The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance (12 page)

Beyond the arched entry to the villa a litter waited on the street. Julia watched Damon rake an appreciative gaze over the conveyance. It was beautiful. An intricate pattern of carved vines and leaves curled up the four solid oak posts supporting the curved canopy where it repeated along the edges. The interior was stacked with plush pillows of velvet and satin in colors of green and gold and thick curtains hung on rings along the open sides, ready to be drawn for privacy. Her father had had it crafted for her mother in honor of their tenth year of marriage. Grand style, he’d insisted, for a grand lady.

A pang of longing went through her at the thought of her mother. Gods, she missed her so much, missed her easy laughter and her wisdom. Eirenne Manulus would have known what to do, would have found an ideal solution. Her mother would not have found herself on the arm of a criminal. She glanced sideways at Damon’s strong profile. Every line in his body spoke of confidence, the kind of self-assurance royalty might possess. Damon? A prince? The idea was not as absurd as it would have been seven days ago.

She was shaken from her reverie as Damon guided her down the two steps to the litter. Four large men, slaves rented for the occasion, stood one at each pole. Dressed in dark green tunics, heads shaved, brawny arms crossed over massive chests as they waited impassively for their burden.

Kaj also waited for them, a fierce scowl creasing his face when he saw Julia on Damon’s arm. The servant took a step forward, one hand on the hilt of his knife and murder in his eyes.

Damon’s lips curved into a pleasant smile. “Really Kaj, you went above our expectations and I hope not too deeply into our coffers.”

Kaj growled. Before Julia could intervene Damon leaned toward the outraged man and said in a voice so low she had to strain to hear. “You’d best get used to it, my friend. Any suspicion that I am not your master will put your mistress in grave danger.”

A muscle ticked in Kaj’s jaw at Damon’s emphasis on the word
master.
His face settled into a sullen expression but he stepped back.

Damon turned from the servant, cupped her elbow in his hand and assisted her into the litter.

“You antagonize him purposely,” she chided, careful not to touch him as she scooted back against a long, round cushion.

“All I need do is
look
at the man and he goes into a fit,” replied Damon, snatching a pillow from the foot of the litter. “I’ve seen people possessed of demons with less agitation.” He raked her with a speculative look before punching the cushion into place. “Julia, being a reasonable man, I feel I need to remind you once again of the danger involved. Announcing to Quintus Marcellus the existence of a husband is one matter. Flaunting it publicly by attending social events, another altogether.” His mouth flattened. “Men like the Prefect do not react well to being made the fool.”

Damon’s scent enveloped her, a spicy blend of sandalwood, musk and male. It was a wonderful combination—intoxicating, she’d wager, to a woman of weaker constitution. She inhaled slowly. Still, she’d never before noticed a man with such a distinctive fragrance...or with such wide shoulders, firm jaw, eyes the color of polished silver...

“Are you ill?”

Julia snapped her eyes open. Damon was looking at her, his brows creased in concern. “No,” she stammered, feeling the heat of embarrassment flooding her cheeks. What in the name of Juno was the matter with her? Daydreaming? About a criminal? “Not ill. Only thinking.”

“At last,” he replied. “I’d say it is well past time for you to realize the futility of this venture.”  He held out his hand to assist her from the litter.

Now he was beginning to sound like Kaj, which was frightening in itself. She brushed his hand away. “I’ve not changed my mind.” She ignored the irritation that flashed behind his eyes as she did the logical reasoning behind his concerns. “Really Damon, your imagination is quite extraordinary. There is nothing to fear. These people are my father’s friends, his long time associates. I’ve known them my entire life. I realize it may be hard for
you
to understand but they are not the same type of people...you are used to associating with.”

His jaw tightened. “You’d be quite surprised, Julia, by the
type
of people I’ve associated with.”

An uneasy feeling settled on her at the dark glint in his eyes. It was a look of conviction mixed with anger and an emotion too raw to be anything less than murderous. Oh, she didn’t think she’d be surprised in the least. As quickly as it came, the look dissolved into one of mock resignation. “Well, let’s be done with it.”

