Time Raiders: The Seeker

by Lindsay McKenna

  Shrugging, Jake said, “We’ll never really know, Delia. Last night, Brutus appeared very concerned over the attack. When I scanned his mind, I discovered he had nothing to do with it. Brutus is like a younger brother to Julius in some ways. Maybe that’s what explains their closeness. Does Julius see Brutus as family instead of just a fellow soldier?” Jake gave her a searching look. “I can’t answer that.”

  “Historians couldn’t answer that, either,” she said, frowning. “And yet we know it will be Brutus who works with certain senators to set up Caesar’s death, returning Rome to a republic instead of a dictatorship.”

  Jake gave her a slight smile. “Don’t we all become traitors to one another in some shape or form, Del?”

  Giving it some thought, Delia saw how in their own relationship that applied, up to a point. “You’re talking about us, right?”

  “I am.” He spread his hands. “You walked out of my life because I couldn’t be who you needed me to be. In a way, I was a traitor to you. I’m not assigning a right or wrong, Del. It just is what it is. No human is perfect. We’re all flawed to a degree. Brutus had an ideological and philosophical disagreement with Julius about Rome—whether it should be a dictatorship or the democracy it once was. Brutus wanted the latter. Julius felt he’d earned the title of dictator and emperor of Rome because of conquering the rest of Europe, Britain and Spain for his people. So who is right?”

  Nodding, Delia said, “Jake, I left you because you couldn’t open up to me. I don’t see that as being a traitor as much as not trying harder to learn to trust another person.”

  Jake held up his hands. “Fair enough, Del. But I’d like to think I’m trying to change. On this mission I’ve been trying to trust you. Was there ever a time when I didn’t treat you as an equal?”

  Giving him a sour look, she muttered, “I wasn’t going to take the mission without those tenets in place. I was tired of how you’d treated me the two years we spent in Afghanistan together.”

  “I agree,” he said, “and looking back on that time, I see it was immature of me, Del. Our talk has helped me.” He raised his brows. “Don’t you think I’m trying now?”

  “Yes,” she hesitantly admitted, “you are. But you know what, Jake? It’ll take more than a couple of days to make me believe the changes are for real. Time will out.”

  “Okay,” he murmured, “fair enough.” Rising, he walked over and collected his gear and cloak. Heading for the door to his room, he said, “I’m going to go ask the staff about Tullia. If you need anything, I won’t be far away. I’ll change your dressing later.”

  “Okay, Jake.” Delia watched him disappear.

  Her heart had been pounding with fear. Why? Why did she fear Jake was really making changes to be more in line with what she needed him to be? Rubbing her face, she watched the brazier in the corner sputter nastily and go out, leaving the room in darkness. Pulling up her covers, she carefully lay down and drew the blanket up to her shoulders. Nestling her head on the golden cushions, she sighed deeply.

  As she closed her eyes, Delia tried to stop the replay of her conversation with Jake. She’d seen the earnest expression in his eyes. All he had to do was look at her and she felt mesmerized by his masculine authority and sensuality. There was no mistaking the smoldering message in his gaze. Jake wasn’t trying to hide the fact he wanted her sexually—again.

  Pursing her lips, Delia tried to push the entire dilemma from her mind so she could sleep once more. Her thigh ached and so she honed in on that. The anguish she felt in her heart was even worse than the pain throbbing in her thigh. Pressing her face into the cushion, Delia forced herself to relax. When she awoke, Jake would change her dressing….

  Her last thoughts were of the scribe, Kapaneus, and the red aura she’d seen around him. Now there was an anomaly.

  “Tullia, what did you find out?” Torbar demanded as she floated gracefully into his small office at General Brutus’s home near lunchtime. The prostitute was beautiful, no question. Stained with red pomegranate juice, her full, bow-shaped lips became the focal point of her glowing face. Black kohl only emphasized her exotic-looking eyes.

  Shutting the door, Tullia turned and smiled coyly. “Ah, my lord Kapaneus, it was an interesting meeting late this morning with Philip.”

