Much like the night before, Anan was abruptly wrenched from her sleep, but instead of glimpsing a blurry figure lurking in the corners of her room, she spied something far worse.
Splashes of golds and reds, orange and white danced just beyond her window, the crackling sound sent a chill of fear racing down her back.
The burnished flames of the fire forced the three of them awake and within moments they were out of bed and dressed, heading outside to where the fire consumed one of her fruit trees, threatening the rest of her orchard.
Her servants were already about the task of casting buckets full of water at the swelling fire as they passed them down the line of people that ran from the well to the burning tree. Cassius’ unit of men joined the line, along with Cassius, but she noticed Titus did not.
His attention was focused on something back toward the villa. She called his name, but either he did not hear or he ignored her entirely as he set off in the darkness. When he raced away from her, only then did she glimpse the figure skulking in the shadows running toward the villa. She watched Titus chase after the fleeing intruder until they both disappeared from her line of vision and she was forced to return her attention to the tree that was being scorched by fire. She joined the line with her servants and Cassius’ men, passing pails of water along until the copper embers slowly died, leaving behind an empty tree, now blackened and charred.
Anan sighed in frustration, in relief.
The fire could have been worse, the damage monumental. That she’d only lost one tree was a miracle and she was fortunate. But that she’d lost any of her harvest when she had already lost so much and needed to sell as much as she could in order to repay Claudius angered her.
If this continued, she would lose everything, everything she’d worked so hard to build. She spared herself only a moment of pity before she began doling out orders so that they all could begin cleaning up this mess.
She had not lost everything, not even close. She needed to remember that. And she was determined she would not lose anything else.
Anan headed over to Cassius, although from his expression, she already knew they were of the same mind. His men would patrol the entire perimeter of her land on a constant basis, guarding it in shifts.
As she neared Cassius a flash of gold and red flickered in the corner of her eye and she turned as Titus stalked toward her. His eyes were narrowed as if in pain, and she noticed he clutched his side. She also noticed he carried a short sword that was not his own and droplets of blood clung to its blade.
“Titus?”
“Report,” Cassius ordered over her, in a voice full of masculine authority directed solely to Titus. In that moment he was not her lover, he was not Titus’. He was a soldier, the person in command.
“I thought I saw an intruder trying to get away. When I chased after him, he naturally ran. We exchanged blades and I managed to disarm him, but he still got away.”
Cassius frowned. “And you’re hurt?”
“A scratch.”
Cassius finally looked to her. “Do you have a slave to attend to him?”
She nodded, calling for one of her young healers who escorted Titus inside to dress his wound.
But before Titus left, he handed the recovered sword over to Cassius and the look that passed between the two men raised more than a few questions, but also confirmed the suspicion she’d had since she’d seen another figure lurking in her room. They recognized the weapon because it was familiar to them, which could only mean one thing.
By the time Cassius’ men were strategically placed across her grounds, and the debris from the fire cleared away, the moon was high in the night sky. She trudged inside her home with Cassius beside her but he did not speak and neither did she.
She was lost in her own thoughts, of what she’d seen, of what all this could mean. Anan entered the quarters that Titus shared with Cassius to find Titus stretched out on a pallet with a bandage against his side and his eyes closed.
He opened them as soon as they entered, a smile warming his face.
She smiled down at him as she settled beside him to lightly touch his wound.
“How do you feel?”
“Truthfully, I am fine. It really was just a shallow strike. Your servant only gave me a few stitches. I shall be up on my feet with little pain tomorrow, and should be fully healed by the end of the week.”
“That is good,” she replied, her hand gentle against his middle. She stilled when she saw another scar that ran along his other side. “What happened to you there?”
Had she any idea her question would cause a chill to settle over the room, she would not have asked it. Titus’ gaze flickered to Cassius, which caused her to gaze at him as well, but he did not look at her. It was as if it pained him to do so. A lump gathered in her throat, threatening to choke her.
“Cassius?”
“Since Titus is injured I will stand guard over you tonight. Speaking of which, it has been a long one.” As he spoke, he escorted her into her own chambers and did a quick perusal of her room before he turned to say, “While you prepare for bed, I wish to speak with Titus. I will only be a moment.”
He left her standing there in the center of her room, alone and confused, wondering when things had changed between them. And changed they had. She felt the coldness radiating from him as if it were the dead of winter. He would not look at her, he would not touch her. That he even spoke to her seemed to pain him.
With quick and quiet movements, she crept into bed, hoping she would be fast asleep when Cassius returned, even as she knew that was impossible. For even if she did fall asleep, Cassius’ presence was not one she could ignore, not even deep in her subconscious. In her sleep she would feel him, she would sense him, she would know he was there and her body, which was of its own mind these days, would idle the night away aching for him—to join her, to touch her, to love her as he had before, but appeared determined not to do again.
* * * * *
“Was that truly necessary?” Titus asked as soon as Cassius returned.
“I do not wish to talk of her this moment.”
“Her?” Titus sneered. “The woman who you fucked just hours ago, the woman who wears her heart so openly for us. The woman you just hurt with your coldness and your rejection. Her name is Anan. The least you could do is say her name, you bastard.”
Cassius closed his eyes on a weary sigh, desperately trying to shut out the disapproving look in Titus’ eyes, the forlorn expression he’d glimpsed on Anan’s face.
Anan would not understand, Titus did not understand. He sighed again.
“You do not know how hard this has been for me,” Cassius said, his voice low, the emotions inside him leaving every part of him raw and vulnerable. “To watch you nearly die because of a mistake I made.”
