by Kayse, Joan
Hands fisted in his tunic, Lares took one step. Then another. And another. After half a dozen, he collapsed on the couch and gave Damon a triumphant look.
Fighting back a smile, Damon inclined his head in tribute. “Well done, Lares. Determination is half the battle. I’d wager that if you did this every day, increasing the distance each time, you would soon gain your strength back.”
Lares considered that for a long moment before shaking his head in agreement. “I will do so. Will you...will you help me?”
Damon hesitated. How could he make such a promise? Once he discovered what Quintus was planning—and how Tertius figured into it—he would be gone. He looked into Lares’ pleading gaze, the flicker of hope he saw shining in their depths making his decision for him.
“Very well,” he said, sitting on the end of the divan. He grasped him by the ankle, slowly bending the stiff joint. “Now tell me about your father’s clients.”
*****
Julia broke the wax seal on the parchment and scanned the contents—Lady Vallonia requests Julia Manulus and her husband Damon of Silicia to attend a banquet and night of poetry. She glanced at a pile of similar messages on the entry table—Magistrate Silvus requests your presence...Senator Aquinas and his house...a musical evening...to Damon Pontus a private dinner with Lady Nardia...
Julia pressed her lips together against the last one, assuring herself the jolt of anger she felt was merely a response to the woman’s lack of propriety. It could in no way be construed as jealousy.
But the gall of the woman inviting her husband to dine!
She sighed and gathered the invitations into her hands. She’d been on edge for the past three days, her emotions in such turmoil that she thought she might be on the verge of going mad. Logically there should be no reason for her nerves to be raw. Her plan had worked beautifully. Damon had fulfilled his portion of the bargain, successfully convinced the patricians of Rome that he was her husband. She should feel triumphant. Instead she felt torn and confused.
The man exuded charm, wit and confidence in equal measure. Add a princely grace, a keen mind and a body any warrior would envy, any woman would want, and you had a combination that was nothing short of fascinating.
And dangerous.
She shuffled the parchments in her hand. Dangerous to her, to her senses, to her sanity. Oh, he wielded those attributes with great skill, building a convincing persona exactly as she’d wanted. He could make anyone believe anything and that’s what worried her most.
Make her believe she wanted him.
How could she trust him, truly trust him when he was so adept at lies? His promises to help her, help her family, keep them safe could just be another pretense. Her thoughts drifted back to the kindness he’d shown Aunt Sophia, the consideration to the litter bearers. Surely, qualities such as those could not be feigned.
“Another social engagement, mistress?”
“Hmmmm? Oh, yes Basil, it is,” she answered absently, casting a quick glance at her servant as he crossed the atrium from the peristyle.
“The master will be pleased.”
Master? Julia’s head snapped up. “Basil, hold a moment.”
The doorkeeper stopped, gave her a quizzical look. “Yes, mistress?”
“Were you not to be observing the master?”
Basil frowned. “He is with young master Lares. I thought to give them privacy.”
Julia barely registered Basil’s distressed surprise as she spun on her heel and hurried toward the garden. What had she been thinking to allow Damon access to the rest of the house? Kaj had wanted her to keep him locked in his room, out of sight and away from temptations like thievery and murder. Julia had decided against it. Damon had not shown any inclination toward violence and felt it a small compensation for performing as instructed. That and the fact that the idea of keeping him caged like an animal was unthinkable. Kaj had agreed but only if Damon were under constant surveillance and secured at night. Damon had not been particularly keen at the compromise but had not given any argument.
That she had forgotten Lares’ tutor often brought him into the garden to spend time with his precious toy ships as a reward for doing his lessons, was a sign of just how much her current situation had occupied her mind. If Damon harmed him...
A small whimper drifted through the hedges. Julia’s heart leapt into her throat. She rounded the corner and stumbled to a halt.
