Libya dug her nails into the plaster. Aulia had better not direct her wrath at Horus. Not that she could prevent it. Not until Victor freed her and adopted her son. No one could harm an Ocelli heir.
“I’m shocked myself.” Gwen handed a ball of embroidery thread to Aulia. “Wryn’s never had a nurturing side. Perhaps he’ll learn something that will aid him as a father.”
“He paid for a patrician quality school for the boy.” Aulia fidgeted with a colored strand. “The gossip in the marketplace says Horus is his son.”
Libya bit her lower lip. Her mistress was going to hate her, beat her at the slightest offense, punish Horus as vengeance. She needed Victor to free Horus and her before Aulia married Wryn.
“Don’t speak lunacy, Aulia.” Gwen picked up a knotted ball of threads and dumped them into Aulia’s lap. “Which shade of green did you want?”
Aulia shoved the threads off her legs. “Wryn was stationed in Moesia for years.”
“Aulia!” Gwen flung her hand up, yet Aulia remained stiff. Gwen sighed. “Horus is almost six, so Wryn would have arrived in Moesia a month or two after the boy’s birth. It was my other brother who visited Moesia before that.”
“No one can know the exact age of slave children. What difference does a year make?” Aulia yanked a tangled thread.
“Aulia. Your love for my brother has made you outrageous.” Gwen grabbed for the embroidery threads and started untangling. “Besides, Horus looks nothing like Wryn.”
Aulia swiveled. She ran her calculating gaze over Horus’ features.
Libya shifted in the doorway. What if the Paterculis recognized Horus’ likeness to Victor? They’d suspect her treachery.
“All my life I’ve forced a smile and done my duty as those in authority ruined my life.” Aulia dropped her embroidery. She stabbed a finger at Gwen. “You, you’re happy in your marriage. My father betrothed me to five evil men, each more vicious than the last.”
“I’m sorry, Aulia.” Gwen reached out across the distance. “If you’re concerned, talk to Wryn. Though honestly, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Why should I speak to him? I can’t control him anymore than I can control my father.” Anger tinged Aulia’s voice.
“He intends to,” Gwen lowered her voice making her words unintelligible, “her.”
Wryn intended what? Perhaps Gwen spoke of someone else now.
“Then tell him to do it.” Aulia spoke through clenched teeth. “Today. Preferably within the hour.”
Gwen picked up Aulia’s scattered embroidery and nodded. “I’ll tell him.”“I should go. Salve.” Aulia stood and crossed the room.
Libya jumped back, but not soon enough. As the woman’s tunica swished across the entrance, Aulia lifted her gaze.
Those blue eyes dug into her, the same accusation in Aulia’s pale face as she’d seen in many dominas’ before.
A scream rose in Libya’s throat as she tightened her fingers. This time the accusation held no truth. None. If Aulia didn’t have the wits to see that, the sleep the woman would lose this night was her own wretched fault. Libya pressed her feet hard against her sandals. Wryn didn’t see her that way.
Perhaps the only man in the Empire who didn’t, and she agreed to betray him. Libya’s heart plunged.
Aulia stood stiff as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re a slave. I’m the betrothed wife.”
“I am well-aware of that, domina.” Libya dropped her gaze. Though when Victor freed her, then she’d no longer be a slave, no longer need to look at mistresses through downcast lashes. As a free woman, she’d choose her own destiny, she and Horus both.
“I’m not your domina yet, but when I am, I can and will sell you and your son off.”
Libya jolted back. What if Wryn married Aulia before Victor had a chance to free Horus and her? Libya’s heart pounded against her ribs.
She fought to keep her voice submissively steady. “Why would you do that, domina? I will serve you well.”
“I don’t care what blood Horus shares with my betrothed. My sons will inherit, not yours.”
“Wryn’s not Horus’ father.”
Aulia stood rigid beneath the shimmering silk of her tunica. “And I don’t need my husband’s proper name on the tongue of a harlot.”
Chills slithered across Libya’s body as her ragged breathing tore at her lungs. She and Horus would be separated at a slave market. The slavers would strip her naked. A bored man of wealth or brothel owner would buy her within the hour. The chances of such a man agreeing to purchase a defiant five-year-old too young to serve much purpose in any household weren’t good. Libya clenched her fists. “Wryn won’t let you sell Horus and me off.” Would he? He paid six thousand denarii to the tavernkeeper to keep Horus and her together.
