten years old, his tunic threadbare and covered in the same grime that coated his arms and face. He was weaving in and out of the crowd, beneath their notice and light-fingered enough so that no one felt their purses being snatched—three in the space of ten minutes. Impressive for someone so young, Damon decided, but he suspected thievery was not this boy’s purpose. Very clever of Quintus. Use the lowest and most expendable to do his dirty work.

  “Are there many who would want to murder you?” she asked in a strained whisper.

  “You’d be surprised,” he murmured. Damon laughed loudly, ignoring the strange look she gave him. He bent down and murmured. “We are being followed. Follow my lead and be your natural self.”

  She looked at him askance. “What are you talking about?”

  “Questions. Always questions. Woman, just act as if you have nothing more pressing to do than enjoy a stroll with your husband.”

  “I do have more urgent matters. Basil must be seen to and—what are you doing?”