  Torbar tried to ignore the scent of cinnamon around her smooth, gleaming body. Tullia wore a modest pink tunic with a red stola, her hair piled high and held in place by a thin circlet of gold. Her delicate gold earrings were long and dangling. The fact that she dressed like a married Roman woman amused Torbar. Tullia seemed to have the talents of a chameleon. Smiling to himself, he admired the prostitute’s canny ability to change facades. Perhaps that came from assuming different guises for her wealthy customers. Some wanted a willowy slave girl scantily clad in see-through gowns and others wanted a Roman matron who lacked sensuality until the garments were shed. Yes, Tullia was certainly a consummate actress, and Torbar kept that in mind as she approached him.

  Lifting her hand in a graceful manner, Tullia laughed throatily. “My lord, I caught Philip of Delos completely naked in his apartment this morning.”

  “Ah,” Torbar said with interest. He inhaled her spicy perfume along with the womanly scent that was making him grow hard with need of her. The prospect of taking Tullia after he heard her report made his blood run hot. Giving her a heated look she could not miss, he growled, “So tell me, beautiful and willful Tullia, what did you find out?”

  She tittered and, reaching forward, slid her hand suggestively across Kapaneus’s narrow cheek, then entangled her fingers in his neatly kept black beard. “I found out enough.” Tullia wasn’t about to tell the scribe that Philip had kicked her out of his apartment without sexually jousting with her. Flashing a sultry smile, she allowed her hand to drift to the scribe’s thin shoulder. Stroking her fingertips across the fabric of his tunic, she said, “I saw a piece of jewelry upon him, my lord.”

  “Ah?”

  “Yes.” She removed her hand and pushed up her sleeve. “Here, on his upper arm, was a thin silver band. What was most intriguing was the large, oval stone embedded within it.”

  Torbar instantly tamped down his growing arousal. Tullia was interested in him or she wouldn’t be touching him so suggestively. Of course, she’d want a gold aureus for any sexual favors and he was more than willing to pay it—but not right now. “Tell me about this stone.”

  “It was clear and flat, and highly polished, my lord.”

  “How close did you get to it?”

  “Close enough,” she replied with a pouty smile.

  “Did he take it off?”

  “No, he stood naked, except for that armband. He had just came from the baths when I entered his room.”

  “Hmm,” Torbar said thoughtfully. “What kind of metal was it?”

  Tullia shrugged. “It was silvery looking.”

  “Thin or thick?”

  “Very thin, my lord.” She held up her thumb and index finger to demonstrate.

  Grunting, Torbar got up and began to pace. “And did he remove it when you made love with him?”

  Tullia smiled coyly as the scribe strode back and forth in front of a large woven tapestry of Greeks fighting Roman soldiers. “He did not, my lord.”

  “Did he allow you to touch it?”

  “No.”

  “I see…Afterward, did you ask him about it?”

  Tullia continued to smile. “I did, but he refused to speak of it.”

  “Did the stone change color?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see such an armband on the other Greek mercenary, Delia of Delos?”

  “No.” The harlot’s eyes gleamed. “But you did not suggest I go to her, my lord. I am often sent to women to…make use of my talents, but that was not what you asked me to do. Perhaps, if you are curious, you will pay me to find out? I will be more than happy to discover if she wears a similar armband—or any other item of interest.”

  “Phili
p is my target for now,” Torbar said curtly.

  Something told him instinctively that the armband had to do with time travel. Since the woman had a similar aura, she must be wearing an armband, too. The fact that the lost Navigator headband was silver and held two quartz crystal cabochons was too much of a coincidence. He would contact Kentar….

  Tullia walked toward the scribe, hips swaying seductively. “I expect full payment now, my lord.”

  “Of course.” Torbar took two gold coins from the purse hanging at his side. “This first aureus is for the information you just gave me.” He dropped it on her palm. “And this one is for the pleasure you will now accord me in my apartment….”

  Chapter 12

  “D elia!” Servilia called, walking in without knocking on the apartment door. “How are you this morning?”