Anger flamed across Aulia’s features. She balled her pale fingers. “That’s master to you. And if you think you hold more sway over my betrothed husband than I do, you’re wrong.” The woman passed by her.
Libya watched the woman’s departing back. More than likely, Aulia spoke the truth. She’d seen masters take their jealous wives’ side over hers many times, resulting in her being sold into worse circumstances again. She had much less hold over Wryn than other masters for he didn’t desire her. Libya’s heart pounded in her throat. She took a breath and forced herself into the room where Horus played.
She’d just have to ensure that Victor freed Horus and her before Wryn married Aulia.
Gwen plopped herself in the center of Horus and Alena’s building orgies. Towers, caves, and jumbles of blocks swept around Horus. Gwen pointed to one. “It looks like the Colossus of Rhodes. We could build the Seven Wonders of the World.”
Alena shoved another block on the pile.
Horus took it off. “Don’t need seven wonders.” He piled his own block on top.
Alena screamed.
“What about a sphinx?” Gwen handed blocks to Alena. “We could build a sphinx, Horus.”
“You can.” Forehead furrowed, Horus stacked another block.
Libya shifted to her other foot. What if Horus did something horrid while staying the night at a patrician’s house? What would Gwen do then?
“You’re going to stay with me while your Mama works tonight, Horus. Won’t that be delightful?” Gwen handed him a block.
Horus crinkled his nose. “I guess. Can Wryn stay?”
“No, he has to work too. What’s that?” Gwen pointed to a lopsided structure Horus had built.
“A pyramid, like in E-gipt. My father told me about them.”
Gwen swiveled toward the doorway. Her gaze touched Libya. “His father stays in touch?”
“No!” Libya slapped her sandals against the tile. She grabbed Horus by the shoulders. “Remember our conversation about lying,” she hissed in Horus’ ear.
Aulia already hated her. If Gwen turned against her too, she could get her banned from spying in Ostia. She needed to spy so she could convince Victor to free Horus and her before Wryn brought Aulia into his home as the domina.
Horus shoved at her. “You said I couldn’t tell Wryn that he’s my father, but —”
Gwen jerked her head up. “Wryn?”
“Wryn is not your father.” Libya grasped Horus’ arm.
Gwen’s black-eyed gaze shifted. “Who is?”
Libya ran her dry tongue over even drier lips. “I worked in a brothel.”
“Of course.” A look of pity crossed Gwen’s face. “I’m sorry about all the unpleasantness with this. Wryn should have known better than to go to the riverside alone with you and Horus.”
Libya dared to meet her gaze. Did she, a woman of infamia, have a prayer of being believed? Free women never believed her before when others accused her of things she hadn’t done, at least not willingly.
“I’ll tell Wryn to start acting like he has a head on his shoulders.
He’s not doing you any favors with Aulia either.”
Libya shrugged as her pounding heart
slowed.
“I apologize for the unpleasantness caused by my brother’s stupidity.” Gwen smoothed her stola. “He’s always been like that. Doesn’t even cross his mind how others will perceive something.”
Statues normally didn’t. Libya tried to put her shattering nerves to rights. No luck here with Gwen staring. “Will you tell Aulia she worries needlessly?” Perhaps Gwen could convince Aulia to give up her jealous vengeance.
“I already tried. Aulia’s stuck on her opinion.” Gwen’s gaze traveled Libya’s face.
Libya shifted uneasily.
“You know, if it were any other man in the Empire, I’d tell Aulia her suspicions likely had merit. But my brother is —” Gwen rolled her eyes. “Scarcely human sometimes. I swear he doesn’t have a heart.”
Libya slowly lowered herself to the floor by the children. Gwen’s littlest crawled toward Horus’ tower.
“Would you watch my children a moment?” Gwen stood. “I want to talk to Marcellus before Wryn gets here and the three of you leave. I’m jealous, you know, of the spying you get to do.”
