Sold and Seduced

by Michelle Styles

  Ofellius pursed his lips. ‘It has been known to happen, but I want compensation.’

  ‘I am very sorry, but that is impossible,’ Aro replied through clenched teeth.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the cargo had my seal on it.’ Aro crossed the room and stood, facing Ofellius, his arms behind his back. ‘The seals on the amphorae are mine. When my captain sent word, I hurried down to the docks and found the error. It took several hours to put right.’

  ‘My senior captain respectfully disagrees.’

  Aro glanced at the man who now sported a black eye and swelling jaw.

  ‘You have hidden our amphorae here,’ the man growled. ‘You took them without authority.’

  And your man attacked my wife. Aro managed to hang on to his temper by the thinnest of threads. He refused to allow Lydia to become worried or upset. Until he knew the exact reason for Ofellius’s campaign of disruption, he did not want to worry her. After he had won his seat in the Senate and fulfilled his vow to his father, then he’d tell her. He’d take her to Alexandria and show her the sights, but for now, he had to keep her safe.

  He risked a glance at Lydia’s tight-lipped face. It had given him great pleasure to land the punch on the man’s face last evening. Unfortunately, he was one of Ofellius’s senior captains and protected under the agreement as he had not physically harmed Lydia. Aro had to weigh the danger to his own captains with the satisfaction a quiet dumping of the body in the Tiber would bring. It was a matter of some regret that the man was able to walk. He had to be losing his touch.

  Aro blew on his nails and waited for Ofellius to make the formal inspection request.

  ‘Of course you may check over the site,’ Lydia exploded, her eyes blazing with fury. ‘Fabius Aro does not hide things. If he says there was a mistake, then that is what happened. Search away.’

  ‘Do you agree?’ Ofellius asked, a look of incredulity passing over his face.

  Aro resisted the temptation to kiss Lydia. Her intervention was exactly what was required. He contented himself with a nod.

  ‘As my wife says, we have nothing to hide. My men will show your captain any place he might require to look. He may look until he is satisfied.’

  Ofellius shrugged. ‘Very well.’

  Aro signalled to the porter and explained the situation. The porter bowed low and took the men away. Aro signalled to another servant who brought in a platter of bread and figs as well as honeyed wine and cool mint tea.

  ‘I trust you will join me in a cup of something while we wait,’ Aro said. This was Ofellius’s chance to declare war, and openly insult his house.

  ‘When one is in the presence of a lady, one must of course drink to your lady’s health.’ Ofellius reached his beringed fingers towards a goblet.

  ‘And to yours.’ Lydia raised her goblet, but her eyes were full of questions.

  Aro released a breath. The time for open warfare between the houses was not yet. The conversation then turned towards the price of fish sauce, the conditions of the docks at Ostia and the necessity of bribes in Alexandria. To Aro’s pleasure, Lydia made several knowledgeable comments about trade routes and potential problems.

  ‘Your wife appears to know more than is good for her about the shipping business.’

  ‘The counsel of a faithful wife is worth more than silk or gold,’ Aro returned smoothly.

  Lydia swirled the dregs of her honeyed wine in the goblet, listening to the banter between the two men. There was much more here than the surface chatter about trade routes. She could not rid herself of the suspicion that Aro had expected Ofellius to make an appearance and that he had brought her here for a specific purpose. Just as the conversation was starting to turn dangerously toward olive oil, Ofellius’s men reappeared. One grabbed Ofellius’s arm and murmured in his ear. Ofellius pursed his lips as if the wine had become very bitter indeed. The colour drained from his face.

  ‘It does appear you were correct after all, Fabius Aro, forgive me for detaining you.’

  Lydia’s fingers became nerveless and she struggled to keep the cup from crashing out of her hand.

  ‘You do seem to have a problem with mislaying your cargo, Ofellius—first Publius’s fish sauce and now this olive oil,’ Lydia said and enjoyed watching the merchant squirm. ‘May you have as much luck finding your missing olive oil as you did with the fish sauce. My sister-in-law informs that it has all been resolved. Amazing what can be discovered when you put your mind to it.’

