The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance

by Kayse, Joan

  He’d grabbed her hand, laced his fingers with hers to ensure she would not stray from him and increased his pace until she had to take two steps to his one just to keep up. Thank the gods, he’d startled her enough that she made no protest until they’d slipped between two columns decorating the entrance to a temple. Damon positioned Julia behind him before stealing a glance around the pillar. The boy was standing in the middle of the street, hands on bony hips, scanning the area with a frown.

  “Damon. What has possessed you?”

  At least Julia had the good sense to whisper. “There is an urchin who has been trailing us since we left the carpenter’s shop,” he answered quietly. Two older youths joined the boy, and through animated gestures, were conveying their extreme displeasure. He allowed Julia to ease around him so that she had a clear view though he was prepared to snatch her back if she revealed their presence.

  “They are only children,” she whispered.

  Damon snorted. “Children who would rob a blind man.”

  “Your purse is still intact,” she pointed out.

  “It’s not a big enough target,” he replied dryly. “By the way, wife, we need to talk about increasing my allowance.” He bit back a smile at the irritated roll of her eyes before turning his attention back to the boys. “No, he is following us.”

  “To what purpose?”

  Damon glanced down at her. Was this the time? The place? “I think there may be a connection to Quintus and your father’s disappearance.”

  She scoffed. “That’s preposterous.”

  Damon held his reply watching Julia’s facial expression from beneath half-closed lids. She nibbled at her lower lip and the faintest hint of a frown creased her brow as she considered the arguing boys. His gaze lingered on that lush mouth, remembered the heat of her kiss. She’d succeeded in taking him by surprise as he’d never thought she would risk tainting her dignified patrician façade with a public display of affection. Her lapse in decorum was intriguing and her passionate response to his touch this morning had unleashed a flood of desire within him so hot that he knew there was only one way to ever quench the thirst of it—and that he could never do.

  “Why do you believe this?”

  Damon dragged his attention back and met her questioning gaze. “While visiting with your clients today, I sensed an unrest among them.”

  “Because Silas and a handful of other craftsmen believe their payment unfair for the government’s contract?” She shook her head. “That can hardly be the case. I know for a fact that the Emperor allotted an enormous amount of money for that project.”

  Damon narrowed his eyes. “How do you know this?”

  “My father told me. He was ecstatic that Nero had finally agreed to improvements in design but worried that the decision would not be upheld.”

  “Concerns not unfounded,” Damon nodded, “when rumors abound that the Empire’s supreme ruler is more interested in building monuments to himself. Did the rest of the Senate share your father’s enthusiasm?”

  Julia shrugged her shoulder. “He said the few who opposed it soon changed their minds when Nero announced it was his divine will that the building commence.”

  “The decree of a god would be a powerful persuader,” he agreed. “I don’t imagine Quintus was pleased.”

  Julia stirred beside him and looked at him, concern filling her eyes. “Father said Quintus had been the most vocal opponent until the amount of coin was announced.”

  “The Emperor doles out large sums for the city project. The man overseeing the disbursement pays a pittance to the suppliers and keeps the difference for himself.” Damon didn’t care for that scenario. A greedy man like Quintus would have no qualms about stealing from the working class plebians. An arrogant man like Quintus would consider himself above an Emperor-god. The combination in an enemy could get an ethical man like Octavian Manulus killed. “Your father must have had knowledge of this.”

  “You accuse my father?” she asked tightly.

  “No,” he replied cautiously. “But corruption is a way of life among the Senate. Anyone could be tainted by it.”

  “Not my father.”

  The stubborn tilt of her chin and the fire in her eyes amused him. Damon had no doubt she’d take on an entire Carthaginian army just to defend her father’s honor. “Your father’s reputation for honesty is as well known as his scholarly pursuits and his advocacy of the Roman people. I merely wonder if he held suspicions.”

  Julia shook her head firmly. “He would have told me.”

