Page 10 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

T he next morning, Max managed to convince himself that Volusia’s appearance—and their kiss—last night hadn’t been a dream. If he had been dreaming, a murder accusation probably wouldn’t have been part of it.

To keep his promise to Volusia, he went in search of Glabrio to ask if he could be assigned to the escort that would take Volusia back to Rome.

The centurion wasn’t in his office, and one of his lackeys said he’d gone in the direction of the stables, so Max headed that way. As he walked the short distance from the camp to the stables, he caught sight of Glabrio walking up ahead next to another man. Though both had their backs to Max, the other man’s tall, proud bearing was unmistakable: Petronax.

Max hung back, seeing the commander in a new light after hearing Volusia’s suspicions. Was he capable of treason and cold-blooded murder?

As an experienced soldier, killing would be familiar to Petronax. Max, too, had killed men in battle. But there was a difference between the unavoidable violence of war and stooping to poison a governor to keep him quiet.

Petronax and Glabrio finished their conversation, and Petronax turned to head back in the direction Max had come. Max stepped out of his way and saluted as he passed. Petronax didn’t even look at Max.

Max hurried up the path to draw level with Glabrio. “Sir.” He saluted once more. “I was wondering if I could ask a favor.”

Glabrio kept walking toward the stables, shooting Max a scowl. “Are you in a position to be asking favors, legionary?”

“Well, probably not, sir, but I was wondering if there might be a spot for me on the escort that is taking the governor’s widow back to Rome. Do you know whom I might speak to about that?”

Glabrio stopped and turned to look at him. “As a matter of fact, Petronax has just asked me to lead that escort.”

“Oh.” It was somewhat surprising for a centurion to be put in charge of something so banal as escort duty, but perhaps Volusia’s station as a governor’s widow warranted it. The prospect of a solid month on the road with Glabrio was supremely unappealing, but he thought of Volusia. He was doing this for her, so she would feel safe until she got to Rome.

Glabrio raised an eyebrow at Max’s evident reluctance. “Are you rescinding your request?”

“No, sir. I would still like to go. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen my family in Rome.”

Glabrio surveyed him dispassionately. Max knew this assignment was not one that would be coveted; few soldiers would want to undertake a tedious journey, and escorting a woman would not be seen as a particularly distinguished endeavor.

“All right,” Glabrio finally said. “The funeral is to be the day after tomorrow, and we leave the day after that. Go speak to the provisioners about setting aside enough supplies for the trip. If we go hungry, it will be your fault.”

Max saluted. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” He hurried off.

Avitus’s funeral took place with due solemnity. With Iris’s help, Volusia had managed to find some black clothing, and garbed herself appropriately for the occasion. She walked at the head of the funeral procession from their home to the place outside the city gates where a pyre waited. The people of Narbo gathered to watch. Everyone stared at her, and her skin prickled with awareness of their curious gazes. Volusia kept her eyes trained straight ahead on the bier that bore Avitus’s body, dressed in the purple-edged toga which honored his status. Iris walked at her elbow, a steady, reassuring presence.

Outside the city gates, the legion had assembled. She allowed herself a quick scan of the crowd, but didn’t see Max. Still, it comforted her to know that he was out there somewhere.

Volusia stood nearest to the pyre, Silvanus and other members of Avitus’s staff behind her, as a priest chanted. Petronax stood a short distance away at the head of the legion. His head was bowed in a somber posture. Volusia stared hard at him, but his face revealed nothing.

Someone handed her a flaming torch, and she stepped forward to lay it at the base of the pyre. She took one last glimpse of Avitus’s face, pale and still, then set down the torch and stood back to watch the flames consume his body.

No doubt everyone expected her to sob and rend her clothing in grief, but she felt no urge toward such extravagant displays of emotion. She would miss the stability that Avitus had given her, but there was no love to render her heartbroken at his loss. He hadn’t deserved to die, and she would seek justice, but it was for the sake of her son, not for Avitus.

Lucius should be here to witness his father’s journey into the afterlife, to know that he was now the head of their little family. She hadn’t yet found the words to tell him of his father’s death, but she had several weeks to ponder on the journey. Lucius would be devastated, and though she felt no pain for Avitus, her heart already ached in sympathy for her son’s loss.

Thinking of Lucius made her think about the future. Regardless of whether she was successful in bringing Petronax to justice, a long future stretched before her in which she had to act in her son’s best interest. Avitus had always meant for Lucius to follow in his footsteps and make a success of himself, whether as a consul or senator or other magistrate, and Volusia needed to ensure that Lucius didn’t miss any opportunities just because he’d lost his father. She would need to consider remarriage; a stepfather of the right caliber could open many doors for her son.

Besides, she didn’t want to be alone for the rest of her days. After ten years of a lonely marriage, she wanted a companion—or at least someone who would show her more affection than Avitus had. She wanted to feel important to someone, to be cherished and esteemed, though she feared that may be too much to ask from a marriage designed to benefit her son.

