“As you wish. I live only to do your bidding.”
Grimacing, Brutus waved the physician and the slaves away. “Leave us!”
Torbar waited patiently, the tools of his trade nearby. Clay tablets, pens to impress words into the soft material, sheepskin parchment all lay ready for use when the general so ordered.
“Kapaneus? Send a tablet to my mother, Servilia. Tell her I will attend her banquet.” In a low growl, he added, “I doubt it will be a happy affair. She is furious over Queen Cleopatra coming to Rome with Caesar’s only son. I don’t know why my mother is doing this. Caesar has always wanted a male heir, and neither she nor any other woman could give him one. You’d think Servilia would understand this and stop begging to get back into Caesar’s good graces in the bedroom. He has eyes only for his son and that bitch of a foreign queen.”
Shrugging, Torbar murmured, “General, who knows what goes on in the minds of women?”
Laughing sharply, Marcus ripped off a piece of the warm brown bread and placed several bits of cheese upon it. “Indeed, Kapaneus. Women! They are a necessity for a man to warm his loins in, but little else, in my experience. You marry one and she becomes a shrew, telling you what to do or not to do. My own mother was practically Caesar’s top general in Spain during the Punic Wars. She told him how to run his army and campaigns! By the gods, women should be born with stitches through their lips, don’t you think?”
Torbar grinned beneath Kapaneus’s black mustache and beard. “Oh, General, I favor young men, so I do not know. I find beautiful male youths to be far more palatable to my temperament, while happily warming my loins.”
Laughing again, Marcus swallowed his bread, then drank the warm goat’s milk from his goblet. “I think I’m going to enjoy having you as chief scribe, Kapaneus. You have a far better sense of humor than Seuso ever did.”
“Thank you, my general. I’ll get this tablet off within the hour to your mother, Servilia.”
“Good, good. I believe our emperor is going to see my mother this morning, is he not?”
Torbar reached for a parchment and consulted it. “Quite so, General. He is going to thank two Greek mercenaries who saved your mother’s life from those robbers yesterday.”
Frowning, Marcus wiped his mouth with the edge of his cloak. “That attack bothers me. Who put those ruffians up to such a thing? My mother’s conveyance clearly carries the standard of Caesar. Why would they risk death by attacking?”
Shrugging, Torbar said, “Stupidity among the poor, I suppose.”
“I don’t know…” Brightening, Brutus sat up and ran his hands along his tunic, across his massive thighs. “I will see them at the banquet for the emperor tomorrow night. I’ll give them my thanks at that time.”
“May I go with you, my general?” Torbar gave him a slight, obsequious smile, while mentally ordering the officer to agree to his request.
“What?” Brutus shrugged. “I did not know scribes enjoyed such boring, political events. You need not go. I won’t require your services.”
“But I’d like to go,” Torbar insisted. His mission was to find the time jumper. And a banquet would be just the place to gather clues on the identity of the interloper. At least, that was what Torbar’s finely honed intuition told him.
“Of course.” And then Brutus gave a wicked laugh. “I know. You are lonely, without a youth. At such a party there will be many youths parading their wares.”
Torbar let the general think what he wanted. “My first duty, my only duty, sir, is to you. All else pales beside my loyalty to your household.”
Pleased, Marcus stood up. He rearranged the thick leather belt he wore, adjusting the dagger that hung on his left side, the gladius on his right. “You are making the loss of my old friend and scribe easy on me, Kapaneus. Thank you. And yes, do come with me to my mother’s house. I doubt I can bear being there for more than an hour as she hotly pursues Caesar around the domus like a mare in heat.”
Chuckling darkly, Torbar dipped his head and began writing on the parchment, adding this activity to the general’s very busy schedule. Maybe these Earthling males weren’t so bad, after all.
As he worked, his mind ranged forward. Caesar was going to see two Greek mercenaries this morning. Who were they? How did they happen to be on the Via Appia when Servilia’s wagon was attacked? Sensing that was something to be investigated, Torbar reined in his impatience. Today, he had to orient himself, becoming completely familiar with this time, place and all the players. He had plenty to do until the banquet commenced.
