Yearnings: A Paranormal Romance Box Set (116 page)

The woman backed away a step and lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, sire, but I have one other request of you.”

“
You certainly are demanding for a recently purchased slave,” Brutus said, trying to shield himself from the redhead’s intoxicating presence.

“
I beg only that you allow Navia to accompany me to your home. She is a good worker and will do right by you.”

“
I have compromised enough for one evening, woman.”

The redhead laid her hand upon his arm again, but this time he did not pull away. “If you do this for me, I will come with you freely.”

Brutus felt his cheeks flame, and his skin burned where her hand lay upon his forearm. Why did this woman affect him so? Lylith would throw a tantrum like no other. He would not hear the end of it. So why, then, was he saying yes?

“
Just this one.”

* * * * *

CHAPTER 5

Syra removed her hand from her new owner’s arm and averted her eyes. Her throat flared from the platitudes she had just uttered. How greatly she resented bowing before a Roman, but what else could she have done?

She should despise everything about the man who stood in front of her, from his dark curls to his bold nose and strong jawline. Even a day ago, Syra would rather run him through with a pike rather than obediently serve him, yet his kind eyes had soothed her tongue, and she had accomplished more with careful words than she ever could with a sword.

Glad that he moved away, Syra felt Navia squeeze her hand.

“
Thank you,” the girl whispered.

Leaving the auction pavilion and moving onto the boulevard was nothing more than a blur. The servant led the others to the east, whereas her new master led them to a large litter. Syra had broken nearly every taboo between a slave and her master, yet she knew that Navia could barely stand upright, let alone walk to this man’s mansion.

“
Sire,” Syra softened her voice to make it sound like she truly meant the title.

The dark-haired man turned to her with a look of mild annoyance upon his face. “What else could you ask of me?”

“
Navia is weak from starvation. May she ride inside? I shall lend my shoulder to the burden.”

Syra had a difficult time reading the man’s face. A look passed over his features. Then he turned back toward the litter. “You both may ride.”

Shocked, Syra stumbled as she helped Navia into the litter. The servants who bore the weight of the conveyance looked equally surprised. Why was this Roman being so gracious? Did he think she meant that she would give her body to him freely? Did he think he bought himself a personal whore? If he did, the man would find out how very wrong he was in short order.

* * *

Brutus kept his eyes averted and worked on the parchment as they slowly made their way across the city. Not quickly enough, the men lowered the litter at his home. He bolted from the conveyance without waiting for his bearers to lend a hand. Numbers were not quite as distracting as he had hoped.

Without looking behind him, Brutus led his two acquisitions to the servants’ quarters. The cook, Fiona, was the first to appear. Brutus quickly shuffled the two women into her care. It was too painful to stand near the redhead. The Northerner’s aroma made his nostrils flare and his groin stir.

Brutus was a senator, and he took his station very seriously. He was to act as a moral pillar to the commoners. It would not do to have such thoughts and feelings when he so openly criticized others for such crude behavior.

Retreating as he always did from his warring emotions, Brutus sought shelter in his library. Yet he did not make it down a single hallway before another servant called to him.

“
Sire! There is a guest. He would not wait in the lounge,” the young stable boy, Tiberius, called out as he ran to meet Brutus.

There was no reason to ask who might be so audacious. Brutus already knew the identity of his visitor. Yet the boy shook with worry.

“
Do not fret, Tiberius. I will see to him.”

The stable boy sighed with relief and ran back down the hallway without waiting for a formal dismissal. Brutus let Tiberius have his quick escape. Someone ought to be at ease in this house.

Entering his study, Brutus did not bother to acknowledge the older man sitting in his chair. Long ago, Cicero was Brutus’ tutor, but the older man never quite accepted that the role should have been left aside years past. The old consul still felt that he could debate Brutus into compliance.

“
I am glad to see that you are still keeping abreast of the Empire’s status,” Cicero said as he sifted through Brutus’ papers. The reference to Brutus’ absence at this morning’s senatorial session none too well hidden.

“
I was there,” Brutus stated simply.

“
Then you know of Caesar’s betrayal!”

“
I know of his arrogance.”

Cicero was like a cat upon a hobbled mouse. “It goes far beyond human arrogance! You have no idea the goings-on in the palace.”

“
I know that—”

“
Did you know that Caesar is submitting a bill that would allow him to marry as many women as he wished to sire male heirs?”

This did give Brutus pause. He had no idea Caesar was planning such a thing, and he knew that it showed on his face. Still, Caesar’s life was his own. What did such a thing matter to Brutus? “It is none of my concern.”

“
You do not care that Cleopatra’s son would become heir to all of Rome?”

“
Cicero, as always, you are prone to exaggeration.”

The older man sneered as he rose and crossed the room. “You saw his impertinence! Watch, within the fortnight, Julius will seek the crown. You may set your calendar by it.”

Cicero spoke with such conviction that Brutus found himself hard-pressed to argue. Caesar had been talking grandly of late. Julius did not hold the Republic in such high regard as Brutus. If they bent the constitution much more for the Imperator, it would shatter beyond recovery. Brutus was not foreign to these facts. He just had faith that Caesar would never cross that threshold.

In this moment, though, with Julius’ latest scheme fresh in his mind and Symphia’s warning words, Brutus worried if he were not overly optimistic.

“
And you would seek to block this polygamous bill?” he asked.

Cicero snorted. “Why would I do that? Brutus, you must elongate your view.”

Not liking his old mentor’s tone, he lashed back. “My sight is long enough to know that you plot treason.”

“
I plot your ascension to the throne!” Cicero shouted back, slamming his hand upon the mahogany desk.

