Praise for Lyn Randal
WARRIOR OR WIFE

‘…a highly sensuous tale of courage and enduring love set in the splendour of ancient Rome. Lyn Randal’s WARRIOR OR WIFE is an absolute must-read for those who love gladiators!’

—Award-winning author Lyn Stone

‘A stunning debut…

From the bloodlust of the gladiatorial arena to the silken sheets of a Roman senator’s couch, Lyn Randal’s story weaves a powerful and ancient magic.’

—RITA® Award winner and bestselling author Gayle Wilson

‘Randal’s Rome is an exciting, colourful place, where politics merge with the bloodlust of the arena and a proud Roman senator defies all for the love of a gladiatrix.’

—RT Book Reviews

Lucan smiled, and it reached all the way to his beautiful fiery eyes. ‘Let’s get married.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I’m completely serious. You need to save the inn. I need a wife.’

‘But we’ve already…Lucan, we’ve been through this before.’

‘No. It’s not the same offer as before.’

Severina eyed him suspiciously. ‘It’s not?’

‘No. I’m not offering a true marriage. This would be in name only. A business relationship between you and me to solve both our problems.’

‘A business relationship? No…?’

‘Business only, Severina. Without obligation to fulfil those embarrassingly intimate conjugal duties.’

Severina drew in a long breath.

‘Unless you want to…’

Conquered And Seduced
Lyn Randal

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LYN RANDAL grew up on a farm in rural Mississippi, where long, hot summers away from school and friends meant entertaining herself with books and her own imagination. Now, years later, she lives on a farm in rural Alabama, where long, hot summers mean entertaining herself with—you guessed it!—more books and an even bigger imagination. She considers herself rather fortunate that her husband, two children, two cats and one dog have all become quite accustomed to her strange writing habits, hardly noticing that she mutters odd lines of dialogue while doing household chores, or disappears to take over the computer for hours on end, sometimes even managing to avoid huge mountains of laundry in the process.

Lyn especially enjoys the research that goes into writing historical novels, and she loves hearing from her readers. Contact her by visiting her website: www.lynrandal.com

Novels by Lyn Randal:

WARRIOR OR WIFE

TEMPTED BY INNOCENCE

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Chapter One

It was a fine day for a fight.

Cassia Severina’s brow furrowed as her fist tightened around the hem of a skilfully woven stola.

A fine day for a fight, indeed, with its hint of spring and warm breezes that had drawn a crowd to this busy marketplace, and if the fierce-looking matron who held the other corner of the garment thought to intimidate her, then she, Cassia Severina, who’d faced far more formidable opponents in the Amphitheatre, who’d once killed two lionesses and a bear, who—

The sow-faced matron growled, ‘Let go. It’s mine. I saw it first.’

‘No. I was first to lay hands on it. You were still halfway across the market when I took it up.’

The woman whose wares were flung across the table stepped forwards. ‘It’ll belong to whoever pays me the coin for it first. Rip it, and you’ll lay out the full price!’

‘Let go,’ threatened the sow.

‘I will not,’ Severina said, equally adamant. ‘I mean to have it. It’s to be a wedding garment.’

Ariadne stepped forwards in a graceful motion and placed a gentle hand on Severina’s fist. ‘It’s all right, mistress,’ she murmured. ‘There are other lovely gowns here. Any will suit.’

Severina hesitated. ‘I want this one for you, Ariadne. The material is fine and the embroidery’s exquisite. Besides, it’s the only one with the extra length you need.’

Ariadne smiled and Severina was, as always, startled by the perfection of her slave girl’s appearance. Ariadne was truly a beauty. And for her coming union with the man she loved, Ariadne deserved the loveliest stola in all of Rome.

‘Leave the gown,’ Ariadne murmured again, her slim fingers pulling at Severina’s to loosen her grip. ‘I’ll be happy with any other, or even with those I already own.’ Her eyes met those of her mistress, her expression soft and happy. ‘Am I not soon to be wife to Orthrus? And is he not the most extraordinary of men?’

She lowered her voice. ‘As much as I appreciate your kindness to me, mistress, I can’t help but fear for that poor matron. She has no idea of your skill at combat or how easily she’d be overcome. It wouldn’t be fair.’

The sow didn’t quite hear the whispered exchange, but her eyes narrowed in approval when Severina reluctantly released the garment.

‘Glad you’ve seen some sense, girl,’ the heavy woman said with a smirk. ‘I did see it first.’

Severina stared at her adversary, feeling the hot blood surge as it had done in the past when she’d stood, a fearless gladiatrix, before the crowds cheering in the Flavian Amphitheatre. Almost she could feel the hilt of a gladius against her palm. Almost she wished for the sharp, metallic clang of blade against blade.

Too bad those days were behind her.

Severina had little doubt that if the arrogant woman facing her across the swath of fabric could see her arrayed in battle gear, poised for combat, she’d not be so smug.

Severina spun around and moved away before she could act on her baser urges. She was, she reminded herself, no longer fighting in the Amphitheatre.

She owned her own business now. Her image was that of a cultured gentlewoman. She must consider her inn and the affluent clients who chose it for its quiet refinement.

It would hardly do for her to welcome them at the door nursing a black eye and bruised lip.

‘Well done,’ Ariadne said when they’d moved out of earshot. ‘Your restraint shows what a well-bred lady you truly are.’

‘Hardly. For long moments there, I wished heartily for a weapon in my hand.’

The younger woman laughed. ‘Well, forget about it. Just look around, stretching before us—table after table of exotic things! Wares from Germania and Egypt and Britannia and Gaul…’ Ariadne made a happy sound. ‘Doesn’t it fill you with wonder?’

In truth, it did. Every time Severina entered the three massive stone arches that marked the entrance to the marketplace, the wonder seized her.

‘Some day I’ll come here and buy whatever I want,’ Ariadne said wistfully. ‘Maybe I’ll even buy your wedding garment, mistress.’

Severina’s laughter was a little too bright. ‘You’ll probably earn your freedom long before I’ll need one of those.’

‘Then it really is over between you and Master Lucan?’

‘It is.’

Ariadne sighed. ‘That’s too bad. He’s a fine-looking man, and a kind one. I thought he loved you very much. When he bought Orthrus and Juvenal and me to serve you, he told us you were a special woman. And his eyes shone with such feeling, I knew he was in love with you.’

Severina looked away. If she thought too deeply about Lucan, her eyes might fill with tears. She’d been the one to end their relationship, but that didn’t mean she didn’t sometimes regret the loss. No wonder Ariadne didn’t understand; sometimes she didn’t, either.

She hadn’t been prepared for a man like Lucan. As handsome as a god with golden skin, sun-streaked tawny hair and curiously slanted green-gold eyes, Lucan could walk past women and make them sigh. He’d certainly snatched her own breath away the moment she’d first seen him, swinging with sensual grace out of the door of the granary on Donatus’s farm. His lean, muscular body had whispered promises that made her pulse beat faster. Those beautiful, perfectly shaped lips curved into a smile that showed white teeth and deepened the dimple in his left cheek. And his eyes had lit with hot, male interest.

She’d been captivated.

Normally wary of men, she’d been drawn to him. And Lucan had closed in, an experienced male hunter with the unerring ability to sense a woman’s longing.

But he’d been gentle with her, and that was her undoing. Their time had been a dream of sweetness and yearning. With tenderness he had edged past her fears. With patience he had slipped through her defences. She loved him before she knew.

The dream ended when he had asked her to marry him. But sometimes, like now, the loss of him still hurt.

Ariadne didn’t notice Severina’s distress. ‘It’s too bad you couldn’t work things out with Master Lucan,’ the slave said. ‘I’d give anything if you could find the same happiness I’ve found with Orthrus.’

A commotion captured their attention before Severina could reply. Juvenal was hurrying their way, red-faced, heedless of the annoyance he caused as shoppers were jostled and pushed aside before him. ‘Mistress!’ he called when he saw her. ‘Hold up!’

He breathed hard by the time he reached her.

‘Orthrus says you must come home right now,’ he gasped, already pulling her towards the grand arches at the entrance. ‘Come, mistress. Come now.’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know, but Orthrus said to hurry.’

Severina felt Ariadne’s anxious glance.

‘All right,’ Severina said. ‘Lead the way.’

The censor Marcus Terentius sipped fruited wine and smiled at Severina. ‘Nice,’ he said, nodding. ‘Good wine. Glassware from…hmmm…Alexandria, I believe.’ He traced a finger over the rim. ‘You have excellent taste, for a woman.’

Severina’s eyes narrowed.

He glanced around the room. ‘Not just in wine, either. The furnishings here are equally tasteful. Silk pillows from the East. Fur blankets from…Britannia, maybe? Cedar from Lebanon. All luxurious, beautiful…and expensive.’ He eyed her with grudging respect. ‘You chose these things yourself?’

Severina had indeed shopped carefully to get the finest items for the least cost, but she wasn’t impressed now with the man’s flattery. He was here for something and her instincts screamed that she be wary.

‘I made the purchases,’ she said. ‘Livius Lucan owns the inn, of course, but he allows me great liberty in the daily operation of it. I buy the furnishings. He pays for them.’

The censor’s wheeze of laughter seemed out of place. ‘Of course. And why not, when you have such a fine eye?’

There seemed more than a hint of sarcasm in the words. Severina searched his thin face. ‘I do my best.’

‘Your best hasn’t been sufficient, however. Not in every respect.’ The censor took a long, slow sip of his drink, taking obvious delight in drawing out the tension while she puzzled over his words.

