The Patrician's Fortune- A Historical Romance (6 page)

His bark of laughter held a mocking tone. “Not at all, goddess. Isn’t it commonplace for beautiful women to save condemned men?”

Julia cocked a brow at him. Criminals, she supposed, were naturally bitter. She opened her mouth to respond but he spoke first.

“Before we continue this—” He nodded his head at her. “—discussion, I want my arms free.”

“No.” Kaj moved forward from his position by the door.

Damon ignored him, watched her instead. A hard glint of determination gleamed beneath the challenge in his unwavering gaze. It accentuated his aura of danger, an aura that was warning her that this man was not the meek, malleable tool she needed to make her plan succeed.

Julia exhaled. There was no time to seek out another. Her plan had to be implemented as soon as possible and the man standing before her was crucial to its success. She would merely have to alter her approach, allow him to believe he had a choice. There was no need to agitate him. Besides, Kaj was perfectly capable of keeping him in line. Her gaze still locked with Damon’s, Julia nodded her assent.

Kaj stalked forward grumbling, sliding his knife from the sheath on his belt, he brandished it with an exaggerated   flourish before Damon’s face before cutting the bonds.

Damon’s expression tightened when Kaj did not return to his post by the door. Julia felt a flutter of guilt as he rubbed the reddened skin of his wrists.

“Why
am
I here, goddess?”

She should appreciate his straightforward manner but felt annoyed instead. “There is a matter of grave importance in which I require your assistance.”

His expression slipped back into one of bored indifference. “You require the assistance of a criminal? Do you need me to steal something?”

She frowned. “No.”

“Murder someone?”

Dear Gods. “Of course not!”

Damon shrugged. “Then I do not understand what service I can be to you.”

At this moment, she was not certain either. He was supposed to be expressing gratitude for saving his life, pledging his loyalty, not questioning or evaluating her every word. She felt as if she were talking to her thirteen-year-old brother who often aggravated her in such a manner just for the sheer pleasure of it.

Assuming an arrogant posture drawn from generations of nobility she answered, “I did save you from the cross—barely in time, as I recall. You owe me your life.”

“My life?” he answered, giving her an incredulous look. “My life is nothing to someone of your class. You have slaves enough to do your bidding. Take him.” He indicated Kaj with a nod of his head. “The pirate. He seems eager enough to please,” He leaned forward and whispered loudly. “And I can vouch for his diligence.”

Julia sent a quick look to Kaj, who rolled his eyes in disgust. “None of my servants are suitable for this particular task.” Why was she arguing?  She fixed her gaze on him, suppressed a shiver at the intensity of those silver eyes. “This is not a matter to be discussed. You will do as you are bid.”

Damon’s calm nonchalance dissolved into a sharp glare. The softness of his next words gave them all the more impact. “And if I do not?”

Refuse? That was absurd. He could not refuse. Julia was offering him his life, a fair exchange for a small amount of pretense. She was risking far more. Her honor, her family, her happiness. There were no other choices. Quintus was not going away and this obstinate man—and his cooperation—was the only option left.

He was silent, his expression entirely too smug for her liking. Julia leaned forward, gripped the carved arms of the chair for support and held his gaze. “If you do not,” she said, enunciating each word lest he misunderstand, “you will be returned to the executioner so that he may complete his task.”

The burbling of the fountain outside the window sounded like a waterfall in the deafening silence. For long moments his expression remained inscrutable. She couldn’t read any reaction in that harsh gray stare. Gods, she didn’t know if she could really do that—send a man to his death. Kaj had kept her away from the execution field but she’d seen the silhouettes of the bodies hanging on the crosses, smelled the death. No, she didn’t know if she could.

He only had to believe she would.

When she judged the right amount of time had passed for her words to sink in, she added, “You will be well rewarded once the task is done. I will send you to my father’s property on Capri. There you will serve and live out your life in relative ease.”

“No.”

She stared at him. “What?”

Damon eased a few steps closer. “I believe you heard me, goddess,” he said. “I would rather die on the cross than suffer the ignoble life of a slave.”

