The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance

by Kayse, Joan

  Damon held up a hand, stopping her. “Father? You have a Roman father who, I’m only speculating, would not welcome a son-in-law fresh from the cross?” He shook his head as if she were some type of half—wit. “What type of father allows a daughter, even a stubborn one, to become involved in such nonsense?”

  “A father who has been gone for six months,” she snapped, her careful reserve breaking free. “A father who left his very determined daughter to deal with a society that places a woman’s fate into the hands of any convenient, greedy male!”

  She clamped her mouth shut, appalled at herself for such an outburst. It would not serve her purpose in the least if Damon thought she was weak and unable to control her own emotions. She drew a deep breath and met his gaze. She might have imagined it, but she thought she saw a flicker of understanding pass behind his eyes. He nodded for her to continue. “We were inseparable. You were very ardent in your wooing and I will confess to all that your poetry led me to fall desperately in love.”

  “Poetry, eh?” That devilish grin surfaced again. “Something like this?”

  Her eyes went wide when he fell to one knee before her, clasped her left hand and pressed his other palm against his breast. “You, my life, promise that this love of ours between us shall be agreeable and last forever. Great gods, arrange for her to speak the truth and to say this sincere and from the bottom of her heart…”

  “So that it is granted us to continue all our life this treaty of inviolable friendship,” she finished on a whisper. It was one of her favorite poems, one that she had read over and over as a young girl. Then spent hours fantasizing about the type of man who would one day claim her heart. Handsome, wise, strong, respected by all.

  Damon held her gaze, his callused thumb gently tracing circles in the palm of her hand. The mischievous light had faded from his eyes, darkening them to that storm—cloud color that, she was quickly learning, was a gauge of his emotions. Before, he’d been angry, but now his gaze was filled with a heat that caused her breath to catch in the back of her throat.

  She tugged her hand free, instantly missed the warmth and strength of his touch. A corner of his mouth quirked upward. He was making her uncomfortable on purpose. “How do you know this poem of Catullus?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I read it on the wall of a brothel in Pompeii.” He stood, leaned against the wall and casually crossed his arms. “You can learn a lot from the graffiti of the horny.”

  Julia cheeks blazed. Truly, she should expect nothing less from someone of his ilk, but was still taken aback at his crudeness. She gave him a wary look. Just how many poems—and brothels—was he familiar with? Though it certainly made no difference to her what types of businesses he patronized as long as he no longer visited them. The success of her plan depended completely on Damon being able to portray the perfect Roman husband.

  She glanced up to find him smiling and sent him her sternest look, which sobered him though humor still sparkled in his eyes. “May I continue?”

  He inclined his head. “Of course. What happened after I stole your heart?”

  Oh, he could steal hearts, of that she held no doubt—along with jewelry, expensive heirlooms and coffers of silver. Never mind that one touch from him had made her heart nearly leap from her chest. He was a criminal and she mustn’t lose sight of that fact. “You asked my father’s permission to marry, accepted my dowry, and we arranged to return to Rome for a private ceremony.”

  “I’m assuming there was a change of plans,” he drawled, studying his nails.

  Julia seethed. “Certain business matters in the province of Gallacia required your immediate attention. You could not bear waiting those additional months and so you insisted we be married without delay.”

  “I certainly am an eager fellow.” He smiled, a natural, easy smile that, if possible, made him more handsome. Julia willed her heart to slow down. But it almost stopped with his next question. “Tell me, was there time to consummate the marriage?”

  Kaj’s roar from outside the door had Julia rubbing her forehead while Damon laughed out loud. He crouched down next to her, an eager glint in his eyes. “This is going to be more fun than I thought, watching you walk the line, balancing your lies and fabrications.”

  He wasn’t taking anything seriously. Never mind that he had no idea as to the grave nature of her situation, it made her furious. She narrowed her gaze. “Your only concern is to play your part. Leave the remainder to me. My plan will succeed. It must succeed.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to her lips then back to her eyes. “Do not worry, my Julia,” he said in a silky voice, “I will play my role so completely even you will be convinced of our marriage.”

