He stood and gathered her hands in his, drawing her to her feet. “I’m proud of you because you’re strong. Another woman who suffered as you have may have turned into a dormouse, but you, you’re a lioness. You survived. After what I’ve lived through these past months, strength is something I appreciate. All the while, you stayed kind—”
“Kind? That’s not the description people usually use when discussing me.”
He grinned. “It’s true you do a fine job of hiding it. But your care for Octavia and her children prove your sweetness and fidelity. As does your friendship with Caros. In fact, now that I think about it—”
“What?” she asked.
“I recall something Pelonia told me. A couple of months ago, before she and Caros wed, they were separated. As I remember it, he walked around like a man on the edge of dying.”
“Yes, he was rather pathetic,” she agreed.
He laughed. “Then you just happened to host a party for Pelonia’s newly wedded cousin, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She fidgeted with her stola.
Assured all the rumors had been false and that she and Caros had never been more than friends, his smile grew wider. “The party wasn’t for her cousin, was it? It was an excuse to draw Caros and Pelonia back together.”
Her mouth tightened. “Someone had to help them.” She rolled her eyes. “All that drama was better suited for the stage.”
He chuckled. “Once again you prove my point.” He brushed his fingertip across her soft cheek, loving her more with each crash of the waves outside the grotto. “As for the money, if having it bothers you, return it to its rightful owner.”
Her brow arched. “It doesn’t bother me that much. Even if it did, Crassus’s heir and his two remaining sons died in Herculaneum after Vesuvius erupted two years ago.”
“Then find people in need you can bless. Think of the orphans on Rome’s streets whose lives would be forever changed if they had a benefactress to provide them with basic necessities and education.”
Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yes,” she said. “I’d very much like to help children. Ease their suffering if possible. Perhaps…perhaps you could ask your God to show us a way to bring that about.”
“I’ll be happy to ask Him, but I’m certain He’d love to hear from you, as well.”
A knock on Adiona’s bedroom door woke her from a sound sleep. The angle of the sun streaming through the open shutters signaled the time as midmorning. She usually rose at first light, a habit left over from her marriage because Crassus always slept late.
Another light knock. “Who is it?” she called, raising her arms above her head to stretch her tight muscles.
“Bernice, my lady. Shall I come back?”
“No, just a moment.” Adiona pushed off the warm silk bedcovers and pulled a palla around her shoulders before answering the door.
Bernice, a young woman no more than a handful of years older than Adiona, waited on the threshold with a basket of cloth in her arms. “Were you sleeping, my lady? I’m sorry. You’re always awake before the rest of us.”
“Yes, I slept overlong today.”
“I hope you’re not falling ill.”
“No, I feel fit. Quite good, actually.”
Pleased, Bernice smiled. She indicated the basket on her hip. “Master Quintus asked me to bring these to you. They’re tunics the females of his family left here over the years for guests to use. Some of them may be too short, but I told him there might be a few long enough for your height. Even if there aren’t, no one here will care if your ankles show.” She colored. “I mean, that is, if you don’t mind, my lady.”
Adiona grinned. “Thank you. You can put the basket on the table. I’ll look through them after I wash.”
Bernice did as she was told and went back to the door. “I made cinnamon rolls this morning. You seemed to enjoy them a few days ago when you first arrived. I thought you might like some more.”
“I did,” Adiona said, brushing her hand over the soft cotton lying on top of the basket. “I have a friend in Rome whose cook is famous for his cinnamon rolls. Truth to tell, yours are even better.”
Bernice blushed and beamed. “Thank you, my lady! The secret is the date paste I put in them. Most people just use the cinnamon and let the honey add all the sweetness, but the dates and honey, now that’s the trick.”
Adiona grinned, pleased that her compliment made the other woman happy.
“Shall I bring some up here for you?” Bernice asked. “Or do you want me to leave them on the breakfast table in the garden?”
“Where is Quin…your master?”
“He’s in his office.”
“Ah, then leave the rolls in the garden, I think. I’ll be down soon.”
Once Bernice left, Adiona searched through the basket of tunics. How thoughtful of Quintus to realize she’d like a change from the few garments she’d brought along with her. She chose one off the top, shook it out and raised the neckline to her throat to test the length. Too short. She repeated the process, noting that all the tunics were made of the softest cotton, silk or fine linen. Each was embroidered with masterful detail.
By the time she reached the bottom of the basket, she’d found three of the tunics were long enough, while a handful of others would do.
After she’d washed, she donned a white tunic with blue embroidery around the neck, wrists and hem. There was little to do for her hair except brush it out and pin it back from her face with the wooden combs she’d brought with her from Rome.
Downstairs, she made her way to the villa’s central garden. Dense shrubbery and trees filled the open-air courtyard with a rainbow of exotic fruit: red pomegranates, orange tangerines, bright yellow lemons, green limes and purple figs. Tall date palms reached to the sky from the middle of the rectangular space, surrounding a mosaic-tiled fountain.