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Chapter 6
J ake spotted Delia in the hall outside her apartment the next morning. She was dressed in a pale blue wool tunic that fell to just below her knees. Even though the garment wasn’t the utmost in feminine fashion, it flowed deliciously across her breasts and gently flared hips. Just looking at her made him hungry to have her all over again. He’d had torrid dreams last night of making hot, wild love with this woman.
As Jake approached, Delia looked in his direction. He smiled, enjoying the way her shoulder-length hair drawn into a ponytail at the nape of her neck emphasized the delicate curves of her oval face. The morning light flowing in from the atrium showed off her patrician nose and soft, full mouth.
Jake was lifting his hand in a silent hello when he was suddenly bombarded with mental images from an approaching party. As he reached Delia, he took her by the shoulder and hauled her against him.
Without a word, he slid his hand behind her head, leaned down and urgently placed his mouth upon hers. Instantly she splayed her hands against his chest and tried to push him away, but he didn’t let her. There wasn’t time for explanations. Jake took her mouth uncompromisingly.
“Stop!” he rasped against her mouth, when she tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “Servilia is coming!” And then he brought her fully against him.
In shock, Delia felt Jake’s arms clasp her solidly against his tall, powerful frame, his mouth wreaking havoc on hers. Breathing hard, she forced herself to relax against him when she heard his rasped words about Servilia. Mind spinning from his unexpected move, Delia felt her body respond automatically to his deepening kiss. What did Servilia have to do with this? Why had Jake suddenly reached out and grabbed her…? Then she heard the brush of sandals crossing the tiled floor.
“Oh!” Servilia said, halting.
Jake heard the woman’s surprised exclamation but pretended not to have noticed her approach. He continued to kiss Delia as if it was the last embrace he’d ever share with her. And it would be for now, he knew. She’d be angrier than a cobra, spitting venom at him the minute he released her. But right now, Jake needed her as cover.
Servilia raised her brows as she watched the brother and sister kissing hungrily in the hall. With a slight, twisted smile, she murmured, “Ah, well…” and turned away.
Jake heard Servilia leave. As soon as her footfalls had faded he released Delia.
“Jake!” she growled, yanking herself out of his arms. She wiped her throbbing lips. “What was that all about?” Never mind that she was breathing raggedly and her nipples were pressing against the rough weave of the tunic she wore, begging to be teased by him. Glaring at him, she saw regret in his eyes, along with a burning desire. Wiping her mouth again, she backed off. “What did you do that for? I thought we agreed that the mission came first!” she demanded harshly.
Jake held up his hand, put a finger to his lips and walked to the end of the hall. No one was there, no slaves lingering nearby. Turning, he walked rapidly back to where Delia was standing, her face taut with anger. Gripping her shoulder, he drew her close, his lips near her ear.
“I’m sorry, but I had to do that, Del. As I was walking toward you this morning, I mentally felt Servilia coming. She wanted to go to bed with me.”
Delia shot him a withering glance. “And that’s why you kissed me? So you wouldn’t have to ‘bed’ that woman?”
Giving her a dark
look, Jake growled, “Listen, we’re here to find that fragment. I knew she wanted me, but thought it would pass. However, I picked up her intentions so strongly just now, I know she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.” He searched Delia’s upturned face and noted her cheeks were flushed a bright red. Smiling slightly, he murmured, “Hey, it wasn’t all that bad, was it? I haven’t lost my touch, have I?”
Nostrils flaring, Delia stepped out of his grasp, hating this reminder of the past, of the delicious sex they’d shared joyfully with one another. “You’re such a Neanderthal, Tyler!” Delia’s tone softened. “I couldn’t care less if Servilia wants you! We’re done, you and me. Finished!” She didn’t believe her words and she saw Jake didn’t, either. Looking around him and down the empty hall, Delia shook her head. “Now she’s seen us kissing! What will she think? We’re supposed to be brother and sister, in case you forgot your cover!”