  Was that a promise or a threat?

  He shifted slightly and angled his head, eyes half closed with impossibly long, dark lashes brushing the bronzed skin of his cheek. He was going to kiss her. And while that was shocking enough, what was even more unsettling was how much she wanted to feel those firm lips against her own.

  The force of that need snapped her out of her reverie. She slipped off the stool and hugged her palla against the trembling that threatened to shake her apart, turned her back to him. At what point had she gone mad? There could be no personal involvement with this man, this criminal. His role, his only role was to follow her orders. She straightened her shoulders and faced him. Lacing her words with ice she said, “Be prepared in the morning.”

  His eyes glittered silver before he inclined his head. “As you wish, goddess.”

  *****

  “Julia. There’s a lion crouched on the garden wall.”

  Julia snapped her head toward the empty wall, sent her brother a censoring look. Lares smirked, in that impertinent manner so characteristic of adolescent boys. She tightened her mouth. “Your humor leaves much to be desired, brother.”

  The smirk stayed in place. “There was no humor intended, sister. You’ve not heard anything I’ve said.”

  “Of course I have.” She shifted her eyes away, caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her mind, her thoughts, and a fair share of her emotions had been completely concentrated on her new husband.

  Husband. Oh, that she ever be cursed with a husband as exasperating as Damon. A criminal who quoted love poems, fed small birds and sparked unnerving feelings deep in her belly with one heated look. He was much more devious than she’d anticipated.

  Lares’ expression filled with concern. “Sister, something troubles you. What is it?” His eyes filled with anxiety. “Have you had news from father?”

  It nearly broke Julia’s heart to hear the fear in his voice. Lares was still mourning the death of their mother two years past. The physicians speculated that was part of the reason why he had not fully recovered from the same fever that had claimed Eirenne Manulus.

  She smoothed the covering over his weakened legs. “No Lares, no word yet as to when father will return.” If he returned. She hid her own sorrow and worry behind a bright smile. “But I do have some news.”

  He folded his arms, waiting, watching, impatience written on his face.

  Julia cleared her throat and widened the smile on her face to the point of pain. This would be the first—and hardest—test of her scheme. “Do you recall the trip I made with father to Silicia? Just before the festival of Janus?”

  Lares nodded curtly. “The one that you said was too taxing for me?”

  She swallowed, tried to clear the dryness from her throat. “Well, while I was there I renewed an acquaintance with an old friend. Someone you’ve not met, as his family moved to the provinces before you were born.”

  “There are many of your friends I’ve never met, Julia,” replied Lares dryly. “I am eight years younger, far beneath the notice of your illustrious crowd.”

  She frowned at him. When had her brother acquired such an acerbic manner? She’d been delighted when her baby brother had arrived, trailing after his nursemaid begging
to hold him, finding new, and interesting playthings to entertain him. He used to follow her around, adoration in his eyes. Now those eyes were sharp and tinged with bitterness and too discerning for comfort.

  “What does this friend have to do with the news you bring?”

  A loud rapping on the front entry door interrupted her answer to Lares, whose eyes narrowed at her obvious distress. She heard the anxious protests of Basil, their doorman, followed by an inaudible, but terse reply from Kaj.

  “Well, Lares, I know I should have told you...”

  A very distraught Basil hurried down the garden path. “Mistress, please forgive me. He says…Well, Kaj said it was…

  “Julia, darling one. How very unlike you not to inform your gatekeeper of my arrival.”

  Julia shot a quick look to Lares puzzled expression before concentrating on Damon, who strode down the stone pathway as if he were master of his own destiny. The warmth in her belly began to simmer.

  The pure—white tunic she’d provided for him stopped at the knees but did little to hide the hard line of muscles in his thighs. His shoulders actually seemed broader with the confidence he exuded. He carried the heavy folds of a toga easily over his left arm, the purple stripe placed just so.