Smoke rose into the sky from the pyre, and Volusia’s eyes watered. She glanced back over at the legion, even knowing she wouldn’t see Max’s face. Kissing him—again—had been a mistake, though at least this time it hadn’t ended with her stepfather shouting threats and insults at him. Max made her heart flutter as he always had, but for all his virtues, he was not the sort of man who could help her son climb the ladder of Roman politics.

Besides, he’d always spoken of wanting a career in the army, and soldiers weren't permitted to marry. In any case, Volusia didn’t want to be with a man who was gone for months and years at a time, always worrying if he’d get himself killed or injured. She resolved to tuck her feelings for Max away like an out-of-style dress, difficult as their impending journey might make that. She couldn’t let a silly childhood affection jeopardize something as important as her son’s future.

The morning after the funeral, Max assembled with the other five men of the escort, including Glabrio, outside Volusia’s house. Ulpius and Calvus loaded provisions into the back of a large cart, and Pullus and Sextus checked the harness of the horses that would pull Volusia’s carriage. Glabrio oversaw it all with a frown.

Volusia’s belongings had already been loaded into the back of another cart. Volusia exited the house, followed by Iris. Volusia was garbed for traveling in a simple dress covered in a long linen cloak, but gold jewelry shone at her throat and wrists, and her bearing was regal as a queen.

Max had strategically positioned himself closest to the covered carriage, and thus was the one to extend his hand and help Volusia in. She barely spared him a glance, but her fingers gave his an extra squeeze as he handed her into the carriage. Iris followed, giving Max an assessing look laced with suspicion.

Once the carriage door was closed, the six soldiers mounted up, and they set off through the streets of Narbo. Outside the city, another wagon of provisions joined their train, and their journey began in earnest.

Max’s chest expanded as they left the city behind. Riding Elephant on the open road always made him feel invincible, even when confined to the slow pace required by the carriage and carts.

A month of this wouldn’t be so bad, Max reflected as they made camp at the end of the first day. It was high summer, but they were taking a coastal road so enjoyed a fresh sea breeze. The only improvement he could imagine would be if Volusia were riding next to him, instead of sequestered in a carriage. And maybe if Glabrio had stayed in Narbo.

As the sun set, Max took his time rubbing Elephant down in the area where the other horses were tethered. It had been a while since she’d been ridden for a whole day, and he wanted to make sure he dried her thoroughly so she wouldn’t catch a chill from any sweat. He ran his fingers through her mane, gently working through the tangles that had arisen throughout the day, and offered her an apple he’d filched from the supplies.

A figure approached in the gathering dusk. Max glanced up from Elephant to see Volusia.

“Good evening,” she said. “I needed to stretch my legs after a day in that carriage.”

“Good evening,” he replied. They were alone out here, but he could still hear the noise of the others at the camp and see the flickering firelight just a little ways in the distance. He wasn’t quite sure how to treat her—as a legionary escorting a Roman lady, or the childhood friend he couldn’t seem to stop kissing.

He settled for somewhere in between, and gave her a friendly smile as she patted Elephant’s nose.

“I wanted to thank you, again, for arranging to be here,” Volusia said. “It comforts me to know you’re here.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest at the thought that his presence could bring her comfort. “It was no trouble.” He drew closer to her, resting an arm atop Elephant’s back.

“If there’s anything I can ever do for you in return, never hesitate to ask.” Elephant was snuffling at her hair, but Volusia didn’t look away from Max’s face. Invitation glimmered in her eyes, and it spurred Max to boldness.

“I will never ask anything of you,” Max murmured, “except perhaps another kiss.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Max opened his mouth to backtrack, but Volusia smiled. “Rather a bold request, but one I’m happy to grant.”

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, then dipped his head down and brushed her lips with his. It struck him that this was the first time he was the one to kiss her; both of their previous encounters had been initiated by her.

His chainmail armor rattled as she grabbed his shoulders and lifted herself onto her tiptoes to take more of his mouth. Desire raced through him. Max’s back pressed against Elephant, who gave a disapproving snort and sidestepped away. Max stumbled, pulling Volusia with him. She giggled as they found their footing.

“Elephant is more sensible than either of us,” she said, looping her arms around his neck. “She knows we should not be doing this.”

Volusia—and Elephant—were right, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of holding her, touching her, kissing her. Their time together was running out, and they both knew it.

He slid a hand under her chin and moved to kiss her once more—but the rustle of footsteps through grass made him jump away from her. He hastily picked up the cloth he’d been using to wipe down Elephant, and began rubbing at her flank once more, even though she was perfectly dry.

Glabrio approached and surveyed them with distaste. The twilight shadows clung to his craggy face, intensifying his scowl. He acknowledged Volusia with a nod. “Lady.”

She nodded back, offering no excuse or explanation for straying from the camp. Good: she wasn’t one of his legionaries, and didn’t need to account for herself to him.

Glabrio turned to Max. “If you can tear yourself away from your horse, legionary, there are tents that need to be put up.”

Max tucked the rag into his belt. “Right away, sir.” He gave Volusia a parting nod.

As he left, he glimpsed Glabrio clumsily offering his arm to Volusia. She smoothly ignored him, and followed Max back to camp, leaving Glabrio to hasten after them.