Just as Bernice promised, Adiona found the sweet rolls and a selection of fruit waiting for her on a small table in the center of the garden. She chose one of the sticky cinnamon rolls and poured extra honey over the top before taking a bite of her favorite treat. She closed her eyes, savoring the added sweetness of the dates.
Footsteps drew her attention to the covered peristyle. The sight of Quintus smiling at her infused her with joy. Leaning against a red pillar, his arms crossed over his broad chest, he wore a dark tunic that turned his eyes a vivid green in his bronzed face. Clean-shaven, his black hair newly shorn, he was so handsome he stole her breath.
“Have you eaten?” she managed to say over the sudden dryness of her throat.
“Hours ago.” He straightened and walked toward her.
“Then you should eat something else.”
“I’ll take one of those if you’ll share.”
She glanced at the platter piled with enough cinnamon rolls to feed a legion. “No, I’m sorry. I planned to eat them all myself.”
He eyed the stack and muttered drily, “All right, if you insist. Good thing the doors are wide. I may have to roll you out.”
She burst out laughing. “Silly man.” She lifted the platter and held it toward him. “Bernice assures me this is a special recipe, but I suppose you know that.”
“Yes, I think it has something to do with the dates.” He grinned and chose one of the treats. Obviously, Bernice had shared her unique take on the rolls before.
A huge smile tugged at her lips. Just being with Quintus brought her joy. “Personally, I like the added honey best.”
He tried her suggestion and drizzled extra honey over the top of the roll before popping it into his mouth. He chewed with exaggerated enjoyment until he swallowed.
“You’re right. It’s delicious.” He reached up and softly brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “Almost as sweet as the kiss you gave me last week.”
Her face flamed. Caught off guard, she felt certain her hot cheeks must rival the redness of the pomegranates sitting on the table. She ducked her head, unused to ligh
t banter or having her tongue tied in a knot.
Chuckling, Quintus picked up the plate of rolls and bowl of fruit. He tipped his head to indicate two glasses and a pitcher of fruit juice on the table beside her. “Bring those, will you, and sit with me while you eat. I have some good news.”
She followed him to the rectangular fountain covered in a mosaic pattern of colorful flowers and vines. They sat on the benchlike ledge surrounding the clear pool with the food situated between them.
“What’s happened?” she asked, handing him a glass of nectar.
“I’ve received word concerning my brother.”
“Ah.” Her stomach clenched. She set the pitcher down and feigned interest in the bowl of fruit. “Such good news, indeed. When will he arrive?”
“Therein lies my problem. Lucius sent word to Libo and a messenger brought it this morning. My brother has a penchant for drinking and gambling. It seems he was involved in a…situation a few towns south of here. The local magistrate is holding him in the jail.”
“Can you send Libo to fetch him? If you need money to pay a fine, I have it in my satchel.”
“No, I don’t need your coin.” He gave her a crooked smile. “But thank you for the offer.”
She licked her bottom lip and chose a section of pomegranate. “If ever I can help you, you need only to ask.”
“That’s kind of you, my lady.”
“Adiona,” she stressed. “You’ve been calling me by my given name of late. I prefer that.”
“As you wish, Adiona.” He raised the glass to his lips and drank deeply before he continued. “Libo can’t fetch Lucius for me. I need to go myself.”
Adiona ate the tangy pieces of fruit she held, pretending a calm that eluded her. “Must it be you?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Libo’s not practiced enough to sail the necessary distance and my other servants have yet to be rehired.” He reached across the space between them and clasped her hand. “Look at me, lioness.”
Her mouth tightened, but she lifted her gaze. “What?”
“I wouldn’t consider going if I thought you were in the least bit of danger.”
“I know,” she said, trying to keep a petulant tone from her voice.
“If you’re frightened, I won’t leave you.”
Her heart melted. Defeated by her love, she realized she had to let him go. Her capitulation might pave the way for him to regain his fortune and leave her, but his happiness meant more to her than her own. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
The lines in his forehead eased. “I’ll be back this evening. The winds this time of year will take me down the coast in no time. The magistrate is a friend of mine. I’m certain I can convince him to release Lucius into my care. The return sail will take a few hours, but all will be well.”
She worked her hand free of his and stood. There were too many dangers to count. Freak storms and boating accidents were all too common. Her fears began to multiply. If she didn’t let him go now, she’d never be able to. She turned away. “I suppose you must leave, then. The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back.”
A pigeon landed on a limb of the tangerine tree nearby. She focused on the cooing bird to help maintain her calm appearance. Quintus came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She caught the sweet scent of cinnamon on his fingertips. His warm breath fanned her ear. “You mustn’t be worried. I will return.”
Her eyes drifted shut. She didn’t doubt his intentions, nor did she understand her reaction. She’d never been this weak. But now that she had someone to love, she understood all that she had to lose. “You promise?”
“You have my word.”
She released a pent up breath. “Then hurry. I’ll miss you.”
She felt him smile against her temple. “Will you?”
“Of course,” she said, struggling for a light tone, but feeling drearier by the moment. “Who else will amuse me while you’re gone?”
He laughed and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head.
