The Protector

  The storm began in earnest as they raced across the beach and up the stone steps. Bernice met them in the entryway. She handed Adiona a large square of cloth to dry herself, while ignoring the pool of water collecting at Lucius’s feet.

  Lucius laughed at the mess. “You might as well know now, my lady, Bernice has a bone to pick with me.”

  “Hmmph!” Bernice grunted as she left to fetch another drying cloth.

  Unused to servants showing disapproval of their master, Adiona glanced between him and Bernice’s departing back. “From what I understand, she has a whole skeleton of justified complaints against you.”

  Lucius grinned. “True. But all will be well now that Quintus is back to straighten us out.”

  Bernice returned with the cloth. Lucius dried his hair and patted down his tunic before showing Adiona into an office on the north side of the house. She knew instantly the room belonged to Quintus. The deep green walls and masculine, expertly carved wood furniture spoke of a man with understated taste and refinement. She took a seat in front of the desk, noting the set of unopened scrolls a messenger brought earlier that day, the ivory stylus and bronze oil lamp. Lucius sat in the chair beside her.

  “That hulk is not mine,” he tilted his head toward the desk. “After what I’ve done to the family fortune, I’m not fit to sit behind it.”

  “No head for sums?” she asked.

  “None at all. Thank the gods Quintus is back or I’d end up in the streets.”

  Adiona studied Lucius’s pleasant, open expression. She began to realize what Quintus meant about his jovial brother. Lucius might be full-grown, but he was a boy in a man’s body. There was no guile in him, but neither was there any hint of maturity.

  “Now tell me what happened. Why are you here?” he said, his eyes keen with interest. “When will Quintus return?”

  She sat back in her leather chair and explained the situation, including her reasons for being there. “Quintus received word of your whereabouts earlier today. He promised to be back by this evening, but with the storm, I don’t see how.”

  Her gaze drifted to the open window and the sheets of rain pouring off the eaves. On land, the storm was relatively minor so far, with little thunder and no lightning. But at sea, in a small sailboat… She shuddered. Quintus and his safety were paramount. Please, God, bring him home.

  Bernice’s footsteps echoed in the hall. The maid crossed through the office’s open door carrying a tray. She’d draped a palla over her left arm. “I’ve brought you both some hot lemon water. I don’t want either of you to fall ill.”

  “See, she can’t stay mad at me.” Lucius winked at Bernice. “Did you sweeten it with honey, my honey?”

  Bernice snorted and rolled her eyes, but her manner softened a little. She set the tray on the desk and shook out the palla. “I thought you might want this to keep warm, my lady.”

  Adiona murmured her thanks. With her hair and tunic damp, she had begun to feel chilled. Wrapped in the palla, she cupped her hands around the warm glass and sipped the hot, sweetened water. Bernice lit several more oil lamps before she left.

  Lucius eyed her over the rim of his drink. “Don’t worry about Quintus, my lady. Nothing bad ever happens to him.”

  Incredulous, Adiona set her glass down with a thunk. Already fretful over Quintus’s whereabouts, she lost her temper. “Really? You don’t think the death of his son was bad? Or being arrested and tossed into prison? Perhaps you’d consider it a good thing to be made a slave or to fight for your life in the arena?”

  Lucius shrank back in his seat, clearly unused to facing serious anger. “Of course, Fabius’s death was a tragedy,” he said sadly. “We all felt it. The child was a joy. Always laughing. Quintus had just bought him his first pony last spring. But the rest?” He shrugged. “My brother is golden. Always has been. Look how he’s recovered. I find I can’t be distressed when he’s alive and all is well.”

  She glared at Lucius. “All is well? I beg to differ. All was well until word of your whereabouts came this morning. If not for your lackadaisical ways, Quintus would be here with me now.”

  His face fell. She refused to feel guilty, even though he made her feel like she’d kicked a puppy.

  “You’re right,” he said, full of woe. “I’m sorry. I always cause trouble. Did you know Quintus and I are twins?”