Was he mad? This was not a matter for bargaining. Did he think her weak-willed? A coward? It was as if he had no concept that his fate rested in her hands—hands that were clutched in her lap, trembling now with frustrated anger and a rising sense of panic. Forcing calm into her voice, she motioned to Kaj. “As you wish.”

Damon’s eyes widened the least bit in surprise. That she had managed to take him unawares gave her some satisfaction. She watched as he glanced over his shoulder at Kaj who approached them with a gleam in his eye. He snapped his attention back to her. “In the interest of fairness, goddess, I am willing to consider your offer.”

Julia’s sense of victory was short lived as Damon edged closer to her. She could smell sandalwood, blended with a musky, primal and very masculine scent. It filled her nostrils, uncoiled an unfamiliar heat deep in her belly that was not unpleasant.

He propped one foot on the dais where she sat, crossed his arms over a bent knee and leaned close. A rush of heat swept up her throat and in the depths of those storm—cloud eyes, she realized that he was not the least subdued.

Even white teeth flashed as he smiled in smug triumph. “What assistance do you need?”

Julia would not lower her gaze despite a sinking sensation that her next words would forever change her life. Keeping her face schooled in an impassive expression she replied, “I require you to be my husband.”

*****

Damon pressed a finger against his ear. Obviously, his hearing had been damaged in one of the many beatings he’d endured. It was not possible that the goddess, this woman whose beauty exceeded anything his fogged memory could have conjured, had said what he thought she had said. Her husband? This gorgeous,
patrician
woman wanted to marry him? A quick search of Julia Manulus’ delicate features assured him she was very serious.

On entering the room and seeing his captor for the first time, his natural confidence had surged. He knew how to handle beautiful women and Julia Manulus was stunning. Eyes the color of the Mediterranean sparkling in the afternoon sun and with just a hint of an exotic almond shape watched him from beneath finely arched brows. Venus looked like a hag next to Julia’s well—proportioned face, small nose, generous mouth and a shadow of a dimple in her left cheek. He had a fondness for dimples and began to mentally calculate what it would take to get her to smile.

As plentiful as her physical attributes were, Damon found he was just as intrigued by the woman’s sheer audacity. Would she really send him back to the cross? His initial opinion had been no, but there had been a depth of resolve beneath her stoic expression that had led him to wonder—until she’d instructed the over-eager pirate to do just that. Without batting an eyelash, she’d deftly gained the upper hand and while he found the experience grating, he also found that type of spirit and courage very attractive.

A pity that she was also insane.

Falling back on one of his most reliable devices, he sent her a lazy smile. “I’ve always imagined courtships to be longer, more subtle. Are not flowers and gifts of an expensive nature customary?”

A slight tightening of her mouth preceded a very flattering flush of her cheeks. Her response to his tactics fueled his interest. What would it take to shake that cool, patrician control and more to the point, how entertaining would it be to try?

Through pursed lips she said, “You misunderstand.”

“I thought perhaps I had.” He straightened, crossed his arms and waited. His patience was growing dangerously thin with this woman, a Senator’s daughter no less, and her spoiled noble’s game. Several times in the course of his duties for Tertius, he had been obliged to pleasure a bored matron for the integrity of the mission. A delightful side benefit for any spy. Although why Julia, with her silk complexion, exquisite eyes and sweet, succulent lips needed to snatch a man from Charon...

“You would not
be
my spouse.” Her tone was just this side of horrified. “Only play the role of such until it is no longer required.”

Damon stared at her. It mattered little that she could not bear the thought of being committed to someone like him, an ex-slave, the son of a worthless, gambling drunk. But this stung his pride, and he thought he’d buried that years ago.

Uncomfortable with the dark emotions stirred by those thoughts, he forced them deep within and focused. “Play the role of husband.” Damon slid a finger along his temple, tried to rub away the ache that was beginning to throb in his head. “Why do you need someone...me...to feign matrimony?”

“The reasons are mine alone,” she answered stiffly, “and of no concern to you.”

No concern? Oh, he seriously doubted that. His goddess was nervous, extremely nervous if the faint tremor beneath her words and the way she toyed with a small ring on her finger were any indication. He’d wager the stakes of this game were much higher than a night’s tryst. And he’d actually been looking forward to
that
prospect. “And just what explanation will you offer for the sudden acquisition of a spouse?”