  Damon sighed, swept his gaze over the crown of curls cascading from a silver hair ornament. Daughters were often resistant to the thought that their fathers were anything less than perfect. For her sake, he hoped she was right.

  “A man has joined them,” she said, jolting him out of his thoughts.

  Damon pulled her back and peered around the column, a burst of raw anger tore through his gut as he recognized the new arrival. “Sirrus,” he growled.

  “You know him?” Julia asked.

  He nodded curtly, watching Tertius’ steward box one of the boys on the ear.

  “How do you know him?”

  Damon’s first instinct was to lie. Gods knew he was good at it. He’d been doing it most of his life and had even been able to convince his friend Jared that spending eleven years as his slave had not been burdensome. A master lie that, when in truth he’d yearned every waking moment for his freedom. Only after Jared had lived through his own enslavement had he realized the extent of Damon’s deceit.

  But Julia was far too insightful and the assessing look she was giving him now only reinforced the futileness of trying. He kept his gaze trained on the short, burly man who he hated with every fiber of his being. “He serves in the household of the patrician who employed my services,” he ground out.

  “It doesn’t sound as though you were the best of friends,” she remarked.

  Damon pressed his lips into a tight line, refused to meet her searching gaze and silently chastised himself for allowing emotions to flavor his words. Emotions had no place in the world of espionage and could in fact expose a spy’s true intentions and give his enemies weapons that could be turned against him. Julia already knew more than he’d ever intended about his life. Why risk more?

  Because he wanted Julia’s trust.

  “Being a leper would be preferable to friendship with that dog,” he answered. “I thought him dead.”

  Julia cringed as Sirrus caught another of the urchins by the neck of his tunic and began to violently shake him. “He seems very much alive to me.”

  Much too alive. The self-serving bastard had been a plague to Damon since the first day he’d come into the Senator’s service, habitually abusing his position to terrorize the household. Damon had intervened on more than one occasion to save a slave from a beating, including his sister. A jolt of terror shot through the anger twisting his gut. Lita. What had happened to Lita without his protection? His lips pulled back into a snarl as he imagined putting his hands around that thick neck. “He won’t be when I get my hands on him.”

  Damon heard her sharp intake of breath and forced himself to face her, his chest tightening at the shock reflected in the depths of those blue green eyes.

  She lifted her chin though her voice trembled when she spoke. “You would kill him? Why?”

  Damon blew out a long breath, wishing there were some other way than the truth. “He tried to rape my sister.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Julia tripped on a raised stone, clenched her teeth when Damon’s strong hands wrapped around her shoulders to steady her, without a break in his stride. Apparently satisfied that she would not slow them down by sprawling at his feet, he twined his fingers through hers and continued to stalk down the street. His agitation was palpable, thrumming through her by virtue of a mere touch but others sensed it as throngs of people parted like the sea before a ship’s prow.

  They’d stayed hidden behind the temple pill
ars until Sirrus and the boys finally disbanded. Damon had silenced her questions with one hard look before schooling his face into an inscrutable mask and leading them from the temple proper. A rush of fear had swept through her when he’d confessed to attempted murder. It was likely a common occurrence in his world but she’d never known anyone capable of such a deed. And despite his annoying habits, Julia had never supposed Damon possessed a violent nature. But the burning hatred that burned in his eyes as he’d watched the man Sirrus had quickly convinced her otherwise.

  Damon was a dangerous man.

  And, she admitted with a twinge of relief, an honorable one. The raw pain and worry that had lined his features stirred her heart. Sirrus had sought to disgrace and harm his sister. Who could fault a man for defending those he loved? An image of him shielding her from the knife attack flashed through her mind.

  She nearly stumbled again in Damon’s haste to round a corner. He acted as if demons were snapping at their heels. Julia tried not to let fear overwhelm her common sense. But the episode with Sirrus had ignited a fire of emotion within Damon that frightened her.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Damon changed directions and she recognized the luxury shops of the saeptia at the Campus Martins. This was familiar territory and she was well known among the shopkeepers. If she wanted help she need only to call out. But that would cause a spectacle and neither of them wanted that. Enough was enough. Damon may not need questions but she needed answers. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Why, goddess?” he asked in a mocking tone. “Afraid I’m going to do away with you?”

