A Charioteer's Promise

by Tanya Bird

  ‘Mother,’ Manius said. ‘Dulcia was at the nundinae this morning, then took a long walk through Subura. Junia is right. She is allowed to be tired after such an eventful day.’

  Dulcia’s gaze snapped to him, her heartbeat increasing. She had not told him where she had been that day.

  He glanced sideways at her.

  Aquila had an army of spies running about the city, so it made sense that a man like Manius had eyes all over Rome.

  ‘Subura?’ Livia’s nose crinkled. ‘You are lucky you were not robbed.’

  Dulcia fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘My sister lives there now.’

  Manius turned to her. ‘But you were not with your sister, were you?’

  So he meant to embarrass her. ‘No, I was with a friend.’

  Claudius leaned forwards, plucking an olive off the tray in front of him. ‘I am sensing a scandal.’ He met Dulcia’s gaze and winked.

  She immediately looked down at her lap.

  Manius took a long drink from his cup before speaking. ‘With her friend Nero. The one they call Rat.’

  Everyone’s eyebrows seemed to rise in unison, and the other guests stopped talking.

  ‘The rodent working for Gallus Minidius? Well, that is neither safe nor appropriate,’ Livia tutted. ‘Must we endure the rumours?’

  Dulcia’s chest tightened as she gripped her drink with both hands.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, they were clearly in a public place,’ Junia said.

  ‘Were you in a public place?’ Manius asked. There was a coldness in his tone that suggested he already knew the answer to that question.

  Dulcia looked at him. Instead of guilt, which would have been a far more appropriate reaction, she felt annoyed at the invasion of privacy. As if the day had not been difficult enough, she was now on public trial by the very man who should have had her back.

  She set her cup down and stood. ‘As pleasant as the evening has been, I think I am going to leave.’

  Livia’s eyes gleamed. ‘Oh, dear,’ she murmured into her cup. ‘Trouble so soon.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Manius said tiredly.

  She remained standing. ‘I am leaving.’

  ‘I will walk you out,’ Junia said, preparing to stand.

  Manius raised a hand to stop her. ‘No. I will walk her out.’

  Dulcia thanked her hosts, saying her farewells amid whispers and smirks, then returned inside and walked briskly towards the entranceway.

  ‘You are not to see him anymore,’ Manius said, closing the gap between them.

  She stopped walking, his words like cold water on her back, then turned to face him. ‘That is not reasonable. He is family.’

  Manius leaned in. ‘You are lucky you left that apartment in tears today or we would be having a very different conversation.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Is that what your spies told you?’

  His hand shot up and came down across her face. It was not hard, not compared to Aquila, but it stung. Her trembling hand went over her cheek, and she fought hard to stop the tears.

  Manius calmed himself. ‘What is the matter with you lately? You are becoming as openly rebellious as your sister. Am I to ban you from seeing her also?’

  She lowered her hands and held her ground. ‘Is this what I am to expect from our marriage? Spies and distrust? A good slap when I step out of line?’

  He brought his face inches from hers, his voice hoarse with anger. ‘You dare lecture me on trust?’

  She blinked, then looked at the floor. He was right not to trust her. She was not in control of herself around Nero, and the problem was only getting worse. ‘You are right.’ It came out as a whisper.

  He leaned away, eyes widening for a moment. ‘And there it is.’ He shook his head. ‘You admit it. I chose you for your virtue, and you turned out to be just another whore.’

  She flinched at the word he flung at her, then drew a courageous breath. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot marry you.’ She felt instant relief the moment she said the words aloud.

  Confusion passed over his face, but then his eyes narrowed into slits. ‘No, you do not get to walk away from me.’

  ‘I do not love you.’ The confessions were spilling out of her now. ‘And I cannot imagine a time when I will.’

  He laughed, and the sound echoed around the atrium. ‘Do you honestly believe a woman like you gets to marry for love?’

  She refused to cry, refused to let him tear her down any more than he already had. ‘Yes, I think it is possible.’

  He reached up, palm on her red cheek. ‘Really? A woman with nothing to offer a man like me except her beauty and virtue?’ When she went to speak, he brought his thumb to her lips, silencing her. ‘We can forget the virtue now.’ His hand fell away. ‘Tell me, what does your priestess friend say of your fornication?’

  Dulcia lifted her chin, not bothering to indulge him with an answer.

  He stepped back, rubbing at his temples. Drawing a long breath, he said, ‘I think I drank too much wine. Go home, and I will call on you in the morning.’

  She did not move. ‘I meant what I said. I cannot marry you.’

  ‘Do not embarrass yourself further. The litter will take you home. We will talk tomorrow.’

  ‘I do not want to talk tomorrow.’

  There was that confused expression again. ‘Let us see what your father has to say on the subject, shall we?’

  Dulcia fought hard to keep down the food and wine she had consumed. ‘I already know what he will say.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘I understand the consequences.’ She looked around the atrium for a moment. ‘This is going to devastate my mother and probably lose me the roof over my head. But that is a price I am prepared to pay to live honestly.’ She turned from him, walking towards the door on shaky legs with her heart thudding and hope soaring. ‘I do not need the litter,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I will walk.’