She watched aghast as he jumped into the litter and stretched along beside her, his right arm propped by the pillows he’d arranged. Dear gods, what was he doing?

“You dare much!” hissed Kaj.

“Is it not a husband’s duty to see to his wife’s comfort?” he asked over his shoulder.

Kaj made a choking noise. Julia peered over Damon’s shoulder at her servant. No one, she thought, could turn that shade of purple and still live. She shifted her gaze back to Damon. “I had thought you’d be more comfortable walking.”

He propped his head on his hand and looked at her, a smile playing along his lips. “Julia, you insist I play my part and as you refuse to see the folly in this grand plan of yours, I can do no less than what a proper patrician spouse would do. If that demands I ride in a litter with my beautiful wife,” he shrugged his shoulder, released a wistful sigh, “then it is a burden I gladly bear.”

Damon’s expression did not change even beneath the heat of her glare.

“Of course,” he added in a silky voice, “if you’d rather remain home, I’m sure we could engage in any number of other spousal activities.”

The spike of her temper felt like a hot streak of fire. “I should have you lashed,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“It wouldn’t be the first time my back has felt the bite of leather,” he replied, his eyes filled with their own heat. “I did not find the experience pleasant then but then I never had a goddess wielding the whip.”

His crude innuendo had its intended effect for she was left speechless. Glaring at him, she lifted her hand to Kaj who barked out orders to the bearers. Slipping thick leather straps across their chests, the slaves lifted the litter from the ground.

The bearers expertly maneuvered their way through the winding streets of the Palatine. Senator Caucus’
domus
was not a great distance but it might as well have been a thousand leagues away as far as Julia was concerned. Damon was close. Too close. As extravagant as the litter was, it was not made for a man of Damon’s size. She could feel the heat of his body, smell the mint of his breath, reach out and touch the luxuriant curl of rich brown hair wrapped behind his ear.

She shut her eyes in disgust. The man had to be some type of dark magician to distract her with such ease. She was still angry, by the gods, by his defiance and taunting remark.

It wouldn’t be the first time my back has felt the bite of leather.

Damon had been lashed. The thought of it cooled her temper. She’d once witnessed a slave being whipped for a minor infraction. Only twelve years old, visiting another Senator’s young daughter, she had watched in horror as the man had been tied to a tall post in the courtyard and stripped to his waist. She could still hear his cries as the overseer flicked the
flagellum
ten times across his bare back, could still see the blood dripping to his feet. Her new friend had laughed, thinking it an amusing game.

Shaken, she’d returned home and told her father about it. Octavian had patiently explained there were those who believed strict discipline was the only way to keep their slaves obedient and others, like the Manulus household, treated theirs fairly and with kindness. In this way, the slaves were content and happy to serve.

Had Damon ever known kindness?

She wondered. Looking at him from beneath her lashes, he seemed completely relaxed, one hand draped casually over a lean hip, his expression one of aloof disinterest. But looking closer she could tell that every sense was focused on their surroundings. His alert gaze stayed locked on the small opening in the curtains behind her and several times when a loud noise clattered close to their entourage he visibly tensed, putting a hand on the knife sheathed at his side.

Knife?

Her mouth dropped open. Not just any knife but a jewel encrusted heirloom handed down through generations of her father’s family. She lifted her eyes and met Damon’s amused gaze.

Her eyes narrowed. “Where? How...”

Damon’s lips curved into a smile. “Did you really believe I’d leave your protection solely in the hands of that freakishly devoted minion of yours?”

Her temper was back in full force. “That is theft!”

“Theft, borrowing, a mere matter of words,” he replied, rising up on one elbow to peer out of the curtain.

“I shall not stand for it, Damon. We have an agreement.”

“Yes, yes. Of course we do,” he agreed, reaching out to steady her as the litter was set to the ground. “I intend to honor it—for the most part.”

Her protest was cut off when Damon caught her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. His eyes were hard like polished silver. “There will be no more arguments, Julia.” He slipped the curtains back. “Save your charms for our hosts.”

