Page 27 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

M ax returned to Rome in the early afternoon. He rubbed Elephant down and saw her safely returned to a cozy stable stall, then headed home. He planned to grab some lunch and then head to the baths to wash away the grime from his travel.

As he was going to the kitchen to see what could be rustled up for lunch, Paris came to find him. “Sir, there’s a messenger for you in the atrium. Says he has a message from the lady Volusia.”

Max’s interest piqued. “Thanks. I’ll see what it is.” He turned away from the kitchen and went to the atrium.

A broad-shouldered man waited, hands clasped in front of him. Max thought he recognized him as one of Volusia’s litter-bearers. “You have a message for me from Volusia?”

The man nodded. “Yes, sir. She said it was urgent. She said to tell you ‘Silvanus did it.’ And she asked you to meet her at his house, right away.”

Max frowned. “His house? You mean—”

“She’s visiting the gentleman named Silvanus, sir. That’s where I came from.”

Max’s stomach gave a horrible lurch as he realized the significance of her message. Silvanus did it. Silvanus had killed Avitus. How was that possible?

He couldn’t stop to think about it. Volusia was at Silvanus’s home, alone, likely on the verge of confronting him about his crime. He prayed she would wait for him before doing anything reckless. But what if Silvanus realized she knew? What if he—

“Juno’s cunt.” He grabbed the messenger’s arm. “How far is Silvanus’s house from here?”

“No more than a quarter mile, sir.”

“Take me there straightaway.” Volusia was in grave danger, and he had to get to her.

Max stumbled up to the front door of Silvanus’s house, breathing hard. He and the messenger had run the short distance as fast as they could. He felt the lack of a weapon at his hip keenly. He didn’t know what he was about to walk into, but he’d have to face it unarmed.

Max banged on the front door. “Silvanus! Open up!”

Silence within. Max realized too late that banging on the door like a madman was not the way to get whatever slave who manned the entrance to admit him.

Max backed up a few paces, then threw his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge. He cast a desperate glance back at Volusia’s four litter bearers, who were watching him in shock. “Help me with this.”

The man who had served as the messenger eyed the sturdy door doubtfully. “It will take a battering ram to get through that door, sir.”

Max clenched and unclenched his fists, frantic energy pulsing through his veins. Volusia was in there, and she was in danger. He had to get to her.

He bolted from the front of the house to the side, into the narrow alley that separated it from the neighboring house. His gaze alit on a small door hiding in the shadows. It must lead into the kitchens and back storage rooms.

This time, Max didn’t bother knocking. He charged at the door, ramming his shoulder into it. It burst open, wood splintering around the handle.

Twin shrieks sounded from the two women in the kitchen when he barged in. One clutched a bowl of vegetable peelings, and the other was elbow-deep in disemboweling a rabbit.

“Sorry,” Max said reflexively. The women stared at him.

A scream and the sound of crashing and shattering echoed from elsewhere in the house, and Max took off running toward the noise. He followed it, veering crazily through the corridors, until he burst into the dining room.

His soldier’s brain immediately took stock of the scene before him and propelled his body into motion, before the rest of his mind could catch up. Silvanus and Volusia were on the dining couch, a wreckage of plates and food around them. Silvanus’s hands were wrapped tight around Volusia’s throat as she struggled.

Silvanus looked up as he entered, shock spreading across his face. Max crossed the room in several long strides. He bent and grabbed a heavy metal pitcher, his body moving without conscious thought. Silvanus’s mouth opened. Max brought the pitcher down hard on Silvanus’s head. The man went limp, and slumped off the couch to the floor.

Volusia lay on the couch, unmoving.

Now that the immediate threat had been vanquished, terror set in. Max dropped to his knees next to the couch. His shaking fingers brushed her cheek. He called her name, and jostled her shoulder. Her head lolled.

He bent his head close to her face, trying to see if he could hear or feel her breathing, but his own heart was pounding too hard. He thought he felt a wisp of breath against his cheek. He called her name again, louder.

A tiny motion caught his eye—an almost imperceptible movement of her chest. Thank all the gods, she was alive.

“Volusia,” he gasped. “Volusia, come back to me.”

Her eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze, at first hazy and unfocused, settled on him. Her mouth opened and her lips moved, but no sound came out.

He laid a hand, still trembling, on her shoulder. “Don’t try to talk. It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

A noise behind him caught his attention. Silvanus was stirring. With brisk movements, Max unfastened his belt where it cinched his tunic and kicked Silvanus onto his stomach. He bound the man’s hands behind him, then dragged him over to slump against the wall.

Several pairs of footsteps sounded, and Max grabbed a knife from the pile of fallen dining implements. Had the servants come to defend their master?