  ‘Take the litter,’ he called to her back. ‘I will be by in the morning.’

  Her pace quickened when the door opened in front of her. She gripped her palla as if the fabric were holding all the broken pieces together.

  Down the steps, she went straight past the waiting litter. She would risk being murdered before setting foot in it again. It was not that far to her home anyway. There she would wake her mother and tell her the news. Perhaps Tertia would surprise her. Maybe she would offer comfort, and help Rufus to see that Manius was not a good match for her.

  She realised at that moment she was running, charging down the street like a wounded animal. When she reached the Papias house, she stopped at the bottom of the steps, panting. She stared up at the door, so familiar, despite many layers of paint over the past nineteen years. On the other side of that door was her father, her mother, her domina, occasionally her half-brother. There was also the kitchen she loved, and the cook she had grown to love, as well as many other servants she was raised with.

  ‘I will come by in the morning,’ Manius had said.

  Perhaps he thought sunlight could erase the evening—the harsh words, the accusations and bold statements. She considered the possibility of starting over the next day, trying again with the man and making everyone happy. How many times had she tried to convince herself that she could do it? She could have a comfortable life in a grand house filled with servants. All she had to do was give Manius what he wanted, and it was not much. A virtuous wife who hung from his arm and smiled in a way that made every other husband envious, who entertained, and marvelled at his accomplishments. She could spend his denarii on garments and jewels, host dinner parties for his friends, smile, laugh at their crude jokes, look away when they struck a slave for the smallest thing. She could lie with him, turn a blind eye at his indiscretions and never have any of her own. She could bear his children and raise them to be miniature versions of the very people she despised.

  Six steps. Then she would be at the door.

  Tomorrow Manius would call, and sh
e was confident she could fix whatever was broken between them. He was jealous, needed reassurance that he was the better man, the more desirable man for a woman like her. She could reassure him that she was still virtuous, then go on to have the life her mother could not and the approval of her father. Rufus might even call her daughter at the wedding.

  Six steps. One, two, three, four, five, six, then through the door. It should have been easy.

  But her feet did not move.

  Chapter 21

  Standing in the middle of the room, Nero looked around at the pristine apartment. He had spent the afternoon cleaning it and fixing everything that was broken. He had torn down the remains of the curtains and resisted the urge to set them alight, cursing himself for not cleaning it up prior to bringing Dulcia to see it. Not that it would have made much of a difference to the outcome.

  In the evening, Felix and Albaus had come by to drop off some of his belongings. Hearing that all did not go to plan, they tried to convince him to join them at the tavern, but he could not face people, could not face anyone in his current state. They must have been concerned, because soon after they departed, Mila and Remus appeared on his doorstep. Mila reminded him that he always had a home with them. It took some convincing that he was fine and would not fall apart over a woman, and yet when they finally left, he collapsed against the door with his body threatening to do just that.

  He replayed the argument with Dulcia, angry at himself for not being more patient. He should have given her time to sit with the idea, reassured her. She was afraid, and she had every right to be. He should have blocked the door and told her he loved her, repeated it over and over until it was all she knew. Had he actually said the words? He could not remember. But he remembered telling her to go, and every cruel word that followed. He had assumed she knew it, felt it. So many foolish assumptions before pushing her away.

  Nero closed his eyes, his head resting against the smooth wood. He had blown it, even though every fibre of his body told him they belonged together. No one could love her like he did—especially Manius. His mind scrambled with a way to fix it.

  It is too late.

  A knock at the door vibrated against his back. He opened his eyes. Who else was left to take pity on him?

  It was late. The streets had grown quiet. He turned to face the door and considered not opening it. The strength required for conversation was beyond him at that point. Leaning his forehead against the door, he closed his eyes again. Hopefully they would think him asleep and leave.

  Another knock sounded, louder that time.

  Go away, he wanted to say. Instead, he straightened, took a deep breath, and opened the door. It was smooth and quiet that time.

  Dulcia stood on the other side, eyes on the freshly oiled hinges.

  ‘You fixed it.’

  He followed her line of sight, trying to hide his shock. ‘Yes.’

  She looked at him, eyes glassy and lips a little swollen. She had been crying. His chest grew heavy at the thought.

  ‘And the curtains?’

  He glanced over his shoulder at the bare window. ‘I can make do without curtains for a while.’

  She looked past him into the candlelit room. He crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder on the doorframe. ‘What are you doing here?’

  She drew a breath, hands clasped in front of her. ‘I told Manius I cannot marry him.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘I left.’ Slowly, she raised her eyes to him. ‘And came straight here.’ She exhaled slowly. ‘I am going to be in a lot of trouble when that sun rises.’

  Lucky he was leaning on the doorframe or he might have fallen over. She had come to him. He tried very hard not to jump to any conclusions.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, ‘May I come in?’

  He straightened but did not get out of her way. ‘You want to come inside?’ He had to check he had heard right.

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her eyes searched his for a moment. ‘I need to measure the windows for those curtains.’

  He swallowed and looked away, trying hard to keep his emotions in check, then moved aside.

