Quintus blinked. The emotion raging in his eyes disappeared as though it never existed. Bereft and breathless from the loss, she wondered if she’d imagined his intensity toward her or if she’d simply wished it were so.
“A messenger brought those scrolls soon after you left this morning,” she murmured in need of defensive measures.
He reached for the rolls of parchment and studied the seals with interest. He frowned. “They’re from Caros,” he said, breaking the blob of wax. “This one’s addressed to both of us.”
His deft fingers unrolled the scroll and he scanned the message. His expression darkened with each word. “I think you should sit down.”
Intrigued and anxious, she sat in one of the chairs before the desk. “What’s happened?”
“It seems your assassin has been apprehended.”
“What? Who?”
“Someone named Salonius Roscius—”
“Salonius? I don’t believe it.”
“Wait. He’s the married fortune hunter you told me of in Neopolis.”
Numb with shock, she nodded. “The last time I spoke to him was the night of Caros and Pelonia’s fete. He delivered the message from Drusus concerning Octavia’s illness.”
“How convenient. He planned to be the last person to see you alive.”
Nausea swirled in her stomach. “How was he discovered?”
“Caros didn’t give details. I imagine one of his or your steward’s spies uncovered the lout.”
“I suppose now we have to return to Rome.”
“Yes.” He rolled up the scroll. “Your testimony is needed to press charges and prepare for a trial.”
She knew her assassin’s capture should make her happy or bring her relief, but anger bubbled inside her instead. Salonius and his murderous plans infuriated her, but the unfairness of having Quintus in her life only to lose him was a cruelty that burned her with impotent rage.
“Congratulations.” She strove for an even tone despite the hard lump of grief in her throat. “You’re a free man now.”
He set down the scroll and rounded the desk. She didn’t understand the tension in his body or his less-than-gratified expression.
“Are you releasing me, then?”
She knew Quintus was a man of specifics who always kept his word. He wanted a clear declaration that she no longer needed him. But if she had her way, she’d never let him go. “Yes, our agreement is finished. I have no further use for you.”
“Is that so?” he asked, the sharp edge of his voice undisguised. “Have you grown wings all of a sudden that you can fly back to Rome?”
Why was he angry? She was the one being abandoned. “If you’d be kind enough to hire a boat for me, I’d appreciate it. Once I’m in Neopolis I can make my own way home.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “No. That’s not an option. You’ll have to put up with me a few more days. I’ll see you safely back to Rome myself.”
The reprieve ushered in a swell of hope. He wasn’t leaving her yet. “If you insist on accompanying me, who am I to argue?”
He eyed her dubiously. “I appreciate your wisdom.”
She snorted and stood. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go pack my satchel.”
Without waiting for his answer, she turned and left the office, his gaze burning a hole in her back.
Chapter Eighteen
“Do you wish to go home?” Quintus asked Adiona as Rome’s massive gate came into view. “Or do you prefer to visit Caros and Pelonia at the ludus first?”
“The ludus,” she said, keeping her eyes on the crowded road ahead of them. Quintus’s imminent departure loomed closer with each beat of the horses’ hooves.
She’d spent the last three days since they’d left the villa trying to wean herself from the pleasure of being able to look at him whenever she wanted. So far, the experiment had proven a catastrophe, but failure wasn’t an option. She had to be strong. She had no choice. Quintus was leaving her. She’d be an idiota to pretend otherwise. Trying to convince him to stay wasn’t possible when his son’s funeral rites were in question. All that was left for her to do was get used to being alone again.
The press of travelers slowed their progress to a halt. The journey back to the capital had been uneventful with a stop in Neopolis to collect the gladiators Caros left to guard Drusus. Her heir had been relieved, and too self-satisfied for her liking, to have his innocence confirmed. And even though Adiona was sad not to see Drusus’s daughters, she’d been delighted to learn the girls would be living with their grandmother indefinitely.