He finally met her gaze. ‘A person doing business in Rome should be aware of the laws pertinent to that business, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then you’re aware that no young, unmarried woman such as yourself is allowed to possess property of her own. Despite your claims that you’re not the owner of this establishment, there are others, quite a few others, who say differently. And it’s odd, you know, that I can’t find any paperwork to substantiate Livius Lucan’s ownership.’

Severina fought to remain calm. ‘Then you must look again. The information was quite properly submitted. Emperor Trajan gave the property to Senator Flavius Donatus in return for his loyal service in the Dacian war. And he—’

‘Oh, I know that much. Those who requested the investigation into your ownership of this property didn’t deny any of that.’

Somebody had requested an investigation of her? Who ?

She lifted her chin. ‘Then you should also know that Flavius Donatus sold it Livius Lucan. They served together in Dacia and are close friends.’

‘This information is not what I was told. I was told you received the property from Flavius Donatus. That you’re his wife’s bosom friend and the senator gifted you with this property at his wife’s request.’

Severina didn’t answer.

‘If Livius Lucan is indeed the owner, there’s no record of it,’ the censor went on. ‘Further, all witnesses questioned so far have been amazingly consistent. They all say you’re the owner and that Livius Lucan is nowhere to be seen.’

Lucan was nowhere to be seen because it hurt too much.

‘Perhaps you should look through the records again,’ she said cooly.

‘My search was quite thorough.’

Severina didn’t answer.

The censor set down his wine glass with a slight thump. ‘I’ll find out the truth, Cassia Severina. If you’re breaking the law, I will see this property wrested from you. You’ll be prosecuted to the fullest extent possible.’

‘Life as a bureaucrat must have little entertainment, if this is all you do with your time.’

‘It’s a matter of principle.’ His eyes narrowed sharply. ‘I’m a proud Roman and good at my job. I uphold the laws and put the interests of her citizens first.’

Her male citizens, Severina thought.

‘It angers me that women like you flout our laws. Their profits rightfully belong to fathers and husbands, to men of skill and intelligence.’

Those who don’t spend it on drink and prostitutes.

‘Women with money are too independent. They don’t need marriage. They don’t want husbands and children. They scorn the virtues that lend a woman worth.’

Severina put a hand to her lips to hold in the hot words. She was only too familiar with the ideal of womanhood that most Roman men cherished, someone fertile and docile. A meek child bride who allowed herself to be used hard in the marriage bed and birthed a child every year. One who admired her husband’s accomplishments, but had few of her own.

‘You’re being very quiet,’ the censor said with a smug expression. ‘You’ve nothing to say in your defence?’

‘Only what I said before. Livius Lucan owns this inn.’

‘Then I hope, for your sake, that he’ll be able to substantiate that claim. For if he cannot, I will make an example out of you.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘It’s a promise.’ The censor’s lips twisted cruelly. ‘There’ll be a hearing, of course, and witnesses will testify. If you’re telling the truth, you’ve nothing to fear. But if you’ve lied, I will take you down.’

He glanced around the room. ‘This really is a lovely place, you know. If you lose it, it won’t be hard to find a man interested in it.’

Severina sucked in a hard breath. So that was the game? He’d confiscate her inn and sell it for his own gain?

‘You’re despicable.’

The man’s laughter was not pleasant. ‘You’ve no idea.’

It was a nightmare. Surely. Just a bad dream.

But it wasn’t. The censor still stood before her, looking around the room as if he owned it already.

‘The hearing’s in three weeks,’ he said, handing her a parchment bearing the details and a large, official-looking seal. ‘Do be on time. I’m a busy man. I don’t like to be kept waiting.’

Of course you wouldn’t, you greasy fat cat, Severina thought as she watched him leave. You want to crush as many poor, struggling women as you can before the day’s done.

She stood for a moment in rank confusion, unsure of her next move. Was this a simple misunderstanding or was there something—someone—far more insidious involved? Severina chewed her lip and considered. Had her past caught up with her? Was it time to leave Rome and move on?

Five years. She’d run for five years, but her old enemy hadn’t caught her yet. She’d begun to feel safe, to build a new life, to imagine a settled existence.

True, she’d had a few twinges of doubt when Donatus had given her the inn. To work in the public made her uneasy, but she’d needed the income and owning a business of her own had been the fulfilment of her dreams.

The chances of being discovered had seemed small. She’d changed drastically from the thin, pale-faced girl she’d been when she’d left her past behind at age fifteen, and Rome was a vast city with a population of millions. But had her luck now played out? She couldn’t be sure.

Severina pivoted sharply, calling for Ariadne. ‘My palla,’ she said in response to the younger woman’s anxious question. ‘And please find Orthrus to accompany me. I must go to Lucan.’

Chapter Two

‘I should warn you,’ Orthrus said, slanting his dark gaze towards Severina as they neared Lucan’s apartment. ‘Master Lucan’s changed. He’s not the same as before.’

Severina heard the slight censure in her slave’s voice, but ignored it. Her slaves remained on good terms with Lucan, and Orthrus visited him often.

‘How is he different?’

‘You know how much his faith meant to him? How he’d become a leader among the Christians here in Rome? He’s turned away from that now. He doesn’t attend their meetings. He doesn’t talk about their God. I don’t think he even prays.’

Severina halted in the street. ‘Lucan’s no longer a Christian? But he was…’

‘So faithful? Yes. But in losing you, he lost that, too.’

This news shook Severina. Lucan’s faith had mattered to him. It had been the bedrock of his life even before they’d met. It had once rescued him from a dissolute life, leading him away from strong drink and women, leading him towards peace and purpose.

Lucan’s Christian faith had mattered to her, too. Because of it, he’d cared for her differently from all the women of his past, building their love on a foundation of trust rather than desire.

But Lucan no longer believed? How could that be?

‘You’re blaming me, Orthrus?’

‘No, mistress,’ he said. ‘I’m saying only that a lot of things changed for him after you left.’

Orthrus did blame her. She could see it in his eyes. Or perhaps her imagination played tricks, making her feel guilty—again.

She pushed the feeling aside. She didn’t have time to consider all her reasons for ending the relationship with Lucan.

It hadn’t been her fault that love had caught her by surprise. She’d never meant to lose herself to those fierce, sweet emotions. She shouldn’t have ignored the risks, but she’d foolishly wanted to be happy for just a little while.

And Lucan had made her happy. As sunny in personality as in appearance, he found humour everywhere and made her laugh. He cherished her, listened to her, valued her opinions and forced her to question her distrust of strong men, teaching her by his example that true strength in a man was sometimes very gentle.

But he’d wanted to marry her. He loved her. He was serious about it. He’d never offered marriage to any other woman.

He meant to hold her for ever, and Severina had been forced to face reality. Anxiety choked her happiness. All her memories, all her old fears found life again.

She’d fought hard for her independence, but a husband would own her. In the eyes of society and the law, Lucan could demand her complete obedience, and that thought filled her with unreasonable panic.

There were other reasons, too. Reasons that clawed at her from the past, reminding her that she must be careful of men and especially those who valued religion too much. Even something as valuable as faith could be a weapon in the wrong hands.

‘Master Lucan hasn’t completely returned to his old ways,’ Orthrus said. ‘He’s been seeing women socially, but I don’t think he’s been intimate with any of them. Maybe he’d like to, but…’ Orthrus glanced at his mistress ‘…his heart’s not ready and so it hasn’t worked out.’

‘Orthrus, please…’ Severina began walking again, as if to lead Orthrus away from the topic. To think of Lucan still hurt. To think of him with other women hurt more.

‘He hasn’t been drinking much, though,’ Orthrus said, quickly falling into pace beside her. ‘He got drunk only once, the same night you…but that was understandable.’

‘Let’s not discuss this.’

Orthrus ignored her. ‘Instead, he’s working all the time. Like a madman. He sleeps little, doesn’t eat well…he’s driving himself into the ground.’

Severina looked away. ‘Which apartment?’ she asked, indicating the long row before them with a slight jerk of her head.

During her time with Lucan, he’d lived with their mutual friends Donatus and Lelia, but he’d moved out after Severina ended the relationship. She’d been relieved at the time, unwilling to see him. And now…?

‘This way,’ Orthrus said. ‘Follow me.’

Nobody answered their repeated knocking at Lucan’s door. Orthrus swore softly. They’d walked a long distance, but Lucan wasn’t home.

‘It’s all right,’ Severina said. ‘We’ll come back tomorrow.’

‘Wait. Maybe I know where to find him. He’s bought a run-down property nearby. He’s probably there, directing the labourers who are restoring it.’

Severina’s eyebrows rose. ‘Lucan’s doing that?’

Orthrus smiled. ‘He’s shown a talent for it. Come, I’ll show you.’

He led Severina back the way they’d come, steering her left and through a maze of streets until they approached a dwelling that had once been a ramshackle building, its yard overgrown with weeds and covered with debris. Severina now gaped at the change in the property. In place of the ugly old building stood an attractive new one. The cluttered and weed-strewn lot had been replaced by a paved courtyard, complete with a fountain and lush plantings. Even now workmen were setting out trees and shrubs, sweating in the growing heat.

Her gaze immediately found the one labourer whose muscular back she recognised, and whose familiar lean hips and legs worked powerfully as he and another man struggled to lower a tree into a hole in the ground.

Lucan.

‘More to the left,’ she heard him say. ‘Centre it, Maro. That’s it. Now set it down. We’ll let Catulus cover the root ball. He’s got the shovel.’

Severina watched in abject fascination as Lucan straightened and grinned happily at Maro, his smile dazzling. And then, as if he sensed her presence like she’d sensed his, his eyes found her.

