he mattered.
Lucan now paced Severina’s peaceful, colonnaded atrium, agitated by these thoughts as he waited. He halted and took a deep breath, seeking calm as he took in all the small details of his surroundings.
He realised with pride that Severina had done much with the place. The fountain in the middle of the open courtyard sparkled with clear, clean water. Around it were lush plantings and elegant statuary. Comfortable silk cushions in muted, earthy tones of terra cotta and olive green softened stone benches and invited her guests to enjoy cool shade and the musical splash of water.
‘You’re here early.’ Severina’s voice startled him from his reverie. He looked up to see her standing uneasily in the door of the triclinium, watching him.
He ignored the sudden trip-hammer of his heart. It wasn’t fair that she stood illuminated in sunshine—like a dream, like a goddess, surrounded by light.
So beautiful.
He’d known other lovely women, some with features more classically beautiful than hers. But there was an amazing something about Severina that had captured him from the start.
She was tall for a female, though not as tall as he. She was statuesque and moved with a serene elegance. Her neck and shoulders were graceful and seemed especially so when she wore her hair braided like a crown as she did this morning. With the sun firing those chestnut strands with burnished golds and reds, he could almost imagine it as a jewelled royal diadem.
Her arms were long and sleek, smoothly muscled. Her hands were nervous today. Without meaning to, he thought of her palms sliding over his body during the night, of how urgently she’d held him. He’d always known her calm exterior hid inner fire, but he’d been startled by the heat in her kisses. She’d been hungry…Could it be that she’d missed him?
Lucan forced himself away from that particular pain.
His eyes swept down her body, which was perfectly proportioned and slender, but with curves that made him ache. He envisioned the long legs beneath her tunic and then wished he had not. Those legs had parted beneath him last night; he’d understood the invitation and moved eagerly into the place, shuddering with pleasure at the heat and moisture he’d felt even through their clothing. Another few minutes and he’d have stripped them both bare and made love to her. He’d probably be regretting that now if he had.
Or would he?
He wondered if he’d gone about everything backwards. He’d once hoped for trust before intimacy, but maybe intimacy would have helped her find trust.
He didn’t know. She made him so damned confused.
He pushed the disturbing thoughts aside and focused on Severina as she stood before him. The garment she wore today enhanced her beauty perfectly. Its deep indigo colour deepened the silvery charcoal of her eyes and made her skin as smooth as polished ivory.
She watched him, too.
Together they stood, quietly observant, each tasting the familiar essence of the other as wisps of desire curled around the room. It was he who finally broke the spell.
‘I’m not early,’ he said. ‘You’re late.’
Her lips curved. ‘I’m never late.’
It was a nod to the familiar. They’d practised this as a ritual during their courtship.
The mood this morning was different, not quite playful, not completely trusting, and with the memory of the night’s shared passion still twisting between them. But they found comfort in sharing this familiar ground.
‘Call it whatever you will.’ He smiled as he extended his hand for her to come to him. ‘I forgive you, Severina.’
The words came out all wrong. Somehow, his offering of a lighthearted jest transfigured itself into a bitter imp so that anger and hurt from the past spilled out instead.
He hadn’t expected that and neither had she. She sensed the darkness in his tone and glanced sharply up at him.
He hurried to smooth over his misstep. ‘Be late any time you want,’ he said, ‘if only you’ll arrive looking as beautiful as now.’
She’d already taken his arm, and because she was so near he could easily see the tumble of emotion in her eyes.
She was as confused as he.
She drew in a breath and forced a smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply.
It hurt him, the pain he glimpsed in her. For a moment he was tempted to feel compassion, but he resisted that dangerous pull. This time, he’d take care to protect his heart, even if she wed him. Especially if she wed him.
‘I’ve sent word ahead,’ he said, leading her towards the door. ‘The architect will be waiting.’
He smiled and opened the way to the street. ‘Apollodorus is a busy man and an exacting one. You’ll need to be specific and detailed about proposed changes, but I promise you’ll not be disappointed in his work. He’s a genius, the best. He is the very best.’
She’d been surveying their surroundings, but turned in sudden concern. ‘Can you…can we afford him?’
Lucan chuckled. ‘Yes, we can.’ He took her elbow and steered her down the street. ‘Stop worrying and come along. We have an inn to save.’
For a moment she looked disturbed, but then she smiled.
And Lucan, caught by the shimmer of light in her silvery eyes, knew how it felt to take an arrow straight through the heart.
Rome was a vibrant city. Even at this early hour it teemed with the energy of its masses—slave women carrying clay vessels to and from the public water fountains, men on their way to the baths or to the homes of their patrons, young boys hawking their family’s wares or, if they were of wealthier parents, making their way to school.
Severina was pleased that Lucan was in the mood to talk. She’d been afraid of awkwardness between them because of the passion they’d fallen into the night before.
But Lucan must have forgot it already. Instead, he talked about the man she was soon to meet. Apollodorus had built Emperor Trajan’s war bridges and siegeworks during the Dacian War, and according to Lucan, the architect was a veritable genius—part-engineer, part-builder, part-sculptor, part-artist. His designs were masterworks of quality. When the war was done, he’d returned with the Emperor to Rome and was currently engaged in a huge design project, the awe-inspiring new forum that Trajan was building as his legacy and gift to the Roman people.
It helped that Lucan was in a talkative mood, because she certainly wasn’t. All she could think about as he led her through the streets was the strength of the muscled arm beneath her fingertips, the earthy scent of man which surrounded her and…sex.
Maybe that was because of the erotic dream she’d had about Lucan during her turbulent night.
The more intimate details were somewhat sketchy now. But Lucan had loved her and she’d taken him eagerly, wanting him as he came into her warmth, hungry for the slide of his flesh into hers. His body was strong and warm, and he’d murmured gentle love words against her skin—
‘Did you hear me, Severina?’ Lucan’s voice intruded. ‘I asked you a question.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I was…elsewhere.’
There was amusement in his gaze. ‘I’m boring you.’
‘No, no.’ Quite the opposite. I’m fascinated by the way you move, by the heat of your hand on the small of my back, by the gold fire in your eyes…
Gods above—what was the matter with her? Her body was so alive that even the rub of her stola against her nipples was an almost unbearable stimulation.
‘I was saying that we’re a little early yet. Do you want something to eat?’
As