  She hesitated before entering. Instead of walking past, she stopped in front of him.

  ‘I should not have left today,’ she whispered, eyes on the floor.

  He uncrossed his arms and lifted her face so he could see it. He turned her head both ways, noticing one cheek was redder than the other. He blinked and reined in his anger. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her. As he ran two fingers over her cheek, he knew he would never let anyone hurt her ever again—including him.

  She struggled to meet his gaze, but instead of pulling away, she moved closer, falling against him. His arms went around her, drawing her in, his lips pressing her hair.

  ‘I am going to marry you,’ she murmured into his chest. ‘I am going to love you openly and proudly for the rest of my life.’ Her voice broke, and she took a moment to gather herself. ‘You are the best man I know.’

  His throat closed, and he felt like he was choking. He was silent for the longest time. ‘I don’t deserve you.’

  She looked up, crying now. ‘You don’t get to do that anymore. I choose you, and I will choose you every time.’

  He tipped her head back and brought his lips to hers, the sensation spreading like hot liquid. Her hands travelled up his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. She was so soft, so trusting despite the day she had endured. He reached out and pushed the door closed, her grip tightening on him at the momentary absence of his hand. As if he could leave her at that moment. He could barely think through his need as his hands caressed down her back and buttocks before locking on her thighs and lifting her off the ground. Her legs wrapped him and her stomach pressed against his. The instant warmth of her took the remaining air from him. He had to stop, had to do the right thing, but then she shifted her hips and the softest of moans came from her lips. In a moment it would be too late.

  ‘Should we stop?’ He spoke the words into her open mouth.

  She pulled back, eyes bright and expression serious. ‘No one is stopping. No one is slowing down. I love you. Just let me love you.’

  Gods, what had he done to deserve her?

  Walking over to the bed, he sat on it, needing her closer. His mouth found her throat and he consumed it, driven mad by the fingers woven through his hair and the scent of her skin.

  ‘I need more of you,’ she whispered.

  His hands travelled beneath the fabric, finding the soft flesh of her thighs. Nails dug into his shoulders.

  ‘You can have all of me,’ he said. ‘I’m yours.’ He pulled back to look at her. ‘Marry me.’

  She smiled the sweetest of smiles. ‘I thought you would never ask.’

  Nero’s hands pushed beneath the fabric gathered at the top of her legs. ‘Tomorrow.’ His mouth was drawn to the bare skin of her shoulder where her tunic had slipped down.

  ‘The order of things is not so important.’ It came out as a laugh.

  He looked up at her, waiting for her body to still again. ‘I love you. I have loved you for so long.’

  Another smile, but that time accompanied by a mischievous glint in her eye. ‘Show me.’

  A grin spread across his face, his entire body responding to those two words. He leaned back on the mattress and pulled her down with him.

  Dulcia waited for the guilt to arrive and strip her of her good mood. She waited for the remorse, the shame, that feeling in her gut that told her when she had done something very wrong. But all she felt was safe, warm, untouchable. She felt truly free for the first time in her life, with her back against Nero’s bare chest and one leg stuck between his. Not so free then, but utterly and blissfully trapped.

  She opened one sleepy eye, noting the changing light. Soon the sun would rise, and she would be forced to face the consequences of her actions. She had a plan of sorts. First she would go to her mother, who would know the best way to handle Rufus. Perhaps he would break the news to Maniu
s. Perhaps he would break a stick on her back first.

  ‘It is too late,’ she would tell them. She was a ruined woman. The only sensible thing for her father to do was to let her marry him, even if he banished her afterwards.

  Nero propped himself up on one elbow so he could see her face. ’What are you thinking about?’

  She twisted to look at him. ‘I cannot predict Rufus’s reaction.’

  He lay back down and drew her closer until she could feel his breath in her hair. ‘He’s not going to rush out and buy us a wedding gift.’

  She turned in his arms. He looked half dead, but so content. ‘I should go alone.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If I show up at the house with you looking so pleased with yourself, it will only aggravate the situation.’

  His lips curled into a lazy smile. ‘I am pleased with myself. Look at you. I have a goddess in my arms.’

  She watched him for a moment before speaking. ‘It will be all right.’

  ‘You telling me or asking me?’

  She thought. ‘Asking, I think.’

  He pulled her so close she struggled to draw breath. ‘If it’s not all right, we’ll leave the city.’

  ‘And go where?’

  Light came to his eyes. ‘Anywhere you want. I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.’

  She felt so much affection for him in that moment. Arching her back, she stretched to kiss him. ‘We’ll need coin.’

  ‘I have some coin.’

  She pressed her lips together, thinking. ‘How much is passage on a ship?’

  An amused expression settled on his face. ‘Depends. Where will the ship be going?’

  ‘Alexandria.’

  His grin matched her own. ‘You really want to see those pyramids.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He smoothed down her hair with his hand. ‘Then Egypt it is.’ Planting a kiss on her nose, he added, ‘Let me worry about the coin. All you have to do is tell your mother the good news.’

  Fear settled in her belly once more. He must have seen it, because his expression turned serious.

  ‘You’re not alone in this anymore. I’ll be right there with you.’