Julia seethed, a hundred admonishments on the tip of her tongue. It would not be prudent for Caucus and his guests to see her lashing out at her new husband. Matrimonial bliss. That’s what the Senator and his guests must see. She shot him a heated look. And he knew it. Her hand itched to slap that smug expression off his face.

Damon stepped out of the litter and had the gall to chuckle when she refused his assistance. With less grace than she would have liked, she swung her legs over the side and stood, muttering an oath when her bracelet snagged a pillow.

“Such language, goddess,” tsked Damon.

She wrenched the fabric loose and shot him a glare which had no affect whatsoever on his good humor. Ignoring him, she straightened her
tunica
and looked up at the dozens of torches set at intervals along the sloping path of the marble stairway leading to the Senator’s villa.

A wave of emotion swept through Julia. Everything she’d planned for, everything she’d hoped to accomplish rested on the success of this evening. Damon was wrong. Publicly announcing her marriage would declare to all of Rome that the Manulus house was strong and intact. She would not allow Damon and his flippancy to deter her from her goal. With a steadying breath she started for the stairs. Damon caught her arm.

“A moment, if you please.”

What was he about now? She watched as he took a handful of bronze coins from the pouch at his waist—she’d allowed him a small stipend for appearances sake—and gave three to each of the litter bearers. The exhausted men looked stunned before inclining their heads in thanks. Returning to her side Damon slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.

She furrowed her brow, her aggravation forgotten. “Why did you do that? The fee for the litter has already been paid.”

“To their owner,” he clarified. A serious light replaced the usual devilment in his eyes. “A man deserves compensation for his labor, wages that he earns for himself. They may use it as they will. To buy a cup of wine to quench their thirst from dragging us about or to buy the attentions of a willing who…” He cleared his throat. “Woman. Perhaps they’ll use it to purchase their freedom.” He shrugged. “Provided, of course, that they have a master willing to let them use their
peculium
for such things.”

Her father allowed all of his slaves a
peculium
, their own money, and over the years many had bought their freedom—Kaj, Dorcas and Basil among them. She studied his face. What kind of thief concerned himself with the fate of slaves?

He shifted beneath her scrutiny and glanced up the path. “Shall we enter the arena? Meet the wild beasts head on?”

Julia nodded, her own stomach clenched with nerves. For the first time she would truly be alone with Damon since Kaj, as a servant, would be relegated to waiting with the litter. Kaj realized it too, his scowl dark. She sent him a reassuring smile and clutching Damon’s arm, started up the stairs.

They were greeted at the entrance by the Senator’s steward who, after bowing with well-practiced deference, directed them into the atrium. Julia’s heart sped up and she felt a sudden urge to flee. What had she been thinking? The nobles were a shrewd lot. They would see right through this farce, recognize Damon as an imposter and her as a fraud. She glanced at him. His features were schooled into a perfect mask of geniality but his gaze scanned the room and the lines of his body thrummed with tension as though he were waiting for something to happen.

“Julia! My darling!”

Julia started, drawing an amused sideways look from Damon. Ignoring him, she took a deep breath, composed herself and turned to greet the Senator’s wife.

The Lady Hespera appeared younger then her sixty years though rumors had her age being closer to seven decades. With a silver mane of hair always artfully arranged in the latest fashion, sharp hazel eyes that missed nothing and an infectious laugh, Julia could not help but like the woman. There was not a bit of pretense or guile about the lady. With a warm smile, Julia took her hostess’ outstretched hand. “Hespera. How wonderful to see you again. My thanks for your gracious invitation.”

Lady Hespera waved a hand, her sharp gaze focused on Damon. “So the gossips are right, then? You’ve married.”

Julia wasn’t prepared for such a direct statement. Nor was she prepared for Damon to link his fingers with hers and squeezer her hand reassuringly. “This is my husband, Damon Pontus of Silicia. Damon, the Lady Hespera, wife of our host.”

“An honor to meet such a beautiful lady,” he said, taking Lady Hespera’s hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

“Quite the way you have about you, Damon Pontus,” she answered, waving a plumed ostrich feather back and forth, “but then liars always do have velvet tongues.”