A small crack formed in her mask of superiority when uncertainty wrinkled the smooth plane of her forehead. He took full advantage, slipping easily in to widen the gap, bombarding her with questions. “How long will you keep the charade going? What will happen when you are found out?” His gaze shifted to where she worried the ring on her finger. “Do I receive conjugal rights?”

Damon had only an instant to enjoy the flame—red blush of her cheeks before dodging Kaj’s blade. He heard a whoosh of air as it just missed his flank. His anger, carefully controlled to this point, surged to the surface. He circled the big man’s wrist with his fingers, exerting just enough pressure on a point near the wrist bone that Kaj’s fingers splayed open, dropping the knife neatly into Damon’s free hand. He twisted the thick arm and pushed Kaj away.

Two quick steps brought him beside Julia. Damon eyed Kaj, saw the fear etched on the pirate’s face. Good, he understood the unspoken implication of the knife’s close proximity to his mistress. “Not a very respectful way to treat your master,” he said evenly, watching with amusement as fury turned those blue eyes dark.

Julia’s shoulders brushed against his thigh and Damon felt her tense though she did not so much as spare him a glance. The heat of her body radiated between them, the sweet perfume of roses filled his senses. An image of her lush body lying beneath him flashed in his mind. He slanted a look down to the top of her head, wondered what it would be like to bury his face in the thick loops of curls spilling down her back. A Roman lady welcoming someone like him? That was as likely to happen as Nero embracing a Christian.

“This really is not necessary,” she said in a quiet, controlled voice.

Damon crouched beside her, one eye on a mottled—faced Kaj, the knife gripped in his hand. “You are correct, goddess. What is necessary is that I be afforded common courtesy, the type you’d give a merchant or a messenger, or hell, a stranger you pass in the Forum.” He paused, taking in her rigid, patrician profile including the long, enticing column of her throat, the soft curve of her shoulder and gods, her breasts. He cleared his throat. “I don’t like being treated like a pile of camel dung. It makes me ill-tempered. I resent being looked upon with suspicion like the criminal you suppose me to be.”

She turned at that, gave him a long, measuring look. He noticed tiny gold flecks ringing the periphery of her pupils like a sunburst. They were intelligent eyes, not hard nor unkind, but full of fire when her temper was roused, as it was now. A wave of desire heated his blood. He forced it down and continued. “I will play the part you’ve cast me in—I’ve enjoyed the Greeks and their theatres often enough—but I will be treated with respect.”

The tip of her tongue peeked out between her teeth as she considered his words, an unconscious gesture that stoked fire. Gods, he wanted to capture that tongue with his mouth, show her how worthy he was. Instead, he focused his attention on the myriad of emotions that flickered across her face—doubt, irritation, a little bit of fear. The goddess was afraid? That could be used to his advantage. If he played on her fears she’d forget about this ridiculous and, he suspected, dangerous game.

“Respect, like any human attribute, must be earned. We must consider the facts. You were about to be crucified. Only those who have committed the most heinous acts are executed in such a humiliating and public manner. You have exhibited gross disregard for propriety and even now, use the threat of violence to gain your objectives.” She paused. “I’ll allow that assumptions have been made in regards to your character.” Her eyes narrowed. “Assumptions that appear to be correct.”

Oh, they were more accurate than she might believe because at this very moment Damon wanted nothing more than to throttle the smugness out of her.

Julia continued in a cool voice. “You will just have to trust me in this matter.”

He nearly laughed out loud at that. He hadn’t trusted anyone since he’d stood on the auction block, a frightened and angry boy, and he wasn’t inclined to begin now. Still, he was intrigued by her boldness, her tenacity. Damon flashed her one of his most beguiling smiles, bolstered its effect by trailing a finger along her cheek, continuing down her neck where he splayed his hand against the smooth column of her throat. Beneath his fingers he felt the erratic beat of her pulse.

“Trust must also be earned, goddess. You’ll forgive me if I harbor my own assumptions on just how far to trust a Roman noble.” He brushed his thumb along her jaw, relishing the softness of her skin before pushing himself to his feet. He flipped the knife back to Kaj who caught it blade first and strolled toward the door. “Call me when dinner is prepared...wife.”