She looked out over the water. A school of dolphins played a short distance from shore. “It’s beautiful here,” she murmured.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”
She glanced over to find him watching her. Her face heated again, and she feared her cheeks were going to become permanently red if she didn’t control her reactions to him.
“Come.” He offered his hand to help her down from the step. “Take a walk with me. I want to show you something.”
Such an easy thing, taking hold of his hand, but this morning the simple action seemed monumental. Telling herself she was being foolish, that the frisson of excitement in the air was her imagination, she accepted his outstretched palm.
He led her across the beach, the wind whipping at her tunic. When they reached the mountainside that formed the southern end of the cove, Adiona thought they would return the way they’d come or head back to the villa. Quintus surprised her. “Follow me,” he said, smiling.
A little uncertain but enjoying the adventure, she allowed him to tow her along the base of the mountain.
“There it is.” He pointed ahead of them.
“I don’t see anything,” she admitted, feeling a bit duped and wondering if he was making a joke at her expense.
“Good. You’re not supposed to.”
“You’re starting to vex me, Quintus,” she said with mock seriousness. “If you’re playing some sort of trick on me, I’ll—”
He laughed. “You’ll what?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it,” she said coolly.
Grinning, he made a sharp right turn and tugged her into a hidden passage in the rock face. The sheer walls muffled the pounding of the waves on the beach. His warm hand clasping hers, Quintus reassured her with a smile. “It’s not far now.”
Eager to see where he was taking her, she followed him along the damp, sandy path, her blood humming with excitement.
“There it is.” Quintus pointed to what looked like a cave.
Adiona pulled back instantly. “I don’t want to go in there.”
He studied her for a moment. Had he forgotten her fear of small spaces? He combed his free hand through his hair. “Adiona, please trust me. I would never endanger you—”
“I know, but…”
“Don’t allow your husband to hurt you any longer.”
She gasped and pulled her hand from his grasp. “How dare you? You know nothing of it.”
“I know what you’ve told me. Is there more?”
She turned away. “I want to go back to the villa.”
“All right.”
His easy capitulation miffed her. “Is that all?”
“Is what all? You’re not making sense.”
“I know.”
“Then explain,” he said gently. “I want to understand.”
She released the breath locked in her chest. “I…I’m afraid, but I don’t want to be. I want to see why you’ve brought me here, but what if I panic again and act like a fool?”
He eased her closer. “No matter what you do, I won’t think you’re a fool. I’ll think you’re brave if you try. And if you find you’re afraid, we’ll leave.”
She glanced away, her vision blurring as she stared at the rock face. Indecision tugged at her until she thought she might rip in two. She closed her eyes. What did she have to lose? “All right. If you promise…”
“I do.”
He gave her no time to change her mind and hastened their pace up the path and through the covered channel. Inside the cave, the air grew cooler. Adiona’s heart pounded and her hands grew clammy, but her trust in Quintus prodded her on. Strange green lights flickered on the walls, growing brighter with each step forward.
A bend in the path found them in a grotto bathed in shimmering green light. Adiona caught her breath, marveling at the pool of seawater that glowed like an emerald backlit by sunshine.
“What do you think?” Quintus asked.
Speechless, Adiona knelt by the water’s edge and swept her hand through the cold water, watching the play of light on her fingers. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” She looked up at Quintus and nearly drowned in the tenderness she found in his eyes. “How did this happen? What makes the water so clear and green?”
He shrugged. “No one knows.”
“How did you find this place?”
“My brother and I used to play here as children when my parents brought us to the villa each winter. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“I can see why.” She stood and rubbed her hands together to dry them. “It’s like being transported to paradise.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He drew her over to a bench. She sat on the damp marble and leaned against the cool stone wall. “How are you?” he asked.
In truth, the anxiety she usually experienced in confined spaces was perplexingly absent. “I’m fine…I think.”
“Good, but make sure to tell me if you need to leave.”
As always, his concern melted her heart. She patted the bench beside her. “Won’t you sit with me?”
He hesitated, but did as she asked. For long moments they sat in companionable silence, enjoying the sounds of the sea and the play of green light.
“The color reminds me of your eyes,” she said. “The first time I saw you, I remember thinking I’d never seen their like.”
“Yes, they’re an odd color, all right.”
“Don’t be dim. Surely, you know how handsome you are?”
He raked a hand through his hair, an action Adiona realized he did when he was uncomfortable. “That’s not for me to say.”
Amused by his modesty, she grinned. “Come now, you must have had females chasing you since childhood.”
He shrugged. “A few, perhaps. Surely less than the number of boys who chased after you.”
She glanced away, the game no longer amusing. “No one ever chased me. I was married off at twelve, remember? Crassus would have killed any man who looked twice in my direction.”
“Perhaps he loved you in a twisted sort of way.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “No one’s ever loved me. Certainly not Crassus.”
