Page 5 of The Legionary Seduction (Roman Heirs #2)

A fter seeing Max for the first time in ten years, Volusia was scattered for the rest of the day. She endured a quiet dinner with Avitus and Silvanus, then went to bed early on her own. Lying in bed, she replayed her conversation with Max over and over again. It had been mundane, but every word they exchanged was like a spark to tinder, rekindling feelings she’d thought long extinguished.

The past ten years had been good to him. He’d always had a carefree handsomeness about him, but ten years’ service in the army had filled out his boyish lankiness. Now, he was all broad shoulders and muscled limbs, though his untidy bronze hair and lively brown eyes were just as she remembered.

It was improper for her to think of him this way, but she let the prick of guilt pass. Her husband, after all, was sharing a bed with Silvanus at this very moment. Avitus had made her aware of his preferences very early in their marriage. “I have every intention of conceiving a son with you, Volusia,” he’d said, “but once that is achieved, you need not worry that I’ll bother you further.”

Bother . There were moments she longed to be bothered , but she’d had ten years of practice in resigning herself to a decidedly unbothered existence. Avitus was kind, respectful, and unflinchingly honest with her. He didn’t try to hide his affairs, and Volusia repaid his candor by tolerating them. Nevertheless, it had been a shock when he’d suggested that Silvanus, his most talented secretary and latest lover, move in with them once they arrived in Narbo. But, like everything else, she had accepted it.

Max’s reappearance seemed an answer to a prayer she hadn’t known she was making. She’d been homesick, lonely, regretting her decision to leave Rome and travel to Narbo. Max was a friend from a simpler time. In the dark, a smile curled her lips as she remembered the mischief they used to get up to—surreptitiously tossing nuts into someone’s wine goblet at dinner, spelling dirty words with the food on their plates, and the like. It was all childish nonsense, but it warmed her to remember how things used to be.

She fell asleep thinking of Max, and woke with the realization that he could be helpful to her in making Narbo feel like home. She knew him, and he knew the city. At dinner last night, Avitus had encouraged her to see the town once she was settled at home, and Max would make the perfect escort.

After Avitus and Silvanus left for the day, Volusia found Max in his post by the door. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a bored look on his face—hardly the picture of military discipline. As soon as he saw her, he snapped into a straighter position.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he replied with an uncertain half-smile.

“I was hoping you could help me with something. I wanted to see a little of the town, and I need an escort. Would you accompany me?”

His face brightened. “Of course. I’ll just need to find a replacement for my duties.”

She waved a hand. “Hermes can keep an eye on the door for an hour or so. I’ll get a cloak and find him.”

She went briefly to her room to fetch a small purse and don a light linen cloak to protect her dress from any dirt they might encounter outside, then asked Iris to have Hermes, one of the household slaves, man the front door.

Then, she returned to Max. He opened the front door, and escorted her out of the house. She blinked in the bright sunlight. It was the first time she’d been outside since arriving here.

“What do you want to see?” he asked.

She hesitated, glancing around the quiet street. “I don’t know. What is there to see?”

“Not as much as you’re used to, probably. There’s no amphitheater, no circus, or anything like that. We could go to the market square, if you like?”

She nodded, and he gestured her to follow him. The streets were narrow, and became more crowded with people and animals as they headed toward the center of the town. The buildings, though nowhere near as grand as those in Rome, looked new, or newly refurbished, with clean concrete walls and neat brickwork. The legionaries must have been hard at work improving the town.

Volusia walked at Max’s side, their arms occasionally brushing. How strange it was to walk through the streets beside him. Even in Rome, she had almost always been carried in a litter whenever she wanted to go somewhere. The streets were dangerous, and mugging was always a risk. But today, with Max at her side, she felt completely safe.

In the road ahead, a large ox pulling a cart full of boxes made its lumbering way toward them, a man tugging at the rope connected to its halter. The street was barely big enough for the huge animal, causing everyone to squeeze themselves out of the way on both sides. Volusia followed Max’s lead and carefully stood to the side, waiting for the ox and cart to pass.

As the ox reached them, its path swerved toward them. Max’s arm shot out and swept Volusia backward, until her back pressed hard against the building behind her. The ox’s hooves missed her toes by barely a handspan.

“Watch your beast, cocksucker!” Max bellowed at the ox’s driver.

The other man made an impolite hand gesture. “Bugger off, Roman swine.”

Max replied with a hand gesture so rude Volusia blushed. The ox finally trudged past them, the cart so close it brushed her skirt. A little unsettled by the aggressive exchange, she glanced at Max’s face, only to see that he was grinning.

“You haven’t lost your taste for profanity, I see,” Volusia said.

