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Her Roman Protector
Milinda Jay
A MOTHER’S MISSIONWhen her baby is stolen out of her arms, noblewoman Annia will do anything to find her—even brave the treacherous back alleys of Rome to search for her. Desperate to be reunited with her daughter, Annia finds herself up against a fierce Roman soldier who insists her baby is safe. Dare she trust him?Rugged war hero Marcus Sergius rescues abandoned babies for his mother’s villa orphanage. When he witnesses Annia’s courageous fight for her child, he remembers that some things are worth fighting for. Helping Annia means giving up his future . . . unless love is truly possible for a battle-hardened Roman legionary.
A Mother’s Mission
When her baby is stolen out of her arms, noblewoman Annia will do anything to find her—even brave the treacherous back alleys of Rome to search for her. Desperate to be reunited with her daughter, Annia finds herself up against a fierce Roman soldier who insists her baby is safe. Dare she trust him?
Rugged war hero Marcus Sergius rescues abandoned babies for his mother’s villa orphanage. When he witnesses Annia’s courageous fight for her child, he remembers that some things are worth fighting for. Helping Annia means giving up his future…unless love is truly possible for a battle-hardened Roman legionary.
She would have to be very clever with Marcus Sergius Peregrinus.
“So tell me,” Annia said, sheathing her dagger, “where is this place you have my baby?”
He looked into her eyes, gauging them for sincerity, she suspected. “If you will come with me, I will show you. I don’t have much time. I have to get back to my men soon.”
“Aah,” she said. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”
He cocked his head, a question. “You are coming with me?” he said.
“Certainly,” she said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “How else could I get to my baby? Only you know where she is.”
They walked civilly, side by side down the dark street. The only light came from the uncertain moon.
She didn’t trust this man. She knew better than he where her baby was. He had taken her daughter to the place of exposure, where the slave traders circled like hawks. Annia meant to get there.
She had to get away from him first.
When he turned, she took her chance. She ran.
MILINDA JAY
When she’s not writing—or reading—books, Milinda Jay designs fun sewing projects for www.janome.com (http://www.janome.com), and Sew News and Creative Machine Embroidery magazines. She also teaches college students how to write. She lives with her husband, five wonderful children and two dogs near the beautiful beaches of Panama City, Florida.
Her Roman Protector
Milinda Jay
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
—Psalms 139:8–10
To my husband, Hal, my real-life hero, who made this book possible.
Acknowledgments
It takes a community to write a book, and I am so grateful for my writing community, without whom this book would have never made it to print. Thank you to Jill Berquist, Tanya Brooks, Mark Boss and Janice Lucas for reading this book in draft form and giving me wise suggestions for editing.
Thank you, Stephanie Newton and Kathy Holzapfel, for teaching me how to write romance. I’m still learning. Thank you, Michael Morris, for sharing your writing wisdom.
Thank you to Dr. Sarah Clemmons and her amazing assistant, Jan Cummings, for allowing me to teach humanities at Chipola College, where my students helped me learn all about the Roman Empire.
Thank you to the Cheshires, a group of fabulous writers who gave me courage during the harrowing process of getting a first book published: Carole Lapensohn, Ruth Corley, Marty Sirmons and Mark Boss.
And thank you to my brilliant editor, Emily Rodmell, who believes in me enough to help make me a better writer.
Contents
Chapter One (#u2e3290a8-47a7-57ce-849f-24a576e9be51)
Chapter Two (#u247045a2-a70b-5cea-9c7c-20ade8ebb0e9)
Chapter Three (#u2aae234b-95ec-5769-87d6-0242a16bac17)
Chapter Four (#u26f7681b-9f4c-5c63-ae71-0574191a79e9)
Chapter Five (#u5f197db6-135b-57cd-b6bf-f49236504bf2)
Chapter Six (#ub174d1ea-e469-5b03-9432-66b21fb5860a)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Rome, 49 AD
Chapter One
Moonlight shone through the tiny window, casting a gentle glow on the face of Annia’s beautiful newborn baby girl. The tiny gold bear charm on the baby’s necklace sparkled for just a moment before the moon took refuge behind the clouds.