  Around his neck hung a beaten medallion of gold studded with rubies. They complemented the matching bands at his wrists, which did an excellent job of hiding the evidence of his recent fetters though not the healing cut on his arm. Damon had refused to elaborate on how he’d received the injury but assured her if asked, he would provide a plausible explanation. He was, she imagined, quite good at explanations.

  Julia had raided the family coffer and provided several rings; one set with a large ruby, another with a carved lion’s head similar to her own. She could still see the crooked smile Damon had sent her noting how romantic it was for a husband and wife to sport matching jewelry.

  His hair was swept away from his face and queued at his nape with another gold band, which had a devastating effect, accentuating the squared line of his jaw, giving his face a dangerous edge. She’d argued against the longer style, wanting a close crop of curls, as was the fashion. But Damon had disagreed, winning the argument that many citizens from the provinces wore their hair in just such a manner. And wouldn’t she prefer he play the part to perfection?

  Gods, he could pass for a patrician and not just because of his attire. His attitude and demeanor was infused with a natural arrogance impossible to learn.

  Enthralled with the image he presented, Julia did not realize until it was too late to make a graceful escape, that he was walking directly toward her. He stopped mere inches away, took her hands firmly in his own, leaned down and caught her mouth in a kiss.

  Every fear, every worry, every coherent thought fled her mind beneath the searing heat of his firm lips. He tugged on her bottom lip as he pulled away leaving her lips swollen and aching. Julia swallowed hard, caught by the intensity of those gray eyes and cleared her throat. “Lares, this is Damon Pontus—your brother-in-law.”

  Chapter Six

  From the stunned expression on the brother’s face, Damon was not the only one surprised to find him wed to the lovely Julia.

  Wasn’t that interesting.

  He inclined his head toward Lares, whose eyes were still wide from the disclosure, taking in the blanket covering the boy’s legs, the paleness of a face thinned by illness. His pallor only served to accentuate dark circles beneath his eyes—eyes that narrowed suspiciously at Damon’s perusal. The boy may well be an invalid, but he was no fool. It wouldn’t do to give him time to think. He bowed more formally. “An honor to meet you at last, brother.”

  Lares scowled darkly. “Who are you?”

  As family welcomes went, it wasn’t the warmest.

  “Lares!” Julia admonished. “You will show respect to my husband.”

  Lares was unperturbed. “Who is this man, sister?”

  Tension seeped into Damon’s shoulders as he watched her hesitate, her mind working feverishly for an explanation. How many patrician ladies of her caliber had introduced condemned criminals or former slaves as their spouses? A muscle ticked in his jaw. After fifteen years he should be used to the contempt. But he wasn’t. Never mind that his lineage boasted more nobility than half the Senate. His father may have been a shiftless gambling drunk, but he was a shiftless gambling drunk with aristocratic ancestors.

  “Until father’s return, he is head of this household and this family,” she answered in a clipped tone that brooked no argument.

  A moment’s panic flashed behind the boy’s eyes, as blue-green as his sister’s. Lares deepened his scowl, crossed his arms and raked Damon with a mutinous glare. The boy had courage. Damon sent a sideways glance at Julia. Or perhaps he was just stubborn like his sibling.

  “Julia, I confess to being quite disappointed that you did not tell your noble brother about our nuptials. Why, I fair shouted the news in the streets so overcome was I by my good fortune.” He hid a smile at the fiery look Julia shot him before turning his full attention to Lares. “Things are much different here in Rome than Silicia, Lares. I hope I can call on you for guidance in matters of business and household.”

  Lares shifted, sent him a long measuring look, the distrustful expression easing the smallest bit beneath his request. Speaking to the youth on adult terms and acknowledging his abilities would lay a solid path between them. Trust and allies were always useful.

  “Welcome, Damon Pontus,” Lares muttered.