Their gazes locked.

For a moment, neither could move or speak. The entire universe narrowed to the short distance between them.

Lucan was the first to break the gaze. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to Maro, gesturing towards Orthrus and Severina. ‘It looks like I’m being summoned away. Buteo will help you.’

The other man nodded. Lucan turned, hesitating almost imperceptibly before he came towards her.

Like one in a dream, she noticed that he wiped dirt from his large hands against his coarse tunic, that there was a faint rasp of his callused skin as he shook hands with Orthrus.

She marvelled that Lucan showed respect to the slave, but it was like him to do that. Just as he was one of the few Romans who’d be out here sweating alongside his hired labourers.

‘Severina,’ he said.

The one word, softly spoken, almost a sigh.

He clasped her shoulders in both hands before giving her the customary greeting of friendship, a light, quick kiss to first one cheek and then the other. ‘Why have you come?’

She had trouble finding words with his heat so close, with his hand still firm on her shoulder, searing her skin even through the cloth of her palla. She was devastated by his nearness, by the masculine scent that enveloped her, by the startling golden light in his eyes and the shimmer of sunlight in the blond streaks of his shoulder-length, honeycoloured hair.

‘I need you.’ The words rushed out before she thought.

Amusement made him unbearably attractive. His grin flashed, deepening the dimple in his cheek. He pressed his palm to his chest, drawing her attention down to the lean, tanned fingers splayed against hard muscle and bone there. ‘Be still, my heart,’ he groaned, winking at Orthrus. ‘For I can hardly assuage a lady’s passion here in this public place.’

Severina’s face flamed at Orthrus’s laughter, low and undeniably male. ‘That is not my need,’ she said in her haughtiest tone.

‘My apologies, then,’ Lucan said, sketching a slight bow. ‘But a man can always hope, can’t he?’

And there was hope in his gaze, flickering to life within the golden-flecked light.

No, no! Don’t do this to me, Lucan. I can hardly bear it.

‘A censor came to the inn this morning,’ she said. ‘He’s investigating the ownership of the inn.’

Lucan shrugged. ‘So? Let him investigate. I own the inn; he’ll discover that soon enough.’

‘But that’s the problem. He says there’s nothing to substantiate your claim. No paperwork to prove you’re the titular owner, and…’ she drew in a deep breath ‘…many witnesses who’ll testify that I am. He’s threatening to make an example of me.’

Lucan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who is this censor? What’s his name?’

‘Marcus Terentius.’

‘Not good.’

Orthrus frowned. ‘Why?’

‘He’s formidable. The most corrupt official in all of Rome, known for ruthlessness, vicious to anyone who stands in his way.’

Severina began to fear. ‘But we can defeat him, can’t we, Lucan? You have the documentation to prove your legal claim to the inn, don’t you?’

She breathed again when he nodded.

‘It’s back at my apartment.’ Lucan glanced towards the men working behind him. ‘Let me tell these others to break for lunch while we walk there together.’

Severina was afraid. Lucan knew it.

He studied her now as she walked between him and Orthrus, worry evident in her eyes and in the tight, anxious line of her body.

He’d long made a study of her. It was habitual, once his favoured pastime. Since his religious beliefs had denied him the intimacy of her body until marriage, he’d focused instead on knowing every other thing about her. He had memorised the lilt and cadence of her speech, the way sunlight brought fire to her chestnut hair, the sultry lowering of her dark eyelashes when desire coursed through her cool grey eyes.

Such intimacy with a woman had been a new experience for one who’d made a careless sport of sex in his pre-Christian days. Chastity had been the most demanding challenge of his lifetime, but with Severina, he’d deliberately chosen it. She would not be like the others.

Slowly he’d come to understand the reasons why the God of his faith demanded it. Sexual intimacy was fairly easy, but often deceptive. It was in the waiting that one began to truly know a lover, without the interference of carnal desire. It fostered deep emotional intimacy, the only foundation strong enough for the mating bond of a lifetime.

To his great sorrow, Lucan hadn’t achieved that lifetime bond. But he’d learned Severina and knew her. Walking at her side now and feeling her tension, he was keenly aware of her fear and desperate to ease it.

‘Thank you for your help,’ she said quietly. ‘I was worried you wouldn’t be willing.’

He stopped in the street. He lifted his hand to cradle her jaw, holding her in place with a gentle, familiar touch. Surprise came into her eyes. Her lips parted; she struggled to breathe. She tried to look away, but Lucan held her gaze. He wondered if she could see in his expression how much he wanted to kiss her.

‘Of course I’ll help you,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The inn is our joint responsibility, one I willingly agreed to shoulder with you. I’ll always be here if you need me.’

My love.

He almost added the words by habit. Were they still true? He wasn’t sure. Pain and hurt had confused him. He was pleased that he’d caught the words in time, but he couldn’t halt the surge of emotion that accompanied them.

There was a long moment of silence.

‘Trust me,’ he said, dropping the hand that ached to caress her skin. ‘No matter what’s passed between us, I’ll never let that censor take the inn from you.’

She swallowed hard. ‘Thank you. I do trust you, Lucan.’

‘Do you?’ His eyes searched her face. They both knew he spoke of more than the inn and the urgency of the moment. Confusion came into her eyes and in that confusion, Lucan understood how little their relationship had changed. There was still something deep within her that he didn’t understand, something holding her back. Maybe Severina had come to him, but she hadn’t come for him.

Angry at his own eager dreams, Lucan stepped away, putting distance between them before he made a fool of himself.

‘Come,’ he said. ‘The sooner we find those documents, the sooner the censor’s plans are overturned.’

They reached his apartment and went inside. Severina sat quietly beside Orthrus while Lucan searched through every record he owned. He was methodical to a fault; in his business dealings, he was unfailingly careful and organised, with everything catalogued neatly and in strict chronological order. The documentation for every other piece of property he owned, all were in their proper places, everything except for the one vital piece of documentation Severina needed. Only that one thing was missing.

Chapter Three

By the time Donatus and Lucan left the censor’s office the following day, the sun was high and blazed hot. They talked little as they headed to a nearby popina for a cool drink and food.

‘You want wine?’ Donatus asked as they made their way towards the counter where delicious smells wafted from clay jars set into the stone surface. ‘They have good wine here, laced with honey and herbs for a flavour different from most.’

Lucan rubbed tension from the back of his neck. ‘No, not wine. Ask if they have beer. I need something more robust.’

Donatus nodded and Lucan moved away to find a table. It was well past mid-day so the place wasn’t crowded. Even so, he hardly noticed the few people who came and went. His mind was restless and disturbed after the interview they’d just had with the censor.

Donatus returned with food and drink. He set it before Lucan and watched as his friend bit into his bread.

‘What’s this?’ he asked. ‘Not going to thank your god before you eat it?’

‘No.’

‘But you always do that.’

‘I don’t do it now.’

Donatus shrugged, hearing the low growl of warning in his friend’s voice. ‘All right. Whatever you say.’

He took up his own small circular loaf, pinched off a generous portion and dipped it into warm broth. ‘That censor made you angry, didn’t he?’

‘Furious.’

‘I thought for a moment there you might slam your fist into his face.’

‘I considered that. Among other things.’

‘Yes. As did I.’

‘He’s after her, Donatus. And we can’t prove anything, not with both our copies of the transaction completely gone—stolen, no doubt. But why Severina? Why her inn of all those in this city?’

‘He’s a predator. He goes after properties owned by poor Romans who can’t afford a legal defence, or foreigners, or women. But I thought he’d give up once we took up for her and he realised he’d have a fight on his hands.’

‘I’d hoped so, too.’

‘That part doesn’t make sense. I know he’s in good with the Emperor because he contributes much to Trajan’s coffers. But I’m a senator with powerful friends, and I’m also privy to the Emperor. Trajan was the one who gave me the inn to begin with, and I can call witnesses who’ll swear that I sold it to you. So why is Terentius pursuing Severina? I have a hard time believing he hates the thought of a successful woman so much.’

‘Maybe it was the amount of the sale that made him suspicious. Two sesterces? Maybe you shouldn’t have sold it to me for so little.’

‘It was mine to sell for any amount I chose. The price was a fair one since you’d risked your life to help protect my wife and find my son.’

‘Not to mention that the inn was a fairly sordid place when I took ownership. Don’t forget that.’

Donatus grimaced. ‘How could I? I got the dubious honour of painting over that disgusting mural on the atrium wall.’

Lucan laughed. ‘Can you imagine if Lelia had seen that? Or Severina, who once told me her skin crawled just knowing the place had once been a brothel? She might have refused to take it at all if she’d seen that mural and its lurid contents. But wouldn’t it be nice if all men were as well endowed as those in the paintings?’

‘Yes, and all women as well.’ Donatus laughed softly. He took another bite of his food. ‘The place looks vastly different now.’

‘Yes, it’s stunning. Few inns can match it in either opulence or comfort. Severina has a rare gift.’

‘No wonder the censor wants it.’

‘I’m not totally convinced he wants it,’ Lucan said quietly. ‘But he knows the one who does. So maybe he’s doing the dirty work in a way that won’t be questioned for somebody who’s paying him under the table. But who? It could be anybody.’

Both men were silent for a while, chewing their food and washing it down with beer. ‘So what are we going to do?’ Donatus said finally. ‘The inn’s not lost yet. We have some options. No good ones, but options none the less.’

Lucan drew in a deep breath.

He’d thought of one option that was a good one. One way that would absolutely work, without question, without challenge.