What a spitfire, Jake mused. Delia was all of that and more when she was backed into a corner. He lifted his hands. “We’re in Rome, sweetheart. I minored in this period of history at university. Love between a brother and sister was accepted for what it was. Incest was alive and well in the ancient world, in case you forgot. I knew Servilia wouldn’t think a thing of the morals of us kissing. I just wanted her to believe you hold my amorous interest and no one else. I think she got the message. She’ll stop stalking me, and that’s one less thing we have to deal with while we hunt for this fragment. Now do I make sense?”
Fuming, Delia nodded. “I see your point. But damn it, Jake, we have to concentrate on the mission!”
He managed a boyish smile. “Oh, come on, Del. Was it that bad? I’ve seen the look you give me from time to time. You want me. I want you. I’m going to take every chance I get to remind you of the two good years we shared.”
Delia groaned and rolled her eyes. “Jake, that is the past. Yes, I like what we had. What I didn’t like is you’re locked up tighter than Fort Knox in an emotional sense. I want intimacy, not just good sex.” Jabbing him in the chest with her index finger, she added, “Get it in your head, Tyler, that I want this mission our priority. What you and I shared years ago is over with.”
Breathing hard, Delia stepped away and wiped her mouth to stop it from tingling. Such a lie! she thought, but Delia made sure her defenses were in place so he couldn’t possibly access her mind. Not that Jake would do so without her permission. Still, Delia visualized thick white walls of energy around her head every morning when she woke up, and reinforced the image again before she fell asleep at night. She wanted no one penetrating her thoughts.
“Excuse me,” a young male slave called from the end of the hall. “Lady Servilia asks your presence in the tablinum.”
Groaning softly, Delia gave Jake a glance and then looked past him to the young African boy dressed in a dark green tunic. “We’ll be there shortly. Thank you,” she answered.
The lad bowed and hurried ran off.
“Great, Tyler. Now she wants to see both of us,” Delia sniffed.
Stepping away, he grinned. “I wonder if she’s going to slap our hands for kissing?”
“This isn’t funny!” Delia seethed, smoothing her tunic and rearranging her thin leather belt, which held her sword and dagger. “She’s a woman of immense power, Jake. She can do anything she damn well wants. What if she’s jealous now? She could fire us, or worse….”
“We’re freeborn,” he reminded her lightly. “And Romans know the difference between us and the slaves they keep.”
Shaking her head, Delia swung down the hall, Jake on her heels.
“Stop worrying,” he told her.
“What if Servilia decides to get even with us because of your idiotic maneuver?”
“I thought about that, but I very much doubt she will.”
“Right,” Delia breathed angrily, trying to get herself back under control. Slowing her pace as they turned a corner to the peristylium, Delia took a deep breath to compose herself. “If you’re wrong, we could be in hot water.”
“Hey, I did the best I could at the time.”
“Just don’t let it happen again, because next time, Tyler, I won’t go along with it.” She gave him a withering glare. “Until you feel you can trust me, share yourself with me—and I don’t mean sexually only—there is no future for us.”
“Yes, I got it. Now let’s take a few more calming, deep breaths and see what Servilia is up to.” Jake knew he locked Delia out. Hell, he’d locked the world out. Yet, as he kept pace with her, Jake grappled with wanting to grant her request. Was it possible to unlock and share his vulnerability with her? Jake wanted to, but he didn’t know how to do it.
“I’m having a banquet tomorrow night,” Servilia informed them. She sat on a wooden chair covered with gold silk fabric in the dining room. Two attentive Nubian males, both in their late teens, were serving her.
Delia stood next to Jake, at relaxed attention in front of her. “And I’m assuming you want us to guard you, domina?” she asked.
The gold and silver bangles on her thin wrist jangled pleasantly as she waved her hand. “Just be around. I want some private time with Julius, which is why I’ve created this banquet in his honor.”
“Do you expect any trouble, my lady?” Jake asked.
Shrugging a shoulder, Servilia said, “We’ve never had any. The walls around my domus provide security from the general populace of Rome. While I live on a busy street, with the temples of Minerva and Diana nearby, my guards ensure no strangers or possible enemies can enter.”
