Page 3 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

M ax was in a foul mood for the rest of that day. He carried out his afternoon duties, which included helping to repair a sagging roof along with polishing and sharpening a dozen swords. In the evening, he returned to his section of the barracks, a narrow room that housed four sets of bunk beds, sleeping eight men. He muttered a greeting to Drusus, who was sitting on one of the top bunks, legs hanging down, as he attempted to patch a hole in his tunic.

Drusus set down the needle and thread. “So? What’s the sentence? Ulpius was betting you were in for at least a month of latrine duty.”

Max grimaced, dropping onto a bench that rested against the wall. “Two weeks of guard duty at the governor’s residence. And I’m banned from the stables.”

Drusus shrugged. “Guard duty isn’t so bad. You’ll be inside, just standing around.”

“Just standing around” sounded like a nightmare. “Would you check on Elephant a few times for me? She’ll miss me. And she’s gotten accustomed to a certain routine.”

“By routine, you mean stuffing her with as many apples and carrots as you can pilfer from the provisioner.” Drusus grinned good-naturedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after her. You spoil her more than a husband spoils his wife.”

“Well, a wife couldn’t carry me on her back all the way from Rome, could she?” Max allowed himself a brief laugh, but the mention of wives brought Volusia to mind. The last time he’d seen her, she was on the verge of a betrothal. Now, she was ten years into a marriage. He chewed his lip, wondering if marriage had changed her.

Drusus eyed him. “You’re thinking about her again. The governor’s wife. What was her name? Valeria?”

“Volusia,” Max murmured.

“You said you knew her. Is there a story there?” His eyes lit up. Drusus loved gossip, though he would never betray a confidence.

“I told you the bulk of it. We became friends as adolescents. Of course I was besotted with her. What boy wouldn’t have been?” He hesitated, remembering those heady days of infatuation. “I had reason to believe she returned the interest. But…” He shook his head. “It was just a childish fancy.”

“Do you think she’ll remember you?”

Max considered. They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms. His last memories of her consisted of shouted threats reverberating around her family’s atrium, her distraught face pale in the twilight. “I’m beginning to hope she doesn’t.”

The next day, Max reported for duty at the governor’s residence. It was a newly constructed house near the center of Narbo, built like all Roman houses with rooms arranged around a central atrium. The house bustled with activity as slaves carried boxes and bundles to and fro. Unpacking efforts must still be underway.

Max stood in the antechamber near the front door, making sure no one got in who wasn’t supposed to. It was, as he feared, extremely boring. Without the sun overhead, he had no way to estimate the time. He busied himself trying to count the tiny floor tiles, seeing how many he could get to before losing track. How would he survive two weeks of this?

The governor, Avitus, left early in the day, likely to conduct business in the offices nearby. A slender young man with an armful of scrolls and wax tablets followed him, probably a secretary of some sort. Max kept his ears pricked for sign of Volusia throughout the rest of the day. Occasionally, he heard a trill of female laughter emanating from elsewhere in the house, but he couldn’t tell if it was her or not.

He realized it was midday when Avitus returned for lunch, secretary on his heels. Max saluted as he held the door open for the governor, who acknowledged him with a nod.

Quick, light footsteps approached from behind him. “Avitus, is that you? I’ve just had lunch set out in the—” The flurry of words stopped short.

Max turned away from the door to see Volusia, standing a few feet away and staring at him with an open mouth.

He’d been bracing himself for this meeting all day, but he couldn’t suppress the bolt of something that ran up his spine at the sight of her. There were subtle differences in her appearance from the seventeen-year old Max remembered: her hair was done in a more complex style, and she carried herself with a mantle of cool maturity befitting a lady of her station. But the warmth filling her eyes was just as he remembered.

Avitus raised an eyebrow at his dumbstruck wife. “My dear?”

Volusia blinked and recovered herself. Her mouth closed and her lips curved in a smile. “Lunch is in the dining room, of course. You must be hungry after a morning of hard work.”

“Indeed.” Avitus walked toward the dining room, the secretary following. Volusia cast a lingering look at Max, hesitated as if to say something, then turned and went after her husband.

Max let out a long breath and leaned against the wall. He watched her figure recede among the columns that lined the atrium. She had clearly recognized him—and clearly didn’t want her husband to know of their connection. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. On its face, there was nothing so scandalous in mentioning a past acquaintance, especially as they were the same age and had moved in the same social circle in Rome.

An hour or so passed. Avitus, Volusia, and the secretary reappeared once more when the men left, their lunch concluded. Max tried to look anywhere but at Volusia as he closed and locked the front door. He waited for her to leave, but she lingered.

“Is it really you, Max?” she asked.

Finally, he looked at her. She had stepped only an arm’s length from him. He could smell the flowery perfumed oil she wore. His mouth was dry, but he cleared his throat. “It’s me.”

A broad smile spread over her face. He remembered what it was like to bask in one of her bright, warm smiles—like stepping into a shaft of sunlight.

“Oh, how wonderful! Forgive me for acting so strange earlier—only I was just so surprised and didn’t know what to say. I was half-sure I was seeing things.”

An answering smile tugged at his lips. “I couldn’t believe it either when you stepped out of that carriage yesterday.”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? You look well. Of course you always looked well—not that I meant”—she stumbled over her words, a pretty flush rising to her cheeks—“I just meant the army seems to suit you.”

“It does, most of the time.” Just not when my centurion is being a massive prick . “Marriage seems to suit you likewise.” He was taking a risk with such a personal comment, but he couldn’t resist trying to recapture the ease that used to exist between them.

She tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “As you say. It does, most of the time.”

Something lurked beneath that comment, but he’d be pushing his luck to pry. “I thought I recalled you had a son. He’s not here with you?”

Her gaze turned wistful. “We decided to let Lucius remain in Rome with his grandparents. His constitution is delicate, and we didn’t want to interrupt his studies.”

“Studies? He can’t be more than nine.”

“Ten in a few months. Unlike you, he takes education very seriously. He wants to be a consul like his grandfather.”

Max’s mouth twisted at the mention of Volusia’s stepfather. “Good luck to him.”

Volusia gave him a stern look. “He could do much worse.”

A heaviness settled between them. Volusia’s stepfather, Rufus, was one of the reasons she and Max hadn’t spoken in ten years. According to Rufus, Max was not fit to breathe the same air as his precious stepdaughter, due to Max’s unconventional upbringing. Max had been born into poverty and fled an unhappy home, preferring to take his chances on the street as a child of seven. Then, he’d been adopted by Aelius and Crispina, unable to have children of their own. Rufus knew of Max’s ignoble origins and had never seen him as anything more than a delinquent.

It didn’t help that Max, as a child, had once attempted to attack Rufus. During a contentious election between Rufus and Aelius, Rufus had stooped to threatening Crispina. Max had witnessed Rufus lay hands on Crispina, and the best he could do was kick Rufus as hard as possible in the shin in an effort to defend her. No doubt Rufus remembered the incident keenly, which contributed to his hatred of Max.

“I must return to see how the rest of the unpacking is going,” Volusia said, her voice turning brisk. “It was very nice to see you, Max.” She nodded to him, then turned and walked further into the house.

Max watched her go, a tugging feeling in his chest urging him to follow her. He ignored it, and resumed his post by the door.