In Ostia, the group stayed with Joseph’s family at the tabernae for a night. She and Quintus had checked on Onesimus’s recovery. His wounds were healing, but the young gladiator remained bedridden—and much fussed over by Josephina.
At a fork in the road, the group followed a path that circled the city, rather than taking the direct route inside Rome’s massive walls.
The good mood of the gladiators rose the closer they came to the ludus. Clearly, the men were as happy to be home as Adiona was miserable.
All too soon, they arrived at the Ludus Maximus. Guards opened the heavy iron gates. Caros and Pelonia joined them in the courtyard before Quintus had time to help Adiona down from her horse.
Once Adiona touched the ground, Caros snatched her up in a tight embrace. “Thank God you’re back safe. You and your prickly ways have been missed.”
She hugged him back, holding on a moment longer than necessary when she saw Quintus’s eyes narrow on the exchange.
Pelonia linked arms with Adiona and walked her through the peach orchard back to the main house. “I’m happy you’ve returned to us, as well,” Pelonia said. “We’ve been sorely worried about you.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, embarrassed but touched by her friends’ concern, especially Pelonia’s because the two of them had not started on the best of terms. “Quintus protected me well.”
“I’m sure he did.” Pelonia grinned. “He’s the type of man who excels at all he attempts.”
“True. He’s exceptional in every way.” Noticing Pelonia’s pleased smirk, she hastened to add, “What I mean is, his quick thinking saved me several times from certain danger.”
“That’s what I thought you meant,” Pelonia said, leading Adiona to a guest room where a basin of water awaited. After she’d washed off the travel dust, Adiona returned to the sitting room to find Pelonia. The splash of the fountains in the inner courtyard flowed through the large, airy chamber. “Have you eaten?” Pelonia asked. “Are you thirsty?”
Adiona asked for water, but declined food. She and Quintus had breakfasted on fresh bread and cheese before leaving the tabernae at sunrise. The noonday meal wasn’t due for at least another hour.
“I must say,” Pelonia began once the two of them were comfortably seated, “Caros and I were surprised when the messenger announced you and Quintus were arriving together this morning. After Quintus sent his slave’s price last week, we assumed you’d hired a new guard and Quintus had headed directly for Amiternum.”
“What do you mean he sent the money last week?” Adiona’s brow pleated with confusion. “His freedom was to be compensation for guarding me.”
“That’s what I thought as well, but… I’m sorry, I think I’ve spoken out of turn.”
A servant entered the sitting room with a tray of rolls and the cups of water Pelonia ordered. Setting the refreshments on a low table in front of the couch where the women were seated, the girl left at the same time Quintus and Caros strode through the door.
Adiona rose to her feet. “Quintus, I need to speak with you. Right now, if you please.”
Quintus frowned. “All right. Just a moment. Let me say goodbye to Pelonia. I’ll be leaving soon.”
Winded by the punch of pain the announcement brought, she started blindly for the garden.
“Wait, Adiona,” Caros said. “There’s been a development. You need to sit down.”
&nbs
p; She did as he said. “What’s happened?”
“Salonius. He’s dead.”
“How?” she asked, only half-interested in the worm’s demise when she had so few moments left with Quintus. “Was he killed in prison?”
“Trying to escape,” Caros clarified.
“Good riddance.” Adiona glanced at Quintus who was watching her intently. She stood and turned for the garden, needing fresh air to clear her head. “Quintus, I’ll be outside when you’re finished here.”
Aware of the silence she left behind, she reached the courtyard and sat heavily on a carved stone bench near the largest fountain. She rubbed her upper arms to ward off the chill. The peaceful flow of the water did nothing to soothe her misery as she listened to the renewed camaraderie and muted laughter of Caros, Pelonia and Quintus saying their farewells.
Grief pressed down on her like a slab of marble. How could anyone laugh when the occasion of Quintus leaving warranted sackcloth and ashes? Didn’t Caros and Pelonia realize Quintus might never return? Hot tears scratched the back of her eyes and her head throbbed with tension.
