Page 74 of Ensnaring the Dove
Colombia, who looked so much like her mother, was a painful reminder of what he’d lost. He also hadn’t wanted to see the judgment in her eyes at learning he bedded his Brigante slave. Would she think he was betraying her mother’s memory, or would she judge him a hypocrite after the disparaging commentshe’d made about Britons? However, she’d know too that there were different rules for men and women. He was a high-ranking Roman officer, and Moira was his slave. If he wished to bed the woman, he could. He wasn’t breaking any conventions by doing so.
But Colombia’s desire to throw aside propriety and wed a Brigante was disgraceful.
All the same, Severus’s relationship with Moira had changed of late. At first, he’d tumbled her no more than once a week—but over time, his hunger for her grew. Eventually, he’d relaxed his guard.
And now Colombia knew about it.
His chest constricted then.
He’d dealt with his daughter harshly, yet she’d brought it on herself. Colombia’s behavior had been outrageous.
Had she been meeting the man in secret? Had she lain with him?
Foolish girl. How would she ever find a decent husband now?
A heavy knock on the door intruded then, and Severus tore his gaze from Moira’s. “What is it?” he barked.
“Sorry to wake you, Sir,” a gravelly voice, muffled by the door, filtered into the cubiculum. “But there’s trouble … the vicus is on fire.”
XXXI. INFERNO
AEDAN DRIFTED INTO wakefulness to the sound of shouting.
Groggily, he pushed himself up on his sleeping pallet, blinking owllike as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
No, he hadn’t dreamed it—there were raised voices coming from the street.
Rolling out of bed, Aedan pulled on his clothing and yanked on his boots before leaving the lean-to—the small sleeping area Keir had given him—and emerging into the backyard behind the workshop.
Immediately, the acrid odor of smoke caught in the back of his throat.
Pulse quickening, Aedan strode to the front of the workshop, to find the carpenter awake and standing before the doors. Keir’s gaze was fixed north, upon the rooftops just outside the compound—where a red glow lit up the night sky.
An instant later, a roar rumbled across the vicus and hungry red-gold flames exploded into the heavens. A misty rain fell tonight, although it was so soft and fine it made no difference to the fire.
Aedan cursed before meeting Keir’s alarmed gaze. “Come on … let’s see if we can help.”
The two men took off at a run, navigating the grid of streets toward the center. However, when they reached it, Aedan realized the fire was already more extensive than he’d thought.
Several of the dwellings packed in around the market square were alight, the magistrate’s residence among them, as were the houses behind the square.
The fire was spreading fast, throwing out a wall of blistering heat. But despite that an inferno roared around them, the locals had formed rows from the stone well at the heart of the square. They feverishly passed buckets along a chain, before throwing water on the hungry flames.
Aedan and Keir joined them, but even as he grabbed a wooden pail and threw its contents upon the inferno, Aedan’s stomach clenched.
This wasn’t enough.
The fire was spreading fast, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
“How did it start?” Aedan asked a man who handed him another bucket of water. He had to shout to be heard above the roar and crackle of the flames.
“Arson!” the man yelled back. “Some shit-eating bastard threw pots of burning pitch onto the roofs.”
The loud boom of a roof giving way swiftly followed. Citizens of the vicus, and the soldiers who’d joined them to help fight the fire, reeled back as a shower of golden sparks rained down on the square, setting the night ablaze.
Fatalism pressed heavy hands down on Aedan’s shoulders, even as he strode back to get another bucket of water. At this rate, the blaze would consume the whole vicus, including Keir’s workshop.
Finding the carpenter, he grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing hard.