“If anything, the army has only increased my vocabulary.” Max put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re all right? You look a little shaken.”

The warm, heavy feel of his hand on her shoulder, even through her linen cloak, was making her feel even more unsettled than the incident with the ox. “I-I’m fine. I was worried you’d come to blows.” She knew plenty of men—stepfather and husband included—who wouldn’t have let such insults pass. But to Max, it seemed to be all in good fun.

He removed his hand and shrugged. “If I got into a fistfight with every man who swore at me, I’d be too busy to get anything else done. Now, if that beast had injured you in any way, it would be a different story.”

Her stomach gave a pleasing yet disconcerting lurch at the thought of him taking action to defend her.

They continued walking in silence. Soon, they arrived at a small square that was lined with shops. Temporary stalls filled the open space in the middle. A display of colorful pottery caught her eye. “Let’s go look over here.” She wanted to make a good first impression on the residents of Narbo by supporting their industry and craftsmanship.

Max followed her around the market as she browsed everyone’s wares. He was a steady, mostly silent presence at her back, occasionally murmuring in her ear if a certain shopkeeper was known to be dishonest or their items of poor quality. She made several purchases, including a set of blue-glazed water jugs, a bolt of flowing turquoise fabric, and a delicately carved ivory comb for her hair. She arranged for the items to be delivered to her home later.

Shopping never failed to whet her appetite, and her stomach growled as the scent of something savory wafted over her. “That smells delicious.”

Max pointed to a stall across the square. “Carmo’s chickpea fritters. They’re good. He drizzles them in rosemary-flower honey. It’s a specialty of the province. Have you tried it yet?”

“Oh, everyone loves rosemary-flower honey in Rome. It comes from here?”

Max nodded. “Want me to get you some fritters?”

It would have been more proper to return home for lunch, but Volusia was much too tempted by the prospect of some warm, crispy chickpea fritters doused in sticky honey. “Yes, please.” She handed Max the remains of her purse. “Will you get some for both of us?”

Max took her money and obtained a pile of fritters wrapped in a clean white cloth. He guided her away from the market to a quiet side street, where they sat on an empty stoop and dug into the fritters. Volusia bit into one in delight. The fritter was warm, slightly greasy, crispy on the outside beneath the thin coating of honey but light and delicate on the inside.

Max shoved one into his mouth whole and chewed loudly, which made her smile. His table manners had always left something to be desired. A vestige of his childhood spent on the streets, along with his penchant for foul language. As a mother, Volusia’s heart broke to think of him being abandoned by his birth family and forced to fend for himself, but the fact that he had survived proved his strength and resilience.

Comfortable silence stretched between them for a few minutes as they ate. Volusia had never imagined she would find such enjoyment sitting on the street, eating greasy food with her hands, but this was the most fun she’d had in ages.

Max leaned back with a contented sigh after polishing off his half of the fritters. He licked his fingers and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is there any news from Rome? I haven’t been home in two years.”

Volusia cleaned her fingers on the edge of the napkin. “All anyone talks about is the civil war. It’s somehow tedious and trying at the same time. Avitus says that Octavius will likely invade Sicily soon. It makes me nervous to think of fighting so close to Rome. Are you disappointed to be missing the excitement?”

Max shrugged. “Sometimes, but I think I’d rather be bored here in Gaul than have to fight other Romans.”

Volusia grinned. “Finally, a sensible man.” She turned to more interesting topics. “I don’t see much of your family, but I understand all is well. I heard from my stepfather that Aelius is considering another run for the consulship next year. Assuming we still have a republic after this war, that is. And if your father runs, you know mine will have to as well, to prove he can beat Aelius.”

Max groaned. “Again? At least this time I can hide out here in Gaul. Maybe I should ask for a transfer to Syria.” He chewed his lip pensively, as if he were actually considering it.

Volusia laughed. “Nothing is certain. Don’t you miss Aelius and Crispina?”

He nodded. “Of course. But I don’t miss Rome. You can hardly take a step without someone asking you for money or trying to distract you so their friend can pick your pocket. If it weren’t for my family, I’d be happy if I never saw the city again. I’d much rather be out here in the provinces. We may not have a theater or circus, but at least there’s fresh air to breathe and room to gallop a horse.”

“The countryside does seem beautiful,” Volusia agreed. “I admired it on our journey, and I’d love to see more of it.”

“I could take you,” he offered immediately. “There are some perfect trails just outside the city. That is—I don’t suppose you know how to ride.” His face fell.

She hurried to correct him. “I do ride, a little. I brought a horse and sidesaddle on the journey, and rode whenever the weather was pleasant enough. The carriage gave me a terrible headache.” She was not an experienced rider, and riding sidesaddle meant that someone else had to lead her horse, but it was worth it for the fresh air.