“If I could only tell you how much you are loved, and have you understand,” Annia murmured.
She laid the baby down on the prickly straw-filled mattress and pulled the urine-soaked cloth from beneath the swaddling, deftly replacing it with a clean one. She picked up the newborn and kissed her tiny head, then cradled her in her arms.
“My sweet baby girl,” she murmured into the soft newborn hair, “I will love you as much as a mother and a father.”
Annia herself was not feeling particularly loved. Nine days ago, she had given birth alone except for the midwife and Annia’s slave, Virginia.
Annia’s husband, Galerius Janius, had divorced her on false charges of adultery. He had separated her from her two small sons and exiled her to this small villa at the outermost edge of Rome.
But he didn’t take her baby. Not even he could be that cruel.
Or perhaps he had forgotten the baby in his rush to marry the wealthy cousin of the emperor.
Annia placed the baby in her wooden cradle, and the scent of rosemary filled the air. The mattress, stuffed with carefully chosen herbs, kept the infant safe from the chills brought by the heavy Roman mists.
The baby slept, and Annia considered calling Virginia for a taper. Perhaps if she read for a while, her heart would stop hurting so badly. She looked at the scrolls stowed neatly in the racks she had built on her wall. Maybe a Psalm would remind her she was not alone in her pain.
“Lord, keep my children safe,” she whispered.
The ache of losing her boys hurt far worse than having her husband discard her.
Annia could only hope that Janius’s new wife would find the boys tiresome and send them away. And then Annia could have them back.
Janius had made it clear for many years that he did not love her. Shortly before he accused her of adultery, he revealed that he had never loved her.
Perhaps her boys would remind Janius of Annia. Or he would want them out of his sight. Possibly she would get them back even sooner than she expected.
She lay down and covered herself with a light wool blanket. She might be able to sleep on this happy thought.
Before she could drift into blissful forgetfulness, the rhythmic crunch of hobnailed sandals echoed on the basalt-paved streets below.
It was the footsteps of soldiers. She sat up in her bed. Their torches lit the street below, reflections casting ghastly shadows on the frescoes covering her tiny bedroom walls.
The banging of bronze against wood told her they had come to her villa.
Why? What could they possibly want with her?
She heard Virginia shuffle down the stairs in her soft house sandals.
“Who’s there?” Virginia asked.
“Marcus Sergius Peregrinus, commander of the Vigiles,” a gravelly voice answered. “By order of the emperor Claudius, we are here to retrieve the stolen property of Galerius Janius.”
“What stolen property?” Virginia asked pertly. “The only thing here is the wife he divorced, and she is no longer his property.”
“It is not the woman we are here for,” the gravelly voice continued. “It is the baby.”
“The baby?” Virginia asked. “What does he want with her?”
“She is to be exposed before sunrise,” the man said. “To die or be taken by the slave traders as the gods decree.”
Exposed? The barbaric custom of leaving an infant out at the specifically designated place of exposure to die or be picked up by slave traders was something Annia had never expected to have happen to one of her own children. Dear heavenly Father, she prayed, please, not that. But the Roman father—the paterfamilia—had the power of life or death over any of his children. And he was not required to be merciful like her heavenly father.
Annia had always considered the ceremony shortly after birth whereby the midwife placed the newborn at the father’s feet to be picked up and named or left on the floor, indicating it was to be exposed, merely a formality.
Surely, no father in his right mind would order his own healthy child exposed.
Annia tried to remember what her midwife had said when she brought the baby back to Annia. But the memory was a blur.
“Leave us alone,” Virginia said to the gravelly voiced commander. “What possible harm can a baby do such a gallant as Galerius Janius? Does he fear a child?”