  Julia relaxed at her brother’s acquiescence but Damon was not fooled. The boy would require special attention to ensure this charade remained intact. Before he could open his mouth to ask if she had any other siblings, a flurry of activity on the opposite side of the garden had all three of them turning in that direction.

  An older woman came rushing toward them, a flower—filled urn tumbling in her wake. Chestnut hair streaked through with gray was artfully arranged atop her head, though a few errant curls, shaken loose by her running, bobbed against fragile cheeks lined with soft wrinkles. While she had the same defiant edge to her chin, the same upturned nose as Julia, her eyes were brown—and filled with the odd light of a mind no longer in charge of its affairs.

  The woman approached them with such purpose, that he sidled closer to Julia, arms positioned nonchalantly at his side, prepared to protect her from the woman’s frenzied intent should the need arise.

  Instead, Julia rose and walked calmly to her. “It is all right, Aunt Sophia. Everything is all right.”

  He watched as she gently guided the distraught woman to a marble bench, never really touching her, like one might do with a nervous cat. Aunt Sophia responded to the soothing tone of her niece’s voice, following Julia’s instruction to sit, but still looking wildly around the garden.

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Sophia murmured, wringing her blue—veined hands. “Don’t let them see.”

  Damon glanced at Lares, who rolled his eyes in a failed effort to hide his embarrassment. Crippled brothers and mad relations; throwing a criminal into the mix suddenly seemed quite natural.

  He shifted his gaze back to Julia, who remained oblivious to any save the agitated woman. The hard edges of the aristocratic demeanor she worked so hard to maintain were gone, erased by concern which he found entrancing. Roman nobles of his acquaintance—and the gods knew he’d had his fill of them these past three years—were not known for their altruism. Gently she rubbed her hands along her aunt’s arms, patting and comforting. How, he thought, would those long, elegant hands feel stroking him?

  As if she could discern the direction of his thoughts, she sent him a narrowed look and frowned. Wonderful. Another seer just like Jared’s wife. And he couldn’t hide anything from Bryna. He returned her scrutiny with his best look of pure innocence.

  She returned her attention to her aunt. “Sophia, you must calm yourself. I won’t let anyone see.”

  Aunt Sophia visibly relaxed. “I know you won’t, Eirenne
. I can trust you. I can always trust you.”

  Lares leaned toward Damon, whispering loudly. “Eirenne was our mother. She’s been dead for two years. Aunt Sophia cannot remember from one moment to the next, yet she always recalls how to find us.”

  Julia sent her brother a sharp look before patting her aunt’s hand. “That’s all right, aunt. Now, where is Helena?”

  “I am here, mistress,” said a slave girl who came rushing from the house, her expression as harried as Aunt Sophia’s. “A thousand pardons, mistress, I thought she was asleep. When I went to fetch her midday meal, she slipped away.”

  “I did not want them to see,” Aunt Sophia said plaintively. Her eyes widened in alarm as she noticed Damon for the first time. “Did he see?”

  *****

  Everyone held their breath while Julia braced for Sophia’s hysteria. Her aunt wasn’t insane. She functioned well as long as there was no disruption in her daily routine. But the episodes of agitation had increased significantly with her father’s absence so that now the least change in her surroundings or unfamiliar people set off an uncontrollable outburst.

  And Damon was most certainly unfamiliar. His startled look had her wrapping a protective arm around her aunt’s shoulder. Men such as he would have little patience for the ramblings of an old woman. There was every possibility he would take offense at her question, become unruly himself, curse, rant, rave, and become violent. A tingle of unease ran up her spine as he took a slow step toward them.

  Before she could raise her hand to signal Kaj, he sat on the bench next to them, gently cupped Sophia’s trembling hands into his own and held her gaze. “My lady, you have nothing to fear, for I have seen nothing save your graceful beauty.”

  Julia ignored the scoff from Lares, watching with amazement as the distress lining Sophia’s face melted into a tremulous smile. Slipping a hand free she patted Damon’s cheek. “Good, that’s good. You’re a good fellow. You’ll keep them away. Yes, that’s good.”