“Of course, domina.” Libya tugged Gwen’s baby into her lap. Insane woman. As much as she enjoyed Ostia work, she’d trade for respectability in a moment. Even freedom couldn’t wash away her infamia.
Wryn circled around the back of his sister’s villa. Two horses already stood saddled by the gate. Marcellus and Gwen sat on a garden bench underneath the overhang of a lotus tree. As usual, they reveled in their own world, which involved overly loud laughing and inappropriate displays of affection.
Gwen’s gaze lit on him. With a grin, she jumped up. “I hear the reason you didn’t meet us yesterday morn is because you had a wild night with a woman of infamia.”
Marcellus stiffened.
Not Gwen too. Wryn’s heart pounded as he raised his hand. “I swear it’s not true.”
Gwen let out a peal of laughter.
Wryn stared at her. Marcellus, too.
“Does no one else see the humor in this situation?” Gwen flaunted her shoulder, a smirk on her lips. “My brother, the nose-to-the-grindstone tribune who doesn’t even talk to women, is being gossiped about by all of Rome as the lecherous father of an almost six-year-old child. I’d correct the gossipers, but I’m finding the absurdity of these accusations much too amusing.”
“I don’t think it’s an absurd accusation.” Marcellus crossed his arms over each other, his narrow-eyed gaze penetrating to the marrow.
“Marcellus!” Gwen raised her ivory hands. “Quidquid. No one has a sense of humor anymore.”
“You’ll tell Aulia I didn’t?” Wryn chafed his finger against his belt.
“Already done. She didn’t see the hysterical nature of the gossip either. Which I suppose as your betrothed is understandable. Gossip is never pleasant. Still, I can’t stop laughing every time I think about it.” Tilting her head back, Gwen released more peals of laughter. Her chest shook, tears rolling down her eyes. “Remember five years ago when Hermina first tried to flirt with you? The look on your face.”
No, he purposefully forgot that excruciating evening.
Gwen tittered. “You’ll have a problem with women the day I’m accused of holding my tongue. I mean an infidelity problem. You have plenty of problems with women. For example, you’re egotistical around women, rude, ignorant —”
Wryn didn’t meet his sister’s gaze as she rattled off what normally would have proven to be an irritating diatribe. The truth was, he did have a problem with Libya.
“You never should have had that bonfire, though.” Gwen swished her skirts. “You made Aulia insane with jealousy. In thirteen years of friendship, I’ve never seen her angry. Today her wrath burned so hot, I could have mistaken her for Mars in his war chariot.”
“Do you think she’ll beg her father to break the betrothal? I’ll let her out of it if she wishes.” Hope stirred Wryn’s veins.
“What?” Gwen blinked. “Of course not. I told Aulia you intended to free Libya and Horus. She asked that you do it today. Her exact words were, ‘within the hour’.”
Free Libya today? He’d never see her again. His heart raced. He’d have to free her soon enough for Jacob, but this hour? He should honor his betrothed’s request. An uncomfortable feeling roiled through him. He shoved it down. “I can’t yet. Think about Ostia. You said yourself Marcellus risks his life until we discover this Ides of Junio plot and she’s an excellent spy.”
“Very well, but you’d best hasten and free Libya and Horus before you marry Aulia. I wouldn’t wish to see what happens with Aulia under the same roof as Libya. When are you marrying Aulia?”
“I….” Wryn shifted his feet on the loose pebbles of the walkway. Three months now since the senator had told him to marry soon. Surely a few more weeks wouldn’t lose him the prefect post. Five days until Libya would wed, only he heard nothing of weddings or Jacob. Did that mean Libya had changed her mind?
Marcellus touched Gwen’s waist. “We should leave to reach Ostia in time.”
“Salve.” Gwen moved closer to Marcellus and threw her arms around his neck. Pressing up against him, she kissed him.
Wryn groaned. “There are small children around. And me, your brother.”
“I’ll kiss my husband if I want to.” Gwen clasped her arms tighter around Marcellus, her eyes dancing. “You might as well get used to it.”
“You call that kissing? I could think of many cruder names for it.”
“Wryn!” Gwen glared at him, but at least she stopped doing that. “You’ll marry yourself, soon. See how narrow-hearted you talk then.”
