The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance (7 page)

S
he needed a gladiator.

Julia contemplated the iron—bound door before her. If not one of the renowned fighters than at least one of their weapons; a
gladius,
a trident, even a net, anything that might offer some protection before she walked into the arena with the wild beast.

Damon was not what she had expected. He was arrogant of all things. It showed in every measure of his bearing—the tilt of his head, the gleam in those silver eyes, the way he spoke. Taunting, she corrected. Every word he uttered seemed designed to taunt her with its underlying amusement. She got the distinct impression he was merely tolerating her and her proposal.

The man had needed a lesson in humility. It had been three days since her encounter with Damon. Three days since she had instructed Kaj to leave him in solitude to contemplate the gravity of his situation, to realize that she would not tolerate the insolence he’d displayed.

She had expected strong protests on his part, especially after his discourse on respect and trust, but Kaj had reported that Damon had reacted as though nothing untoward had occurred, not even when his meals had been reduced to meager rations of bread and water. Julia had hated making that decision but thought it a more humane statement of her resolve than Kaj’s suggestion that he be ‘flogged to within an inch of his miserable life.’

An intelligent man—and Julia was certain Damon was intelligent—would have reached the conclusion by now that acquiescence to her authority would be in his best interest.  She released the breath she’d been holding and slipped the key into the padlock.

Damon was standing, staring out the small barred window, fingers laced through the intricate iron grill. He turned at the sound of the opening door, every hard line of his body tense with anger. The glower on his face was so intense that Julia took an involuntary step backward. It felt as if a stone had struck her in the chest.

She watched as he slipped effortlessly into his other persona, smoothing out the frown from his forehead, sliding that disarming smile into place. Amazing how quickly he could transform, but the harsh glint in his eyes remained. “I thought you wanted me to trust you?” His gaze flickered accusingly to the key in her hand.

She edged her chin up. “I wanted you to be safe.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. She did not want any harm to befall him—not when she still needed him to put her plan into effect.

He knew it too. She could see the self-satisfied look in his eyes. He strolled over, arms loosely crossed to where she stood, maneuvering his body so that there was barely a hint of air separating them. If he was trying to intimidate her with his superior height, muscular frame and thunderous look he was failing.

Though the memory of his callused hand stroking the sensitive skin of her throat was doing a fair job of it.

She held herself rigid as he shifted around behind her, still not touching, at least not physically. It was peculiar and more than a little disconcerting to
feel
his presence thrumming between them like a lyre’s string.

It was also far too exciting. Her heart was beating like a drum in her chest and the air in the room suddenly seemed close and inadequate. Julia concentrated on taking even breaths but groaned inwardly as she felt the warmth of a blush blossom at the base of her throat.

Damon’s deep—throated chuckle sounded behind her, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin behind her ear. A delicious shiver shot through her core and she could tell by the amusement lighting his eyes as he ended his circuit in front of her, still brazenly close, that he recognized her discomfort and was relishing it.

“Are you finished with your game?” she asked mildly, settling herself as gracefully as she could—considering how weak her legs were—on the lone stool. Forcing her gaze upward, she met his baleful glower.

“Game?” He gave a humorless laugh. “Pawns do not play games, goddess, they merely wait under lock and key to be manipulated.” He turned his back on her and returned to stare out the window.

She should chastise him for his disrespectful attitude but was too relieved that he had stepped away to a safe distance. “I did not come to debate the measures I have taken to insure the safety of my house. I had hoped these past few days would have illustrated to you the depth of my commitment.”

He made a derisive noise. “I’ve never doubted your commitment, goddess. Only your sanity.”

She was not going to allow him to goad her into a temper though he was exceedingly good at inciting it. She took a breath. “Need I remind you that you’ve already agreed to assist me? Or does your word mean nothing?”

Slowly, Damon turned and pinned her with a dark look. Questioning his honor had touched on a sensitive spot. The question now was whether it brought his cooperation or her demise.