Unconsciously, Brutus took a step back. “What do you speak?”

Cicero paced the room, obviously agitated by his own words. “Once Caesar has passed this bill, we can leverage him into acknowledging you as his firstborn. Brutus, you would be first in line for his inheritance.”

Brutus sat down upon the silk-covered settee. Cicero could not be serious. He had no ambition for a throne, and he said so. “I would decline.”

“
Then you are a fool.”

Anger burned in Brutus’ throat. His old mentor had gone too far. “I have had enough of you and your opinions for one day, Cicero. Please find your own way out.”

“
Brutus,” Cicero appealed in a much more subtle tone. “Just think on this overnight. Think of all that you could do with that power. You could restore the old order. Bring the Republic back to its glory. We all trust that you would strengthen the Senate and Assembly. There is not one of us who would oppose your ascension.”

Before Brutus could reply, Cicero exited the room. His sandals scuffed along the stone floor until Brutus shut the door behind him. How had he arrived at such a juncture? Brutus did not ask to be Caesar’s bastard, nor did he ask to be the champion of the Republic. Could no one else understand this?

In Rome these days, there was no gray area where one could take shelter. One either cast his die with Caesar, or plotted to betray the general. Brutus felt like the fulcrum in a grinder. If he tipped the wrong way, he would be ground under the Fates’ weight, just as wheat beneath a stone wheel.

* * *

Syra and Navia followed the cook into yet another room. The mansion was so large that she became certain she would become lost just emptying the chamber pot. The soft woman finally led them to a large bathing chamber.

“
Normally, Lylith insists we servants use the commoners’ bath, but given your condition, I do not think Brutus would mind you two washing the fil… The dirt from your hair.”

This woman talked so casually about their master. Even calling him by his given name. Was it somehow a sign of disrespect?

Frowning, Syra searched the room for a fire or at least a coal pit, but there was none. Despite the lack of a source of heat, the water in the huge bath steamed thickly. Trying not to seem ignorant, Syra did not ask how this marvel was accomplished.

“
How many slaves does this Brutus have?” Syra asked, as she helped Navia down onto a wooden slat bench.

“
Brutus? None. The bulk of us bought our freedom long ago. Lylith, however, seems to delight in them. But if you do a good job, respect Brutus, and do not betray his trust, he will protect you.”

Syra had no intention of staying that long. Once she got Navia settled and learned the lay of the city, Syra planned to slip out and never come back. Rome’s siren call was already loud in her ear. There were plenty of opportunities for a woman with her skills, either as a hired sword or professional thief. She did not care which at this point. Anything to get her away from this senator who pretended to care for his servants.

Fiona wiped her hands on her blue apron. “I have dinner to make. You two get cleaned up.” The cook glanced over at the frail young woman on the bench. “It’s not common, but I will bring plates to your room if you wish to lie down.”

Syra gave a tight smile to the older woman. Perhaps if Syra had not spent her life hating all things Roman, she might have appreciated the cook’s kindness. But after all that had happened, Syra trusted no one. Fiona would most likely stab them in the back if given the chance. Her generosity was nothing more than a ruse—of this Syra was certain.

Navia’s fingers fumbled trying to undress.

“
Here, let me help,” Syra said to the younger woman.

As the Northerner removed Navia’s clothes, she noticed that the younger woman’s stomach was no longer flat. The tiniest bulge made its presence known. Soon Navia’s condition would become obvious. Syra finished undressing the young Spaniard and helped the girl into the tub.

“
Will you not join me?”

Shaking her head, Syra answered, “No. Those wounds of yours need to be cleansed. Sit back.”

“
Can the water not be a bit warmer?” Navia asked tentatively.

Pouring water over the girl’s hair, Syra paused. Navia seemed oblivious to her own condition. The poor woman was still in shock from the loss of her husband.

Carefully rubbing a bar of soap into Navia’s tangled mat of hair, Syra answered. “No. It would not be safe.”

“
Safe? My muscles want nothing more than to sit in a vat of steam.”

“
Perhaps, but not in your condition.” Before Navia could question her, Syra explained slowly and deliberately so that the younger woman could absorb the news. “I fear that you are with child, Navia. In your weakened state, too-warm water could hurt your growing baby.”

Navia spun around to face Syra. “I could not be—” The younger woman stuttered, “It’s been almost three months since... since...” Navia placed a hand upon her tender abdomen. “Could it be?”

The girl looked up at Syra with tears brimming. Continuing to cleanse Navia’s hair, Syra nodded. “It is true, child.”

At first the young woman just sat there, staring out across the room to the northern window. Soon the tears came. Then the girl doubled over, sobbing so very hard that Syra feared Navia would harm herself. Still, the Northerner did not interrupt. The woman deserved a good cry. This child was a mixed blessing. Navia would have a part of her husband forever, but the baby would remind the girl of all that she had lost.

Letting Navia cry, Syra quietly scrubbed the younger woman’s blistered feet and picked the rope fibers from her chafed ankles.

Finally, once the girl was cried out and her hair brushed free of its knots, Syra helped Navia out of the tub. Taking a simple cotton toga down from the wall, Syra helped dress the younger woman in clean clothes. “Now get to bed. I will make sure that Fiona fetches you dinner.”

“
Let me help with—”

Syra placed a hand on the girl’s bony wrist. “I cannot rest until I know you are tucked in, Navia. Please, if not for me, for your child.”

Suddenly, the younger woman launched herself at Syra. The Northern raised a hand to block the assault, but realized Navia only meant to embrace her. The girl wrapped her arms around Syra and buried her face into the Northerner’s own tangled hair.