Page 14 of The Tribune Temptation (Roman Heirs #1)

T he apology worked, and soon invitations came trickling back, to Aelius’s relief. Over the next month, he and Crispina settled into a routine: days occupied separately, evenings either dining with his mother at home or attending a social engagement, nights spent next to each other in a silent, kissless bed.

Crispina seemed content, if not deliriously happy, which suited him well enough. She and his mother interviewed painters and artisans for some improvements to the house. They occasionally asked his opinion on a certain fresco design or mosaic style, and he tried to pick whichever option he thought they were angling for.

After the incident with Rufus resolved, a renewed hope flared that he actually had a shot at winning the election. It was still early days. With the election months away, his actions were focused on making friends rather than securing votes, but the former pursuit progressed well. Each dinner party resulted in new connections, which led to more invitations. Sometimes they even were asked to two parties on the same evening, and flitted from one to the other like bees between flowers. He knew Crispina did not enjoy the endless evenings of eating and making conversation and would prefer to be in bed reading history or critiquing another batch of Catullus’s poetry, but she never complained.

On one such evening, Crispina sat beside him as he reclined on a dining couch at a large house on the Palatine Hill. Conversation had turned to his altercation with Rufus, as it often did these days. For better or for worse, the incident had made him famous, and everyone had an opinion on it.

“Personally, I don’t think you should have apologized,” one man said. “It showed weakness.”

Another man on the opposite side of the table sniffed. “Laying hands on him was unforgivable in the first place. To be frank, I’m surprised he hasn’t sued you for assault. The last thing this city needs is more violence, not with a civil war less than twenty years past.” His voice lowered, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. “Though I suppose we can hardly expect better, when power is offered to those not born to it.”

Aelius wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard that last snide remark, so he decided to ignore it. Beside him, Crispina stiffened. He put a hand on her arm, worried she would summon a sharp retort that would offend their companions.

But when she spoke, her voice was as sweet as the honeyed dates piled before them. “Forgive me if I misunderstand, sir, but are you suggesting you would not have defended your wife against a public insult?”

The man’s face reddened and he cleared his throat. “Of course I did not mean that. But there are other ways to settle a dispute. Civilized ways.”

One of the other men’s wives leaned forward. “Well, I thought it was gallant.” She shot Aelius a dazzling smile. “I think we should elect men who respect a woman’s honor just as much as their own, and are willing to fight for it.”

Several other wives nodded in agreement.

Aelius returned the lady’s smile. “Thank you, lady.”

The conversation turned to other things. He leaned close to Crispina. “Thank you,” he murmured. She had effortlessly turned the conversation in his favor without causing offense or ruffling any feathers.

She acknowledged him with a slight tilt of her head.

After the food had been served, a painted ceramic bowl was passed around, heaped with a fine whitish powder. Most of the guests took a pinch and sprinkled it into their wine goblets. Aelius frowned when it reached him. “Do you know what this is?” he asked Crispina in a low voice.

She took the bowl and bent her head to sniff. “I believe it’s blue lotus, dried and crushed.”

“For what purpose?”

It was hard to see in the lamplight, but a flush seemed to rise in her cheeks. “It induces a feeling of peace and tranquility. And…is generally used to increase libido.”

“And you know this how?”

Now she was definitely blushing. She passed the bowl to the next person without taking any. “I think we should leave.”

Aelius glanced around the room. Husbands and wives were inching closer to each other. Not necessarily each husband to his own wife, either. Ah .

Crispina rose and slipped toward the door, and Aelius followed.

They climbed into their litter waiting outside, which set off toward home. “I didn’t realize it was going to be one of those parties,” Crispina said, her fair skin still reddened. The blush turned her ivory complexion to rose, making her look even more beautiful.

“Have you been to one of those parties before?” Despite himself, his interest was piqued at the thought of Crispina indulging in the sort of debauchery they’d left behind.

She gave him a sharp look. “No. But Horatia has imparted some stories.” She said nothing further.

There was a time when he would have seriously considered staying at such a party. But now, the thought of returning home with Crispina to an evening of quiet conversation in their cozy bedroom held far more appeal than anonymous lust.

But his relationship with Crispina hadn’t been entirely free of lust, had it? The specter of the fiery, impulsive kiss in the bathtub rose in his mind. He had wanted her since he first laid eyes on her, and it seemed that part of her, even if a deeply buried part, wanted him too.

If she did desire him, then there was no reason to keep up their celibate arrangement. It all became enticingly simple in his mind. Why shouldn’t two married people who desired each other act on that desire?

