The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance (30 page)

Bryna complied, releasing one long, slow breath as the pain passed. “That eased it a bit.” She eyed Julia. “How is it a Roman woman knows such things?”

“I am quite a few years older than my brother. I watched my mother give birth to him and her midwife instructed her in this.” She shrugged, discomfited by the intensity of Bryna’s gaze.

“A wise woman, that midwife,” mused Bryna. “A slave?”

Julia wrinkled her brow. She could tell by Bryna’s expression she knew the answer, so it was beyond her why she would ask. She nodded.

“I was brought to this land as a slave.”

Julia looked down at their clasped hands. “I...I am sorry for that.”

“As was I,” replied Bryna. “But if I had not been brought here, I would not have found Jared.”

“He was your master?”

A wisp of a smile curved Bryna’s mouth. “It amuses him to think he was, or is, when it comes down to it, but no, he was not my master.”

Another contraction began and Julia murmured soothing words of encouragement. Bryna hissed out a breath followed by a string of foreign words that were clearly curses.

“Water,” she croaked out.

Julia held a cup to her lips. She had been at her mother’s side but she had not participated in the delivery of Lares and the thought that she might have to now sent sheer panic coursing through her. “I should go get your woman Esther and Jared.”

Bryna held up a hand. “Not yet. I’ve not said what I need to say.”

Julia looked at her in confusion. She was a stranger to her, a guest in her house someone she’d only just met. What in the name of the gods could be so important?

“Damon also spent a part of his life in slavery.”

“I know,” replied Julia, cautiously. “If you think to tell me that Jared was his master, then you have wasted precious time for I’d already reached that conclusion.”

Bryna smiled weakly. “Aye, I know you have. You’ve reached many conclusions about our Damon, some that he has not even realized for himself.”

Julia tensed. “I do not understand.”

Bryna shifted on her elbows so that she was propped against a cushion. “You’ve seen beneath that devilment and unconcerned mask he wants the world to see. You’ve recognized the virtues he has that he would go to his grave denying he even possesses.”

Julia opened her mouth to deny it, but Bryna leveled a knowing look at her and her protests died on her tongue. “Virtuous is not the first characteristic that comes to mind when talking of Damon. He is obstinate and a bully,” Julia paused. She’d never thought to put what she felt about Damon into words. His wit and carefree manner was endearing. He had courage and a willing heart and a deep seated loyalty so rare in the Roman world. His strength and passion could not be overlooked and truth be told, his touch ignited the very center of her being into a flaming torch of desire. She lifted her eyes to Bryna whose unyielding gaze was more than unsettling. “I believe he is kind and decent, a good man...”

“And you love him.”

For a long moment, Julia could only stare at Bryna. “I fear the stress of your birthing has sparked your imagination.”

“My child may indeed be an influence on my abilities.” She cocked her head at Julia. “Perhaps there has not been enough time for Damon to explain. I have the gift of sight—a seer or oracle would be how you Romans describe it. From the moment of our meeting I’ve experienced flashes of the nature of your relationship with my husband’s friend.”

Julia stood and began to pace the room, hoping the activity would still the quivering that had begun within her. Bryna was in a delicate situation so she would not dispute her assertions, yet she would not...could not put any faith in them. She held no hidden feelings for Damon. They had become allies, that was all, and she was grateful for his aid in thwarting Quintus. That was all there was.

“My lady, I see that this revelation has distressed you, and it is not my place to persuade you differently. You must come to the truth of it in your own time as I learned for myself. Ah, ohhhhh...”

Julia hurried back to Bryna’s side, held a cool cloth to her forehead. The pains were coming more frequently now. She had to call for help.

“Not...” Bryna bit back a groan, “not yet. That is not why I summoned you here. I had another vision, one filled with darkness and danger. I ignored such a warning once before, did not heed it and paid an awful price. I would not allow that again.”

“A warning?” Julia asked, forcing her voice to remain calm.

Bryna made a face. “The details were not revealed, they rarely are, but the key to surviving it lies with you.” She caught Julia by the hand. “Damon is proud. He hides behind his circumstances, denies his Roman noble blood and will attempt to cast it aside, but embracing it will be the only way to survive.” She hissed out a breath than began to pant. “Jared is at the door and I will need Esther.”