Two of Volusia’s litter-bearers entered the dining room. They must have followed Max in through the kitchen entrance. Their mouths fell open as they beheld the scene.

Volusia struggled into a sitting position, a hand massaging her throat.

“Lady, are you injured?” one of the litter-bearers asked.

She opened her mouth again, but only a breathy croak came out. She shook her head.

“I think she’ll be all right,” Max said. “We need to deal with him.” He gestured to Silvanus, now groaning and wriggling as he slowly returned to consciousness. “Go to the home of the consul Hortensius. Tell him we have the proof he required, nearly at the expense of Volusia’s life.” He knew the consul cared for Volusia, and any hint of a threat to her would make him come right away to ensure her safety.

The litter-bearers nodded and left. As they departed, Max glimpsed another figure in the corridor behind them. One of Silvanus’s slaves, a young man, was staring wide-eyed at the bound and half-conscious figure of his master. He flinched when Max caught his eye.

“You all should leave now, while you can,” Max said to the slave. “Tell the others.” There would likely be an investigation, and if Silvanus was convicted, his slaves would be confiscated as part of his estate. There was also the unpleasant fact that the slaves would probably be questioned in any investigation, and testimony from a slave was only considered valid if extracted under torture.

The young man met his gaze, nodded quickly, then ran. Max returned to Volusia’s side. She was sitting upright, and some color had returned to her cheeks. He sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, and tried to speak once more, but couldn’t summon any sound. She grasped his hand and squeezed it.

He squeezed back. He had come so close to losing her, and now, all he wanted to do was pour his heart out to her. He might lose her still, in a different way, but he had to try. This likely wasn’t the best time, with Volusia nearly strangled and a half-conscious murderer tied up on the other side of the room, but he couldn’t stand to wait a single moment more.

“I know you can’t talk right now, but I have something to say that can’t wait.” He slid off the couch, coming to kneel before her. One knee brushed a fragment of broken pottery, and his foot landed in a puddle of spilled wine, but he didn’t care. “You already know that I love you. I thought I had to give you up because I wasn’t good enough for you, and I couldn’t give you the life you needed. But I realized there’s more for me than the army life. I want to buy land in the country and breed horses, away from the city. I may not be able to teach Lucius how to give a speech or introduce him to a bunch of senators, but I can teach him how to ride a horse and throw a punch. You know all of my flaws. I’m not well-spoken or cultured or even particularly intelligent. But I swear to you, by Mars’s hairy ballsack…”

She smothered a grin even as her eyes welled with tears.

He renewed his clasp of her hand. “I’ll make up for all of my faults tenfold with how much I love you.”

She gazed down at him. A tear spilled down her cheek. She traced her fingertips down his face, a gentle caress. She opened her mouth and her lips moved. Max leaned closer to hear the barely-there whisper. “Pluto…and Proserpina.”

Max blinked at her, befuddled. Had she hit her head in the fight? For a moment, he couldn’t figure out what the king and queen of the underworld had to do with this.

Then, he realized her meaning. Proserpina spent six months in the underworld with her husband, and six months in the land of the living. Volusia was suggesting she spend half the year in the countryside with him, and the other half in Rome, where she could foster her ambitions for her son.

Max shook his head vehemently. “No. I won’t spend six months apart from you. I don’t even want to spend another fucking hour apart from you ever again, Volusia.”

She held up a finger. “Not…apart. Six months…Rome. Six months…country.”

He understood her full meaning. She was suggesting a compromise, that they split their time between Rome and the countryside. Max could have six months to spend with his horses, and Volusia would have six months to participate in the social scene and engage the best tutors for her son.

That meant that Max would have to spend half the year in crowded, noisy, smelly Rome. Ordinarily, the thought would have made him shudder, but if it meant he could have Volusia at his side, he would gladly pay that price.

He nodded. “Agreed.”

She looked at him questioningly. “Army?”

“I don’t want that anymore,” Max said. “I joined the army because I wanted adventure and freedom. Adventure I found in some measure, I suppose, but there’s no freedom to be had in taking orders.” He grasped her hand. “Instead, I want to be free to love you. And loving you has already been an adventure, hasn’t it?”

A smile spread across her face. She leaned close, as if to kiss him, but drew back hastily at the sound of footsteps coming closer. Max rose to his feet as Hortensius swept in, followed by the twelve burly lictors that served as his bodyguard.

The consul’s gaze snapped to Volusia, lingering on the livid bruises that were now blooming on her throat. “What in the name of Dis happened here?” He crossed the room to stand before Volusia, concern darkening his eyes.