  Ofellius’s demeanour changed. ‘Yes, it was a small oversight of a clerk who regrettably is no longer with us. I do hope that the olive oil proves as easy to solve.’

  ‘Should my men or I happen upon any of your amphorae, we shall send them to you, as I would expect you to do for me.’ Aro gave a tight smile.

  ‘As I would do for you.’

  ‘One other thing before you depart, Ofellius—the next time you send your men on a shopping expedition, do tell them to avoid my ships and merchandise, it makes it much simpler all around.’

  Ofellius glared at him, but turned on his heel and left. Lydia released a breath and set her cup down. She wanted to run to Aro and bury her face against his shoulder, but the wager was between them. She had to draw comfort from him being in the same room.

  ‘Do you have the olive oil?’ Lydia asked after Aro shut the door.

  ‘It is my oil.’ Aro held out his hands, palms upwards, the very picture of offended innocence. ‘His men raided my ship at Ostia under cover of darkness and relieved it of several amphorae. Thankfully, a guard had sharp eyes. Last night, we merely took back what was ours by right. Nothing else.’

  ‘Did you see the man who accompanied Ofellius, his captain no less?’ she asked. ‘He is the man who attacked us the other night. I am sure of it. The one who dropped the knife. You said nothing, did nothing.’

  Aro walked over the window and looked out. His knuckles were white against the window frame. A chill passed over Lydia. Had she said something wrong?

  ‘I had hoped you hadn’t seen.’ His voice was low. ‘Or had perhaps forgotten.’

  ‘You knew.’

  ‘I knew who he was when we met the other evening.’ Aro turned back, his face grim. ‘I don’t forget faces, Lydia. Payment has been exacted. That man will not bother you again.’

  Lydia remembered the bruises on the man’s face and saw Aro’s intent look. Aro’s injuries last night had not happened by chance. Had he gone to find this man and discovered the amphorae only later? Instantly Lydia dismissed the thought. Aro did not care for her. He would never have done such a thing. Or if he had, it would only be because his honour had been slighted.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘What would it have served?’ Aro turned back to the window, hiding his face. ‘You would have been upset over nothing, fearful. And the man in question now knows what happens if someone dares tangle with the Sea Wolf. No doubt it will spawn another of the Forum tales, embroidered beyond all recognition.’

  ‘Why are you called the Sea Wolf?’

  ‘It is a name I chose when I started my business. I wanted to honour my ancestor Romulus, who was suckled by a she-wolf and who founded Rome. It served to remind me of what my family had lost.’

  ‘Nothing to do with piracy, then.’

  Aro gave a wide smile, making him look years younger.

  ‘Never, I pride myself on being a man of integrity. I follow my code. The one thing Sulla could not take away from my family was our integrity. I trust anyone could play a game of micatio with me in the dark.’

  To play micatio in the dark. Lydia gave a small nod. Micatio, or odds and evens, was one of the few gambling games that Romans could play openly on the street corners. It required speed, wit and ability to read one’s opponent’s body language as the player tried to guess the total numbers of fingers that were going to be held out. One would only consider doing that in the dark with a man of utmost integrity as most wanted to verify the total with th
eir eyes.

  Lydia placed her goblet down and went to stand near Aro. She could see a barge loaded with amphorae slowly making its way down the river. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the tension in Aro’s neck muscles and wished he had trusted her enough to confide in her.

  ‘It seems strange. I had understood Ofellius’s reputation was that of an honest man,’ Lydia said.

  ‘I would not play micatio with him at any time, let alone in the dark.’ Aro gave a crooked smile. ‘I find it incredible your father does business with him. His reputation is unsavoury. He has built his reputation on the backs of ruined men.’

  ‘Publius’s fish sauce has arrived in Corinth.’ Lydia concentrated on the small altar to Mercury and its half-burnt candle. ‘Sulpicia told me yesterday.’

  ‘You do amaze me.’ Aro lifted his eyebrow. ‘Every last amphorae of liquamen?’

  ‘It is the truth. You were wrong to make me fear for its safety. Publius must not go back into debt. It would kill my father.’