“It was not a mistake you made alone,” Titus said quietly, unevenly. They had not spoken of this. In the long months since it had happened, Cassius had refused to speak of this, apparently, until now. “I was as much to blame for what happened as anyone.”
Cassius opened his eyes again, though he still could not look upon Titus, though he still could not face him. “It was my decision to pursue Callypso, though you warned against it,” Cassius began. “You knew she was unstable, that her intent was to use us to make Phineaus jealous—”
“To make him jealous, yes, but neither of us could have imagined he’d try to kill us.”
“But he did and you almost died trying to save me. You almost died because of my recklessness, because of my frivolous desires.” Cassius was shaking by the time he finished, remembering the moments of terror he’d experienced at the thought of losing Titus, of having to face a life without Titus because of something
he’d
done.
“I do not blame you,” Titus said finally, quietly and Cassius almost splintered apart, hearing the words he’d longed to hear but didn’t think he’d deserved.
“How could you not? You almost died because of me. You were sent here because of me.”
“You are wrong. I almost died because a jealous madman and his equally mad wife tried to kill the man I love. I almost died trying to protect that man and I would do it over again, in a heartbeat. And we were sent here because General Sextus was forced to bend beneath the power Phineaus wielded as a magistrate. Had it been any other woman who’d been unfaithful, no one would have cared—”
“Which was why you warned me, but I did not listen.”
Titus held out his hand, beckoning Cassius to his side. Cassius dropped down to his knees beside Titus and lightly touched the blond hair curling along his temple.
“Is this why you’ve been distant?” Titus demanded. “Is this what you’ve been carrying inside you, all this guilt and shame, for the past months?” When he nodded, Titus sighed.
“I do not blame you for being sent here. I am happy that we are in Siga, that we found Anan.” Titus’ gaze was steady upon him, his eyes intent. “Anan is not Callypso, she is not the reason why I was hurt today, just as you’re not the reason either.
“I know how your mind works, Cassius. Anan is not to blame because I was injured while protecting her home, while protecting her. Just as you are not to blame because I was injured while in Siga, as if you are solely responsible for me being here. I am a soldier, Cassius. You may forget that at times, but not I, nor do I forget my duty. I could die one day while doing my duty to the emperor and the republic, and you cannot blame yourself if I do, because that was my choice, because this is the life I have chosen for myself. Do you understand that?”
When Cassius nodded, Titus relaxed against the pallet with a slight wince, but his hand still remained against Cassius’ forearm.
“You have questions for me,” Titus said simply, reminding Cassius that Titus was indeed a soldier who was ever mindful of his duty, even when his lover would forget.
“The blade you recovered troubles me. The emblem is Roman.” Cassius studied Titus. “Did you get a good look at your attacker?”
Titus shook his head. “He wore a helmet, but his armor was Roman.”
Cassius frowned at that.
“You are going to send word to the legion commander,” Titus gathered.
“I have no choice. It could be an imposter in Roman dress, but if it is not, if some of our soldiers have aligned themselves with the barbarian raiders then this is a problem best dealt with by a contingent larger than my own. We cannot have traitors among us.”
“Will you tell Anan?”
Cassius considered that, but then shook his head. “Not as yet. The commander should be notified first. I will feel better telling her once I know the entire scheme.”
Titus’ eyes narrowed on him, and Cassius easily deduced the other man’s thoughts.
“I know what you are thinking,” Cassius said to him. “But it is simply not true. I trust her. She has lost far too much for me to believe she is involved.”
“But?” Titus hedged.
Cassius hesitated. Titus would not agree with this, he would hate it actually, but Cassius had no other choice. He would not make the same mistakes all over again. He would heed the warnings of his head, even if it meant denying the yearnings of his body, his heart.
“But to tell Anan of plans pertaining to the Roman military is befitting a woman with whom we share an intimacy that we no longer shall—”
“Cassius—”
“I shall not waver on this. Anan is a distraction, and we have diverted our purpose here because of our time with her. Remember well, our duty was to guard Phineaus—”
“And we did our duty,” protested Titus.
“Yes, and we did his wife as well, which was not our duty, and thus, we compromised our entire mission. I have let this get away from me. I have let our desires cloud my judgment yet again. But I will not have us make the same mistakes for a second time. I am
decurio
of this unit for a reason, and two dozen men depend upon the decisions I make, they depend upon my judgment, which of late has not been sound, but I shall rectify that.” Cassius stood to his feet. “I need to return to Anan. I will guard her for the night.”
“You are wrong this time. Anan is not Callypso, and this entire situation is different.”
“Perhaps.” Cassius’ eyes sharpened on Titus. “But you are not to touch her as well.”
Titus answered him with a steely glare. “Anan cares deeply for us and there is a true affection between the three of us. She trusted us with her body because she believed we would not reject her as her husband did. To turn our backs on her will hurt her deeply.”
Cassius clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tightening. Did Titus think he did not know this? Did he think he wished to hurt her, to cause her pain?
“I care for her deeply as well,” Cassius managed to get out even as anger and a sense of helplessness pumped violently through him. They needed to stay out of Anan’s bed if they wanted to do their duty. If they failed, and General Sextus found out that yet again it was because they’d succumbed to the arms of a woman, he would not hesitate to discharge them, and dishonorably.
“If you cared for her then you would not do this.”
Cassius did not reply, there was nothing left to say. He had made up his mind, and Titus was at odds with his decision.