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Adiona blanched. “Nothing!”
Quintus stepped forward. His grip tightened on the scroll as protective instincts surged through him.
“Caros.” Pelonia stood and moved between her husband and Adiona before Quintus could reach them. Her calm presence defused the escalating tension. “Adiona is the one who’s been hurt. Let’s not add to her pain. No matter what she may or may not have done, it doesn’t warrant murder.”
Caros grunted in agreement, even though he seemed unconvinced.
Quintus stepped back to his place beside a potted palm. Rife with irritation, he watched Adiona, disturbed by the sway of his emotions and intentions toward a woman whose reputation was so sour that even her closest confidant wasn’t surprised someone wished to harm her.
Never in his life had he been as irrational or distracted from his own goals. It was as though he rode a pendulum in a tempest. One moment his anger burned against the widow, her insults, and worse, her effect on him. The next he’d willingly vow to protect her. He was becoming a stranger to himself.
Eager to leave Adiona and the confusion she churned in him, he remembered the scroll he held and offered its return.
She waved the message away. “You open it. It’s from my heir.”
“Drusus?” Caros sneered.
She nodded and cupped her forehead in her palm. “Read it…if you’re able, Quintus.”
He grinned at her second failed attempt to insult him. He noted the serpent pressed into the wax seal as he broke it and scanned the script. “Bad news, I’m afraid.”
“More?” Caros said, rounding his desk.
Adiona stood. “What? Is he whining for more silver?”
Quintus noticed the disdain in her tone and wondered why she’d chosen an heir she held in contempt. “The message was drafted three days ago. It seems your heir’s wife has taken ill. The physician fears she’ll pass on before the week is out. Drusus requests you attend her funeral.”
Adiona paled. “Oh, gods, not Octavia.” She sat heavily as though her knees were too weak to hold her slight weight.
Seeing her grief, Quintus’s heart twisted with compassion. Again he wanted to comfort her, but he crushed the urge, determined not to lose himself in her pain-filled eyes. “For your own safety, you mustn’t leave these walls.”
“I agree,” said Caros. “You’ll have to send your condolences.”
“No, I must go.”
Pelonia crouched before the widow and cast a silencing glance over her shoulder to quiet both men. “Don’t trouble yourself further tonight,” she told Adiona in a gentle voice. “There’s nothing more you can do. Come, let’s tend your wounds and see you’re made comfortable. Tomorrow, once you’re rested, you can decide the best course.”
Quintus watched Adiona’s narrow back until Pelonia led her down a long torch-lit corridor and out of sight. A helpless yearning to soothe her warred with his need to guard his own interests. Only a fool would allow himself to be drawn to the temperamental shrew or embroiled in her many problems. Yet he’d known since the first time he’d seen her months ago that she was dangerous to his peace of mind. Tonight proved just how susceptible he was, both to her beauty and to her vulnerability. How could he continue to resist his attraction, as he must, if he didn’t keep his distance?
He handed the scroll to Caros, disturbed to realize the lanista had been studying him again. “What do you plan to do?” he asked.
Caros shook his head. “I haven’t decided.”
“Do you really think someone means to kill her?”
“I don’t know. Adiona can be…difficult. She doesn’t act or hold her tongue like a proper woman should. I’ve seen her flay senators to the bone with a few well-aimed barbs. I can believe she’s done something to make the wrong person angry enough to seek vengeance.”
“Do you suspect anyone in particular? What about her heir? Neither of you seemed to think well of him.”
“Drusus is the logical choice, but I have my doubts,” Caros said. “It’s true her cousin is a leech, but he’s also a coward. If he wanted Adiona dead, he’d ply her with poison, not warn her of his intentions by having her attacked in the streets. He’d fear her dishonor might rub off on him. He’s too fastidious for that.”
“Unless his inheritance is more valuable to him than his self-respect or reputation.”
“True.”
Pelonia returned, her soft features marred by concern. Caros stood and met her in the middle of the room. “How is Adiona?”
“As well as can be expected. She’s much calmer than I would be in the same situation. I suppose she’s trying to put on a brave face, but I suspect her placid demeanor is no more than a thin layer of ice covering a turbulent winter pond.”
Quintus silently agreed. He’d seen the widow’s icy facade melt in the courtyard. The memory of her pain washed through him until an unbearable need to seek her out and make certain of her welfare sent him heading for the door.
“Quintus?” Caros stopped him. “Where are you going?”
