Page 33 of The Tribune Temptation (Roman Heirs #1)

A letter from Aelius arrived the next morning. Crispina ripped it open and read it with shaking hands.

In case you haven’t heard, I’ve won, he wrote. Mama is planning a banquet to start at sundown. It would be helpful if you arrive in advance to assist with the preparations. Max will like to see you.

Crispina clutched the letter to her chest and leaned against the wall. A smile spread over her face, her first in so long. He’d done it. Aelius was to be a tribune, representing the people and working to improve their lives.

Pride swelled inside her, but she had no right to be proud of him. This wasn’t her accomplishment.

Father quickly gave permission for her to attend the dinner party, and instructed her to grovel in apology for whatever she’d done to cause their separation. Crispina nodded meekly, then returned to her room to get ready.

She laid out several dresses on her bed, debating which to wear. She usually didn’t spend much time thinking about her clothing, but today was important. She’d be representing Aelius at his first official engagement as an elected tribune.

After deliberation, she pushed aside her finest dresses of silk and selected a modest stola of crimson-dyed linen. The stola, a pleated, sleeveless robe layered over a tunic, could only be worn by married women. Putting it on gave her a pang of regret: for how much longer would she be able to wear this? But for tonight, at least, she was still a wife, and she was determined to look the part.

Trepidation built as she rode in the litter to Aelius’s house. She ran through the things she wanted to say to him and prepared herself for the pain that seeing him again would cause. Would he be awash with joy after his victory, or would he be cold and distant with her?

No matter his mood, she was not going to tell him what she had done with Verus. Though she desperately wanted his forgiveness, she didn’t deserve it just because she’d gotten lucky. If she told him, he might feel beholden to her, and she didn’t want him to take her back out of gratitude or for the perceived repayment of a debt. She would keep silent in penance for her original betrayal.

A nervous shiver ran through her as she crossed the threshold of the house that had once been her home. In the atrium, Cassandra and Taurus were twining garlands of flowers around the columns, Taurus balancing carefully on a ladder and Cassandra handing the garlands up to him. They greeted her with respectful nods.

Crispina approached them. “I need to thank you again, Taurus,” she said. “The information you gave me led directly to Aelius’s victory.”

Taurus dipped his head. “I’m happy to have helped, mistress.”

Cassandra smiled. “I’m so glad we could repay at least some of what you have done for us.”

Crispina let them get back to their garland-hanging and waited like a guest for someone to come greet her. Perhaps Aelius would send Gaia to meet her. Perhaps he wanted to avoid seeing her for as long as possible.

But a few breaths later, her heart leaped at the sight of the tall, lean figure who entered the atrium. He wore a new tunic of fine linen dyed a deep blue. Crispina recognized the fabric; Gaia had been weaving it around the time she left. The silver wristband Aelius wore to cover his brand shone as if it had been freshly polished.

He stopped a few paces from her and inclined his head. “Crispina. Thank you for coming.” His voice was clipped, formal.

“I would not have missed it.” She cleared her throat, which had suddenly gone dry. “Congratulations on your victory. It is well-deserved.”

“Thank you.”

Hasty, light footsteps sounded, coupled with a gleeful shriek Crispina instantly recognized. Max barreled into the atrium, heading straight for her. Crispina braced herself, expecting him to crash into her, but he skidded to a halt between her and Aelius, caught his breath, then nodded in a formal gesture of greeting.

“How polite you’ve become,” Crispina said with a smile. She opened her arms, and he closed the remaining distance between them. She bent to wrap her arms around his small body. He smelled like herbs and honey, and she took a deep breath, as if she could imprint the scent into her lungs.

With effort, she forced away the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and gently pulled back from the embrace, reaching out to pat his hair back into place. Keeping her voice brisk, she asked, “Have you been good to Aelius and Gaia?”

“He makes me read all the time .” Max shot a glare at Aelius. “And practice writing until my fingers are about to fall off!”

Crispina dared a grateful smile at Aelius. “Thank you for keeping up with his lessons. That means a great deal to me.”

“I didn’t do it only for your sake.” Aelius stepped closer and laid a hand on Max’s shoulder. “It’s important for him to have the best education if he is to uphold the legacy of his new family.”

“His new…family?” Crispina glanced between them, not ready to let herself believe what Aelius seemed to be suggesting.

“I adopted Max last week,” Aelius said. “He is now officially my son and heir.”

Max grinned. “And Gaia is my grandmother .”

Aelius swatted him lightly on the head. “We’ve talked about this.”

Adopted . Crispina gaped, and tears sprang to her eyes, breaking the composure she’d fought so hard to maintain. Aelius had truly accepted Max, whom he’d once seen as nothing more than an unruly inconvenience. They were a family now. Without her.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, but a sob of bittersweet joy still escaped. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered haltingly. “I can’t believe you did that for him.”

Aelius met her gaze. “Whatever may have happened between us, you gave me a son, Crispina.”

That undid the last of her control. A wave of sobs overtook her, releasing all the sadness and regret pent up inside her.

“You made her cry,” Max complained.

“I’m sorry, Crispina, I didn’t mean to upset you…” Aelius began.

“Upset me?” She took a gulping breath. “This is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard.” She scrubbed a hand across her eyes. Luckily she hadn’t worn much makeup today.

“I should have written to tell you,” Aelius said. “It was wrong to keep it from you until now.”

She shook her head. “You owe me nothing.” Her breathing steadied, and she dabbed at her damp cheeks with the edge of her palla.

His lips parted, as if to say something, but then his head jerked up as another set of footsteps sounded.