  “Yes, he mentioned it,” she answered, taken off guard by the unexpected question. Although both men were handsome, Lucius was a duller version of his brother. His hair was brown not black, his eyes mossy-green instead of emerald. They shared a similar height, but Quintus was more muscular. Most of all, Lucius possessed none of his brother’s presence. When Quintus entered a room, he owned it. Even in the chaos of the arena, he’d become a focal point for the mob.

  “Since boyhood he’s watched my back and cleaned up my messes,” Lucius shared without a hint of reserve. “I’ve been overwhelmed without him these many months thinking he was dead. I’ve missed him more than I can say.”

  “I understand,” she said, thinking how dejected she’d been after a single day without Quintus.

  Some time later, Bernice returned to the office and delivered roasted fish with an herb sauce for dinner. The delicious scent made Adiona’s nervous stomach roll sickly.

  She cast another glance out the window. Night had come early thanks to the storm that continued to build. Flashes of lightning lit the darkness, thunder crashing quickly on its heels.

  Raw with worry, Adiona jumped to her feet and began to pace. Lucius chattered on while he ate. She ignored him until she realized she’d been given a chance to learn more about Quintus from his talkative twin.

  She faced the man-child and gave him a winsome smile. “Are you married, Lucius?”

  He finished chewing a bite of fish. “Twice divorced. I have no trouble getting wed. It’s the knack of keeping a wife that escapes me.”

  “And Quintus? He was married, yes?”

  His mouth tightened and he quieted for the first time that evening. Frustrated, Adiona wanted to kick him. Why, when they were finally discussing something of interest, did he have to go sullen and silent?

  “He told me a little of his marriage,” she said. “I take it he wasn’t happy. I confess I’m curious to know what Quintus did to make the poor woman miserable enough to…” She sliced a finger across her throat and let the implication hang in the air. “It wasn’t his fault,” Lucius said taking the bait in his brother’s defense. He pushed back his tray of half-eaten fare. His shoulders slumped. “Actually, it’s mine in a roundabout way.”

  “Your fault? How?”

  “We were only eighteen,” he offered as an excuse. “I gambled myself into a corner with the son of a rival family. I ended up owing Faustinus more than a year of my allowance. For once, I didn’t want to embroil Quintus in my problems, but when Faustinus sent his lackeys to collect my debt, I didn’t have a way of hiding the broken bones they left behind.”

  Thinking he deserved a few broken bones for being stupid enough to gamble away his inheritance, she said nothing and waited for him to continue.

  “When Quintus found out what happened, he offered to loan me the money, but I owed too much. It was late in the year and he didn’t have enough funds on hand, either.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair in a way that reminded her of Quintus. “He tried to reason with Faustinus, but the rat wasn’t interested. Quintus went to our parents for me, but they refused to pay the debt. Neither of us realized they declined because Faustinus had petitioned them for a marriage between Quintus and Faustinus’s sister, Faustina.”

  Adiona’s anger burned brighter toward Lucius by the moment.

  “You see, all the ladies of Amiternum wanted Quintus. Our family is prosperous and Quintus has been blessed since birth. Faustina knew she’d be the envy of every woman in the province if he married her.”

  An alarm sounded in Adiona’s head. She sank into the chair behind her. The story sounded ee
rily similar to how Crassus had chosen her. “I can understand any woman wanting to marry Quintus, but why did he agree to Faustina?”

  “As the oldest son, it was Quintus’s responsibility to marry well and for connections. Our father saw the agreement as ideal and agreed without discussion. The union combined the families’ fortunes, ended a century-old rivalry, plus my debt was erased in the bargain. Faustina was beautiful and cultured. On the surface, she seemed the kind of woman a man like Quintus could grow to love.”

  “I see,” Adiona said, jealous even when she knew there was no need to be.