  “I know you would not harm me.”

  Damon stopped abruptly and pivoted on his heel. Julia stepped back as his flint-gray eyes bored into her. There was a sinister edge to his voice. “Are you so certain, Julia?”

  Julia stared at the rigid, harsh planes of his face, the sharp glint in his eyes. She’d never seen him like this, so rigid, so on edge. A small voice deep within her begged her to flee. That’s what Damon wanted, what he expected. Her pride refused to give it to him.

  She searched his face, noted a muscle that ticked in his jaw along with a flash of fury and impatience behind his gaze. A tool, she realized with a start. Intimidation was as much a tool for him as that flippant attitude that set her teeth on edge. What better way to keep others at a distance? Bolstered by the knowledge, she squared her shoulders and held his gaze. “Yes,” she replied firmly. “I am very certain.”

  If she had blinked Julia would have missed the surprise that flashed across his handsome face. He blew out a long, frustrated breath and averted his gaze. “Do not underestimate a desperate man.”

  A smile tugged at her lips. In all of the Empire there was not a man less desperate than the one standing before her, a sulky furrow creasing his brow. Anger at the man Sirrus or anger at her for calling his ruse?

  His whole body tensed when she cupped her palm against his cheek and turned his face to her. Already his clean shaven face was beginning to sport a shadow beard, the hairs coarse and rough beneath the soft skin of her fingers. Men of the upper classes would rather cut off an arm than allow their smooth faces to be marred in such a barbaric manner. Julia did not mind, enjoyed warm pleasure in the contrast.

  She followed the shadow of dark bristles down the rugged column of his throat to where Damon’s pulse throbbed rapidly beneath the heat of his skin and savored the thrill that it was her touch that caused it. She raised her gaze to his and her own heart began to beat furiously at the hunger she saw there. Damon gave her a slight smile as if he’d read her thoughts. Pulling her hand away she fisted it at her side. “Explain how my father’s disappearance has anything to do with the man who harmed your sister.”

  He shook his head. “Not here. Too many eyes and ears. We’ll need to find a safer place.” He offered her his hand.

  Julia eyed it before raising her gaze to his. “I will not be dragged about as though I were an unruly child.”

  “I concede that,” he answered solemnly. His gaze, hot and hungry skimmed her. “You are certainly not a child.”

  Julia shivered then jumped as he leaned close. “But you are definitely unruly and I relish the thought of taming you.”

  Julia’s cheeks flushed less with embarrassment than heated desire. She slapped her hand into his, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her temper.

  They continued through a warren of twisting streets and shadowed alleys for several blocks before Damon tugged her down a narrow lane that ended at a stone wall covered with vines. There were only two shop entrances here and Julia barely had time to read the sign of the one they entered—Bookseller.

  It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the tiny shop. Three walls were lined with shelves filled to bursting with scrolls, leather cylinders and clay tablets bound with thongs. Several rough-hewn tables took up the center of the space and were equally burdened with texts and—Julia sneezed—a heavy layer of dust.

  “Ah, Damon, my friend. It has been too long.”

  “It has indeed, Ithacus,” replied Damon.

  Julia followed Damon’s gaze to one of the rectangle-shaped tables piled haphazardly with papyrus scrolls and waxed tablet books. The table shimmied, spilling several manuscripts to the floor. Damon stopped one from rolling out the door with his foot and smiled at the man who shuffled into view.

  Ithacus appeared as ancient as the Seven Hills of Rome. A few wisps of gray hair escaped from beneath a drab brown turban. A fine tremor shook the gnarled hands that clutched the edge of the shelves as he walked toward them. Deep creases made his face look like an apple left to dry in the sun but sharp, brown eyes swept over her in an assessing gaze.