  The corners of Aro’s mouth twitched. ‘When did I do that? When did I make you fear for Publius’s fish sauce?’

  ‘When we first met, you told me Ofellius wouldn’t deliver the fish sauce, because of the seal on the tablet, and that it was denarii upfront but he has. Sulpicia told me.’

  Aro leant forward and captured her chin with his fingers, tilting it upwards. His eyes sparkled with some emotion. ‘For some reason, Ofellius has seen fit to deliver the fish sauce to Corinth, but there will be more to it than that. Much more.’

  ‘How much?’ Lydia asked, aware that her voice had become husky.

  She looked into his eyes with their flecks of gold. His hair curled softly at his temples. The white scar on his cheek gave him a raffish appearance. She should move, but couldn’t.

  ‘I was very proud of you,’ he said and his breath kissed her cheek. ‘I had expected our friend from the temple to be unable to walk. Last seen he was writhing on the ground, calling for his mother. Perhaps I should have warned you, but I did not want to worry you. I wanted to protect you.’

  Lydia bit her lip. She wanted to be angry with him, but discovered a small piece of her was pleased. It had been a long time since anyone had cared enough to look after her. ‘Thank you.’

  He lifted her hand to his mouth. His lips brushed her palm, a featherlight touch. Lydia tried to think about something other than the shape of his mouth and the warmth spreading through out her body. There was a question in his eyes.

  ‘Aro,’ she whispered, but did not draw her hand away. ‘Please.’

  He bent his head and his mouth touched hers, softly at first with no more pressure than a butterfly visiting a flower. She opened her mouth, allowed him entrance. Their tongues entangled and she pressed her body against his, unable to resist the urge to give herself fully to the kiss.

  Then, as suddenly as a summer storm passes, it was over. Lydia ran her tongue experimentally over her lips. She should be angry, but she found she was breathing as if she had run a race. She became aware of the little things, the creases in his tunic, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, the sound of the Tiber.

  Aro reluctantly raised his mouth and regarded Lydia. Her eyes were partly shut, her mouth full and red. It had tasted of honey and mint, opening sweetly for him, making him long to plunge himself deep within her and make her his again. Except he had given his word and he was a man of honour. The damnable wager lay between them. He had to let her come to him. She had to start trusting him. She would surrender and then she would begin to understand what he offered her.

  He touched her cheek, and her head turned away from him. She wrapped her arms about her waist, then started to rearrange her shawl, covering and hiding her body.

  ‘If the danger is over, I would like to visit my father.’ Her voice was small and thin. ‘I have neglected him and Sulpicia long enough. The number of tablets Sulpicia sends me, you would think it would be easier for her to do the jobs herself, rather than asking for my advice.’

  Aro regarded her face for a long time. He wanted to tell her that she did not need to be running after her spoilt sister-in-law, that it was time she allowed her family to stand or fall on their own, but she wouldn’t listen. She had spent her whole life looking after them.

  ‘Would you like me to accompany you?’ Aro asked and carefully kept the emotion from his voice. ‘Or shall I send several of my men?’

  ‘I have no desire to pull you away from your work,’ she replied and drew the shawl over her face.

  ‘As you wish.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘V eratius Cornelius and the lady Sulpicia are not in.’

  Lydia bit her lip and stared with frustration at Gallus, her father’s porter. Beyond him, she could glimpse a bit of the atrium, and the goldfish pool and her mother’s portrait bust. They seemed much smaller, and slightly shabbier, but no less beloved for it. She had failed to realise how much she had missed this house. It was home in a way that the villa on the Aventine could never be. ‘Not in?’

  ‘The senator and his daughter-in-law have gone to dine.’ Gallus ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. ‘I regret, Lydia Ver…Fabia, I have no idea when they will return.’

  ‘Tell them I called.’ Lydia gave one last wistful glimpse at the garden denied her and turned resolutely back towards the Aventine.

  ‘My lady, it was good to see you. We all miss you.’ Gallus’s voice floated after her.

  Lydia gave a small gasp and forced her sandals to increase their speed.