Quintus’s strong presence alerted her of his arrival in the garden even before she heard his sandals on the floor tiles behind her. Force of habit warned her to brace herself, to hide her true feelings behind a glib facade, but sadness drained her of the will to pretend all was well. “Adiona?”
She stood and faced him. “Quintus.”
“Are you truly as indifferent to Salonius’s death as you seem?”
“Should I be upset the man who tried to kill me is dead?”
“You have a tendency to blame yourself for others’ actions against you. I want to make certain you know this business with Salonius is his doing, not yours.”
She nodded. Unable to look at him when tears clouded her vision, she developed a sudden interest in the knotted end of her leather belt. Never in her life had anyone understood her or cared for her like Quintus did.
And now he’s leaving.
“Why do you wish to speak to me?” he asked when she stayed quiet for several long moments.
A breeze rustled the trees in the garden and brought a faint hint of smoke. She cleared her throat. “Why did you send funds to Caros to buy your freedom?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Not true.” She lifted her gaze back to his face. “Guarding me was supposed to ensure your liberty. How did you afford it? Lucius admitted he squandered your family’s fortune.”
“You may have noticed my brother talks too much.”
“All right,” she said, irritated by the distance he wedged between them, but unwilling to drop the matter. “Perhaps it’s not my concern, but I’d like to know. Did Caros refuse to honor his promise?”
“Of course not.”
“I see.”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you see, Adiona?”
“That your pride is threatened.”
“Explain.”
She was surprised he didn’t disagree with her outright. “You don’t want the return of your freedom tied to me in any way. You’re afraid that by accepting the bargain, I’ll have some future hold on you and you won’t take the risk.”
“Your mind is a wonder,” he said. “But here is the truth, if you must know it. My brother spent most of the gold I gave him in Amiternum, but that was merely a portion of my wealth. Once I reached my villa the situation was better than I expected. I had written to Lucius to tell him of the money I had stored there, but he never received my letters. With the gold still in the villa, money was no longer an issue. I sent the funds I owed Caros because I wanted him to know I was protecting you by choice, not because I had no other way to earn my freedom.”
“You chose to stay with me when you could have gone to your son?” she asked, unable to fathom the idea when she knew how much he loved his child.
He moved closer. His large palms cupped her shoulders. “Adiona, you think I fear some future hold you might have on me, but you’re wrong. Although I tried to deny it, your hold on me began the first moment I saw you and it’s grown tenfold every day since. When my life was at its most ugly, the Lord brought you to me and filled it with your beauty. There isn’t a day that passes when I don’t thank Him for you or an hour that goes by when I don’t think how special you are to me.”
Quintus was too honest for her not to believe him. The last seeds of shame and fear her husband implanted in her shriveled up at the roots and died under the force of Quintus’s high regard.
Tears blurred her vision and slipped down her cheeks. She locked her arms around his waist and pressed against his chest. For years she’d taught herself to ignore pain, but this was an agony beyond anything she’d endured, as though her heart were being removed from her chest while she watched. “I can’t bear for you to leave me.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and held her tight. “You know I must. Fabius—”
“I know,” she said over the rock of pain lodged in her throat. “Just promise you’ll come back to me.”
He lifted her chin and gently brushed the tears from under her eyes before touching her lips with a kiss.
“I won’t make a promise I’m not certain I can keep. I don’t plan to court trouble, but I still don’t know who reported me to the authorities.”
She placed her hand over his mouth, unable to consider him being rearrested or worse. “Please, stop,” she begged.
He brushed his lips across her palm and kissed the tip of each of her fingers. “I have to go, lioness. Amiternum is a ten-day journey from here. I want to get a head start before night falls.”
A thousand things to say bubbled to her lips, but silence lingered as she watched him stride through the arched doorway, her heart going with him.