‘I’ll give you money,’ Donatus said. ‘There’ll be lawyers to pay for, and they cost—’

‘No.’

‘Look, I know you’ve got your pride. But if you can buy off that greedy bastard to give Severina a chance at a decent future, then—’

‘I don’t need your money, Donatus. I have my own. And besides that, there’s an even better way.’

Donatus eyed him suspiciously. ‘You won’t do something foolish, will you? The man does surely deserve a dire fate, but I don’t want to see you in gaol because of garbage like him.’

Lucan pushed away his now-empty plate. ‘I’m not going to gaol. I’m going to marry Severina.’

Donatus stared at Lucan incredulously for a moment, then laughed. ‘That’s perfect,’ he said. ‘The censor couldn’t do anything to either of you then. Not one damned thing.’

‘No.’

‘But sweet gods above…How are you going to talk Severina into that?’

Lucan met his friend’s half-amused, half-worried gaze. ‘That’s the part I haven’t worked out yet.’

Donatus looked up at the ceiling, studying its dark beams for a moment with a curiously gentle smile on his lips. He shook his head as he took up his beer. ‘Lucan, I’ve been your friend for a long time. I’ve ridden with you and wielded a sword with you and suffered through fevers with you. I’d probably even march through the land of the dead with you. But if you’re truly serious about marrying Severina, then…’ he gulped down a big swallow and set his goblet down with a thump ‘…this time, you’re on your own.’

Lucan nodded, knowing he’d never faced a more serious challenge. He’d never been more likely to come out wounded and battered. But…hell. The risk would be worth it if he succeeded.

And Lucan fully intended to succeed.

The afternoon shadows were lengthening by the time Lucan made his way home through a city bustling with life. He wended through the vendors of the Forum Holitorium, only half-aware of the chaos all around him because of the chaos within.

He’d made a hasty decision and spoken it aloud to Donatus before he’d thought.

It seemed the right thing at the time; Lucan was rarely ambivalent. He’d learned in battle to follow his instincts to clear, decisive action. Warriors who were too careful often missed the advantage of the moment, and losing an advantage meant losing lives.

But Lucan was no longer on a battlefield where men with weapons faced others in a straightforward and fair fight.

Love was anything but a straightforward and fair fight, and he now questioned whether he’d been momentarily insane to consider marriage with Severina.

Did he still love her, then?

No. Her rejection had gone bone-deep.

His love had not been shallow or self-serving. At the time, he’d believed it strong enough to withstand a lifetime of challenges, changes, joys and griefs.

But deep hurt seared emotion like a heated brand seared nerves and flesh, and so it had been for him. He was no longer angry. He didn’t want to retaliate or hurt Severina in return.

He’d like to say that he felt nothing, but that wasn’t true. He felt sadness. A lingering, bittersweet melancholy, as when summer gave way to autumn or a brave adversary fell in battle.

Yes, he felt sadness. Even in his dreams, he sometimes still mourned Severina’s loss.

Surprisingly, he’d dreamed of her often in recent weeks, usually following an evening in another woman’s company. That had startled him, made him uneasy, pierced him with guilt.

Until he admitted the truth. His desire for Severina still lived, perhaps the one emotion untouched by everything painful between them.

The lust didn’t actually surprise him. In another time, lust had been his most practised, most cherished sin.

To think of Severina without desire was impossible. He’d loved her and he’d wanted her. The two emotions had naturally gone together. He hadn’t consummated the desire for reasons he deemed important at the time, but the urge had been intense just the same.

Now maybe love had died, but the lust remained, as strong and pure as ever, mocking him with what he’d never taken, tormenting him with questions he couldn’t answer. What would it have been like to sheath himself in Severina? What was her most intimate smell…her taste? How would she have sounded at the pinnacle of passion, her cries mingling with his own rasping breath?

If he married her, he might yet know those answers. But lust by itself wasn’t a good reason to marry someone.

As for himself, he was now thirty years old. It was time he settled down, became domestic, sired children. But even now he couldn’t imagine himself in such a life with anyone but Severina.

He’d prefer that his wife love him, but marriage without love happened all the time to men of his class. His father, bearing down on him with all the authority of the pater familias, had mentioned several times the possibility of an arranged marriage in Lucan’s near future.

By marrying Severina, perhaps he’d satisfy everyone. He’d make his parents happy with heirs to secure his family’s holdings. He’d have a wife of his own choosing.

All afternoon long he waited for the cool of evening to descend on the bustling city, deep thoughts churning within him. At long length the disquiet abated; resignation took over.

He could do it.

He could take Severina’s hand and pledge a lifetime of fidelity and kindness. He needed heirs. She needed her business. It was the only way.

But would she agree?

He’d have to put the facts plainly before her. Marriage was the most certain way to protect her claim. No man—not the censor, not even the Emperor himself—could debate Lucan’s ownership then. Roman law made the husband responsible for all: wife, children, property. He’d be undisputed lord and master in the eyes of any jury who judged.

Lord and master.

Those words rang hollow, though, when he thought of Severina. She wasn’t docile. She was stubborn and intelligent, no man’s lapdog. She’d be led only if she chose to be led, and about that Lucan had no illusions.

Independence was important to her. She held on to it as to a lifeline. She’d refused to give it up even for love, and he’d never been sure why.

His first proposal of marriage had ended their relationship.

He still wondered at her reasons, and he still had no answers.

Too late now. The past was done, water under a bridge and gone on to the sea, but he’d learned from his mistakes.

He’d be far more careful with Severina this time around. He’d not make any outright assault on her cherished independence. He’d let the idea of marriage sink in slowly, a sneak-thief who captured her inch by inch.

And he’d be far more careful with his own heart. He’d wed her, but he’d not be twice the fool.

Chapter Four

He had three weeks. The date of the hearing had already been set. Only three weeks.

Lucan tried to avoid feeling urgency as he made his way through the darkness to Severina’s inn, but that deadline sounded a subliminal, ominous note through his every thought.

Or maybe it was the wine. He’d had several large goblets. He wasn’t drunk, but he was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Maybe he shouldn’t be trying to think through his situation while in this unsteady state, but he’d decided on a plan of action. It was unusual, as daring as some of the cavalry manoeuvres for which he and Donatus had been known. Simple. Decisive. A punitive strike at the enemy censor while capturing the female prize so dearly held and closely guarded.

The thought of it made Lucan’s pulse quicken. He liked a challenge. He thrived on momentum—life or death, winner takes all.

He could win the inn for Severina, and Severina for himself. He would exploit his strengths.

It wasn’t vanity to acknowledge that he knew how to use his good looks and charm to woo her. It was the simple truth. Other men teased him about his skill with women. Some openly envied what Lucan merely accepted. To captivate females came easily to him. With little or no effort on his part, women of all ages watched him, smiled at him, gravitated towards him. Some immediately offered themselves. Those who didn’t could usually be persuaded. His was a magnetic, almost bewitching power.

He’d not always used it responsibly, but he’d always used it well. And if he’d been selfish, well…he’d also left a satisfied woman behind when the tide of passion receded.

The only woman with whom he’d shown any noble restraint had been Severina. By the time he met her, his Christian faith had changed him. Severina would be his chosen mate for life, not a plaything for a season. But the result hadn’t been satisfactory.

So now he’d resort to the tried and true. For him, it would be familiar ground; for Severina, it would be a surprise attack at night. Uncharted territory.

Lucan smiled into the darkness as he made his way through the almost-empty streets towards Severina’s neighbourhood. She’d long ago given him his own key to the building, and now he wanted to talk to her.

He’d wake her if she slept. To find her groggy with sleep and unguarded might suit nicely, and he was surprisingly eager to begin the game. The thought stirred his blood. Even addled as he was, he didn’t doubt he could hold his own.

What small sound alerted her, Severina wasn’t sure. She’d been dozing lightly, caught in sleep somewhere between the anxieties of her day and the desperate need to rest. But the moment she awoke, she knew something was wrong.

The house was quiet in an odd, abnormal way, all except for the fountain in the colonnaded atrium. It sang softly as always, its stone-faced Grecian woman pouring water from an amphora in an eternal attempt to fill the larger pool.

Severina lay still, listening intently. Did she imagine stealthy movements? Deliberate footsteps? Should she scream and wake her slaves? Should she hide?

Her heart pounded. She seemed unable to breathe. In the void of air, she heard a noise. The bump of a leather shoe against a table leg, followed by muffled sound as the intruder bit back a curse.

A stranger was in her home, not far from her bedroom. Anger surged through her, accompanied by a strong impulse to act. It occurred to her that this intrusion might be related to the censor’s visit. Somebody somewhere wanted this inn badly enough to frighten her. Or worse.

The moon was a mere sliver outside her window, giving scant light. It was difficult to see the objects in the room. She mentally scanned each wall, every corner, the tabletop on the other side of the room, the cupboard above it.

The cupboard. The household gods were inside it. Made of silver and bronze, they were heavy. She’d need something substantial to lay a man out cold, but any of those statuettes could do that, given her strength and training as a gladiatrix. She knew where to strike to kill.

She eased across the room, her bare feet twitching against the cold, smooth stone. The cupboard creaked open. It sounded loud, but so did her own heartbeat.

She had little time to choose and so was relieved when her hand closed around an idol of the perfect size and weight. She grabbed it and retreated soundlessly to a protected area behind the door to await the intruder.

As if summoned by her thoughts alone, the door to her bedroom pushed open and a man materialised, tall and muscular and garbed in a dark cloak.

He didn’t see her. His attention was focused on the bed. In another moment, he’d move closer to it and realise that no one lay there. She hefted her weapon and rushed forwards to crush his skull.