  Groggy and just awakening from sleep, Delia pushed the hair away from her eyes. Servilia was dressed in a pale peach tunic, with a burnt-orange stola across her proud shoulders. “Uhh…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” the matron said, coming over to the couch. “Philip told me he dressed your wound last night.” She eyed Delia closely. “Do you need a physician? I have one of the finest in Rome.”

  Sitting up and trying to pull herself from the deep sleep she’d been in, Delia rasped, “No, domina. I’m fine.”

  “Philip said it was a leg wound?” the woman pressed.

  With a groan, Delia straightened. Her thigh smarted as she moved it a little too quickly.

  “You poor dear,” Servilia murmured. Reaching out, she gripped Delia’s shoulder. “You are truly heroic. You and your brother broke up an attack against my beloved Julius. You saved his life and goddess knows how many others by your swift actions.” She dropped her hands on her hips. “Are you in pain?”

  Delia ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get it into some semblance of order. “It’s nothing, domina.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “With a limp. I’m afraid I won’t be of much service to you for the next several weeks.”

  “I’m not concerned about that,” Servilia exclaimed worriedly. “So many die from such cuts.”

  “Yes,” Delia murmured, “they do.”

  Looking around, the matron made sure there were no slaves present. Then she whispered, “Delia, the arrow of Diana can heal you. Did you know that?”

  Staring up at the woman, whose hair was loose about her shoulders today, Delia said, “Why…no. I didn’t know.”

  “Yes,” Servilia said with authority, “it can. One member of our group discovered this by accident, at one of our monthly meetings at the temple. Lollia had suffered a miscarriage. She was still not healed from it, but came to the next meeting. None of us knew about her pain or injury from losing the child. As you know, each of us holds the arrowhead. And when it was her turn, she said she felt this incredible wave of heat flow up her hand and to the region where she was in pain. When she passed the arrowhead to the next woman, her pain was gone, and she has felt fine ever since.”

  “A miracle,” Delia said, feeling her pulse begin to race.

  “Indeed it was. And I can tell you of other miracles Diana’s arrowhead has performed. But I do not want to tarry. You need to hold it.” She pointed a finger at Delia’s wounded leg. “It will heal you.”

  “I can’t walk to the temple, my lady. I must rest for several days while the gash closes.”

  Servilia smiled. “Your brother, Philip?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is he someone you would trust to go with me to retrieve the arrowhead and bring it back here? To you?”

  Delia tried to cover her surprise and delight. “Why, domina, my brother worships at the temple of Diana. She is the patron goddess of our family.”

  Delia saw Servilia’s brown eyes sparkle. The woman’s thin lips lifted in a triumphant smile. “Then it is done! I’ll have my servant fetch Philip. We will go to the high priestess at the temple of Diana and retrieve the sacred object. Philip will accompany me as my bodyguard. I’m not feeling safe since the attack last night.”

  Delia nodded. “Of course, domina.” She wondered if Jake would be shown where the relic was kept. That would be a wonderful and unexpected coup. Under the circumstances, with the wound she’d incurred, Delia knew they couldn’t steal it as soon as they wanted. Her leg would take at least two weeks to heal before they could attempt the heist. However, if Servilia allowed Jake into the inner sanctum where the fragment was probably stored—and if Delia’s wound was healed, which the Roman woman seemed to think possible—that could change their plans.

  Patting Delia’s shoulder as a mother might her daughter’s, Servilia said, “You are too valuable to me, Delia. As a bodyguard you have no equal. I want your leg healed quickly so that you may continue to protect me.”

  “Thank you, domina,” Delia murmured. She watched the woman turn gracefully, her leather sandals slapping softly against the marble floor as she exited, shutting the door behind her.

  Not knowing what time it was, Delia got up and limped to the dresser that held the water pitcher and basin. It was time to get up, get washed, don clean clothes and then wait for Jake.

  Jake knocked on Delia’s door. It was midday and the winter sunlight was dazzling as it flowed down the hall.

  “Come in….”

  Delia’s voice floated through the finely crafted wooden panel. Opening it, Jake found her in a fresh white wool tunic that fell almost to her ankles. Her hair was combed, and on the dresser was a basin full of soapy water.