  On the way back, her mind kept returning to the two kisses she had shared with Aro. If she wanted to keep any sort of self-respect or freedom, she had to refrain from kissing him a third time for at least four more days.

  When she reached the villa, Tuccia took one look at her and started fussing over her, insisting she bathe and redo her hair, chatting away all the time about what mischief Korina and Hortus, Clodius the porter’s dog, had got into. Lydia tried to be stern when she heard about the way the dogs had managed to get a ham bone, but failed.

  After Lydia had applied fresh wine dregs to her lips and Tuccia pronounced herself satisfied with the result, she went out to the garden and sat down on the stone bench. Korina promptly lay down with her nose resting on Lydia’s sandals and began to snore, a contented expression on her face.

  Resting her cheek on her hand in the late afternoon sunshine, Lydia reflected how very different everything was here, so pristine and perfect, how she could never feel comfortable here. Everything was too…Aro. Everywhere she looked, she saw signs of him and his hand; as pleasant as the surroundings were, they were still a gilded cage. It could never be a home, not in the sense she thought of her home.

  She twisted the arra ring about on her finger. She had almost grown used to its weight. Legend had it that it connected the hearts, twining them into one. She gave a sad smile at the thought. There could never be the love between Aro and her as there had once been between her parents. It was fruitless to wish for something like that. He had made it subtly clear before Ofellius appeared that he intended to keep his two lives separate and which life he preferred.

  Korina pricked up one ear and gave a joyful bark. Lydia turned her head towards the entrance to the garden. Aro stood in the doorway, his skin glowing and his dark green tunic spotless. She fancied she saw a flash of joy, but it was so fleeting that Lydia became convinced she had imagined it.

  ‘I thought you were visiting your father.’ Aro crossed the garden in a few steps with Korina running joyful circles around him. He stopped and gave the dog a piece of cheese. At once Korina turned over and wriggled on her back, squirming with pleasure when Aro’s long fingers reached out and stroked her belly. Lydia tried not to think about the way his hands had felt when they had stroked her hair earlier, and the sensations they evoked.

  ‘He was dining out.’ Lydia plucked at her skirt, smoothing the folds. She wanted to go to him, and bury her face in his shoulder
. She wanted the comfort of his arms and it frightened her. ‘I left a message and will see him later.’

  Aro nodded and, without waiting for an invitation, sat down next to her, closer than strictly necessary. Lydia felt warmth start to curl in her midriff. She scooted several inches away from him. She was not going to give in to these feelings again. If she touched him, it would be far too easy to end up in his arms again. Her cushion of two kisses had vanished. She was able to control her impulses and urges. She had to control them. To give in would mean she would have to give up her family for ever.

  Aro raised an eyebrow as if he knew why she had moved. His hand reached out and plucked a blossom from her hair. ‘The tree is trying to decorate you.’

  ‘Tuccia will have something to say about that. She has already complained I dressed too quickly this morning.’ Lydia laughed, and then the laughter died on her lips as she saw his intent expression. Rapidly she stood up and crossed to the pool. The fish turned in the sunlight, making bright darts in the water.

  ‘You are already a slave to your tire-woman?’

  ‘Hardly that, but she does have an excellent eye.’ Lydia resisted the urge to pat her hair.

  ‘My sister used to say the same thing about Tuccia’s mother.’ Aro gave a brief laugh and his eyes became misty as if remembering through the years.

  Lydia stilled. Every nerve was alert. She wanted to learn more, to hear about Aro’s past, and perhaps discover if it had any bearing on their marriage.

  ‘I didn’t realise you had a sister. Do you have any brothers?’

  ‘She’s dead. And she was my only sibling, since you ask.’ His words were flatly spoken and no encouragement.

  ‘How did she die?’ Lydia asked, keeping one hand on Korina’s collar to steady her nerves. She had to find out. All sorts of possibilities raced through her brain.

  ‘She was carried off by a fever, the same fever that killed my parents. In good health one day, and suffering from a high fever and stomach pains the next. She had been unhappy in her marriage for a time and had returned for an extended visit.’