His hands curled into fists. Where was he going? Adiona wasn’t his woman to protect or care for. He had no rights to her. Indeed, he was probably the last person she wanted to see after the way he’d insulted her. His jaw clenched, he scraped his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Pelonia eyed him warily. He wished he could head back to the barracks. He cleared his throat. “Do you think Lady Leonia will listen to reason or insist on attending the funeral?”
“When I left her, she seemed determined to go,” Pelonia said.
Caros frowned. “I’m not surprised. Adiona cares for few people, but those who earn her trust have a friend for life. Octavia happens to be one of those she loves.”
“I don’t know her well,” Pelonia offered, “but Adiona seems stubborn enough to strike out on her own if need be.”
Fear spiked through Quintus. He suspected Adiona was determined, proud and rebellious enough to leave the safety of the ludus just to prove no one cowed or controlled her.
“She just might.” Caros caught Quintus’s gaze. “I’ll do my best to convince her to stay until I can make inquiries and discover her attackers if possible. But if she insists on leaving, I’ll send guards to keep her as safe as I can.”
Pelonia sighed. “I suppose you’ll send Alexius?”
“No,” Caros said gravely. “I think Quintus is the best man for the task.”
Relief and dread filled Quintus with equal measure. He closed his eyes, both savoring and despising the thought of being with Adiona for days, perhaps weeks on end.
Pelonia gasped. “You can’t. He’s still recovering from his fight in the arena.”
I’m fine.
“He’s fine,” Caros said. “Haven’t you noticed his limp is gone?”
Quick to begin making plans, Quintus listened with half an ear while the two of them discussed him as though he weren’t there.
“Yes,” Pelonia answered. “But he has no experience as a bodyguard.”
He scowled, not happy to hear how weak Pelonia saw him. Did Adiona share the same view?
“No matter,” Caros continued. “He has everything he needs. He’s a natural leader. The other men I send for added defense will have no trouble following him. And if his time in the ring taught us anything, it’s that he’s intelligent, resourceful and battle-ready. He’s strong and depends on the Lord for direction. We’ll send them out in secrecy. If we’re fortunate, they’ll reach Neopolis before her attackers guess she’s left our midst.”
Satisfied to realize Caros didn’t consider him a useless weakling, he had to admit the plan held merit. Of course, Caros didn’t know about Quintus’s gnawing fascination for the widow or the constant battle he waged to keep from handing her his heart on a plate.
Caros faced him. “What say you, Quintus? Are you willing to be Adiona’s protector in exchange for your freedom?”
“I’d rather take my chances in the ring.”
A smile twitched at the edge of Caros’s mouth before he smothered it beneath a scowl. “I’ve already denied your request to reenter the games.”
They both knew Caros possessed the power to reverse the decision and grant his approval. They also knew he would not. His friend cared more about Quintus’s life than he did. Caros knew he longed for freedom, but wouldn’t walk away without paying his debt. It was obvious the lanista saw the situation as a lesser of two evils, a way for both of them to win.
The anger he constantly fought because of his powerless position nearly blinded him. “I suppose I have little choice, then,” he said tightly.
“Very little,” Caros agreed.
“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll head back to the barracks. I have much to prepare.”
In the corridor, he leaned against the wall and reined in his temper. The melodious music and laughter of the party mocked his agitated mood. Not for the first time, he wondered what he’d done to provoke God’s wrath on him.
“Do you really think that was wise?” Pelonia’s voice carried into the hall. “What?”
“Forcing Quintus and Adiona into such close proximity. Have you seen the two of them together?”
Caros chuckled. “Why do you think I thought of Quintus? Who better to protect a woman than the man who can’t keep his eyes off her?”
Chapter Four
“Have you lost your mind, Caros?” Incredulous, Adiona stared at her friend as though he’d grown two heads. The very idea of Quintus acting as her bodyguard made her tremble.
“No, I’m sane enough.” Caros crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the marble desktop. Morning sunlight streamed through the office’s east-facing windows and glinted off the jewel-toned tiles in the mosaic floor. “You need a strong, trustworthy leader for your guard if you mean to leave for Neopolis anytime soon.”
“Quintus is capable for certain, but he despises me. What makes you think he’ll agree to your plan?”
“He doesn’t despise you.” He ignored her snort of disbelief. “He’s already agreed.”
Her heart skipped a hopeful beat. “He has?”
“He wants to earn funds to buy his freedom. Your situation provides a perfect solution to that end.”
“Yes, perfect,” she said tightly, wounded by the painful knowledge that Quintus had to be bought to spend time with her. She tugged the leaf off a potted plant, grateful Caros hadn’t noticed the root of melancholy growing inside her. “Why force him to buy his freedom? You’ve released your other slaves and kept only volunteers since you became one of those Christians. Why not simply release him? You have no need of money.”
