Page 16

A few miles turned out to mean an hour crammed onto a horse’s back, arms wrapped unwillingly around Felix’s waist. If the storm was indeed her fault, this must be part of her penance.

“I’m still surprised you ride,” Lucretia said, raising her voice over the wind as the sturdy brown horse slowly traversed the winding coastal road south of Ostia. “I assumed you have your minions carry you in a litter everywhere you go.”

Felix gave a dismissive shake of his head. “My stepfather is a horse breeder. There was no way I could have grown up without being at least a mediocre horseman.”

He was more than mediocre, Lucretia had to admit. She knew little of horses, but the ease with which Felix managed the beast was evident in his relaxed posture and loose grip on the reins.

For her part, she felt dreadfully unsteady, as if any unexpected movement might tip her off the side of the horse.

She had to cling to Felix much tighter than she wished, digging her fingers into the fabric of his tunic.

The unpleasant proximity also allowed her to notice his smell, something woodsy and lightly spiced.

It was the same aroma she’d detected in their brief moments of nearness before.

Now, she recognized the fragrance as marjoram; his clothes must be stored with sprigs of it. Marjoram hailed from the eastern regions where Felix concentrated his trade, so it made sense that he preferred it—just as she liked to perfume herself with Gallic lavender.

Lucretia couldn’t help breathing deeply as they traveled, allowing the calming, herbal fragrance to fill her lungs.

She had never been this close to Felix before, with multiple body parts pressed tight, jostling against each other as the horse trotted.

Then again, she hadn’t been this physically close to anyone —save a rare perfunctory hug from Marcus—in a long time.

Since Cornelius died. And their marital relationship had been waning for several years before his death.

They had still been friendly and companionable, but the ardor of their early marriage had long since dwindled by the time Cornelius was taken from her.

Now, with Felix’s lean body beneath her hands, a hesitant tendril of sensation sprouted within her. It spiraled through her, sparking tingles where their bodies met.

Lucretia tamped it down hastily. Perhaps this inappropriate craving was her mind’s way of distracting her from the guilt and self-reproach that had consumed her for the past day.

Finally, Felix drew the horse off the main road, down a dirt path that led toward the shore. They had been stopping to ask anyone they passed for word of a shipwreck. A wreck was an exciting event, so news had spread with speed, and they easily received directions as they got closer.

The path sputtered to a halt at the top of a rocky cliff overlooking the water.

Felix stopped the horse, hopped down, then reached up to help Lucretia.

She didn’t allow herself to enjoy the press of his hands around her waist as he supported her to the ground, but heat flared where he touched her nonetheless.

“It must be down here.” He walked over to the cliff, looking down.

Lucretia followed him, then drew in a sharp breath when she saw what lay below.

A small, sandy beach stretched between the cliffs and the sea, and it was littered with wooden wreckage.

Out at sea, a rock formation jutted from the water, sharp and unmoving against the rolling waves.

The ship must have run up against that in the storm, then sank with its debris washing up on shore.

Between the splintered chunks of wood lay a different sort of wreckage, made up of rounder, softer forms. Bodies .

“Divine Juno,” she breathed, shuddering.

A moving figure below caught her attention, and for a moment her heart leaped, thinking it was a survivor. But the figure moved quickly from one body to another, then paused to investigate a half-broken crate of something.

A scavenger, come to see what profit they could scrape from others’ misfortune.

“That’s my property!” Felix snarled as the figure yanked out an amphora, remarkably unbroken. “Stay here,” he snapped to Lucretia.

He hurried forward, and for a moment Lucretia thought he meant to jump off the cliff. Then, she saw the narrow, steep path that wound its way down the rock face to the beach.

Felix was the last person she would take orders from, so she followed him. She hiked up her skirts in one hand, using the other to brace herself against the rock to her right. She watched Felix’s steps carefully, matching the position of his feet, until her toes touched the sandy beach.