The man caught movement from the corner of his eye, gave a shout and threw up one hand. Severina realised who the attacker was the moment the bronze statuette in her hand fell forwards.

She couldn’t alter gravity, but she managed to twist, jerking her hand backwards enough to avoid killing Lucan. Or at least, she hoped she had.

He dropped hard and fast, blood spurting from the gash on his head. Her gorge rose in Severina’s throat at the thought of what she’d done.

‘Gods, be merciful,’ she prayed. She looked down at the idol she held, feeling strangely betrayed. She tossed it to the bed with a shudder, then hurried to light a lamp with shaking hands. She knelt beside Lucan, biting her lip as she tested the rapidly swelling lump on his skull. She bent and put her ear to his face. He was breathing.

‘What were you doing, sneaking into my bedroom like this?’ she murmured. ‘And you smell like wine! Are you drunk?’

The prone figure didn’t respond. She jumped up and ran out, across the atrium and up a stairway to the small room Ariadne shared with the cook.

By the time she and Ariadne returned with cool compresses, Lucan was beginning to stir and to groan.

She ran to him in utter relief. ‘Oh, Lucan. Oh, Lucan.’ She kept saying the words, making little sense and not caring that she didn’t.

‘Severina,’ he breathed. ‘You hit me?’

‘I thought you were an intruder.’

He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. ‘Just help me to a bed, will you? My head hurts like hell.’

Ariadne caught Severina’s hand. ‘He mustn’t go to sleep. I’m no physician, but I know that much. A head injury like this…he shouldn’t sleep.’

‘Don’t go to sleep, Lucan,’ Severina said. She helped him move to the bed.

He fell heavily on to the mattress. ‘Only if you’ll stay and talk to me.’ His lids half-lowered, his gaze slid to the slave. ‘None will accuse me of compromising your virtue, will they?’

‘Of course not,’ Ariadne said, tucking a pillow beneath his head. She didn’t seem to question Lucan’s presence in the room in the first place.

‘Then stay, Severina. Please.’

Severina nodded, suddenly aware that she stood barefoot in her thin nightclothes in a dimly lit room, with Lucan’s long body in the bed a few short feet away.

Ariadne placed the compress on Lucan’s brow. He winced at the slight pressure.

‘Don’t get up for a while,’ Ariadne ordered. ‘Don’t exert yourself, but don’t go to sleep, either. I’ll be back shortly with something for the pain.’

Lucan muttered assent. Severina stood rooted in place, suddenly unsure as Ariadne departed. Lucan lay against her pillows with his eyes closed, the wet compress plastered against his hair. He looked slightly pale, his hair damp, but otherwise he seemed strong and manly. Utterly attractive. She swallowed hard.

As if he sensed her indecision, he lifted a hand and beckoned her closer.

She stepped forwards. He opened his eyes. ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said. ‘That’s why I came. I couldn’t sleep and hoped maybe you’d still be awake.’

‘I was. That’s how I heard you. You’d be a terrible thief, you know that? You bumped around and made enough noise to wake the dead.’

Lucan’s low laughter warmed her. She realised suddenly how much she’d missed his wicked sense of humour.

‘I’d have been quieter if I’d known what lay in wait for me. God help me, I keep forgetting you were a gladiatrix. What did you hit me with, anyway?’

She picked up the bronze statuette and handed it to him. He studied it, fingering the distinctive diadem on the head of the idol, with its full sun hung between two tall horns of a cow.

‘Isis. I should’ve guessed. Protector of women. The irony does not escape me.’

His eyes found Severina’s again. ‘I didn’t know you worshipped the Egyptian goddess.’

‘I don’t. She was already in the house when I took—I mean, when you took—possession of it.’

‘This property is yours and you know it.’

‘But one slip like that in front of the wrong person and I’ll lose it for both of us, won’t I?’ Severina’s voice held a sharp edge.

Lucan struggled to sit up. ‘That’s what I came to talk to you about.’ He settled himself into a comfortable position higher against the pillows. ‘The hearing’s in three weeks, but I think we can do something in the meantime to strengthen our case.’

He smiled, and the smile reached all the way to his beautiful, fiery eyes. ‘Let’s get married.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I’m completely serious. You need to save the inn. I need a wife before my father chooses one for me.’

‘But we’ve already…Lucan, we’ve been through this before.’

‘No. It’s not the same offer as before.’

Severina eyed him suspiciously. ‘It’s not?’

‘No. I’m not offering a true marriage. This would be in name only. A business relationship between you and me to solve both our problems.

‘A business relationship. No…?’

‘Business only, Severina. Without obligation to fulfil those embarrassingly intimate conjugal duties.’

Severina drew in a long breath.

‘Unless you want to,’ he added hopefully.

Severina snorted and crossed her arms. Lucan grinned at her. That grin made her stomach flutter.

Dear gods. She could hardly control her physical response to him. She certainly shouldn’t be considering marriage to him, even one made for convenience. But desperation did strange things to people, and she was desperate.

‘In name only. And only for a short time?’

‘Till divorce do us part.’

Severina’s frown deepened. She wanted to trust Lucan, but there was much to consider. And here alone with him in a dimly lit room, with his tall body stretched out in her bed, was hardly the time or place to consider all the implications.

‘I’ll give you your freedom the minute you ask for it,’ he said quietly. ‘When you want to leave, I’ll let go. But who can know the future? Maybe you’ll be happy with me. Maybe you’ll never ask to go. Maybe we’ll fall in love and make a dozen pretty little babies.’

Without thinking, Severina uttered a word she’d not even heard since her days in gladiatorial training. It was something no gently bred woman should have said.

Lucan’s laughter was genuine, and it held a quality that was almost sensual. Her body clenched at the sound, hot and burning. For a moment, Severina could only stare at him. He was washed in warm, golden lamplight that turned his tawny hair to a richer hue and softened the chiselled planes of his face. His pulse beat strong at the base of his neck and she suddenly wanted to feel its throb against her lips, mingling with the taste of his skin.

She knew in that moment there was no way she could marry him as a business arrangement, no way she could be near him and not want him as she wanted him now.

He didn’t seem to notice that she couldn’t breathe.

‘Let me sweeten the pot a little more,’ he said, his gaze becoming intent. ‘You know those improvements you’ve been wanting to make to the inn?’

She nodded.

‘Marry me, and I’ll see them done. My wedding gift to you.’

‘No.’ Severina shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Why not? This is a business arrangement…with very agreeable terms.’

‘It feels more like a bribe.’

Lucan spread his hands in supplication. ‘Maybe it is a bribe, but I need a wife and I don’t want anyone but you.’

‘Lucan—’

‘Severina, be logical. The censor can’t take your inn if we’re married. And those improvements would still be there for you long after I’m gone. Divorce me whenever you want, but keep the new and improved inn. You gain much and lose nothing. Think of that.’

Damn him. He’d known exactly which lure to dangle before her.

Silence stretched between them, tension mounting as each second ticked by.

Lucan stood and came to her. He raised a hand, but stopped just short of touching her as if he, too, sensed the power that would be unleashed with the contact. ‘Severina…’ he whispered into the hushed air.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she murmured, licking dry lips. She closed her eyes against the hard pulse of her drumming blood.

‘I can’t help wanting you,’ he whispered, his breath fanning warmth against the moisture her tongue had left on her lips. ‘I always have. I still do.’

He waited for her to respond, to open her eyes and look at him, but she didn’t dare. She knew what she’d see—Lucan, his eyes dark and intent, hunger in his lean, bronzed face. He would be as beautiful as sin, tempting her towards all the dark glories a man like him could give.

She did not look. Her eyes remained closed, but her other senses heightened, expanding to fill the void. She felt his heat as his body came nearer and heard the whisper of his clothing as he moved. He slid one large, callused hand underneath the fall of her hair to caress the back of her neck. She was aware of the pad of every individual fingertip against her sensitive nape, the elegant curve of his hand as he held her there with the lightest of pressures. His clean scent twined around her, an essence of sunshine and fresh air, of warm and sensual man.

And then his lips came down on hers, gently at first, as if he teased her with softness.

Her answering whimper spoke of hunger as her hands clutched and held in the folds of his cloak, and his kiss deepened to satisfy the subtle urging that he somehow understood.

His mouth was hot and flavoured with wine; Severina’s heart hurt with yearning for the sweet familiarity of him. His tongue licked across the seam of her lips and she opened herself to him, rejoicing in his harsh groan as he took her and filled her with his taste.

It had been too long. She’d missed this, missed him. Her hands moved restlessly over his rough clothing, exulting in the feel of his muscled back beneath her palms, in the powerful strength of his arms and the silk of his tousled hair. His body was lean and hard and towered over her, enveloping her, heating her.

She was glad he’d missed her, too, glad for the powerful hands that moulded her buttocks and lifted her up and against him, glad for the startling friction of his hardened ridge against her core. She couldn’t breathe beneath such an onslaught of sensation.

When she thought she might die in the void of air, his mouth left hers and moved lower, burning a path of wet fire through the hollows of her neck, behind her ear, across her collarbone. He moved slowly, tantalising, tempting, teasing her into gasps and moans.

She was restless now, and needy. Her breasts ached with an unfamiliar heaviness, the peaks hard and thrusting forwards, beseeching his touch, begging for his lips.

The silver fibula that held her stola at the shoulder dropped to the floor near her feet. She barely noted its fall; Lucan’s hand closed around her breast and his mouth found the soft pink pebble of her bare nipple, shocking her with the intense, sweet pull into pleasure.