“Have you ever used that substance before?” Aelius asked as they returned to their bedroom.

Crispina sat at her dressing table and sifted her fingers through her hair, removing the silver pins and length of thread that held her braided bun in place. “Yes,” she admitted.

“You have?” His voice rose in surprise.

She shot him an icy glare, as if regretting her honesty. “Only once. I thought it would help things between me and Memmius. But it only gave me a terrible headache.” One of the silver pins slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

Aelius bent to pick it up and laid it on her dressing table. “May I help you?” He rested a hand on the thick braid that had been released from its coil at the back of her head.

“If you wish.” She reached for a cloth and dampened it with oil from a small vial, then scrubbed it over her face to remove the light layer of makeup.

Bolstered by her accession, he untied the thin leather cord binding the end of the braid, then sank his fingers into her locks, disentangling the three parts. Her hair was warm silk against his palms, the feel of it somehow innocuous and wanton at the same time.

“So you would never want to try it again, the blue lotus?” His voice came out in a gravelly rumble.

“With you? I wouldn’t need it with you,” she said swiftly, then stiffened, her fingers curling around the oil-soaked cloth in her hand. Her next words were spoken in a clipped, austere tone. “Because of course the terms of our marriage did not extend to such things.”

I wouldn’t need it with you. His pulse leaped. He saw straight through her flimsy attempt to disguise her true meaning, and he wouldn’t let her get away with it. “We left room to renegotiate.” He combed his fingers slowly through her beautiful hair, continuing to draw the plaits loose.

“On the condition that you would seduce me. And no seduction has taken place.”

“I disagree.”

She turned toward him, dark eyebrows arched. “Oh?”

“You kissed me that day in the bath. It stands to reason that I must have seduced you somehow, even if I don’t quite understand how.”

“I see.” She met his gaze. “So because of one ill-considered kiss, you now believe you have earned the right to avail yourself of your husbandly privileges?”

He shook his head and removed his hands from her hair. “Not at all. I claim no rights over you. But I think there is room in our marriage to find some pleasure with each other. You were married before. You must remember the pleasures of the marriage bed.”

Her face twisted, and she barked a humorless laugh. “I know less than you might think of the marriage bed, but one thing I do know is there is no pleasure to be found there.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She looked away, but he caught a trace of embarrassment in her face, a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. The pieces came together in his mind like repairing a shattered vase. “Was your husband cruel to you?”

She shook her head. “Never.” Her voice lowered, and she spoke so quietly he could barely hear her, as if each word was a struggle. “But he only came to me in the dark. It was quick. Unpleasant. I hardly even know what a man looks like.”

Anger tightened his chest at the thought of Crispina being treated as anything less than a goddess. “Not all cruelty is violent. Depriving one’s wife of affection and treating her only as a broodmare is cruel. Is that why you stipulated our marriage be chaste? You were afraid I would be like that with you?”

She shrugged. “What reason did I have to think otherwise?”

He knelt next to her chair. “If I could offer you something different…” He placed a tentative hand on her knee, ready to move it if he felt her tense. “Would you agree?”

She gazed down at him. He sensed her weighing things out in her astute mind. Would she trust him enough to explore this with him?

She shifted, and he thought she meant to move away from him, but instead she placed her hand on top of his. She spoke hesitantly. “I suppose…there are certain things I should like to learn. Purely from an educational perspective. There’s only so much books can teach, after all.”

His heart sped up, racing as it did after running laps at the gymnasium. “Such as?”

She glanced at him, then looked away, her brow wrinkling. “I…” She bit her lip. “I don’t think I can say it.”

“You’re going to have to.”

She chewed on her lip. He could sense her struggling between embarrassment and desire, the urge to retain her cool composure and the longing to let it melt. Trust me, he silently urged.

“I…” She cleared her throat and spoke in a small voice. “I would like to see you.”

His pulse spiked, his blood heating as molten desire unfurled inside him. “See me?”

“I told you, I hardly know what a man looks like.” She stared down at her knees, her cheeks reddening to that beautiful rosy hue. “I want to see…all of you.”

Her words cast his mind into chaos, but he managed to summon a careless grin. “You’re in luck, as I’m an excellent specimen.”

A hint of her usual haughtiness sparked in her gaze. “Perhaps I should be the judge of that.”

“Indeed.” He rose to his feet and tucked a hand into the neckline of his tunic. In one fluid motion, he stripped it off.