Jake wasn’t so sure, but said nothing. “Then we’ll blend in, take walks around the grounds near the walls from time to time during the event.”
“Do what you need to do,” Servilia said, dipping her hands in a silver bowl. The other slave handed her a towel and she daintily dried her fingers. “I’ve thrown many banquets over the years and the only problem we have is with drunken senators who chase my slave girls and boys around, wanting to rut with them.” She chuckled indulgently.
“I see,” Jake said, keeping his voice nonjudgmental. He felt sorry for the slaves, who had no way to turn down the advances of a powerful senator. If they didn’t allow the deed, they could be killed. Which was worse?
Frowning, he studied Servilia, who had a smirk on her painted lips as she met his gaze. He could feel the woman’s amusement over him having Delia as his chosen lover. That was okay with him; at least Servilia would find her pleasure elsewhere.
“You may leave us now, Philip,” the aristocratic woman said. “I want to talk to your sister alone.”
He bowed and left.
Servilia stated, “There is a meeting at the Temple of Diana tonight, and I want you to attend with me.” She gave Delia a long, sharp look. “Although I pay you to be my bodyguard, you will fill another role tonight.”
Nodding, Delia said, “My desire is to please you, my lady. I will gladly guard you with my life, no matter where you go.”
“Come, sit at the table with me. We must talk,” she told her.
Delia sat in a chair near the matron’s elbow. Folding her hands, she waited patiently for the older woman to speak.
“Do you belong to any secret society, Delia?”
Thrown off guard by the whispered question, she felt her eyes widen. “No, my lady, I do not.”
“Good, good. And what do you believe?”
Delia treaded carefully, knowing she had to answer diplomatically. “My lady, I was born on Delos, the birthplace of Apollo. My family honors him with a statue in our peristylium.” She saw Servilia’s face lose a bit of tension.
“Are you more partial to gods or to goddesses, warrior woman?”
Seeing the blue of Servilia’s aura change to silver, Delia instantly knew how to interpret that question. Silver was the color of the feminine, gold indicative of males. “My prayers are spoken to Diana the huntress, my lady. She of all the goddesses is a warrior like myself.” Shrugging, she added, “So is Minerva, but my heart be
longs to Diana.”
“Just so,” Servilia replied, looking pleased. “This is a very good omen.”
Pink colors swirled in Servilia’s aura and Delia knew her answer had been correct. She was glad the Roman matron couldn’t hear her heart pounding inside her tunic. The reason Delia had mentioned Diana was because Servilia’s villa was just down the street from that goddess’s impressive white marble temple, atop the Aventine Hill. It was a matter of deductive reasoning. A temple to Minerva also sat on the slope. Delia felt either answer would have sufficed.
“I’m relieved,” Servilia murmured, her thinned lips relaxing into a smile. Gesturing to a young female slave who waited nearby, she ordered, “Murena, bring us two goblets of Setinum. Now.”
The slave quickly bowed and dashed off to fulfill her order.
“Do you know of Setinum, Delia?”
“My lady, I hear it’s the finest of all wines produced in Rome.”
“That it is. A very strong, sweet winter wine that comes from the hills of Setia.”
Hearing the matron’s approving tone, Delia added, “It is a very expensive wine, domina. Certainly not to be wasted upon the likes of me.”
Servilia looked very pleased with her answer.
“Indeed, it is.” Reaching out, she patted Delia’s clasped hands. “Obviously, you know of Setinum. If you were poor or your family mere plebeians, you would never know of its value to us.”
“My family,” Delia lied, “are merchants in olive oil, my lady.”
“Ah, that explains it,” Servilia declared. “Should I know of your family?”
“No, my lady, we supply olive oil to the region. None of it is shipped to Rome. We are a small agricultural family, but are well off.”
“Just so,” Servilia replied. She smiled as the slave brought a tray bearing two golden goblets filled with red wine. Servilia handed one to Delia, and after the servant left, held her own goblet up in a toast. “To strong, powerful women. We must always band together.”
Surprised, Delia nodded, touched the woman’s goblet and then sipped the wine. It tasted good.
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