Page 4 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

Ten years ago

P raise all the gods, it was almost over. Max’s adoptive father’s year as consul was nearing its end. In a matter of weeks, Max would be free from his suffocating position in one of Rome’s two most scrutinized families.

Volusia, sitting across from him at dinner, knew just how he felt. He could tell it from her smile as they listened to their fathers discuss the upcoming election, speculating who might win the next term.

The past year had been dismal, full of dinner parties and banquets and state occasions where he had to stand up straight and pretend to pay attention. He’d been kept on a tight leash, forbidden from carousing and gambling with his friends. He’d only endured it because his parents had struck a bargain with him: one year of exemplary behavior, and he would be sent off to join the army’s cavalry division with a horse of his choosing.

He’d already chosen the horse, a graceful young mare whose gait was the smoothest he’d ever felt, and he endured every boring dinner party by imagining the adventures they would have together. He pitied Volusia; all she had to look forward to was marriage to some magistrate her parents had selected.

Volusia caught his eye across the table. Her delicate eyebrows twitched twice in quick succession. He smothered his grin into his napkin. That signal meant “escape at the first opportunity.” They had developed their own language of twitches and nudges over the past few months, after an unfortunate incident resulted in them being forbidden from sitting next to each other. The incident in question had been almost worth it: Max had endeavored to make Volusia laugh by spelling out inappropriate words with his food. He’d been halfway through “farthole” when she’d burst out in an unbecoming peal of giggles, drawing the attention of every guest.

After that, he’d received a stern talking-to from Aelius and Crispina, his adoptive parents, and there had been no more sitting next to Volusia. They’d gotten more creative in finding ways to slip away unnoticed and escape into the atrium of whatever house they were at.

Tonight’s gathering was a small one, just their parents at Volusia’s house. Their fathers were avidly talking politics, and their mothers were discussing Crispina’s endeavor to fund a school for children whose parents couldn’t afford school fees or private tutors. Volusia, moving with the gentle grace that never failed to catch his attention, rose from the table and slipped from the dining room.

Max counted to fifty in his head, then languidly lifted himself off the dining couch and walked as casually as he could to the door.

His pace increased once he left the dining room behind, and he hurried down the hallway. He’d probably find Volusia in the atrium, enjoying the quiet twilight.

He was right; she sat on a bench between two flowering bushes in stone planters, looking like some sort of forest nymph among the greenery.

“You found me,” she said with a smile.

“Were you hiding?” He lowered himself onto the bench next to her.

“Not from you.” Their shoulders brushed on the narrow bench, and a flare of heat traveled through him. He’d been smitten with her since they’d first met, but he’d been told in no uncertain terms that she was not for him. Volusia’s stepfather scorned Max’s low birth, but neither Rufus’s contempt nor the fact that Volusia was on the verge of an engagement could dull the sparks Max felt whenever he was near her.

“Only a few more weeks of this.” Max stretched his legs in front of him. “Then we’re free.”

“Hardly free,” Volusia said with a rueful smile. “I’ll be married before winter, no doubt, and you’ll be in service to the army.”

To Max, joining the army was freedom—the chance to escape the oppressive city, to see new lands and test himself in battle. One day, he might be a great general. He imagined leading a triumphal procession through the streets, basking in the respect and adoration of the whole Republic.

But then it settled over him like a heavy, uncomfortable toga: the end of his father’s term meant he wouldn’t have an excuse to see Volusia anymore. Once she was married, she would be even further out of his reach.

He tried to ignore the unpleasant thought. “I found my horse the other day. She’s a gray mare. Guess what I’m going to name her.”

Volusia propped her chin in her hand as if thinking hard. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s something very respectable.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Her name is going to be Elephant,” Max said, his chest puffing out with pride. “On account of her coloring, and because I want to ride an elephant into battle like Hannibal.”

Volusia covered her mouth against a shriek of giggling. “You’re naming a horse Elephant? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s very clever,” he protested.

She rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”

He huffed and changed the subject. “What about you? Anything new with the engagement?”

“Mother and Father are negotiating the dowry. I expect the betrothal will be official once that is finalized, and then it will just be a matter of finding an auspicious date.”

“Have you even met this man you’re supposed to marry?”

“Several times. He’s very kind, and his prospects are excellent. He even gave me this.” She flashed a blue-stoned bracelet on her slender wrist.

Max, who had admired the deep blue stones against her fair skin earlier in the evening, now thought it was the ugliest piece of jewelry he had ever seen.

“I could have a child by this time next year,” Volusia said, her eyes lighting up. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

The thought of Volusia having children with some unknown man sent a sickening pang through him. “Juno’s cunt,” he muttered.

“Max!” Her eyes widened in scandalized horror, as they always did when he swore. “You really shouldn’t talk like that. The gods don’t like being mocked.”

“I think they have more important things to worry about.” He seized on her shock, needing something to distract himself from their talk about marriage and children and parting, and leaped to his feet. He held up his arms as if addressing the gods directly. “Juno’s cunt,” he intoned. “Mars’s balls. Jupiter’s hairy—”

Volusia leaped up and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Stop it!” She was half-scandalized, and half-laughing.

The touch of her hand on his face made him fall silent. He stared down at her, swimming in her luminous hazel eyes. Her hand gently slid from his mouth, her touch becoming a caress down his jaw, his neck.

His arms slid around her of their own accord, pulling her close. Her slim body felt so good, so right in his arms—just like when he’d ridden Elephant for the first time.

He only wanted to hold her, but then she tilted her face up and rose on her tiptoes to brush his mouth with hers.