Quintus took hold of her hand. The matter-of-fact way she spoke of never being loved pierced him like an arrow to the heart. He longed to take her in his arms, to convince her of how much he loved her. But what would be the point? He’d sent Caros the money he owed for his freedom the day he’d arrived at the villa, but until he heard back from the lanista he was still a slave.
And she isn’t a Christian, he reminded himself.
He remembered Pelonia had encountered a similar problem before her marriage to Caros. Until now, he hadn’t fully appreciated the faith and strength of will his friend had employed to leave the man she loved. Fearing he lacked the same strength when it came to leaving Adiona, he pushed the thought from his mind.
“I think you’re more loved than you realize,” he said.
“Really?” she asked, her voice flat. “What makes you think so?”
Realizing how dangerously close he was to declaring himself, he swallowed hard and sought a diversion. “Your father must—”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “He abandoned me for war and sold me to Crassus for a fortune to cover his debts. I never saw him again after my wedding day. He died half a decade ago and I couldn’t care less.”
The note of pain in her voice told him otherwise. “You deserved better. What of your mother?”
“Father sent her away soon after I was born. I never knew why. I tried to find her after Crassus died, but all my inquiries proved futile. My old maid told me she died, but I don’t know for certain.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She shrugged. “It was all a long time ago.”
Contemplating her confession, he stood and walked to the water’s edge where the play of colors was especially bright. The level of trust Adiona displayed in telling him her secrets honored him. Ever since that first
night in the tabernae when he glimpsed the sensitive woman behind the mask she showed the world, Adiona had been an enigma he longed to explore.
He faced her. Thinking how lovely she was and how blessed any man would be to call her his wife, he asked, “If you’re certain Crassus bore you no affection, why pay a fortune for you? If he’d simply wanted a child bride, he could have bought one for a pittance.”
She glanced down at the folded hands in her lap. “I’d rather not say.”
Frustrated, but leery of pushing her, he nodded. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Adiona studied him from under her lashes. In the years she’d spent vying for social prominence among the Roman elite, she’d seen all manner of lascivious behavior. Nothing shocked her because she’d seen every vice imaginable, not that she’d ever participated. Always holding herself apart from the men who sought to use her, she’d been determined no one would ever have the chance to abuse her the way Crassus had during her marriage. The thought of submitting to any man’s touch sickened her. Until Quintus.
She stood, gathering every ounce of courage she possessed, and walked toward him. For years, she’d watched other women use seduction as a game or a weapon to glean a man’s affections. She wanted neither to toy with Quintus nor to harm him, but she did want him to love her.
Struggling to ignore the voice in her head that whispered she was a failure unworthy of affection, she clung to the hope that her husband was wrong and that somehow Quintus might find her appealing. Noting Quintus was trapped between her and the pool’s edge, she stopped a breath away from his broad chest. Terrified he’d ridicule her or reject her at any moment, she stood on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck.
She felt his breathing quicken and saw his eyes dilate. Trembling, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the warmth of his.
He froze. His fingers clutched the silk at her ribs. In the exact moment she felt certain he meant to push her away, he groaned and pulled her against him.
Chapter Sixteen
It would have taken less strength to move a mountain, but somehow Quintus managed to break the kiss and set Adiona away from him. His breathing ragged, he fought the need to drag her back into his arms.
Adiona’s eyes fluttered open. In a blink, her wistful gaze changed to one of confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”
Desperate for greater distance between him and temptation, he sidestepped her, careful not to fall back into the pool, although a plunge in the cold water might be good for him.
“No,” he choked. “You did nothing wrong. I did.”
“What do you mean?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. Her scent of cinnamon and sea air teased his senses. Every instinct he possessed clamored with a riotous need to claim her as his own. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”
“I kissed you,” she said. “You’ve rejected me often enough. I should have saved us both this uncomfortable situation and just accepted you don’t want me.”
His gaze shot to her face. What game was she playing at? Want was a ridiculous, tepid feeling when compared to how much he craved her.
“I understand.” She took a step backward. “I really do.”
Was she insane?
“I know it’s not your fault,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed as he considered her. By now he understood her well enough to sense when there was a deeper meaning behind her words. “What isn’t my fault?”
She locked her arms around her waist defensively. She looked away, her cheeks darkening with color. “You don’t find me appealing.”
“Appealing?” he choked on a humorless laugh. He closed his eyes, unable to get himself under control when the sight of her called to him like a mirage after months of exile in a desert. “I find you more than appealing, Adiona. You are without a doubt the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. How can you possibly think otherwise?”
She bit her lower lip. Indecision clouded her expression. Her eyes seemed to glisten in the shifting green light of the grotto. “You pushed me away. Just as my husband did.”
“Your husband was an old man. Was he blind, too? I can’t imagine any man with breath in his lungs not willing to give up his right arm to have you.”
She stared at him, her bewildered eyes wide and genuinely amazed. He thought he saw her tremble, but it might have been the filtered light rippling over her skin.
She crossed to the bench and sat down without her usual grace, pondering him as though he were on trial. “Then why…?”
“Because you’re not mine. Because I’m not your husband. I don’t have the right to claim you no matter how much I’d like to.”