Lares was lying on his back, his face flushed red, the front of his tunic soaked with perspiration. Damon sat on the end of the divan with her brother’s ankle in his hands. In horror, she watched as he bent Lares’ leg until his knee was nearly touching his chest. Lares squeezed his eyes tight and groaned. Sweet Hades, Damon was torturing her brother!
A hot rush of anger replaced her anxiety. Kaj would not have to kill him—she would. She started forward but stopped mid-stride at a whoop of delight from Lares.
“I did it, Damon! I did it!” he said, a lopsided grin erasing all strain from his face.
Damon returned the smile. It was an honest, genuine smile. No guile, no mockery. It transformed his features, deepened the lines at the corners of his eyes. Always on guard, Julia had not fathomed the depth of his own tension, but with its absence gauged it to be deeper than her own. Damon spoke, drawing her from her stunned revelation.
“You did. You worked hard and did not give into the pain,” Damon fisted his hand to his breast in salute. “A soldier of the Ninth Legion would not have done so well.”
Julia marveled at the effect Damon’s praise had on Lares. Her brother sat up straighter, head raised and eyes full of pride. Gone was the thirteen-year-old youth and in his place she saw a man. The realization shook her to her core. Gods.
Damon turned toward her as if he had been expecting her arrival. Pleasure filled his eyes, turning them into pools of liquid silver. His gaze lazily traveled the length of her. She sent him an arched look when he lingered overly long on the deep neckline of her tunic.
Sidestepping Damon’s outstretched legs, Julia crossed over to Lares. She could feel Damon’s gaze on her but chose to ignore him. She ran a hand through her brother’s damp hair. “Lares, what are you doing? You’ve overexerted yourself. You should be resting.”
Lares looked up at her, his face flushed, filled with excitement. “I walked, Julia!”
“Wh...what?”
“I walked,” he repeated, shifting an adoring gaze behind her. “Damon helped me.”
Impossible. The physicians had told her Lares would never walk, at least no more than to step from chair to bed. She glanced over her shoulder at Damon, who sat, arms crossed, waiting. For what? Thanks? For raising Lares’ expectations so high that he could do nothing but be crushed when the realization came that he could not accomplish such lofty goals?
Julia barely managed to keep her voice level. “You’ve done so before,” she said. Taking the coverlet from the divan, she dipped the corner into the pond and patted his flushed face with the cool water.
“That was stumbling.” Lares pushed her hand away. “I’m not an infant, sister.”
Julia sucked in a breath. Her brother had never spoken to her in such a manner. “You’ve become excited. You need to go to your room and rest.” She looked down the path to see Basil peeking at them from his concealed observation post. She waved him forward.
“I’ll take Lares to his room,” said Damon, standing.
Julia sent him a dark look which had Damon raising one brow. “Basil. Please take Lares to his room. And make certain that he has a goblet of cool water by his bed.”
Basil hurried forward, bobbing like a crane searching for fish as his gaze darted back and forth between them. He scooped Lares’ slight body into his arms.
As they passed, Lares caught hold of Damon’s sleeve. “You’ll dine with us this evening?”
Damon shifted his gaze to her. Julia pressed her lips together. She’d limited Damon’s contact with her family—or thought she had—to preve
nt problems. Looking at Lares’ expectant face it seemed her fears of negative influence by a criminal were well founded.
Before she could answer, Damon spoke. “Perhaps.” He removed Lares hand from his arm and Julia noticed how gently he laid it across her brother’s lap. Damon tilted her brother’s chin up until Lares met his gaze. “Your sister is right. Your efforts did tire you but that will improve as you gain strength. I will see you tomorrow.”
The crestfallen look on Lare’s face lifted. “Tomorrow, then. And Caesar will conquer the pirates again.” He sent a petulant look at Julia. “I did walk.”
Julia stared after them, hurt from Lares’ accusing tone causing an ache in her chest. He was only thirteen, a child who could not begin to understand the danger. It was her duty to protect him from bad influences. She shifted her gaze to Damon’s broad back. Even if she was responsible for bringing the bad influence into their home.