  “Quintus doesn’t speak ill of anyone,” Lucius continued, warming to his subject. “You won’t ever hear him complain about the shrew, but there’s never been a more vain or selfish woman since time began. Faustina spent every waking hour chasing her own pleasures. She was always attending some party or hosting one. After Fabius was born, it got worse. For months she abandoned them both for an opium pipe. Quintus tried to help her. She refused. He prayed for her for a long time, but she scorned his God and turned to other men just to prove she wanted nothing to do with his new religion. The whole situation was intolerable. He was going to divorce her. Even his Christian texts said he had the right to. But the Fates removed the choice from his hand.”

  Dread began to rise in Adiona. She didn’t want to hear the rest, but a driving need to better understand Quintus compelled her to listen.

  “Normally, Quintus took his son everywhere, but he had unavoidable business in a nearby town and Fabius had a stomachache. Not wanting to tire the boy or make him more ill, Quintus left him with the nursemaid. Faustina was gone with friends as usual. After that no one knows for sure what happened except that Faustina returned and dismissed the maid. Somehow the child ended up by himself in the street.

  “When Quintus returned the next morning, his son was dead. Faustina had killed herself out of guilt or so she claimed in the missive she left.”

  Adiona wiped tears from her cheeks. Her chest ached for Quintus and the pain he’d suffered. In a different way, he’d been abused in his marriage just as she had been in hers. No wonder he seemed to understand her plight.

  “Who reported him to the authorities?” she asked, her throat tight.

  “None of us know for certain. I suspect it was Faustina’s brother, although I have no proof. He’s petty enough to see it as a way of regaining some of his sister’s honor if he can paint Quintus as a villain.”

  “What will happen if Quintus returns to Amiternum?”

  “I don’t know. Truth to tell, I don’t know why he was arrested in the first place.”

  “Because he’s a Christian, or so I thought,” she said, confused.

  “He was. I suppose every Christian lives with a sword over his head, but what I meant is, I don’t understand why he happened to be arrested at that precise moment in time. He’d never hidden his beliefs and there was no purge going on in the region. He’d been a respected merchant for years. After Quintus’s arrest, I went to the magistrate, but he refused to even see me.”

  Adiona frowned. She’d never heard of a magistrate refusing an audience with a prominent family. “Perhaps he was honest and not open to bribery?”

  “Hardly. If anything, he knew of Quintus’s scruples and thought bribery wasn’t an option,” he scorned. “But that argument fails to make sense. I was doing the negotiating. From past…incidents, the magistrate knew money wasn’t a concern of mine when I go after something I want.”

  Bernice returned to collect the dinner dishes.

  Adiona moved to the window in need of air. Her fingers clutched the wet marble windowsill as she searched the blackness for any sign of Quintus’s return.

  Bernice joined her. “He’ll be all right, my lady. Master Quintus is wise and I’m certain he’s stopped in a nearby town. He’ll come home first thing in the morning.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Adiona said, her chin quivering.

  Hours passed. Adiona prayed, uncertain if Quintus’s God heard her, but she had to try.

  Lucius sighed. “Would you care to play a game of cards or dice to pass the time?”

  She stopped pacing and pinned him with a glare rife with impatience.

  “All right, all right,” he said, his hands raised in self-defense. “I just thought I’d ask.”

  “Yes, well, don’t.”

  Lamplight flickered across his discomforted features. “If anything happens to Quintus, I swear I’ll make amends.”

  “And how will you do that?” The man-child wasn’t worth one of Quintus’s sandal laces. “Your brother is unique among men. The finest there is. If he dies…” Her voice broke. She closed her eyes until she calmed herself enough to speak. “If he dies there will be no amends great enough to make up for his loss.”

  Somewhere in the house a door opened and closed. “Adiona!”

  She stilled. Her heart stopped. Quintus’s voice.

  “Adiona, where are you?” he called.

  “We’re in your office,” Lucius yelled. He jumped to his feet, seeming to understand she’d lost the ability to answer.

  Laughing, Lucius flew across the tiled floor and out into the entryway. Adiona listened to the brothers’ joyful reunion.

  “Where is my guest?” she heard Quintus ask.

  “She’s been prowling in your office since the storm began.”