Felix dimly registered that Lucretia had ignored his command to stay behind, but he paid her no mind as he hastened down the cliffside path. If she wanted to risk breaking her ankle, so be it.

He made it to the beach and started toward the scavenger, long strides eating up the sand. “Unhand that cargo!”

The other man froze, but didn’t drop the sealed amphora he’d extricated from the broken crate. “Piss off,” the man growled. “I have as much right as anyone to salvage.”

“This ship and all its contents belong to me.” Felix squared his shoulders.

The man was bulky, but shorter than Felix.

A fight would be bloody and vicious, but Felix would do what was necessary to protect his cargo.

“If you abscond with so much as a splinter of wood, I’ll have you prosecuted for theft. ”

The man’s eyes slid to the side, assessing the surrounding terrain. Felix could tell he was preparing to run, and Felix gathered his own legs beneath him.

“Unless your name is Caesar Augustus, you’ve got no excuse to be so high and mighty, cocksucker.” The man bolted.

Felix leaped after him—but a retching sound from behind pulled him up short.

Lucretia was on her knees next to one of the bodies, vomiting into the sand.

“Infernal Dis,” Felix hissed. He cast one look at the man fleeing with the amphora— his amphora—then hurried to Lucretia’s side. He knelt next to her in the sand, strategically putting himself between her and the body to block her view. “Lucretia?”

“Leave me—” Her stomach heaved again. “Alone. Go chase your precious cargo.”

Felix looked again for the scavenger, but he had disappeared from view further down the beach. He would no doubt be back, with others, but Siro and a crew of men wouldn’t be far behind now. They would secure the remaining cargo and arrange for it to be transported back to Ostia. “It’s nothing.”

Lucretia wiped her mouth, hand shaking. It unnerved him to see her like this.

For all the years he’d known her, she had always displayed the utmost poise and self-assurance, which had only intensified since she’d taken over Cornelius’s business.

Seeing her like this—undone, her composure shattered—rattled him to his core.

“I deserve this,” she said hoarsely. “This is all my fault.”

He grasped her elbows and helped her to her feet, then took firm hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “For the last time, this is not your fault . Storms happen. I know that. These men knew that. Your husband knew that.”

Pain flashed in her eyes at the mention of Cornelius. He sensed that was the root of her violent reaction: this wreck must bring up all sorts of unpleasant memories of his death.

Felix softened his voice. “Every man who takes to the sea knows what he is risking. They have judged it a worthwhile gamble. You are not responsible for their deaths.”

She looked deep into his eyes, and Felix forced himself not to look away. Staring into the warm hazel depths of her gaze was like sinking into a hot bath after a grueling bout of boxing. Heat caressed every muscle, soothing aches he didn’t even know he had.

Gods, she was dangerous. Even sandy, distraught, and vomit-flecked, she could still enrapture him without a thought.

As she looked at him, some of the frantic tightness in her gaze seemed to ease. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes,” he murmured.

She broke their gazes, and he released her shoulders, stepping back from her.

“What will happen to them?” She gestured at the bodies on the beach.

“My men will transport them back to Ostia along with the cargo that can be recovered. Those who resided in Ostia will be returned to their families. For the others, I will see funeral rites held.”

She gave a small nod of approval. “And what of those they leave behind? Wives, children who depended on their income?”

Felix frowned at her. “As I said, they knew the risks. They should have money set aside for such an occurrence as this.”

She fixed him with a dissatisfied look.

He sighed. “I suppose I could dedicate a small fund for the widows.”

“Good.”

“Now, I need to collect any cargo that can be easily moved and put it in one spot, so it’s easily defensible in case more scavengers arrive before my men. You can wait for me over there.” He gestured to a shady spot next to the cliff.

She shook her head. “I can help move things.”

He glanced at her dubiously, but thought better of arguing when he saw the determined light in her eyes. “Very well.” He pointed toward a few barrels on their side. “Roll those over here. I will attend to the crates.”

She nodded, and they got to work.