“I’ve tried. He calls it charity and won’t accept my offer. The two of you need each other.”
She cringed at the idea of needing anyone. Unlike most men, Caros wasn’t stupid. He possessed hawklike powers of observation. He was aware of how attracted she was to Quintus and just how much Quintus chafed at being within a mile of her. If she didn’t know him better, she’d think her long-time friend was making a cruel joke at her expense. “I thought when you wed Pelonia you’d grow tired of meddling in my affairs.”
His smirk slid into a full grin. She gritted her teeth, vexed she seemed incapable of sparking the tiniest flame of irritation in him when his plans had left her capsized and floundering.
She moved to the window, in need of air and something to focus on beside the conflicting mix of excitement, longing and fear that threatened to drive her mad.
Gladiators trained in the field below. She winced when she caught herself searching greedily for the tall Christian who tormented her thoughts by day and her dreams by night.
She twisted the end of her long braid around her finger. The clack of wooden practice swords and the glint of sunlight on shields reminded her of the attack the previous evening. She closed her eyes, absorbing the loss of her men, men she barely knew and shared no bond with beyond that of master and slave. What if Quintus were her protector and she was attacked again? What if Quintus suffered the same deadly fate as Titus and her other guards?
She clutched her chest as a sudden rush of anguish robbed her of breath. She must keep him safe. How would she ever be able to live with herself if any harm came to him because of her?
“Adiona?” Caros asked.
“What?” Embarrassed by her overwrought reaction, she wrenched her eyes open and pretended interest in the gladiator practice.
“Are you well?”
“Of course,” she whispered just as she spotted Quintus training with another gladiator in the center of the field.
Her traitorous heart leaped at the sight of him and his powerful movements mesmerized her. A voice of reason clamored in the back of her mind to leave the window before he saw her, but her feet seemed buried in the concrete floor.
Without warning, Quintus broke from the fight and glanced her way as though her presence called to him from across the sand. He turned slowly toward the house. The sharp, angular cut of his jaw was locked tight, his full lips unsmiling. Sweat poured down his temples and the bronze column of his throat, soaking the front of his dark tunic. His muscled arms and legs seemed relaxed in their stillness, but the intensity in his gaze exposed the turbulent inner man that both frightened and fascinated her.
As their eyes locked, tender feelings unfurled within her chest. Despite her best efforts to remember his disdain for her, she found her thoughts focused on the gentleness and security she’d found in his embrace the previous night.
Confused and aggravated by her reaction when she’d vowed to feel nothing but hate for the slave, she shivered, uncertain if it was the chill in the air or the coldness of Quintus’s wintry gaze that spread ice through her veins.
Never had she felt more powerless to protect herself. Not when her father sold her off, not even when her husband locked her away in a damp cellar for days or when he ordered his minions to torment her for his amusement.
She swallowed the sharp lump in her throat and shoved the nightmares back into the dark recesses of her mind where the pain was more manageable.
Quintus’s beautiful mouth compressed. He seemed irritated. As though he, too, had been caught unaware by the sight of her and was unable to sever the ever-tightening bonds that drew the two of them together.
Don’t be an idiota. Scoffing at the fanciful idea of Quintus bearing her any emotion beyond dislike, she blamed the morning sun for the sudden flare of heat in her cheeks.
Caros gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You know I’ll concern myself with your affairs until I’m satisfied you’re safe and no longer need me,” he said, bringing her back to their conversation. “I’ve acted as your defender too long to leave you to the wolves now.”
“I know.” Every nerve in her body begged her to turn back to Quintus and she was grateful Caros was there to keep her from acting on the foolish impulse. “I’m truly thankful for your friendship.”
He waved away her gratitude. “Will you trust me then? Quintus is the best man to keep you in one piece. If I weren’t convinced of his abilities, I wouldn’t suggest him.”
She eased from his grasp. With a fleeting glance out the window, she saw Quintus was gone. Her heart heavy with disappointment, she knew it wasn’t Caros she didn’t trust.
I don’t trust myself.
She made her way to the couch across the room. Aware that she was being a coward, she found it infinitely safer for her peace of mind to indulge her fascination for Quintus from a distance.
“I’d prefer someone else.”
“You’re just being stubborn.” He ran his scarred fingers through his hair. “You won’t leave here without Quintus in command of your guards.”
“You can’t make my decisions for me.”
“No, but I can lock you in a room upstairs until I discover your attackers and have them arrested.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Furious he threatened her freedom, the one thing she valued most, she began to pace as though looking for a way of escape. “I’d never speak to you again.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