“You treat the boy as though he were a child,” Damon said, without turning.
“He is a child,” she replied in a clipped tone.
Damon scoffed. “He is a young man on the verge of adulthood.”
“He is a sick child who should not be plied with false promises,” she replied through clenched teeth.
Damon faced her and the intensity in his slate-gray eyes nearly caused her to take a step backward. “That was two years ago. You have coddled him to the point that he feels useless. He only wants to be allowed to participate in decisions.”
“How dare you make judgments concerning my brother,” she shot back. She bit her lip to still the trembling. “I suppose you were mature at that age and did as you pleased.”
A muscle ticked in Damon’s jaw. “When I was his age I did only what my master bid.”
Her indignation deflated at the shadow that passed behind his eyes. “You were born a slave?”
He tilted his head. “Concerned that your husband’s pedigree is even baser than you believed?”
Julia did not care one bit for the accusation in his tone. “It was a question, Damon. Nothing more.”
He scowled. “I was born a Roman citizen, for all the good it did me. My status changed when I was eleven and my father decided to dispose of his family to save his own skin.”
“Family?” she whispered.
“My mother and two sisters.” The shadows behind his eyes flashed to pain as he stared into the air for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice had turned to ice. “My father made quite a nice profit from our sale—enough to pay off his debts and return to the gambling houses with a hefty purse.”
Damon had had a family? It had not occurred to her that he might have someone he cared about outside his criminal world. His gaze had softened at the mention of his sisters, his voice thickened with the hurt and anger he harbored for his father. Julia could not fathom what it must have been like to be used in such a manner, torn from those he obviously loved. But her brother’s welfare was the matter at hand. “I’m sorry, Damon, truly I am, but Lares is special,” she said.
Damon moved toward her, stopping a few paces away. His posture was tense, as though he were holding his own temper in check. “Lares is stronger than you believe. Illness made his body weak, yes, but it sharpened his intellect. He’s a clever boy. He’ll start to wonder—just as the household servants are wondering—why the master rarely eats with the family. Why the master never sleeps with the mistress.”
Julia’s mouth dropped open before she snapped it close. “The servants have better things to occupy their time.”
Damon lifted one corner of his mouth. “Julia, slaves gossip all the time. I used to sneak down to my master’s kitchen every afternoon just to steal a honey cake and hear the most recent scandal. There isn’t one thing that happens within patrician walls that every steward, cook and maidservant on the Palatine Hill does not know about.”
He was wrong. Her people were loyal, more family than servant. Julia twisted her ring. Still, how many times had she overheard Basil and Dorcas whispering only to turn quiet when she entered the room?
He continued “It would only take one slave, sent by Quintus under the guise of a delivery boy, to relay the news that we are not behaving like lovers.” Damon edged closer, clasped her upper arms. “Quintus wants something from you, Julia. Something more than marriage vows. You know this.”
Gods, he was so close. Her breath came quicker. She felt no threat save to the integrity of this façade of control she’d built. It trembled beneath the fact that Damon had given voice to her innermost fear.
She forced herself to meet Damon’s probing gaze. There was no malice in those gray eyes, only a glint of concern and she thought with a flash of annoyance, smugness. He was right. She’d suspected Quintus’ motives from the very beginning. That Damon had come to this conclusion so quickly was both surprising and disconcerting. She nodded her agreement. “Yes, though I cannot begin to fathom what. I barely know him and my father... Well, my father loathed him.”
“Enmity between the powerful is common,” Damon observed. “Why did your father dislike him?”
Julia hesitated. While Damon had not exhibited murderous tendencies as she’d feared, she wasn’t exactly comfortable sharing information either.
Damon pulled away and looked at her, an amused smile curving his lips. “You still do not trust me.”
She rolled her eyes and shrugged out of his hold. “You’ll forgive me if I’m hesitant to discuss such matters with a stranger.”