Wryn crossed his arms, sandals planted on the dusty rocks. “Aulia’s a proper maiden. She would never act so indiscreetly.” Unlike Libya. When Libya danced by the fire’s glow, her every lilting move was uninhibited, a freedom in the sway of her body. What would it feel like to hold a woman like that in his arms?
“How would you know? Have you even kissed Aulia since your betrothal?”
Wryn jerked his gaze to the sound of Gwen’s voice. He needed to banish all such images. Aulia might be decorous to a fault, but she was a clean woman, marriageable. “Of course not.”
Gwen arched her black eyebrows, a smirk on her lips. “But you’ve thought of it?”
He shrugged. Though of course, that would be the way of it, he couldn’t imagine doing that with Aulia. She was so demure. Sweet, and kind, and good, but not a woman he could imagine kissing overmuch. She scarcely seemed interested in that sort of thing herself. Blushed to even kiss him once at the betrothal ceremony.
Dropping Marcellus’ hand, Gwen looked to the afternoon sun. “You’d best hurry. The sun will have set by the time you reach Ostia. I’ll get Libya.” Gwen hurried inside.
A few moments later, another footfall sounded on the garden path.
Linen swished around Libya’s ankles. Her tunica bared her arms. Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, highlighting her amber skin and darker lips. The ruby on the necklace he bought her fell over the concave of her throat, dangling down to all that lay below.
Soon she’d marry Jacob. Revel in all the uninhibited delights of marriage with that undeserving potter.
Wryn’s hand constricted. Yet, he was no laborer or freedman to choose the allure of a woman who delighted in men’s touch over political advancement. He had a prefect post to gain, an illustrious career serving Rome to grasp, justice to execute, all things dependent on a prestigious marriage alliance. This attraction to Libya was just the allure of uninhibited sensuality.
He didn’t actually wish a woman of infamia, despoiled by who knew how many hands, as the mother of his heirs. Why then did each of Libya’s thoughts intrigue him just like each time he caught a glimpse of her soul?
Chapter 21
The tavern lamps flickered. Libya scanned the circular tables filled with sailors and ship captains. Stepping close to Wryn, she lowered her voice. “I discovered three Viri shipments.”
“Good. I’ll arrest them.
” Wryn’s mouth turned down.
“It’s the Ides of Junio plot you want?”
He nodded. “Perhaps I’ll discover something at the Viri dinner party in two days’ time. Oh, to gain the information necessary to see Victor executed.”
Wryn needed her to discover that information, and she’d not help him. Wryn shoved his eyebrows in a stern line as he said the name of his enemy, such scorn in his voice. Her heart pounded. If Wryn knew Horus was Victor’s son, he’d hate Horus too. Horus would be devastated. She pointed to a man with a beard. “I’m going to try him yet.”
Wryn narrowed his gaze. “Be careful. He looks drunk and dangerous.”
She smiled at Wryn. “I’m sure you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
Sliding between benches, she moved to the cracked surface of the circular table by the tavern wall. She brushed her fingertips against the drunk man’s shoulder as she started her normal questions.
The drunk man swiveled, his glazed-over eyes focused on her. “Rumor has it. And I shouldn’t be telling you this, girl.”
“Rumor says what?” One hand on the table, Libya leaned back, shoulder arched.
The man’s drink-heavy breath blew over her. “An assassination attempt.”
Assassination! “On who?”
“Don’t know. Besides, what’s it to you?” The man knit his calloused fingers in her belt and yanked her on top of him.
She reached out to shove the man, but Wryn’s fist caught the man’s shoulder first. Wryn circled his arm around her waist, tugging her up as the stool flew back.
The wood cracked against the brick floor. The drunk landed on his backside, swearing as he swung unsteady fists.
Libya smiled at Wryn, voice a whisper. “I have news —”
Wryn caught her belt as he tugged her against himself. His mouth touched hers, his strong arm circling her waist. Other evenings, he hesitated before completing the necessary ruse. Now, he grew more comfortable with the farce.
It was likely an unnecessary farce this time since the drunk looked as capable of standing as flying, but Wryn had never shown skill at reading subtleties. A smirk rose to Libya’s lips as she made to tease him.
Without Love: Love and Warfare series book 4 Page 21