“Tell me the plan.”

Julia relaxed a bit. Perhaps he was not so unreasonable. “Tomorrow, Damon Pontus, my husband, newly arrived from
Silicia
will be introduced to my household.”

He snorted in disbelief. “Just like that? I walk up to the door, knock,” he mimicked rapping on a door, switched to a dramatic voice. “Dearest wife, it is I, your husband, the one you left behind in
Silicia
.” He picked up what looked to be a chunk of bread from the window sill, pinched off small bits and began to pitch them angrily through the bars. The cacophony of twittering birds was deafening. Julia looked at him in disbelief. He had saved a portion of his own scant rations to feed the birds?

“I did not leave you—” she stuttered when he sent her a glare “—I mean, my husband, behind.”

“Are we not one in the same?” he asked mockingly. “Really Julia, may I call you Julia? Or wife?  Or perhaps I should just stick with goddess.” He considered that a moment then shook his head. “No, if I’m to play the part with any depth it must be Julia. Julia, nobody with half a wit about them will believe you forgot to mention a marriage seven months ago.”

“Kaj and my maid Dorcas are prepared to swear their presence at the ceremony. The rest of the servants will not dare question the truth of the matter.” She cocked her head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Are you always this exasperating?”

He gave her a tight smile. “Always.”

All hope of his being reasonable melted. She tamped down the anxiety tightening her stomach and continued. “We knew each other as children, became reacquainted when I accompanied my father to
Silicia
last year.”

Damon held up a hand, stopping her. “Father? You have a
Roman
father who, I’m only speculating, would not welcome a son-in-law fresh from the cross?” He shook his head as if she were some type of half—wit. “What type of father allows a daughter, even a stubborn one, to become involved in such nonsense?”

“A father who has been gone for six months,” she snapped, her careful reserve breaking free. “A father who left his very
determined
daughter to deal with a society that places a woman’s fate into the hands of any convenient, greedy male!”

She clamped her mouth shut, appalled at herself for such an outburst. It would not serve her purpose in the least if Damon thought she was weak and unable to control her own emotions. She drew a deep breath and met his gaze. She might have imagined it, but she thought she saw a flicker of understanding pass behind his eyes. He nodded for her to continue. “We were inseparable. You were very ardent in your wooing and I will confess to all that your poetry led me to fall desperately in love.”

“Poetry, eh?” That devilish grin surfaced again. “Something like this?”

Her eyes went wide when he fell to one knee before her, clasped her left hand and pressed his other palm against his breast. “You, my life, promise that this love of ours between us shall be agreeable and last forever. Great gods, arrange for her to speak the truth and to say this sincere and from the bottom of her heart…”

“So that it is granted us to continue all our life this treaty of inviolable friendship,” she finished on a whisper. It was one of her favorite poems, one that she had read over and over as a young girl. Then spent hours fantasizing about the type of man who would one day claim her heart. Handsome, wise, strong, respected by all.

Damon held her gaze, his callused thumb gently tracing circles in the palm of her hand. The mischievous light had faded from his eyes, darkening them to that storm—cloud color that, she was quickly learning, was a gauge of his emotions. Before, he’d been angry, but now his gaze was filled with a heat that caused her breath to catch in the back of her throat.

She tugged her hand free, instantly missed the warmth and strength of his touch. A corner of his mouth quirked upward. He was making her uncomfortable on purpose. “How do you know this poem of Catullus?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I read it on the wall of a brothel in Pompeii.” He stood, leaned against the wall and casually crossed his arms. “You can learn a lot from the graffiti of the horny.”

Julia cheeks blazed. Truly, she should expect nothing less from someone of his ilk, but was still taken aback at his crudeness. She gave him a wary look. Just how many poems—and brothels—was he familiar with? Though it certainly made no difference to her what types of businesses he patronized as long as he no longer visited them. The success of her plan depended completely on Damon being able to portray the perfect Roman husband.