He put a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Julia. You know of my familial beginnings, abysmal as they were. I have demonstrated my flexible nature in perpetrating your charade. What more could you want to know?”
Julia folded her arms across her chest and leveled a look at him. “Why were you being crucified?”
Damon sobered and his gaze hardened. Mentally, Julia chastised herself for being so foolish as to press him in the matter. He looked exactly like a man capable of heinous crimes deserving of such a fate.
Several long, tense moments passed before he spoke. “I was caught in the middle of a situation at an inconvenient time.”
“Inconvenient?” She raised her hands in frustration. “Could you be any more cryptic?”
A muscle popped in his cheek. “I was attending a meeting of tradesmen. Fifty men of various occupations gathered to discuss business concerns.”
Julia’s patience was wearing thin. “That is hardly a crime. Trade guilds conduct meetings every day.”
“Agreed. But this group had powerful enemies. The meeting had just begun when a detachment of soldiers from the urban cohorts arrived and arrested every participant.”
A chill swept through Julia. “But the urban cohort is commanded by...”
Damon nodded curtly. “The Urban Prefect. Less than twelve hours later, every innocent man there had been convicted of treason and sentenced to die by Quintus Marcellus himself.” He stepped closer and held her gaze. “He is capable of anything. If I am to keep your family safe, any doubts, any information you have you must share with me.”
Julia frowned at the vehemence in his voice. “Of what use would such information be to a tradesman?”
Damon’s smile sent chills down her back.
“I’m no tradesman, Julia. I’m a spy.”
Chapter Eleven
“Not while there is breath in my body.”
Kaj had assumed his stubborn stance, arms crossed over his massive chest, feet spread apart and gaze fixed on some distant object. Julia sighed. They’d been standing in the hallway outside Damon’s tiny room arguing for a good part of an hour, the majority of which had consisted of Kaj ranting and raving about her losing her mind. Perhaps she had.
The decision to allow Damon to share her bedchamber had not come easy. But then, she thought dryly, nothing had since the day she’d brought him into their lives. He had taken every notion she had about the malleability of the indebted and tossed them over a cliff. He had opinions and was not afraid to speak th
em. And a part of her could not deny there was truth within many of them.
While she had harbored a growing unease with Quintus and his motives, she had not thought him anything but annoying and persistent. But Damon’s revelation that the Prefect had had a personal hand in the deaths of what he claimed were innocent citizens had sent her anxiety into full blown terror. She shook her head. And he knew this because he was a spy.
If he had told her he was Jupiter, she’d have been less astounded. She’d thought Damon many things but a secret operative? When she’d pressed for an accounting of his employment he’d demurred saying only that he had resigned from his last position.
Of course she was taking the word of a spy.
Kaj had almost dissuaded her when he’d suggested that Damon had been sent to spy on the Manulus family. Julia had nearly laughed out loud at that. What would there be to report? That the plan she’d been so certain was foolproof was unraveling before her eyes? That instead of protecting her family, she’d placed them in greater jeopardy? Oh yes, that would be well worth reporting. Kaj brought her back from her thoughts.
“How can you trust him?”
How could she? It was true she couldn’t give him actual evidence of Damon’s credibility. But Kaj had not heard the hitch of emotion beneath Damon’s words as he’d spoken of the executed men. She supposed he could be lying but something deep within her had decided he was not.
She sent a sideways look to Kaj. “Do the servants discuss the business of the household amongst themselves?”
Kaj pressed his lips together in a tight line.
“Kaj, you are a true friend, I wish you to be at ease.” Julia stood straighter. “But I am still mistress here and my decision stands. Damon will sleep in the master’s chamber.”
Damon slowed his steps as he approached his cell. Had he heard right? He cast a wary look at the impotent fury reflected in Kaj’s expression. Apparently he had. Julia was agreeing to allow him in her sleeping chamber. A vision of her lithe body lying beneath him, lips swollen from his kiss, skin flushed from lovemaking flashed into his mind.