‘Oh!’ she gasped. ‘Oh, Lucan!’

Her hands left his shoulders and speared into his hair, clenching in the softness, holding him fettered so he couldn’t leave her and stop the laving that made her senseless, mindless, crazed with need.

‘I’m here,’ he murmured against her skin. ‘I won’t leave you.’

She whimpered and mewled, twisting in his arms until he lifted her and carried her the few feet to the bed. He placed her gently against the pillows and covered her with his weight and heat. The sheets were cool against her naked back, and Lucan’s mouth was like flowing lava across the swell and heave of her bosom.

‘You taste good,’ he whispered. ‘So sweet.’ And he circled his tongue around her areola and drew her aching nipple into his mouth again.

She writhed beneath him, her hips jerking and thrusting, her pubis pulsing hard against his. Need ravaged her. It made her wild, eager, beside herself with desire, not caring if he thought her shameless.

She gloried in sheer physical splendour, dizzy with longing, unable to find reason in the deluge of wanting. Her limbs trembled; her womb clenched with strange urgency and wept for more. Because it was Lucan. Because she’d missed him so…

A sound at the door caused Lucan to jerk away from her, flinging himself partially upright with a growled oath. He threw the bedclothes over Severina’s exposed breasts and shook his head when, still befuddled and confused, she tried to rise.

Ariadne coughed again, delicately, and rapped on the door frame before tentatively peering inside. ‘I brought an elixir for your pain, Master Lucan,’ she said. ‘It tastes awful, but works wonders for the headache. And here’s wine to follow it.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucan said, his voice amazingly steady. ‘Put it on the table. I’ll get to it in a minute.’

Ariadne slipped in and hurriedly did as directed, studiously keeping her eyes away from Lucan and from Severina, who lay rigid in the bed. Lucan kept his back to the slave, not wanting to shock her with his arousal. He raked one hand through his hair and rubbed tension from the back of his neck.

He exhaled deeply when Ariadne pulled the door closed behind her.

Severina left the bed immediately, retrieving her silver fibula from the floor so she could cover her nakedness.

‘Severina…’ Lucan’s voice was soft.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t apologise. Just…forget it.’

She felt his eyes on her as she tried to pin her garment together with hands that were shaking.

‘Here,’ he said, taking the fibula from her, pushing her nervous hands aside. ‘Let me do that.’

It made her angry that he could speak and act so calmly while she felt she’d been blown through a tempest. It made her angry that her breasts still tingled and that he seemed to know it, the back and side of his hands torturing her aching flesh as he pinned her garment into place. She made an exasperated sound and looked up to the ceiling until he finished.

She wasn’t angry with Lucan; she was angry with herself. What had she been thinking, to let desire carry her away like that? If they hadn’t been interrupted, she’d have given herself to him, and that would have been a disaster too deep for words.

If they hadn’t been interrupted, Severina would have given herself to him, and that would have been a triumph too perfect for words.

As it was, Lucan wanted to grin and crow with success; his first assault had gone better than expected. She remembered now how hot the fire had once blazed between them. Her guard lowered long enough to taste her hungers and that was good, one more reason to wed him. Desire wasn’t the best foundation for a lifetime, but it would do.

‘Aren’t you going to take your medicine?’ she said, gesturing towards the table. ‘Your head’s probably hurting.’

Ah, the old distraction trick…too simple, something he’d encountered enough times to recognise it right away. He held back a smile.

‘I’m hurting, all right. But my head’s the least of my worries.’

She glanced down at his arousal and flushed scarlet. She worried her lower lip with her teeth, a nervous gesture that suddenly had him imagining a pleasingly wicked scenario.

‘I didn’t mean for that to happen,’ she said, looking away. ‘It can’t happen again. Not if our marriage is to be for business only, without conjugal obligations.’

‘Then you’re agreeing to marry me?’

Her frown was fierce, but her hesitation was good news for him. At least she wasn’t rejecting his proposal outright.

‘I’m agreeing to think about it,’ she said finally. ‘I won’t be rushed into anything so important.’

‘I’m not rushing you. But the hearing’s in three weeks.’

‘I know that. You’ll have an answer before then.’

‘I’d rather have you before then.’

She glanced up sharply. She’d caught the undercurrent of sensual meaning, but he wouldn’t recant.

‘Can I trust you?’ she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing in appraisal. ‘We’re to have a business arrangement, but then you kiss me?’

‘You did not protest.’

She had the grace to blush.

He moved closer and took her gently into his arms. ‘I wish to understand you,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell me your fears, Severina, and I will fight them for you.’

He felt her slight shudder. ‘You can’t fight them, Lucan. I have to work them out for myself.’

He was silent for a moment, considering. ‘At least let me fight the censor for you.’

‘Of course. I can’t do that without you.’

‘Then trust me. Let me move into the inn and pretend I’m the owner. Let me escort you to the architect tomorrow so we can draft building plans. Let us do that much, only that much. You can decide the rest later.’

She turned her face up to him and for a moment he almost stopped breathing, struck by her beauty and the fear in her eyes. He wanted to touch her, to caress the soft skin of her cheek, to smooth the furrow from her brow, to kiss those gently parted lips…

‘Do you really think doing those things will help?’

‘We can’t let Marcus Terentius take it without a fight.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘We can’t.’

Their gazes locked. Lucan’s chest tightened painfully. And then because he couldn’t help himself, he lowered his head and gave in to the temptation to kiss her again—lightly, sweetly, a mere whisper of desire.

‘I’ll return for you in the morning. We’ll take your construction ideas to an architect friend of mine and get an estimate of the cost,’ he said. ‘You’ll agree to that, won’t you? No harm in knowing all you can before making a decision, right?’

He knew he had her there. Nobody admired ignorance.

‘Yes, I’ll do that much,’ she said. ‘It can’t hurt.’

Lucan smiled and moved to the door. ‘Sleep sweetly, Severina.’

But he knew, from the flare of desire in her eyes as he pulled away, that Severina would have as hard a time resting as he, and that her biggest fear would be for her heart, not her inn.

Chapter Five

When Severina awoke, the sun illuminated the sky outside her window with soft peach light. She rose and washed quickly, wincing at her stiffness as she shrugged into a tunic of pale blue linen. She’d slept little and was tired.

But the work of the inn wouldn’t wait and it couldn’t all be done by her few slaves, even if it was hard not to eye her mattress and cool sheets without regret. Her bed was comfortable, the most sumptuous in the inn. Its stout ebony frame was carved with Egyptian motifs that reminded her of her childhood.

Its mattress was thick and soft, but during the night she’d have sworn someone had replaced the cotton with boulders. She’d tossed for hours, unable to quiet the anxious whirl of thought. The few times her weariness had overcome her, she’d been jerked back to wakefulness by strange things. The memory of a man’s green-gold eyes. The scent of Lucan on her pillow. And once, she thought she heard his laughter in another part of the house.

She’d foolishly thought herself prepared to meet him again. She’d bolstered herself for it. In a city as large as Rome, they must inevitably meet. They shared friends. They shopped the same markets and enjoyed the same entertainments. She’d always known the day would come when she’d feel someone’s gaze and suddenly look up into dark-fringed, oddly slanted tiger eyes. She’d practised the smile, prepared the words. Lucan. How nice to see you again. You‘re looking very well…

But the moment had gone nothing like she’d planned.

And then he’d appeared in her bedroom and she’d smashed a bronze figurine into his skull. He’d proposed something outrageous and she’d almost agreed, just before she’d made a fool of herself because the old feelings had still been there. Oh, how they’d been there.

It seemed unreal now, like something out of a dream. But it wasn’t. The statuette remained there on a nearby table, mute evidence that she hadn’t imagined everything.

And besides that, one had to have actually slept in order to dream.

The only good thing about the restless night was that she’d decided on several improvements to the inn. She wasn’t sure she could marry Lucan, but it wouldn’t hurt to consider his proposition.

He’d told her to spare no expense, that his coffers were deep and he could afford anything she needed.

She wasn’t so sure. She’d never seen evidence of his wealth. He’d been a soldier, and everyone knew that even experienced officers like Lucan didn’t command a huge salary. He’d occasionally spoken of business ventures, but none had seemed particularly lucrative.

Rich men lived in grand houses, and Lucan lived simply.

Rich men had fine garb, and Lucan dressed in ordinary clothing, letting his fair looks serve him well enough.

A simple man without great wealth, but she hadn’t cared. Mostly she’d admired his integrity and his golden male beauty, not sure she was worthy of him. She usually felt plain and mousy. Her chestnut hair tended to be unruly. Her eyes were grey. Grey. How boring.

And yet, Lucan had thought her beautiful and wanted her. Sometimes the look in his eyes had taken her breath. She’d known with surety that he kept his body tightly reined.

Now she was pleased that he had. Physical union with Lucan would have been too wonderful to forsake. She wouldn’t have been able to walk away. But more than once she’d wondered—what would it have been like to be loved by a man like that?

Last night she’d come close to knowing.

For hours afterwards she’d thought of him and foolishly yearned for what almost happened between them. To make love with him would be foolish, even dangerous, if she hoped to remain free, but her body had wanted its way.

Lucan would return soon. She’d better forget that desire and concentrate on her inn instead.

Lucan told her to make construction plans, but she’d been modest in her choices because Lucan wasn’t a rich man. He had no fine mansion, no slaves. He had no gilded litter, no rich clothing, no jewelled rings. No clients waited in his atrium every morning to shower him with praise as they would for a wealthy nobleman.