Max stepped forward. “She’s all right. She just can’t talk.” He gestured to Silvanus. “This was his doing.”

Hortensius pointed a commanding finger at Silvanus. “Secure him.”

Two of the lictors jumped forward and hauled the groggy Silvanus to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his arms.

Hortensius approached him. “Why did you attack the lady Volusia?”

Silvanus squinted at him, his gaze hazy. “Because the bitch was going to ruin everything.”

Hortensius made a quick gesture, and one of the lictors struck Silvanus in the face, bloodying his lip.

Volusia cast Max a distressed look. Trust her to be so softhearted that she didn’t even want to see the man who’d just tried to kill her beaten.

Max, for one, didn’t mind if Hortensius’s men wanted to give Silvanus a couple more whacks for good measure, but he cleared his throat, hoping to change the direction of the conversation. “I can tell you what I know, but Volusia will have to share the full story when she’s able to speak. Volusia figured out that Silvanus, Avitus’s secretary, poisoned him back in Narbo, on Petronax's orders. It seems he tried to attack her to keep her quiet.” He didn’t know how Silvanus had been convinced to murder Avitus, but judging by this giant house, money must have been involved.

Hortensius surveyed Silvanus dispassionately. “Will you confess to the murder of Avitus under oath?”

Silvanus’s lip curled. “Why would I condemn myself?”

“We have the testimony of a respected lady,” Hortensius said. He turned to Volusia. “Will you testify to what you know under oath?”

She nodded.

Silvanus glared at her. “So then you’ll have me killed anyway. I won’t confess.”

Volusia raised a hand, drawing everyone’s attention. “Mercy,” she whispered.

Hortensius gave her a look of incomprehension. “You’re asking for mercy for the man who was a moment away from killing you?”

For once, Max agreed with the consul. Even Silvanus looked skeptical.

Volusia cleared her throat. “He had…no choice. Impossible situation.”

Max understood: if Silvanus had refused to carry out Petronax’s bidding, he would have met a similar fate as Avitus.

Hortensius considered for a moment, then turned back to Silvanus. “If you give a full confession, including information on Petronax, who must have put you up to this, then I will see that you receive a sentence of exile. You’ll keep your head, though you’ll never set foot in the Republic again.”

Silvanus’s jaw tensed. “Fine. I’ll talk.”

Hortensius gave another signal to the lictors, and they dragged Silvanus away. Hortensius approached Volusia. “Can my men escort you home?”

Volusia opened her mouth and glanced at Max.

Max folded his arms over his chest. “ I’ll see her home.”

Volusia smiled at Hortensius and nodded.

The consul’s lips tightened. “As you wish.”

He turned to leave, but Volusia raised a hand and cleared her throat. “Pet…ronax,” she whispered.

“I think she wants to know what will happen to Petronax,” Max clarified.

Hortensius shot him an icy glare. “Obviously.” He returned his attention to Volusia. “Assuming Silvanus gives us satisfactory information that confirms Petronax’s guilt, I will send a small force to Narbo. Petronax will be quietly done away with…much as he did away with Avitus.”

“You’re going to have him assassinated, rather than bring him to trial publicly?” Max asked.

Hortensius’s lips thinned even further. He did not deign to look at Max, but kept his focus on Volusia. “Learning of the corruption of a celebrated commander would destabilize the Republic more than it already has been due to the civil war. Publicizing Petronax’s treachery would not be a prudent decision.”

Volusia nodded. “Understood,” she whispered.

“If that is all, I must return to other matters.” Hortensius inclined his head to Volusia. “I’ll send a messenger tomorrow to ensure that you’re recovering well.”

He left, followed by the remaining lictors. Max helped Volusia to her feet. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She held up a hand. “One thing…first.” She stood on her tiptoes and tilted her face up to kiss him, picking up where they’d left off before Hortensius interrupted them.

Joy swept over him in a heady rush. He cradled her face in his hands as he kissed her back, careful of her bruises.

“I love you, Max,” she murmured against his cheek, her voice gaining strength. “City, country…wherever we go, I’ll love you.”

He couldn’t speak, but he hugged her as tight as he dared, enfolding her in his arms. She was everything he had ever wanted. For the first time in a while, he could see the rest of his life spread before him, bright with hope.

There was only one thing that could stain his delight. He drew back gently from the embrace. “Your stepfather still hates me.” What if Rufus tried to prevent them from getting married?

“Yes.” She gave a raspy sigh. “He may never like you, but I think I can convince him to tolerate you.”

He grinned. Where Rufus was concerned, toleration would have to be enough. He put an arm around her shoulders and led her from the empty house, into the sunlight outside.