Gaia entered and surveyed Crispina, hands clasped as she approached. An uncommon coolness cloaked her, evident in her formal posture and distant gaze.

“Gaia, how good to see you,” Crispina said. “I’ve missed you so much.” She took a step forward, wanting to hug her mother-in-law, but drew to a halt when Gaia didn’t move to meet her.

“How nice of you to come,” was all Gaia said, her tone chilled.

Crispina’s lips pressed together. This austere welcome from Gaia, who was usually overflowing with warmth and kindness, tempered her momentary happiness at the news of Max’s adoption. “I know I owe you an apology, Gaia.”

Gaia lifted her chin. “You caused a great deal of pain. You broke my son’s heart.”

“Mama—” Aelius interjected, but Gaia held up a hand.

“I am not sure what the future holds between the two of you—that’s for Aelius to decide—but know that my first concern is his happiness. You took that from him, so forgive me if I am not overjoyed to see you.”

Crispina bowed her head. Gaia’s words cut deeper than any snide comment from her own mother. “I understand.”

A throat cleared, and Crispina turned to see Ajax entering the atrium from the front antechamber, Catullus behind him. “Gaius Valerius Catullus is here, sir,” Ajax said.

“Forgive me for the early arrival,” Catullus said. “Ah, Crispina, you’re here already. Have you told him yet?”

Aelius frowned. “Told me what?”

Crispina bestowed her iciest glare on Catullus. Trust the chatty poet to immediately reveal what she wanted to keep hidden. “I wasn’t going to.”

Catullus rolled his eyes. “Exactly as I suspected. For such an erudite woman, you can be remarkably stupid, Crispina.” He addressed Aelius. “Your wife—with my help, of course—is the reason you won yesterday. I had a feeling she was going to affect some misguided humility and not tell you of her efforts, so I knew I had to come set things right. What the two of you would do without me, I haven’t a clue.”

Aelius looked as befuddled as if Catullus had made an obscure literary reference. “What are you talking about?”

Catullus gestured to Crispina. “I will let your wife tell it.”

Crispina bit her lip. “I don’t seek your forgiveness. I only wanted to right the wrong I did you.” She swallowed hard. “Epidius Verus withdrew from the election because of me.”

The confusion did not lift from his face. “I don’t understand.”

“And because of Taurus.” She glanced around the atrium to find Cassandra and Taurus, but the two had slipped out, perhaps not wanting to intrude on this conversation.

“Taurus?” Aelius squinted at her as if she’d started speaking Aramaic.

“Taurus used to work for Verus. He found out that Verus was involved in embezzling and construction fraud. That’s why Verus was so eager to get rid of him.” She gave a brief description of how Verus had been stealing money from the state, not to mention dishonoring the gods. “I threatened to reveal what Verus was up to if he didn’t withdraw from the election.”

“Great gods, Crispina, you blackmailed Verus? Haven’t we had enough of that sort of thing?”

“Well, it worked,” Crispina said.

“Infernal Dis,” Aelius breathed.

Max wrinkled his nose. “You said I can’t say ‘Dis’ because it’s rude.”

“It’s very rude,” Gaia said, casting a disapproving glance at her son.

Aelius stared at Crispina. “So you are the reason I won.”

Crispina shook her head. “You would have won if I had not interfered. I had to do something to fix the mess I’d made.”

Aelius stepped closer to her, putting their bodies a handspan apart. His gaze traced her face as if he’d never seen her before. His proximity made warmth rush through her, heating her cheeks and spreading over her skin. After several weeks apart, his effect on her had only strengthened.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Catullus offer his arm to Gaia. “Perhaps we should remove ourselves to give these idiots privacy.”

“Excellent idea.” Gaia took his arm, and the two left the atrium. Max had scampered off to the back of the room, and was occupied in wrapping himself in the unused garlands Cassandra and Taurus had left behind.

The movement didn’t break Aelius’s focus on her. “I think we have much to discuss.”

Crispina couldn’t decipher his tone. Was it hopeful, or resigned? “We do.” She closed her eyes briefly, gathering the strength to utter the words she knew she needed to. “My father suggested that, in light of your victory, you might see the benefit in the continued connection between our families. If you do seek a reconciliation on those grounds alone, then I’m afraid I must refuse.”

He blinked, confusion returning to his face. “Refuse?”

She nodded. “I know we began as something simple. Something with boundaries and limits, something to do with mutual benefit, not love. But somewhere in the midst of all that, I fell in love with you, Aelius. And if you can’t love me or trust me because of what I’ve done, I don’t blame you. But I refuse to live as your wife merely for the sake of who my father knows or the dinner parties I can host. I refuse to live half a life with you. I want all of you, Aelius, or none of you.”

There, it was said: the words that could seal her future as a woman twice-divorced, twice-rejected, doomed to a lifetime of regret and loneliness.

Aelius lifted a hand to brush her cheek. “Have all of me, then.” He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

Disbelief seized her for a moment, then joy blossomed in her chest like a flower bud stretching toward the sun. She reached for his shoulders, anchoring their bodies together as she opened herself to their kiss.

Max made a vomiting noise from where he was entangling himself in garlands. “Blech!”

Crispina pulled away and laughed. Aelius chuckled too. She gazed up at him, still unable to fully comprehend. “Do you mean it? Can you truly forgive me?”

His arms encircled her waist. “I’ve been looking for a reason to forgive you ever since the moment you left. You gave it to me today.” He kissed her again, which sparked another round of disgusted noises from Max.

“Perhaps we should finish our conversation somewhere more private,” Crispina whispered.

Aelius grinned, took her hand, and led her away.