For a Roman's Heart (12 page)

Pontius and Adrenia pulled a heavy cover over Pella.

Pontius sank down on his knees next to the bed, his large hand wrapping Pella’s much smaller one, his face marked with pronounced dread. “What if…”

“No.” Adrenia’s voice came out soft with authority. “She’ll be fine.”

“But she hasn’t opened her eyes once.” Pontius glared at Adrenia and then Terentius. “You think the soldier you found dead did this to her?”

Terentius crossed his arms. “Doubtful. I didn’t know him well, but I have a sense about a man’s character. He knew the punishment if he did not deliver the women safely home. Even if he did hurt Pella, it doesn’t explain who killed him.”

“He brought me straight home, I said goodbye to Pella, and then the two of them went off together,” she said.

Pontius scraped one hand over his jaw and sighed. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

Terentius went to a window and pulled away the covering to peer into the darkness. “Someone must have killed Crassus and taken your wife. Someone far stronger than Crassus.”

“Why?” Pontius’s voice held anger and despair.

Terentius wished he had an answer, his gut clenching in sympathy for the man’s suffering. If anyone dared hurt Adrenia like this…

Terentius knew then, if he hadn’t already, that his feelings for Adrenia grew deeper and tightened about him like a noose the longer he knew her. He didn’t like it. Didn’t understand it. Yet there seemed no cure for his predicament.

The sound of horses coming closer sent Terentius from the smaller room, through the main area and outside. Victor had arrived with the
medicus
. The thin, tall
medicus
didn’t come from the fort, but directly from town. Terentius explained quickly he’d pay the man’s fee, and the
medicus
nodded without questioning. Once inside and at Pella’s bedside, the
medicus
questioned the bandaging and poultice.

“I did it,” Adrenia said.

The
medicus
’s disapproval turned to reluctant admiration. “You used the right amount. As I would have.” He frowned. “It is a fair enough job.”

Adrenia backed up against a wall, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’m happy you’re here,
medicus
. Please save her. That’s all I ask.”

Adrenia’s distress twisted into a knot inside Terentius. “Adrenia, come into the other room with me and rest. You’re exhausted. Leave Pella to the care of her husband and the
medicus
. You’ve done all you can.”

Adrenia’s gaze darted about the room. “But…”

“Pella would not want you to become ill again,” Pontius said from his wife’s bedside. “Please take some broth and bread…all of you. For your health.”

Adrenia nodded, and Terentius clasped her arm to lead her into the next room. Another fire burned in the main area. Terentius urged Adrenia into a chair by a square table. He went to the hearth where a pot of soup simmered. Victor hadn’t come in from outside, so Terentius scooped the thick meat soup into a bowl and placed it front of her with a spoon.

Adrenia’s stomach growled as she glanced up at the big soldier. His gaze upon her was intent, calm, even worried. “Thank you. But what about you?”

“I won’t take from Pontius’s supply. I have dried meat in my supply pack on my horse. You are cold and tired and recently ill. Eat.”

He drew a chair from around the table and settled near her. His heat and proximity unsettled her. She liked his strength nearby, his obvious caring. He’d given her so much…had given so much to Pella and Pontius.

She placed her right hand on his muscled forearm. “You are generous. Thank you for finding the
medicus
for Pella.” She swallowed hard as grief swelled to almost unbearable proportions. “She means everything to Pontius. He couldn’t bear it if she didn’t survive.
I
couldn’t bear it.”

She wouldn’t imagine it, couldn’t stand the thought any longer. Tears she’d tried to ignore since she’d come upon her dear friend lying in the woods broke through her defenses. As they leaked from her eyes, she covered her face.

“Eh, there. No, no.” Terentius’s voice rumbled softly, filled with genuine concern. “Take ease now. She’s in good hands. You’ve already seen to that.”

Before she could protest, he reached out, drew her across the small space between them, and snuggled her into his lap. She gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes. His gaze turned from tenderness to a heat she knew must echo in her own eyes. As he stared down at her, his steely right arm bracketed across her back in support. His large left hand clasped her slender left thigh. Hunger vanished in a single searing moment of awareness. His nostrils flared. He shifted, and his erection nestled tight against that left thigh. If she turned away from him, if they’d positioned just right, that hardness would find its way between her legs. Her tears dried immediately.

His lips parted. “Eat your broth before it gets cold, Adrenia. You’re weak from hunger.”

“Yes,” she whispered, disconcerted, hungry and indeed tired.

He kept her on his lap as she ate, aware all the while of his attentiveness, his masculine strength. She wanted to trust him, but caution held her back from total reliance, still cautioned her thoughts and feelings. Before long she’d consumed an entire bowl of stew, the meat, vegetables and bread filling the emptiness. As the fireplace crackled and the orange glow danced over the walls and floor, her eyelids drooped. Exhaustion threatened.

His hand caressed her hair. “You are too thin.”

“There is little food every day in our family.”

“There are only three of you?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother and father don’t look thin.” His eyebrows knitted together. “They starve you, they deny you reasonable clothing. They butchered your hair. Did your parents treat your siblings the same way?”

“Until they were married. Now Secunda, Quarta and Quinta do as their husbands say.”

He grunted, but he didn’t explain where his thought process led.

“My mother is…she does as she’s told. As any wife does,” she said.

Terentius sniffed, the sound disdainful. “Is that what you think?”

She straightened her spine. “It’s what I see every wife doing.”

A hint of a smile played with his mouth. “Well, I can guarantee you haven’t met every wife.”

“Perhaps not. But everyone has someone to obey. Slaves obey masters. Children obey their mother and father. Wives obey their husbands. Centurions obey a higher-ranking officer, I imagine?

“We do.”