  The strength of his voice belied his appearance. “You rascal! Where have you been keeping yourself? I’ve had three substantial offers from wealthy buyers for that Latin copy of Ovid’s Metamorphoses.” He looked at Julia and winked. “He’s already read the Treatise on Love.”

  If the light in the shop were not so dim, Julia would have sworn Damon blushed. “The Art of Seduction?” she asked, raising one brow. Remembering the artful way he’d stroked her in bed, he must have read the scandalous, erotic scroll more than once.

  Damon cleared his throat and patted the man on his stooped back. “The lady is not interested in my choice of reading material.”

  “Ah, yes. The lady,” replied Ithacus, his gaze turning speculative. “You’ve never brought one of your ladies here before.”

  The flare of annoyance that shot through her was ridiculous. It didn’t matter to her in the least that there had been other women. He could have been the lover of Venus and she couldn’t have cared less. The Art of Seduction, indeed. “Has he had many ladies?”

  Ithacus chuckled. “Well, that all depends on who you ask.” He beckoned Julia closer. “The boy here would say only a handful but the rumors in the streets hold that that handsome face and engaging manner have captured the attention of more than a score of women, each of them bemoaning their loss at his fickle ways and nursing broken hearts.”

  Julia kept her satisfaction at the pained look on Damon’s face hidden.

  “Ithacus, your stories are more fantastic than the overpriced ones you hawk to the gullible.”

  Ithacus looked affronted. “The modest sums I charge barely provide for my meager existence.”

  Damon grinned. “You’re a wily old fox. Your coffers are near to busting with coin.”

  Ithacus turned his gnarled hands palms up. “I am merely a humble merchant. Now who is this lovely flower?”

  “A friend,” he answered curtly, his tone implying it was the best answer he would give. “I have need of the room.”

  The old man’s face filled with excitement but quickly deflated at Damon’s bland look. “You’re not going to tell me are you?”

  There was fondness in Damon’s voice when he answered. “Have I ever told you?”

  “Bah! Be gone with you,” Ithacus grumbl
ed, shuffling back toward the table. “You know the way.”

  Damon led her to an arched doorway at the rear of the shop. Julia glanced over her shoulder and saw an equally fond—and worried—look on Ithacus’ tired features. Did Damon even realize someone cared enough about him to worry?

  They followed a short corridor through another door—which led through another and another. A confusing maze that she never would have guessed existed behind the small store facade. Perhaps she should not have been so quick to trust him.

  “We’ll never find our way back out,” she said.

  The corridor ended at a damp, stone wall. Damon glanced over his shoulder with a reproving look. “Goddess, I always find my way out.”

  Julia’s lips pulled into a wry smile. She watched him inspect the wall, run his hands along the uneven stones. He appeared to be counting. Three across and seven down, he rubbed his fingers into a well-worn groove and pressed. Without so much as a creak, a portion of the wall slid open.

  Damon left her at the opening and stepped into the inky blackness. A string of muffled curses preceded bright orange sparks from a flint and then a flare of light. Julia peeked in and found Damon shaking his hand and sucking a burn on his left thumb. He gestured her in with his uninjured hand. “We haven’t a lot of time. Ithacus—miser that he is—hasn’t left much oil in the lamp.”

  Julia walked in slowly, taking in the damp stone walls, the low ceiling and lack of windows. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered against the cold. “What is this place?”

  Damon set the dented bronze vessel that served as a lamp on a square table that took up the entire center of the space. “A safe place where sensitive matters can be discussed without interference from the enemy.”

  “The enemy?” Julia gave an incredulous laugh. “Are we at war here in the heart of Rome?”

  Damon’s head snapped up, that rueful smile tipping the corner of his lips, but the silver eyes that glittered in the flickering light were deadly serious. “You have no idea.”

  She swallowed. No, apparently she didn’t and the incident with the knife underscored that plainly. “All right,” she said, willing her voice not to tremble. “What is this insane notion you have?”