  “Just get up?” he teased, shutting the door behind him. “It’s past noon. You must have slept late this morning?”

  Delia tried to suppress her joy at seeing Jake. Maybe it was a reaction to last night’s attack. “Yes. Servilia dropped by to see how I was doing. She woke me up.” Maybe Servilia would see Jake later about going to the temple, Delia surmised.

  Jake watched as Delia limped slowly to the couch. She sat down and began the process of pulling on her knee-high leather boots. Striding forward, he knelt in front of her. “Let me help. How’s your leg?”

  Her flesh tingled as he eased the tunic up to view the dressing. “Painful but okay.”

  Jake gently placed his hand across her thigh in a protective gesture. It was a delicious piece of thievery on his part. “Any heat? Swelling?”

  Swallowing a gasp of pleasure as his large palm carefully touched the bandaged area of her wounded leg, Delia managed to answer, “No, it’s okay.”

  “Let me look….” He began to gingerly unknot the gauze and unroll it from around her thigh. “Did you know,” he began in a conspiratorial tone, “you have the best-damn-looking legs I’ve ever seen on a woman? The curve of your thighs is sweet.”

  The feel of his roughened fingertips grazing her flesh sent wild prickles of heat surging into her core. “Thanks, but this is the wrong time and place,” she retorted, gripping his thick wrist and halting his movements. Drilling him with a chastising look, Delia almost lost herself in his blue eyes. Jake had not yet shaved and the dark shadow of his beard, combined with the tousled strands of hair falling across his broad brow, made her want him even more. He made her ache for his touch, damn him.

  The corners of Jake’s mouth curved faintly with a wicked smile. “Now, darling Delia, you must let me look at the wound and check my handiwork. Are you sure you don’t want to stop holding my wrist, and move your long, beautiful fingers elsewhere?”

  With a grunt of frustration, she let go as if she’d been scalded. “You are incorrigible.”

  “Thank you,” he said wryly, leaning over her thigh and examining his suturing work after he’d removed the dressing. “Hey, this looks very good,” he murmured, congratulating himself. Glancing up, he saw the turmoil in her narrowed green eyes. And her soft, full lips were pursed. Jake knew he’d gotten to Delia with just his touch. That did his battered ego good. “Have you taken your antibiotic today like a good girl?”

/>   “Of course I have.”

  He set the dressing aside and stood up. Going to the wash-basin, he scrubbed his hands vigorously with soap and then rinsed them off. He dug into his leather pouch and brought out another packet of antibiotic ointment. Opening it, he knelt down and said, “We need to do this twice a day to keep infection at bay.”

  Sucking in a soft breath, Delia watched, mesmerized, as Jake leaned over, cupped her thigh with his left hand and then gently spread the ointment across the wound. Fiery geysers of heat flowed up her leg, and again it felt as if her womanly core were melting with need to be one with Jake.

  Delia forced herself to calm down. He really didn’t trust any woman, and Delia couldn’t allow herself to fall in love with him a second time, knowing that.

  “Feel good?” he asked, finishing up his work.

  Delia clamped her lips together, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing how easily he inflamed her. She watched as he rose and walked back to the dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out a long piece of cotton fabric. Taking his knife from its sheath, he quickly cut the cloth into strips. Rolling them up, he placed all but one back in the drawer.

  “We’ll change your bandage daily,” he informed her as he came back and knelt in front of her.

  “So you didn’t run into Servilia?” Delia asked, trying to deflect her reactions to him. Maybe by talking about something else she could keep the breathless quality out of her tone.

  Jake was an expert at field medicine, there was no doubt. With brisk efficiency, he had her wound wrapped and knotted off once more. “No, why?” he asked, looking up after finishing his work.

  Delia quickly pulled the tunic back down and told him what had happened. She saw Jake’s eyes go wide with surprise, and then that boyish smile crossed his handsome features.

  “This is a hell of an opportunity for us,” he said in a low voice.

  “It is,” she agreed. Now that her wound was attended to, she noticed how hungry she was. A slave had brought her a plate of bread and some lamb soup earlier. “Would you get me my breakfast?” she asked, pointing to it.