Perhaps he’d saved his soldier’s pay. Maybe he’d hoarded his share of the rich spoils of Dacia. But it was likely that masculine pride forced him to claim more wealth than he truly possessed.

So she kept her construction plans to a minimum. She could use a larger kitchen, but moving out one wall would provide enough space. A larger dining area could be had by the same method, allowing for several more dining couches.

There were already ample bedrooms, thanks to the inn’s dubious past as a brothel. And the bathing room across the courtyard was a marvel of design. Sumptuous with pristine Carrara marble, it contained one large heated pool and a smaller unheated one. Surrounding the pools were comfortable seats for conversing.

That bath and the toileting facility beside it that had actual running water were two of the main selling points of the property, and Severina was extremely proud of them. She might add more to them in the future, but she wouldn’t do it now at Lucan’s expense.

She wanted to give Orthrus and Ariadne some privacy, however. The slaves’ quarters were small and uncomfortable. Ariadne currently shared a room with the cook, but after the wedding, she’d share Orthrus’s bed. Orthrus, however, currently slept with young Juvenal. It wouldn’t be proper for Juvenal and the cook to share a room, so Severina had been fretting about what to do.

She’d planned to sacrifice one of the bedrooms usually rented to paying guests. But the disadvantages of that were obvious, given her need to make a profit.

Unless she went along with Lucan’s proposal.

During the long, wakeful night she’d realised that the flat roof of the kitchen could become the floor of a small apartment built above it. The space wouldn’t be luxurious, but it would be private, a perfect little nest for lovers and a quaint but serviceable home when their babies began to come.

Severina had no doubt, given the way Orthrus looked at Ariadne and the way she looked at him in return, that babies wouldn’t be long in coming. Severina had once seen that same look pass between Donatus and Lelia, and now they had two beautiful sons.

Severina wondered whether the addition could possibly be completed by Ariadne’s wedding day. She’d like to surprise the couple with it, clean and comfortably furnished and ready for the special glories of their wedding night.

Severina could imagine their reactions already. Ariadne would squeal and then cry. Orthrus would stand dumbfounded, his huge, work-roughened hands clenching and unclenching in the struggle for words.

But his eyes would shine, and so would Ariadne’s, and it was that thought that now made Severina eager for the coming day despite her lack of sleep.

She and Lucan would fight to save the inn. Maybe she’d even consider marriage to Lucan as a business arrangement—just long enough to foil the censor, and only because people she loved were depending on her.

Severina took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, feeling a lot like the gladiatrix of old.

Chapter Six

Lucan’s blood was singing. It always hummed through his veins hard and fast whenever he faced a challenge. It was one of the few things he’d liked about being a soldier. Maybe the only thing.

The exhilaration hadn’t compensated for the long, weary days chasing down Rome’s enemies on the back of a horse. It hadn’t eased the unholy memories of watching men die. But the raw excitement that was the prelude to battle had at least given him something pleasant in the chaos.

Maybe that feeling was what he’d once sought in his youthful pursuit of women. Maybe that feeling, combined with lust, explained his desire to conquer.

But he’d been younger then and too foolish to understand that sleeping with the wives of senior officers wasn’t worth the excitement.

For that stupidity he’d been sent to a legion in Antioch as a punitive measure. Donatus had finally unsnarled the situation and brought Lucan back to his own cavalry, but the experience had been a humbling one for Lucan.

And a good one, too. He’d learned about consequences. And while in Antioch, he’d met men unlike any he’d known before. He admired their integrity and ultimately followed them into their Christian faith.

With that decision, he abandoned the pursuit of sin, but found he missed its fine exhilaration—until he chanced upon something that provided a similar fascination.

He’d been hosting a visiting Christian missionary and somehow the conversation at the dinner table turned to matters of money. Lucan believed, as did many others who practised his faith, that riches were a corrupting influence. Was it not the rich who exploited his fellow believers? Did not the wealthy put his brothers into chains and kill them?

‘It’s not that simple,’ the missionary had cautioned. ‘Money is amoral, neither good nor evil. It only becomes one or the other in the hands of the one who possesses it.’

The corners of the older man’s eyes crinkled as he smiled gently. ‘Money can be put to good use. I couldn’t continue my ministry, for example, if not for the generosity of those who work hard to have funds to spare for me.’

‘But that’s different,’ Lucan protested. ‘Of course we must share the good news we’ve received. Didn’t the Lord say so?’

‘He did. But he didn’t leave behind the gold for us to use, did he?’ The missionary chuckled. ‘That becomes our task, Lucan. To go to the world, yes. But if we can’t go ourselves, then to give to those who can. The more money is in our hands to give, the more people we send and the more people we serve. With money we help the poor, relieving the plight of widows and orphans. Wealth in the hands of a man strong enough to remain uncorrupted by it can be a powerful thing.’

Lucan pondered that. It was a seed planted in fertile soil. It gave him new purpose.

To make money became his goal. To do that, he would learn about business and become good at it. He would grow the wealth he had, and he would use it for good purposes. Money would be made to serve a worthy master.

For three years now he’d pursued that goal intently, discovering latent talents within himself. He lived frugally to have a surplus of funds. He invested that surplus in carefully researched properties. Gradually he’d expanded his assets.

Strangely, the world now seemed full of opportunities. There were many open doors for a man with eyes to see them. He had a knack for making money, a golden touch. Everything he did prospered. He believed it was due to the favour of his God, who understood his heart and knew his purpose. He enjoyed giving money to needy people and good causes.

Whatever the cause, Lucan found in business the excitement he craved. Negotiating terms gave him a creative outlet for his intelligence. It even helped curb his need for physical gratification, providing a safe valve for dispersing his strong male needs.

And it had made him wealthy, although Lucan hadn’t needed the money for himself until now.

It seemed a rare event that today all three of his most intense passions converged—a woman for whom he cared, a business transaction that challenged his skills, and a moral imperative to right a wrong.

No wonder he could scarcely breathe.

Yet he worried, fearing disappointment again. Hadn’t he already hurt enough?

Severina needed him right now. She’d do nearly anything to protect her dream. But when the crisis passed, she’d certainly divorce him. Her independence mattered more to her than anything. More than he mattered.

Lucan now paced Severina’s peaceful, colonnaded atrium, agitated by these thoughts as he waited. He halted and took a deep breath, seeking calm as he took in all the small details of his surroundings.

He realised with pride that Severina had done much with the place. The fountain in the middle of the open courtyard sparkled with clear, clean water. Around it were lush plantings and elegant statuary. Comfortable silk cushions in muted, earthy tones of terra cotta and olive green softened stone benches and invited her guests to enjoy cool shade and the musical splash of water.

‘You’re here early.’ Severina’s voice startled him from his reverie. He looked up to see her standing uneasily in the door of the triclinium, watching him.

He ignored the sudden trip-hammer of his heart. It wasn’t fair that she stood illuminated in sunshine—like a dream, like a goddess, surrounded by light.

So beautiful.

He’d known other lovely women, some with features more classically beautiful than hers. But there was an amazing something about Severina that had captured him from the start.

She was tall for a female, though not as tall as he. She was statuesque and moved with a serene elegance. Her neck and shoulders were graceful and seemed especially so when she wore her hair braided like a crown as she did this morning. With the sun firing those chestnut strands with burnished golds and reds, he could almost imagine it as a jewelled royal diadem.

Her arms were long and sleek, smoothly muscled. Her hands were nervous today. Without meaning to, he thought of her palms sliding over his body during the night, of how urgently she’d held him. He’d always known her calm exterior hid inner fire, but he’d been startled by the heat in her kisses. She’d been hungry…Could it be that she’d missed him?

Lucan forced himself away from that particular pain.

His eyes swept down her body, which was perfectly proportioned and slender, but with curves that made him ache. He envisioned the long legs beneath her tunic and then wished he had not. Those legs had parted beneath him last night; he’d understood the invitation and moved eagerly into the place, shuddering with pleasure at the heat and moisture he’d felt even through their clothing. Another few minutes and he’d have stripped them both bare and made love to her. He’d probably be regretting that now if he had.

Or would he?

He wondered if he’d gone about everything backwards. He’d once hoped for trust before intimacy, but maybe intimacy would have helped her find trust.

He didn’t know. She made him so damned confused.

He pushed the disturbing thoughts aside and focused on Severina as she stood before him. The garment she wore today enhanced her beauty perfectly. Its deep indigo colour deepened the silvery charcoal of her eyes and made her skin as smooth as polished ivory.

She watched him, too.

Together they stood, quietly observant, each tasting the familiar essence of the other as wisps of desire curled around the room. It was he who finally broke the spell.

‘I’m not early,’ he said. ‘You’re late.’

Her lips curved. ‘I’m never late.’

It was a nod to the familiar. They’d practised this as a ritual during their courtship.

The mood this morning was different, not quite playful, not completely trusting, and with the memory of the night’s shared passion still twisting between them. But they found comfort in sharing this familiar ground.

‘Call it whatever you will.’ He smiled as he extended his hand for her to come to him. ‘I forgive you, Severina.’

The words came out all wrong. Somehow, his offering of a lighthearted jest transfigured itself into a bitter imp so that anger and hurt from the past spilled out instead.

He hadn’t expected that and neither had she. She sensed the darkness in his tone and glanced sharply up at him.

He hurried to smooth over his misstep. ‘Be late any time you want,’ he said, ‘if only you’ll arrive looking as beautiful as now.’

She’d already taken his arm, and because she was so near he could easily see the tumble of emotion in her eyes.

She was as confused as he.

She drew in a breath and forced a smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply.