A shiver ran down his spine. Everything faded away—the columns in the atrium, the smell of food from the kitchens, even his excitement and anxiety about their futures. There was only Volusia, her gleaming eyes and pink cheeks and soft mouth.

Their lips met again in a hard, searching kiss. She pressed against him, and he allowed her slight weight to push him backward.

They almost fell over, but he managed to right them and guide them to a column for support. Her hands slid down his chest, finding places Max didn’t even know could be pleasurable. Emboldened by her touch, he drew one hand up her waist, still kissing her with mindless desperation. His fingers splayed on her ribs, resting just beneath the curve of her breast. He waited for her to tense, to draw back, but when she didn’t, he allowed his hand to shift further upward. She let out a little gasp against his cheek as his fingers brushed against her breast, warmth filling his hand.

He braced himself against the column, Volusia nestled into him. She was still grabbing at him, pulling him ever closer.

A shout split the air. Volusia jerked, shoving Max away from her. He stumbled back and whipped his head around to see Volusia’s stepfather bearing down on them, his sallow face purpling with rage.

“What villainy is this? How dare you come into my house and assault my daughter?” Rufus skidded to a halt an arm’s length from Max. His wife, Sabina, latched on to his elbow, which seemed to be the only thing stopping him from hurling himself at Max.

“Father!” Volusia gasped.

Rufus kept bellowing about disrespect and virtue and honor. His voice had an unfortunate habit of growing higher the more incensed he became, until he sounded like an enraged mouse. He finally freed his arm from Sabina’s grasp and stepped right up to Max, shaking his fist in Max’s face.

Max spoke evenly. “Get your hand out of my face, or I will break your fucking fingers.”

“You insolent animal,” Rufus hissed, but he did lower his hand. “I will have you sued for assault. Your name will be dragged through the mud —”

Two more figures entered the atrium, and the calm voice of Max’s father interrupted Rufus’s threats. “I’m sure you don’t mean to be speaking in such a manner to my son, Rufus.”

“What my husband means,” Crispina said, her voice icy, “is that if you don’t moderate your tone, I will dunk you in the atrium pool.”

Rufus turned to her. “Your brat deserves much more than some harsh words. I saw him with his filthy hands all over my daughter!”

“Father!” Volusia interjected again. Angry tears glimmered in her eyes. One spilled down her cheek, and Max’s heart clenched at the sight of it. Sabina went to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and trying to lead her away, but Volusia evaded her mother’s gentle grasp. “Listen to me! It’s not what you think.”

“Don’t try to defend him, Volusia. I know what I saw,” Rufus snarled.

“Perhaps you should let the young lady speak,” Aelius said. He had a knack for speaking quietly yet commanding the attention of a room, even in chaos like this.

Rufus glared at him, but fell silent. Volusia took a breath and cast Max a glance. “No offense was given,” she said in a small voice. “It was—”

Max knew that she was about to take the blame for their kiss, to insist that it was all her fault and he’d done no wrong. Maybe it was true—she had initiated the kiss—but in an instant, Max knew he couldn’t let her take responsibility for this. She’d face her parents’ displeasure and anger. Word of this might even get out, if the household slaves gossiped, and jeopardize her engagement.

“All my fault,” he finished her sentence. Five pairs of eyes snapped to him. “It was a silly joke. I meant no harm.”

“No harm? No harm?” Rufus exclaimed.

Volusia bit her lip. Max could tell she was on the verge of confessing, but he held her gaze and gave a slight shake of his head.

Aelius cleared his throat. “If Volusia is not offended, then no more needs to be said. I think it’s time for us to be going.” He beckoned to Max.

Max stepped toward him, but Rufus blocked his path, his face still blotchy and red. “You will never set foot in my house again, is that understood? Much less speak a single word more to my daughter.”

“Father—” Volusia protested, but Rufus held up a hand and she fell silent.

“You are not worthy of breathing the same air as her,” Rufus said, his voice hoarse from shouting. “You will never be anything more than a dirt-grubbing stray—”

“That’s quite enough.” Crispina took firm hold of Max’s elbow and steered him from the room. He craned his head back for one last glimpse of Volusia, who was standing with slumped shoulders and tearstained cheeks, before they left.

Outside, Max climbed into the waiting litter with heavy limbs. Aelius and Crispina followed.

“Really, Max, what were you thinking?” Crispina demanded as the litter lurched into motion. “You can’t go around kissing girls at dinner parties.”

“I don’t kiss girls at dinner parties,” Max muttered. “I kissed one girl. And, if you must know, she kissed me . I lied.”

Crispina’s eyes widened. “You lied to Rufus?”

He nodded, staring glumly at his knees. “I figured if he hates me that much, he’d be even angrier at Volusia if he thought she’d kissed me. Things would be easier for her if I just said it was my fault.”

“Oh, Max,” Crispina whispered. She pulled him into a tight sideways hug, awkward in the confines of the litter. “That was so gallant of you.”

Aelius laid an approving hand on his shoulder. “Very well done.”

Usually, his parents were chiding him for being late or not trying hard enough at his studies or spending too much of his allowance at dice, so the fact that he’d actually done something right should have filled him with bliss. But even their praise couldn’t lessen the heavy feeling in his gut, couldn’t erase the sight of Volusia’s distraught face.

“I’m very sorry,” Crispina murmured, almost as if reading his mind.

“Why?”

She gazed at him, her eyes dark and serious. “Because to act as you did—to bring displeasure and wrath upon yourself to spare Volusia from discord with her parents—well, I fear that means you love her.”