  Hearing footsteps on the tiles, she tried to compose herself. She sat down in her chair and affected an air of serenity. But the sight of Quintus on the threshold flooded her with sweet relief. Before she knew what she was doing, she jumped from her seat and ran to him.

  He caught her around the waist, and up off the floor, his arms tight as a sail’s lashing. “I guess you did miss me,” he murmured against her hair.

  He smelled of salt and the sea. He was soaking wet and freezing cold, but her heart had never been warmer toward him. “Not at all,” she said, hugging him fiercely.

  “I’m glad.” He laughed and buried his face in the curve of her throat. “I didn’t miss you, either.”

  Lucius pushed passed them. “Liars, the both of you.”

  Quintus and Adiona ignored him. “I prayed to your God He’d return you to me,” she whispered.

  He tilted her face up to his. The firelight made his skin appear a burnished bronze. He searched her face. “You prayed for me?”

  She nodded. “The storm. I was so worried you wouldn’t come back.”

  “I promised I’d be here tonight.”

  “I know.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. “That’s why I didn’t give up hope. You always tell the truth.”

  A short time later, Quintus headed to his room to change his tunic. Warm and dry, he returned to the office. Still marveling that Adiona had prayed for him, he thanked the Lord for the work He was doing in her life.

  He took his place behind the large desk. Adiona and Lucius sat across from him.

  “So, brother.” Lucius spoke first. “Where have you been? Your woman here has been beside herself with worry and I haven’t been too calm, either.”

  Quintus’s gaze drifted back to Adiona’s exquisite face. The lamp’s glow caressed her smooth skin and soft features. A blush stained her cheeks. The storm had sent his boat into the rocks. He’d barely made it to shore before walking several miles through a mountain pass to get back to her. Had he guessed the sweetness of her reaction to his return, he would have run. Barefoot. Over broken glass.

  “Once I learned you’d been released, I started back,” he explained. “The storm hit without much warning and I had a little trouble with my boat about five miles south of here.”

  “Hmm…” Lucius said. “Let me translate, my lady. When Quintus says he had ‘a little trouble’ it means the boat either capsized, sank or hit the rocks—”

  Adiona gasped. Her anxious gaze roved over Quintus. “Is that true?”

  Quintus glared at his brother. “It hit the rocks.”
br />   White as chalk, she jumped to her feet. “Are you hurt? You looked fit when you arrived, but—”

  “I’m fine,” he said, basking in her concern. “Truly.”

  She dropped back into the chair, her relief unconcealed. “How did you get back with no boat? You’re not a fish. You couldn’t have swum.”

  “He must have walked,” Lucius guessed.

  Her eyes flared. “You walked? In this rain? How?”

  “It’s a simple matter,” Lucius injected drily. “You place one foot in front of the other.”

  “Just ignore him,” Quintus told her. “I do all the time.”

  “Gladly.” She didn’t take her eyes from Quintus. “Now tell me how you walked here. I thought the cove was only accessible by sea.”

  “No. There’s a mountain pass similar to the one that took us to the grotto.”

  “You took her to the grotto?” Lucius whistled between his teeth. “You must be madly in lo—”

  “Quiet!” Quintus commanded. “Better yet, leave us. I’ll speak to you later.”

  “Fine. I know when I’m not wanted.” Lucius chuckled all the way out the door, for once doing as he was told without making a fuss.

  “I’m sorry,” he said once Lucius left. “My brother can be a bit much.”

  “I don’t care about him,” she dismissed. “I care about you and the danger you faced tonight. Why didn’t you stay somewhere you’d be safe? Don’t you know by now that if anything happened to you, I’d…?”

  “You’d what, lioness?”

  I’d never recover. She swallowed thickly. “I’d be sad, naturally.”

  He eased back in his seat. “That’s good to know.”

  The sound of pouring rain filled the quiet. Thunder rolled overhead. Nervous energy danced between them. She rose from her chair and closed the shutters, eager to break the tension. There was so much to say, so many emotions to confess, but she didn’t know how.

  She turned and fell into a ravaging gaze of green fire. Her mouth ran dry and her knees grew weak. She felt consumed.