Adiona glanced at the sundial of her villa’s private garden. It was almost noon, not that the hour made much difference when each moment was as empty as the next.
In the twelve days since she’d returned to Rome, she’d grown to hate the copper timepiece. More often than she cared to count, she’d been tempted to have it removed and melted down. A just punishment for mocking her with the reminder of how long Quintus had been gone.
Not that she needed a reminder when even the weather seemed to mourn his absence. The early January rains brought shorter days and longer nights filled with a cold, depressing dampness that seeped into the bones. “Domina?”
Adiona looked up from the sundial to find her steward, Felix, wringing his hands near a pot of winter crocus a short distance in front of her. Lost in thoughts of Quintus, she hadn’t heard the older man’s approach. “Domina, I’m sorry to trouble you, but Claudia Arvina is at the door. I thought I’d best ask if you want to see her before I send her away.”
“Yes, send the spider back to her web,” she said, thinking of the last time she’d spoken with Claudia and the woman’s glee over Quintus’s near-death in the arena.
“As you wish, Domina.” Felix was almost to the edge of the garden when Adiona called him back. The other matrons usually respected her long-established perimeter of privacy. If Claudia intruded without an invitation, there might be an emergency.
Adiona met Claudia in a large reception room near the front of the villa. “Thank the gods it’s warm in here,” Claudia said, handing Felix her palla. “The north winds have blown in early this year. I thought I’d freeze waiting on your doorstep.”
“I don’t think the gods deserve the credit,” Adiona said, trying to ignore the other woman’s sickly sweet perfume. “Whoever the genius was that invented the hypocaust deserves your thanks. Without the hot water running beneath the floor and the steam rising between the walls, we’d all need to head south for the winter.”
A maid entered the room with a tray of fruit and cups of warm lemon water.
“What brings you here, Claudia?” Adiona asked once the matron lowered her rotund form into a chair near one of the shuttered windows. “I trust all is well.”
Claudi
a sipped water from a rare blue glass cup. “That’s for you to tell me. You’ve been gone for weeks. Rumors are running rampant about you, yet there’s been nary a word from your camp to refute them.” The spider peered over the rim at Adiona. “Isn’t it about time you cleared the air? It wouldn’t be prudent to let people think you’ve gone soft.”
Adiona arched an eyebrow. She didn’t need advice from her rival. Her steward kept spies all over the city to keep her informed of Rome’s current events and latest scandals, but she found she lacked the interest to care about matters that now seemed trivial. “What gossip do you mean, Claudia?”
“Well,” she said, setting down her cup. “There’s a full-blown scandal about you and Salonius Roscius. He told everyone you were on the cusp of agreeing to wed him.”
“Lying mongrel,” Adiona snorted, making no attempt to hide her disgust for the man who’d conspired to murder her. “As if I’d be desperate enough to wed that flea-bitten hound.”
“That’s what I told everyone,” Claudia said in a commiserative tone that belied the calculation in her eyes. “You’ve made it clear you’ll never remarry. And since I saw how enamored you were with that gladiator in the arena, I knew love wasn’t clouding your vision enough to draw you to Salonius.”
Schooling her features to betray none of her inner turmoil, Adiona sat back in her chair. The gossip concerning Salonius was an irritant much like the incessant buzzing of a fly, but if anyone spoke an ill word about Quintus she refused to be held responsible for her actions.
“When we all heard you were accosted like some common street wench—”
“Where did you hear of the matter? No one knew about the attack outside of a few who’d never prattle about me.”
Claudia grew thoughtful. “I don’t know where the rumor began, if truth be told. It…it just was. Salonius meant to murder you. When that plot failed, maybe he started the scandal as an attempt to discredit you instead.”
The explanation seemed plausible. A few well-placed rumours was all it took to spark a wildfire. Adiona picked up her cup and sipped the hot, lemon water. “What I don’t understand is why Salonius wished me dead in the first place.”