Bryna had barely finished speaking when Jared burst into the room followed closely by Esther who sized up the situation. “Damon, set a pot of water warming on the brazier and my lady, if you will, hand me that bundle on the table by the window.”

Julia didn’t think twice, but did as the housekeeper instructed. She hurried to the table and brought her the bundle of fine linen cloths, a thin length of braided wool, a knife and a shallow wood basin. She set it at the foot of the bed and began to walk away.

“My lady, I need your assistance if you please.” Esther looked at Jared, who to Julia’s eyes seemed twice as pale as his wife. “Master, help the mistress to sit up, that’s it, get behind her.”

Jared looked petrified but eased behind Bryna, cradling her against his chest while she grasped both of his hands. Julia’s eyes misted when he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“Get back into this room Damon,” instructed Esther without turning around, “I’ll be needing that water in a moment.”

“It’s not natural for men to be present for such a thing,” he argued from the hall.

“And why not?” asked Esther, setting the basin at the foot of the bed. “You’re there when the babe is conceived.”

“Fine, then Jared can stay,” Damon grumbled.

Esther ignored him. “Bring me the water.”

Julia was aware of Damon setting the pot down close to Esther’s elbow but became too absorbed in helping to notice anything else.

“You are despicable,” cried Bryna, breathing rapidly. “You are a Roman dog!”

“Yes I am, dearest. All that and more,” murmured Jared.

“It is time, my lady,” said Esther positioning herself at the foot of the bed. “Time for your babe to be born.”

Bryna grunted and at Esther’s instruction bore down. It took three more attempts and then Julia watched, filled with wonder as Jared and Bryna’s son slipped into the world with a lusty wail.

Julia did not even realize tears were streaming down her face until she held out the cloth and accepted the squirming babe and saw one splash on his red, wrinkled cheek. She swiped the rest away on her arm, wrapped the baby snugly in the cloth and handed him to his mother. The babe immediately quieted and lay watching his parents.

“Oh, Jared,” whispered Bryna, spreading his tiny hands open, counting each finger. “You make beautiful babies, for a Roman.”

“He’ll have your eyes,” replied Jared, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Look at the way he studies us. I’ll wager he’s reading our thoughts already.”

“He can read mine,” answered Bryna. She looked up at her husband. “I love you, Roman.”

Julia’s heart clenched at the tender moment. What a wonder it had been to see, to watch a new life come into the world. An odd sort of pride swelled up inside. No one else would understand what she was feeling unless they too had witnessed this miracle. Julia turned around but the room was empty.

Damon had disappeared.

“D
amon?”

It couldn’t be. Julia Manulus could not be entering a stable. Damon rubbed his hand over his face. The place was made for animals and while Flavian’s boys kept the floor swept clean with fresh hay and straw in abundance for the half-dozen horses and one cantankerous donkey it housed, it was still no place for patrician ladies or goddesses.

“Damon?”

Damon remained very still, took short, shallow breaths. No one knew of this place, a small stone perch near the lone window in the loft. It had been his place as a boy, somewhere he could spend a few precious moments away from the duties of a slave, think and dream and wonder if his lot in life would ever change. He listened to the rustle of straw, heard his goddess murmur to one of the horses that nickered a greeting. Well, his life had changed and he had no clue what to do about it.

Watching the birth of Jared and Bryna’s son had struck him like a thunderbolt. In that one moment he knew he wanted to build a family, wanted to do it with Julia. Damon knew it couldn’t happen. Roman law forbade it, society scorned it and when it got down to it, he would never allow Julia to throw her life away.

But that reasoning did nothing to ease the hunger that gnawed at him.

“Damon?”

Damon fisted his hand. Gods, why was she still here? It was a small stable and he hadn’t answered her call. He needed time away from the situation, room to clear his head, get his perspective back, and he could only do that away from Julia.

A faint rustling noise sounded from the edge of the loft floor. Damon narrowed his eyes in the dim light and could see a lump of straw moving in his direction. How could the stable have rats when that demon cat of Bryna’s was always lurking about? Before he’d finished the thought, the lump of straw exploded with a loud yowl and a bundle of orange fur leapt at him.

