Page 20

T he next morning, Felix rode at the head of their small group alongside Siro as they journeyed back toward Ostia.

Lucretia, to his relief, was no longer riding with him on the horse, but sat in one of the carts laden with the salvaged cargo.

Out of sight behind him, but impossible to get out of his mind.

They hadn’t spoken last night or this morning.

After what happened, Felix had scrubbed his tunic, laid it to dry, and returned to bed, grateful the dark hid his nakedness from her.

By then, Lucretia had rolled over, facing away from him.

He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not.

He thought not, by the shallow rhythm of her breathing, but he behaved as if she was.

Perhaps she was as unnerved as he was and wished to pretend this encounter had never occurred.

Exhaustion finally overtook him, and he slept until the sun’s rays woke him in the morning.

Lucretia was absent from bed, having already gone downstairs to find something to eat in the tavern.

It was a relief they didn’t have to exchange awkward, stilted words…

though there would have been an undeniable pleasure in waking next to her, in seeing her auburn hair spread over the pillow, the sunlight threading it with gold.

But she’d been gone, and they hadn’t spoken a single word.

Now, on the road to Ostia, Felix squinted up at the scant clouds dotting the sky, hoping the sun’s brightness would chase away the confusing specter of last night.

“If I may, sir…” Siro said as they passed farm after farm. “How did the lady come to be with us yesterday? I was rather surprised to see her. Given that you are not exactly…friends.”

Not exactly, indeed . Felix briefly explained the events which led to Lucretia accompanying him to the wreck.

“She cursed you?” Siro bristled, casting an outraged glance back at where Lucretia rode in the cart. “The nerve of that woman. Such things are not to be trifled with.”

“I believe she intends to undo it when we return.”

“She had better. All the more reason for you to find a way to eliminate her. Speaking of which, have you fixed a date to travel to Spoletium?”

Felix sighed. He’d been putting off the trip to search for Lucretia’s guardian.

The whole journey would take at least a week on horseback, and he didn’t particularly enjoy traveling.

No doubt in his absence, Lucretia would think of another way to strike at him.

Though at least curses were perhaps now off the table.

“I must look at the calendar when we return to find a suitable date,” Felix replied.

Getting to Lucretia’s guardian could be the most effective way to remove her from his path. But as his mind ran over the events of yesterday, he couldn’t help wondering if there was a way to get everything—or at least almost everything—he wanted in one fell swoop.

He wanted Lucretia; he’d known that since meeting her, and it had become an unquestionable hunger as of last night. And he wanted to broaden his influence over trade throughout the Mediterranean.

He had believed the only way to attain the latter goal was to start with Ostia, to attain total control here and then expand. Which required removing Lucretia, his last remaining rival.

But in one of their conversations yesterday, Lucretia had given him another idea. You know there is room for both of us to be profitable in Ostia , she’d said, and she was right.

Perhaps he could afford to leave her be in Ostia, and turn his focus to other port cities. Start acquiring a few shipping operations, finance more ships, and expand from there. Lucretia could keep her trade in Ostia unchallenged.

That avenue also opened up the very tempting prospect of being able to accept her proposal—or at least, negotiate a modified version.

His nobler hesitation yesterday had been that he didn’t want her to feel obliged to sleep with him. He wanted her to want him.

And last night proved that she did.

He turned to glance back at her. She sat primly in the cart, one arm resting on a barrel.

Their gazes met, and he turned quickly back to the front.

There was something knowing in her gaze now, something that recalled their intimacy of last night.

He might never be able to look at her again without thinking of what they’d shared.

No matter what happened from here, she would always be a part of him.

When Lucretia returned to Ostia in midafternoon, Marcus was just setting his school bag down in the atrium.

He frowned, glancing through the open front door at the group of riders and carts moving off. “Where have you been?”

She couldn’t blame him for his accusatory tone; after all, she had been gone overnight with no word or notice. “I’m very sorry, sweetheart. It was an unexpected trip, and we were detained overnight.”

“Was that Felix with you? I thought you hated him. I thought we were never supposed to speak with him again.” No wonder he sounded so peeved—she must look like a terrible hypocrite, forbidding Marcus from associating with Felix and then turning around and spending a day and night in his company.

“I don’t hate him.” She explained briefly about the shipwreck and the events which had led her to spend the night in a coastal town with Felix—though chose to leave out their sleeping arrangements.

“A shipwreck? Why couldn’t I have come?”

“It was very gruesome, Marcus,” she chided. “Men died.”

He huffed but abandoned the subject. “Can I have ten denarii?”

She granted the request, pleased that he asked this time instead of stealing from her. After she gave him the money, he disappeared. Lucretia spared a few minutes to freshen up after her travels, then went to her office to catch up on anything she’d missed while away.

Dihya was there, of course, and jumped to her feet when Lucretia entered. “Where have you been ?”

Lucretia sighed and, once again, relayed the broad strokes of her unexpected journey with Felix.

“And you spent the night with him?” Dihya demanded. “In the same bed?”

“He was too snobbish to take the floor!”

“Well, did anything happen?”

Lucretia hesitated. It would be easy to lie and say that they’d been perfectly proper, but Dihya was her friend.

“There may have been some…touching. And…” Lucretia closed her eyes and spoke so fast the words ran together.

“I may have attempted to get him to agree to a truce by offering carnal favors.”

“You what ?” Dihya’s face displayed a strange mix of outrage and delight.

“He said no,” Lucretia added. Well, not precisely no : he’d said I want you freely, or not at all.

“Blessed Juno,” Dihya breathed. “What has gotten into you lately, Lucretia? You went from cursing Felix to running off with him and trying to barter your body.”

“I don’t know,” Lucretia admitted. “But please, let’s forget about it. It will not happen again.”

“Do you want me to try another curse on him?” Dihya asked. “I have the ear of some African gods who would love to get their hands on a wealthy Roman, no doubt.”

“No more curses,” Lucretia said sternly.

“All right,” Dihya said with an unconvinced shrug, but she permitted Lucretia to change the subject to other matters.

Lucretia worked until darkness fell, then pushed away from her desk with a tired sigh. Dihya had already left after Caeso came to collect her.

This time yesterday, she’d been gingerly climbing into bed with Felix. And then, a few hours later, not so gingerly rutting against him.

The events of last night still seemed hazy and dreamlike. But her body responded at the thought of it, and the residual pleasure sparking in her core was all too real.

She tried to explain it as simple lust. After all, she’d been widowed for a year, and even before that, her marital relations with Cornelius had been infrequent at best. But she’d grown proficient at satisfying her own urges over the years.

No, somehow it was Felix her body wanted. The thought boggled the mind. Felix, her cold, scheming rival. Felix, who wanted nothing more than to destroy her.

Felix, who had never desired any woman but her.

There was something seductive about his single-minded interest, paired with his inexperience. Why was she so tempted by the thought of being his first?

She couldn’t afford to think of him that way. He was still her rival, still plotting against her. If she allowed herself to soften toward him, to want him, it could only weaken her ability to strike back at him.

Her business—and her independence—had to come first. Last night meant nothing, and they would never speak of it again.