“I’ve made my point.”

This time his smile lightened his countenance and made him seem less soldierly and more approachable. “You have.”

“You obeyed your father when you were young?”

“Yes.” His hand caressed her thigh, and she gasped softly. He ignored or didn’t notice her reaction to his hand tantalizing her flesh. “My family was…”

His gaze looked tortured as raw hurt flashed over his face. Surprised by the intensity she saw there, she pushed for an answer. “Yes?”

“My family was very different from yours. We possessed wealth and many comforts.”

He looked pensive, as if his memories led him down a heart-wrenching path. She didn’t know for certain, but she sensed he didn’t want to explore his heritage as much as she wanted to find out about him.

“You have a bit of an accent,” she said.

His eyebrows sprang upwards. “Everyone has a different accent depending on where they are from in Britannia.”

“This is something more.”

“My family came from Neapolis in Italia when I was barely sixteen.”

“Why did you leave Italia?”

“It’s complicated, but my father was connected to the Emperor. My father felt we weren’t safe in Neapolis because he’d made some powerful enemies who opposed the Emperor Antonius Pius. We took over a villa near Deva that was originally built for another man who died of illness and left no heirs. I decided to join the army when I was sixteen.”

“You’ve been a soldier a very long time.”

“Twelve years. I am twenty-eight.”

His age surprised her. There was something older and wiser about him she didn’t normally encounter with a man of his age.

“A week after I joined the army, the villa was burned down by barbarians paid by one of my father’s enemies.”

She placed a hand on his arm, and his fingers tightened on her thigh. “By the goddess,” she gasped the words in shock. “You weren’t there?”

“I was at the fortress at Deva.”

She didn’t want to ask, but she did. “Your parents?”

“They were trapped in the house. They couldn’t escape.”

“Oh, no. Poor boy. You didn’t have any siblings? No other family?”

“None.”

As sorrow filled his eyes, she understood his feelings more than he could imagine. Without thinking, she cradled his face with her right hand. “I’m so sorry, Terentius. You must hate all Britons.”

Surprise entered his eyes, his eyes glazed with discomfort. As if he wanted to shove back the pain but couldn’t quite do it. “Why would you say that?”

“Don’t all Romans assume Britons are hateful, unruly sorts? Like the ones who killed your parents for pay?”

His hand came up and cupped her throat. “At first I hated Britons. Wanted my revenge.”

“Did you take it?”

He shook his head. “Something held me back. I recognized that killers for hire are not the everyday Roman citizen or non-citizen as it was in this case. It took many years for me to feel this way, though.”

She nodded, and as his hand caressed her throat again, she shifted in restless need. A weird sensation that bordered on fear and excitement overpowered her understanding of his grief. When he touched her like this all other emotions struggled to find notice.

“I am sorry for your loss,” she said.

“You’ve had loss. Much of it, it seems.”

She nodded but didn’t reply. What could she say when the fates decided to take her siblings from her? Deep in her mind she understood her suspicions couldn’t be voiced about what had happened to her brother and sister. If she spoke out, her own fate would be sealed as well.

Still, she did not like the thought that Terentius might think her weak. “I have plans. My weaving is profitable, but my parents demand I give them the money. I have pocketed away a part of the profits. Someday I will leave the villa and have my own business. I plan to make clothing for young children. There are many rich ladies in town who would buy clothes ready made if such a service was offered.”

His eyes brightened, as if her idea excited him. “That is a capital idea. Adrenia, you are clever and beautiful.”

Though he’d praised her before, she drank in this delicious and heady elixir of compliments.

Terentius stared down at her, his gaze intense enough to burn. Their mouths were so close. So close…

Before she could blink, he kissed her. This time his touch devoured, skipping the preliminaries as Terentius twisted his mouth across hers. His hand swept up to cradle her head. His tongue dipped into her mouth, and heat exploded in her loins. Shocked but aroused, she didn’t pull away at this new development. Delicious tingling danced in her belly at this wild intimacy.

Adrenia broke away from his kiss. She gazed up into his hot expression. “You…the way you’re kissing me…”

One of his eyebrows winged upward. “Yes?” He kissed her chin, her left cheek, then her right. “What of it?”

“My sisters say they hate it when their husbands kiss like this…when they use their tongue. When I asked Pella about this strange kissing, she said that Pontius only kisses like this when he wants sex.”

He glanced sharply at the doorway to the bedroom, then slanted an exasperated look at her. “Did she now?” He smiled gently. “Do you hate it? The way I kissed you?”

His eyes said he’d know if she lied. “No. I like it.”

“Like?” He leaned in to whisper in her ear, his breath hot and sending shivers across her skin. “Is that all? You just
like
it?”

No,
like
was too tepid a word. Too tame. “It’s…shocking. It makes me feel strange things I don’t understand.”

“You’re right, Adrenia. It is shocking. We’re kissing like this with your friend lying injured in bed. With her husband near. Perhaps we’re possessed by Mars and Venus?” His fingers tangled in her hair. “I do want you. You must know and feel it.”

He gazed at her sincerely, his words rasping hot, husky and filled with the desire that throbbed within her own belly. He leaned in and kissed her again.

The wild craving it started inside her shocked and delighted Adrenia all the way to her feminine core. As he caressed her tongue with his own, she didn’t quite know what to do. She’d never experienced such wonderful physical sensations as she writhed within his embrace, the desire heightening with each carnal exploration. Terentius’s touch awakened sensations Adrenia had never experienced. As if dormant for a millennium, the turbulence arose. She shook with fine tremors. Delicious, sweet longing piled upon urgent craving.

He broke away from her, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. His hands still cupped her head. His eyes blazed down at her. “Kiss me back, Adrenia.”