His expression warmed. “Perfect. I can escort you on a tour of the countryside anytime. Just say the word.”

She smiled, but a flicker of unease rose in her chest. Spending an hour or two shopping with Max was one thing, but riding out into the hills and forests alone with him?

The proper thing would be to thank him for his offer but demur. Instead, she nodded. “I need a few more days to make sure everything is settled in the house. But after that, I will look forward to it.”

That evening, Volusia joined Avitus and Silvanus for dinner. It should have been odd to dine with her husband’s lover, but she was used to it by now. Even before her husband had struck up a relationship with Silvanus, he’d been a fixture at their table in Rome. There were always decisions to be made, letters to be dictated, and Silvanus was a dedicated, hardworking secretary. He didn’t flaunt his status as Avitus’s favorite, for which Volusia was grateful. She suspected that Silvanus liked Avitus’s power and position more than anything else, but his presence helped dispel the silence that often fell on the rare occasions Volusia and Avitus were left alone together.

Tonight, the men were deep into a discussion of the province’s finances, which didn’t hold Volusia’s interest. Instead, she reminisced about the day she’d had with Max: the way he’d shielded her from the ox, the ease with which he traded insults, and the comfort she felt in his presence.

She was in the midst of recalling the taste of the chickpea fritters when she realized silence had fallen in the dining room. She glanced up to see Avitus watching her expectantly.

“Volusia?” he asked, as if repeating himself.

She straightened up. “Forgive me, I was lost in thought. Did you say something?”

“I said I’d noticed some packages were delivered earlier. Did you make some purchases?”

Even in the mundane question, she recognized that he was trying to be kind, to include her in the conversation. “Yes, I went shopping and purchased some things at the market. Just little trinkets, really.”

His brow furrowed. “You didn’t go alone, did you?”

“Of course not.” Even in Rome, the city where she’d lived her entire life, she never went anywhere unaccompanied. “I asked one of the legionaries to escort me.”

“Next time, take someone from the household. Even Iris would do. These soldiers answer to Petronax, not me. I’m not sure I trust them yet. Especially not with my wife.”

The mention of Iris made her remember what she needed to ask Avitus. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Iris. I want to free her.”

Avitus glanced at her in surprise. “Whyever would you do that?”

“Because she’s served me well for ten years. And her family lives here in Gaul. It seems right to allow her to go back to them.”

Avitus exchanged a glance with Silvanus. “It may be difficult to find a well-trained replacement out here.”

Volusia shrugged. “I’ll manage. But I don’t want Iris to leave empty-handed. I know her family is poor, and I’d like to give her some money. I believe she cost around a thousand denarii to purchase, so I’d like to give her that much.” She hated that she had to ask permission, but there was no way around it. Iris belonged to her alone, but Avitus controlled the rest of their wealth and property.

“A thousand denarii!” Avitus chuckled as if she’d suggested gifting Iris a minotaur. “Freeing a slave is already a waste of money. This would be a waste twice over.”

Her lips tightened, but she forced herself to remain placid. Arguing would not help her cause. “It’s not as if we can’t spare it.”

Avitus looked over at Silvanus. “What do you think, Silvanus? Should I give my wife’s slave a thousand denarii?”

Volusia flushed. She didn’t mind Silvanus attending their dinners to advise Avitus on affairs relating to their work, but this was a matter that should remain between husband and wife.

“I’m sure it’s not my place to have an opinion on a matter such as this,” Silvanus said with his usual diffidence. “But if you insist, I must agree that it does not seem like a worthwhile expenditure.”

Avitus gave a careless shrug, as if the matter was completely settled, but Volusia was not willing to give up so easily. “It’s my birthday in three months,” she said. “You can either gift me the money directly, or whatever gift you select, I’ll sell it and give the money to Iris.” Despite his flaws, Avitus had never been stingy with presents.

Avitus sighed. “As you wish, wife.”

“Thank you.” She turned back to her meal, until something else occurred to her from earlier in the conversation. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t trust the soldiers because they report to Petronax, not you? Doesn’t Petronax report to you?”

“I only meant that we are still strangers here.” He exchanged a glance with Silvanus that seemed to bear some unspoken meaning.

A tendril of anxiety unfurled in Volusia’s stomach. “Do you mean there could be some danger here?”

Avitus waved a dismissive hand. “A transition of power always brings some tension.”

“You worry too much,” Silvanus murmured into his wine goblet.

“Worrying is at least two-thirds of a governor’s job,” Avitus said with a smile, and the conversation turned to other things.