“How does marriage enter into this? Everyone I know does whatever he likes, with whomever, whenever the mood strikes.”
He could imagine. The social circle she inhabited was notorious for its vice and she was notorious within that social circle. “That may be, but I’m a Christian.”
“And Christians don’t believe in passion?”
“Adiona,” he said, “If you were mine, you’d have no reason to doubt my ardor for you.”
Her eyes rounded and her lips formed a silent “Oh.”
“Then you do want me?”
He sighed. “Yes, I’d have to be dead not to, but I want to live by my God’s standards even more, no matter how difficult that may be.”
She ducked her head and studied her clenched hands in her lap. She cleared her throat. “You said whatever happened in this grotto, you won’t think ill of me because of it.”
“Of course, I won’t think badly of you.”
“You might. You don’t know the truth about me.”
“Whatever you may or may not have done, it’s in the past. I’m not proud of every action or decision I’ve made, either.”
Looking at him, she tilted her head, a wan smile curving her lips. “I don’t know how you do it, but you make me want to tell you things I’ve never told anyone.”
Quintus suspected it was the Spirit in him that drew her.
“I trust you like I’ve never trusted another person. If I tell you something, will you vow to take my secret to your grave?”
Keenly interested in learning every detail she was willing to share about herself, he nodded. “You have my word, Adiona. To the grave.”
She glanced away, seeming to accept his promise. “You asked me why my husband paid a fortune to wed me. Crassus was almost sixty and childless. He told my father I was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen and my youth assured him many sons. He disgusted me, but at twelve years old what was I to do but accept my fate and my father’s commands?”
Her profile was tense and pale. “On our wedding night, Crassus refused to consummate our vows. I was glad until…later.”
She released a shaky breath. “He called me a witch and a deceiver. He accused me of putting a spell on him. He claimed I’d beguiled him into marriage to steal his fortune, but the spell had ended when I didn’t…excite him in our marriage bed.”
Quintus worked at keeping his face emotionless, but rage brewed inside him. The old goat was broken. Rather than accept responsibility for his failure as a man he’d blamed an innocent child.
“He cursed me as a useless woman and said that I deserved to be punished like the dog I was for tricking him.”
A red haze clouded Quintus’s vision. The man deserved to be tortured. Slowly and by intensifying degrees. “The cage?”
She nodded, her throat working. “He left me there for days at a time, whenever the fancy took him. His slaves weren’t allowed to scar or touch me. You see, he didn’t want to have his ornament marred,” she said bitterly. “But he encouraged them in all other manner of cruelty against me.”
Quintus ached to take her in his arms, but he hesitated in case she stopped talking.
Her eyes slid closed and her chin quivered. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “They heckled me, spat on me, poked me with sticks. Rotten fo
od was left out to draw rats. After that first night I learned not to scream because my fear made Crassus laugh…and laugh.”
She covered her ears with her palms, her face pinched with remembered agony. Unable to keep himself from comforting her, Quintus crossed the grotto’s sandy floor. Sitting down on the bench beside her, he drew her against his side and waited patiently while she decided whether to continue.
Countless moments passed before she spoke. “I tried to escape—once.”
His arm tightened around her narrow shoulders. He didn’t need her to elaborate. “When Crassus finally died, men swarmed to me like vultures all vying for the carcass of my husband’s fortune. Because Crassus had no children and hadn’t declared an heir, they assumed he’d leave his money to me. They tried to woo me into marriage with honeyed words and gifts like I was a simpleton unable to see through their designs. When the lawyers read Crassus’s will, I learned he left every denari to the son of one of his friends.
“In the end, I bribed the lawyers to rewrite the will with me as sole beneficiary. I learned then I needed to protect myself or I might end up another man’s whipping post. Frankly, I’d have rather drunk poison than allow one of those pigs to touch me.”
“I understand,” Quintus said over the pain lodged in his throat. The knowledge of her suffering tormented him. It was no wonder she hated men and refused to remarry. She’d had no decent male examples. Instead of protecting her, her father had betrayed her into the hands of a madman. And the madman hadn’t only abused her body, he’d wounded her to the depths of her soul. Quintus didn’t doubt her beauty and wealth had made her the target of every fortune hunter from Rome to Dalmatia. No wonder she’d adopted the facade of an iron she-wolf, impervious to the hunters’ arrows. A flesh-and-blood woman could bleed.
“I’m proud of you, my lady.”
“Proud of me?” She pulled away and looked up at him, her slim body stiff with disbelief. “How can you be when my whole life is a sham?”
“Explain,” he said, leery of taking her thoughts for granted. She didn’t think like other women. Each time he imagined he understood her, she proved him wrong.
“I’m a fraud. Even Caros, my most trusted confidant, doesn’t know the whole truth about me. He knows I had a bad marriage, but no more. All of Rome believes I’m a wealthy widow when the truth is, I don’t qualify to wear the stola of a married woman and the money isn’t rightfully mine.”