It hurt him, the pain he glimpsed in her. For a moment he was tempted to feel compassion, but he resisted that dangerous pull. This time, he’d take care to protect his heart, even if she wed him. Especially if she wed him.

‘I’ve sent word ahead,’ he said, leading her towards the door. ‘The architect will be waiting.’

He smiled and opened the way to the street. ‘Apollodorus is a busy man and an exacting one. You’ll need to be specific and detailed about proposed changes, but I promise you’ll not be disappointed in his work. He’s a genius, the best. He is the very best.’

She’d been surveying their surroundings, but turned in sudden concern. ‘Can you…can we afford him?’

Lucan chuckled. ‘Yes, we can.’ He took her elbow and steered her down the street. ‘Stop worrying and come along. We have an inn to save.’

For a moment she looked disturbed, but then she smiled.

And Lucan, caught by the shimmer of light in her silvery eyes, knew how it felt to take an arrow straight through the heart.

Rome was a vibrant city. Even at this early hour it teemed with the energy of its masses—slave women carrying clay vessels to and from the public water fountains, men on their way to the baths or to the homes of their patrons, young boys hawking their family’s wares or, if they were of wealthier parents, making their way to school.

Severina was pleased that Lucan was in the mood to talk. She’d been afraid of awkwardness between them because of the passion they’d fallen into the night before.

But Lucan must have forgot it already. Instead, he talked about the man she was soon to meet. Apollodorus had built Emperor Trajan’s war bridges and siegeworks during the Dacian War, and according to Lucan, the architect was a veritable genius—part-engineer, part-builder, part-sculptor, part-artist. His designs were masterworks of quality. When the war was done, he’d returned with the Emperor to Rome and was currently engaged in a huge design project, the awe-inspiring new forum that Trajan was building as his legacy and gift to the Roman people.

It helped that Lucan was in a talkative mood, because she certainly wasn’t. All she could think about as he led her through the streets was the strength of the muscled arm beneath her fingertips, the earthy scent of man which surrounded her and…sex.

Maybe that was because of the erotic dream she’d had about Lucan during her turbulent night.

The more intimate details were somewhat sketchy now. But Lucan had loved her and she’d taken him eagerly, wanting him as he came into her warmth, hungry for the slide of his flesh into hers. His body was strong and warm, and he’d murmured gentle love words against her skin—

‘Did you hear me, Severina?’ Lucan’s voice intruded. ‘I asked you a question.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I was…elsewhere.’

There was amusement in his gaze. ‘I’m boring you.’

‘No, no.’ Quite the opposite. I’m fascinated by the way you move, by the heat of your hand on the small of my back, by the gold fire in your eyes…

Gods above—what was the matter with her? Her body was so alive that even the rub of her stola against her nipples was an almost unbearable stimulation.

‘I was saying that we’re a little early yet. Do you want something to eat?’

As if she could think about food right now, when her lower body tingled with unaccustomed heat.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she said. ‘But if you are, then please…go ahead.’

His lips curved. What beautiful lips he had. She wanted to taste them with an almost fierce longing.

‘Yes, I’m hungry,’ he said. ‘I’m always hungry.’

Was it her imagination that there seemed deeper meaning in that simple statement? Could he be thinking the same erotic thoughts as she?

Of course not.

And she’d better stop this. It was ridiculous to want Lucan. Even when they’d been on better terms, she’d known that kind of intimacy to be off limits for him.

But that was before Lucan had left his faith.

And now? She didn’t know. She could hardly ask him if he’d given up his celibacy, if he was enjoying sensual pleasures again and if he might want to enjoy them with her…She wasn’t seriously thinking of doing that, was she?

She was.

Her entire body sang with desire. Her breasts were full and throbbing, her lower parts twitched every time he smiled. He smiled far too often.

Thankfully, Lucan didn’t notice her unusual preoccupation with lust. His conversation was common and easy, his glances no deeper than usual. And when his hand accidentally grazed too far down her backside in guiding her through the restaurant door, he’d been unaffected by the touch.

She was the one with the problem.

Severina looked around the restaurant, breathed deeply of the food-scented air, and stubbornly willed her body into submission. Time to give herself a good scolding.

It was one thing to acknowledge that she was a normal female and had physical needs. It was another thing entirely to use Lucan to appease those hungers. That would open a door she’d already closed. It would renew old feelings, quicken old hurts. It would be the wrong thing to do.

But then Lucan returned with a round cake of bread and a plump sausage. A long, plump sausage cased in a moist, oily skin. She watched in utter fascination as his deft fingers took up a knife, opened a small slit in the round crust of bread and slowly, so slowly slid the meat into the opening. Her lips parted as he lifted the food to his mouth.

Lucan’s low groan of satisfaction started the sharp throbbing in her body all over again. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘That’s good bread.’

She sucked in air and tried not to notice the ecstasy of his chewing and swallowing.

‘Sure you’re not hungry?’ Lucan’s voice held a touch of amusement.

She jerked back to reality. ‘Hungry?’ she repeated, the word sounding an odd, husky note. She cleared her throat. ‘No, I’m not…really, I’m not.’

He gestured towards the bread-wrapped sausage he’d lowered from his mouth to his plate. ‘Are you sure? You’re staring at my food.’

‘Oh, please. I am not.’

‘You were. I swear you were.’ His eyes seemed to dance with laughter. ‘You looked at my food like you’re starving, like you’ve never seen a sausage, like you’ve never before watched a man eat.’

Severina’s face suffused with heat. She had been staring in just that way and she knew it. But not for the reasons he thought.

It was only that she’d dreamed that dream.

‘I’ll be happy to buy you something.’ He gestured towards his plate. ‘Do you like sausage, Severina? I’ll buy one for you. Or I’ll share mine.’

She smothered a groan beneath her fist. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

‘All right, I know what we’ll do.’ Lucan took up his knife, cut the big roll in half and handed the larger part to her.

‘No. I do not want your sausage,’ she said through tight lips.

Lucan’s smile surprised her. Did he mock her?

‘Ah, I remember now. You prefer sweet.’ He lowered the food to the plate, slid the sausage from the bread and took up a small clay jar with a spoon. ‘This citrus spread should be just the thing.’

Delicately, almost lovingly, Lucan widened the slit in the bread with his knife.

‘The bread’s good,’ Lucan said as he put down his knife and scooped up a spoon full of the citrus spread. ‘But sometimes it’s a little dry without the right touch. Let me see if this helps.’ He filled the crevice with a generous amount of the sticky spread and closed the two halves together.

Severina watched in helpless fascination as he lifted it to his lips. His tongue…oh, gods. His tongue came out to lick the spread at the edges of the slit.

Severina realised she held her breath.

Lucan’s eyes closed in brief appreciation. ‘Perfect,’ he said, opening them again to fix his intense gaze on her. ‘I love that sweet taste. It’s good. And it’s all yours if you want it.’

Severina let out her breath in an unsteady puff.

He didn’t notice that as he handed her the food. ‘I like sharing this with you again,’ he said quietly, his gaze locking with hers.

Severina wondered if she were wrong to hear subtle meaning in the words. It seemed he didn’t refer to the food at all.

Their gazes held. There was a long moment of silence.

‘You should enjoy life more,’ he said. ‘There’s much beauty to be found in this world, if one only looks for it.’

‘And what beauty should I seek, Lucan?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘Where should I look?’

His smile was slow and sensual. His gold-tipped lashes lowered to shield his gaze. ‘You can find pleasure nearly anywhere,’ he said, his voice a deep, low rumble. ‘Sometimes it’s right in front of you. But you must be willing to let go of your fear. Trust that everything will work out.’

Let go of your fear. Trust.

The words hung in the air between them. She was sure they were speaking of more than this meal or this moment.

‘What are you saying?’ Her voice was a whisper. ‘We can’t go back…can we?’

His expression softened. One hand came up to gently caress her cheek. ‘No. We can’t go back. Nobody ever can. But there’s always tomorrow.’

She closed her eyes against the sadness. ‘Sometimes I wish it could have been different for us.’

He leaned closer. She tasted him in the air she breathed. ‘Do you wish that, Severina? Then speak the word and make it so.’

She wanted to. She wanted him. And she might find such pleasure in this day, this moment…if pleasure were all they sought.

But today led to tomorrow, and that was the problem. Lucan had proposed marriage. It would save her from the censor, but—what if the censor wasn’t the only enemy she faced?

She dared not explain to Lucan why she couldn’t yet give him an answer, or why the choice of marriage could never be a simple yes or no, not for her, not until she knew all the facts.

Did the censor work alone, motivated by nothing more than his own greed? If so, Severina would marry Lucan and do it happily.

But if the censor were in league with her old enemy, marriage to Lucan would not solve her problem. It would only compound it, bringing him into danger along with her.

Until she knew, her future would be uncertain and so would his. If Anok Khai had found her, her worst fears would be realised. And her nightmare might easily become Lucan’s, too.

‘You’re right, Lucan,’ she said, a gladiatrix going for the quick thrust, the most merciful kill. ‘We can’t go back. Nobody ever can.’

Lucan studied her for a long moment, the warmth in his eyes growing colder with every passing second.

He pushed away from her. ‘We should move along now. Apollodorus, for all he’s been a good friend to me, is not always a patient man.’

Severina rose without speaking.

‘Apollodorus isn’t patient,’ Lucan said as he took her hand and drew her towards the door. ‘But I am, Severina.’

She looked up sharply.

‘Remember that. I won’t rest until I get what I want.’

‘And what do you want, Lucan?’

His eyes were cool and determined when they met hers. ‘You,’ he said. ‘I want you.’

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