Damon managed not to snarl when the huge feline landed with a thud on his stomach but when the creature dug its claws into both of his legs, he released a loud hiss. For one long moment, Cuini sat nose to nose with him wearing what Damon swore was an arrogant smirk.

“Damon?”

Even as he heard the ladder creak he forced himself to remain silent. Julia was not a stupid woman. The ladder was old and unstable and goddesses were not known for climbing into lofts.

Another creak.  Damon circled Cuini’s fat middle and pried her claws out of his leg. With one smooth motion, he tossed the cat toward the ladder. The beast landed agilely on its feet, turned and hissed at him before leaping to the stable floor.

Julia’s startled gasp gave him grim satisfaction. That ought to send her scurrying back to the
domus
and he could return to his dark thoughts.

An ear-splitting howl from the cat nearly obliterated the noise of climbing. Damon stared in disbelief as one slender hand groped the edge of the loft for purchase. Another followed while the upper braces of the ladder shuddered and slid along the side.

Damon scrambled away from the wall, just managing to grab the end before it toppled backward.

“Woman, what in the name of Jupiter is wrong with you?” he growled.

Julia narrowed her eyes. “I knew you were up here.”

“You knew nothing of the sort,” he shot back. “Now go back to the house before you hurt yourself.”

“Not until we’ve talked.”

Gods, she wanted to talk. He would rather endure ten lashes than talk.

Julia put her foot on the next rung. “I want to know why you left.”

To get away from this, he thought, looking down into her upturned face. There was a smudge of dirt on her left cheek, close to that dimple that drove him wild, and pieces of straw clung to the front of her dress. She’d never looked more beautiful. This woman had completely turned his gut inside out, unbalanced his entire world and had him believing there was a chance for happiness in his life.

He sat back on his heels. “Return to the house, Julia.”
Julia glared at him, set her jaw and stepped up on the next rung. Her eyes rounded as the wood splintered under her weight. With a cry she swayed free, hanging onto the ladder with one hand.

Damon lunged forward and caught her by the wrist just as her other foot slipped. The muscles in Damon’s arms bunched as he gripped her with both hands. “Give me your other arm,” he instructed.

Julia flailed and twisted in the air until at last she was able to bring her other arm toward him. Damon caught it, braced his legs and lifted her into the loft. The force of it tumbled them backward with Julia landing exactly where Damon did not wish her to be—on top of him. The pressure of her breasts rubbing against his chest with each short, gasping breath was like torture with a red-hot brand.

He pushed up on his elbows and all but tossed her off of him. “Are you hurt?”

Julia struggled to a sitting position, swiped bits of straw from her arms. “Only a few scratches,” she answered, eyeing him warily. “I imagine if I’d fallen there would have been more than that.”

“A good deal more.” An image of Julia’s body lying twisted and broken on the ground flashed through his mind fueling his already foul temper. “Have you lost your mind? You’re a patrician lady. You do not climb ladders.”

“Not of late,” she agreed, “but as a girl I used to climb all manner of things.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “Trees in particular were a great source of amusement for a lone child.”

“You had your brother,” he answered gruffly.

“Who was in swaddling clothes and completely useless to me.” She tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Although I did use a basket once and tried to pull him up to join me in a game. Mother did not find that amusing.”

Damon rubbed his tired eyes. “You should not have come here Julia. What if someone saw you? Your reputation would be ruined.”

“My reputation ruined for coming to see my husband?”

“I’m not your husband!” he thundered. He fisted a hand against his forehead, took several calming breaths, and looked at her from beneath his lashes. Julia sat motionless, watching him as if he’d sprouted two heads. He had agreed to this scheme and it was not her fault that he now wished he’d simply disappeared and never come to care for her family, to fall in love with a goddess.

Damon stared at her. Gods, he was in love with Julia.

His anger flared hot along with the panic. “This is my world, Julia,” he said sharply, sweeping his hand to indicate the stable. “That odor you smell is animal dung. You can cover it up as you will with the sweet smell of hay, but beneath it all it is still dung. This is where I’ve lived my life, Julia. This is where I belong.”