She glanced up to find him smiling and sent him her sternest look, which sobered him though humor still sparkled in his eyes. “May I continue?”

He inclined his head. “Of course. What happened after I stole your heart?”

Oh, he could steal hearts, of that she held no doubt—along with jewelry, expensive heirlooms and coffers of silver. Never mind that one touch from him had made her heart nearly leap from her chest. He was a criminal and she mustn’t lose sight of that fact. “You asked my father’s permission to marry, accepted my dowry, and we arranged to return to Rome for a private ceremony.”

“I’m assuming there was a change of plans,” he drawled, studying his nails.

Julia seethed. “Certain business matters in the province of
Gallacia
required your immediate attention. You could not bear waiting those additional months and so you insisted we be married without delay.”

“I certainly am an eager fellow.” He smiled, a natural, easy smile that, if possible, made him more handsome. Julia willed her heart to slow down. But it almost stopped with his next question. “Tell me, was there time to consummate the marriage?”

Kaj’s roar from outside the door had Julia rubbing her forehead while Damon laughed out loud. He crouched down next to her, an eager glint in his eyes. “This is going to be more fun than I thought, watching you walk the line, balancing your lies and fabrications.”

He wasn’t taking anything seriously. Never mind that he had no idea as to the grave nature of her situation, it made her furious. She narrowed her gaze. “Your only concern is to play your part. Leave the remainder to me. My plan will succeed. It must succeed.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to her lips then back to her eyes. “Do not worry, my Julia,” he said in a silky voice, “I will play my role so completely even you will be convinced of our marriage.”

Was that a promise or a threat?

He shifted slightly and angled his head, eyes half closed with impossibly long, dark lashes brushing the bronzed skin of his cheek. He was going to kiss her. And while that was shocking enough, what was even more unsettling was how much she wanted to feel those firm lips against her own.

The force of that need snapped her out of her reverie. She slipped off the stool and hugged her
palla
against the trembling that threatened to shake her apart, turned her back to him. At what point had she gone mad? There could be no personal involvement with this man, this criminal. His role, his
only
role was to follow her orders. She straightened her shoulders and faced him. Lacing her words with ice she said, “Be prepared in the morning.”

His eyes glittered silver before he inclined his head. “As you wish, goddess.”

*****

“Julia. There’s a lion crouched on the garden wall.”

Julia snapped her head toward the empty wall, sent her brother a censoring look. Lares smirked, in that impertinent manner so characteristic of adolescent boys. She tightened her mouth. “Your humor leaves much to be desired, brother.”

The smirk stayed in place. “There was no humor intended, sister. You’ve not heard anything I’ve said.”

“Of course I have.” She shifted her eyes away, caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her mind, her thoughts, and a fair share of her emotions had been completely concentrated on her new
husband
.

Husband. Oh, that she ever be cursed with a husband as exasperating as Damon. A criminal who quoted love poems, fed small birds and sparked unnerving feelings deep in her belly with one heated look. He was much more devious than she’d anticipated.

Lares’ expression filled with concern. “Sister, something troubles you. What is it?” His eyes filled with anxiety. “Have you had news from father?”

It nearly broke Julia’s heart to hear the fear in his voice. Lares was still mourning the death of their mother two years past. The physicians speculated that was part of the reason why he had not fully recovered from the same fever that had claimed Eirenne Manulus.

She smoothed the covering over his weakened legs. “No Lares, no word yet as to when father will return.”
If
he returned. She hid her own sorrow and worry behind a bright smile. “But I do have some news.”

He folded his arms, waiting, watching, impatience written on his face.

Julia cleared her throat and widened the smile on her face to the point of pain. This would be the first—and hardest—test of her scheme. “Do you recall the trip I made with father to Silicia? Just before the festival of Janus?”

Lares nodded curtly. “The one that you said was too taxing for me?”