Fighting the need to call him back, she listened to his footsteps until they were gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Adiona took a deep breath of sea air and dug her bare toes into the beach’s soft white sand. The afternoon sun sparkled on the water’s surface as though an unseen hand had scattered diamonds from the shore to the dark line of the horizon.
Quintus was due to arrive soon. The hours since he’d gone had stretched like days. In an effort to pass the time more quickly, she’d recruited Libo to help her in the garden. They’d weeded most of the beds, but many of the trees still needed pruning. She planned to continue her efforts tomorrow.
Her sandals dangling by the laces she held, she crossed the beach to a peninsula on the south side of the cove.
Intrigued by the watery nests of sea urchins and starfish in between the rocks, she left her sandals on the beach and climbed to the top of the outcropping.
She gingerly made her way across the slick surface to the farthest point. Surrounded by the churning sea on three sides, she sat down and leaned back on her braced arms. A gust of wind whipped the long tendrils of her hair and the dampness of the rocks seeped through her tunic. Cold sea spray soaked her face and chest, but she laughed, enjoying the untamed quality of the elements.
Raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare, she noticed a lone crag not too far offshore. Like a sentinel guarding the mouth of the cove, the monolith reminded her of Quintus. He was solid and dependable, impervious to the wind and waves of life that stormed against him.
The better she knew Quintus, the more she realized his faith in his God sustained and strengthened him. For some reason the knowledge comforted her. She longed to find that confidence for herself.
The thought reminded her of what Quintus said about prayer. There was no need for a priest or even a temple. Her arms locked around her shins, she lowered her forehead to her knees.
“Quintus’s God,” she whispered. “If You’re there, please hear me. Thank You for bringing him to me. Please deliver him back safely.”
Not sure of what she expected, she waited a long moment for any kind of reaction. When none came, she lay back on the rocks and closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of the sun. The ebb and flow of the waves made her sleepy. She wished Quintus was there to bask in the moment with her.
An icy blast of water woke her. Sputtering and a little disorientated, she sat up and rubbed the sting of salt from her eyes. A quick glance out to sea told her she’d slept long enough for the tide to start rolling in. The dark line on the horizon had widened and the waves were rough. The heavy atmosphere promised a storm.
With another prayer for her man’s safe return, she stood and headed for the villa. Thunder rumbled and the rising wind tested her balance. Her hair whipped in wild disarray as she struggled not to slip. Regretting the decision to investigate the peninsula, she secured her unruly tresses back from her face with one hand and kept her eyes on the slick rocks at her feet.
When the beach appeared in her periphery, she looked up to judge the remaining distance to the villa. She froze. A small sailboat was moored to the pier and a stranger was striding toward to her. Panic jolted her. She tried to stifle her fear, but after weeks of being chased by an assassin she fought a losing battle. Her protector was gone and neither Libo nor Bernice were anywhere in sight, not that either of them would be much help against the tall stranger or the knife sheathed on his belt.
Her thoughts raced. Caught between a possible killer and the oncoming storm, she was fraught with indecision. If she sought refuge in the sea, the inescapable waves would grind her against the rocks, whereas she might have a chance to escape capture if she took her chances on the beach.
Determined to fight for her life if need be, she stooped to pick up a sharp rock before forcing her feet forward. Quintus had called her a lioness and she refused to cower like a lamb.
Weapon tight in hand, she climbed off the pe
ninsula, the jagged stones cutting into her palms and feet. By the time she reached the beach, there was nowhere to go and no use to scream. The stranger was too close to outrun and the stretch of open shore offered no place to hide. Her blood racing with fear, she braced her feet in the sand like a gladiator waiting for battle.
Her nemesis stopped several paces away. His dark eyes roamed over her from head to toe, his glance stopping momentarily at the rock she held. He gave her the slow, calculated smile of a practiced seducer. “Just the woman I’ve been looking for.”
Her knees began to shake. There was only one person looking for her—her assassin. Her fingers tightened around the rock. She lifted her chin. “I could have gone forever without seeing you.”
“Arrows to my heart, my lady.” He pressed his right palm against his chest in a dramatic display. “Neptune finally sends me a gift from the sea and instead of a nymph to use for my pleasure, I get a siren who disdains me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What is your name, fool?”
“Lucius Ambustus at your service.” He gave a small bow. “Since you’re on my property, perhaps you’d be good enough to tell me your name, as well.”
“Lucius?” Her gaze darted past him, searching the near-darkness for any sign of Quintus. Her fright evaporated. “Where is your brother? Isn’t he with you? Has he already gone to the villa?”
Lucius lost all traces of humor or warmth. “Who are you?” he demanded over a clap of thunder. “What game do you play? Quintus is dead.”
“No, no, he’s not,” she said in a rush. “He received word you were in jail. He went to look for you this morning.”
“Gods be praised.” Lucius closed his eyes to fully absorb the news. “How did he survive? Where has he been? Who are you to him?”
Seeing his genuine shock and concern, she dropped the rock she held. The sky had darkened ominously and the first drops of rain began to fall. “Let’s go inside. I’ll tell you all once we’re indoors.”