Page 5 of The Tribune Temptation (Roman Heirs #1)
O n Thursday, Aelius entered the crowded stands of the arena. The noise of thousands of spectators laughing and chatting swelled up around him. This was one place, at least, he did not need Catullus for admission. All he had to do was sidestep the sellers hawking skewers of roasted meat and fried chickpea fritters, then make a small bribe to be allowed into the exclusive area on the lowest level where the patricians had their seats.
He spotted Crispina by virtue of the flame-orange palla she wore. Her family’s box was large, spanning three rows of seats, and several other people occupied it in addition to her parents. They were all socializing toward the front rows of the box, sharing plates of grapes and figs, and no one noticed Aelius slip in and take the empty spot next to Crispina in the back row. “Hello,” he said.
“Hello.”
It was the first time he had seen her in daylight, and for a moment he couldn’t look away from the way the sunlight threaded her dark hair with gold. He grasped for something to say. She wanted them to get to know each other, after all. “Do you enjoy the games?”
“Not particularly. You?”
He shrugged. “I saw enough fighting in the army.” His ten years in the army had taught him discipline and allowed him his first chance to make friends, but he had not relished the violence. It had also taught him the importance of physical fitness, and he still visited the gymnasium at least twice a week to maintain his physique.
“Where did you serve?”
Progress: she was asking him questions. “Gaul and Spain, mostly.”
Her eyes brightened. “I’ve only ever been between Rome and our summer villa at Baiae. What are the provinces like?”
Aelius began to tell her of the mountains in the north, treacherous and snow-capped even in summer, and the rolling hills of southern Gaul and Spain. The voice of the arena’s announcer boomed over the stands. Aelius doubted it was audible to anyone outside these privileged front rows, but the crowds roared anyway as the two gladiators emerged and paraded around the arena.
Crispina paid the entertainment no mind, but tipped her ear closer to Aelius. He moved nearer to her on the bench until he could smell the perfumed oil she wore.
A breeze blew over them, catching the edge of her palla and blowing it back to reveal a round white shoulder and slender arm. Aelius broke off in mid-sentence. He had never found shoulders particularly erotic, but the sight of Crispina’s bare skin made him itch to run his hands down her arm.
Crispina caught the edge of her palla and brought the thin fabric back into place, hiding herself from view. “You were saying?”
Aelius struggled to pick up the thread of their conversation.
“Something about a river?”
“Ah, yes.” He’d been relaying a humorous incident in which a disliked comrade had fallen into a freezing Alpine stream while fording.
The arena filled with the clanging and grunts of combat, but he and Crispina kept talking. He couldn’t directly face her, sitting side by side as they were, so he stared down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. She wore several rings—emerald, carnelian, even pearl—but the fourth finger on her left hand was bare. Would she wear his ring there one day?
The prospect sent a jolt of nerves through him. He ignored it, focusing instead on asking her how she’d managed to learn Aramaic. But the feeling remained, fluttery in his stomach. Crispina was everything he could want in a wife—beautiful, intelligent, and most importantly, born under a weighty name. So why did the prospect of marrying her send a strange shiver down his spine?
The shouts of the spectators rose to a fever pitch. Aelius spared a glance into the arena and saw that one gladiator was standing over the other one with his sword outstretched, prepared to finish the other one off. Crispina drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, I hate this part.” As the sword drove down, she hid her face against Aelius’s shoulder.
His arm came up to circle around her, as if he could build a barrier between them and the arena. His fingers brushed her back, feeling the solidity of her body beneath the delicate folds of her clothing.
She lifted her face from his shoulder and stared up at him. Their eyes met, their faces a handspan apart. The roars of the audience faded to a dull rumble in his ears, as if they were several streets away.
Someone making an early exit squeezed in front of them, jostling Aelius. He glanced away, and the moment was broken. The dead gladiator was being dragged from the arena on a hook by two slaves. “It’s done,” Aelius said.
Crispina straightened up. Her cheeks were flushed as she looked out over the arena. He wondered if she was the kind of woman that fainted at the sight of blood or gore. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She shot him a sharp glance. The softness in her eyes vanished, her prickly exterior back in place. “Quite.”
They sat through another match in near silence. Aelius found himself hoping for a gruesome death so Crispina might hide her face against him once more, but the losing gladiator surrendered and was spared.
As the games drew to a close, Aelius recalled the reason he’d come. Had this been enough to convince Crispina to accept his offer?
He leaned close to her as the crowds cheered after the last match. “May I speak to your father?”
She kept her focus on the victors parading through the arena. She said nothing for a long moment. “You mentioned your mother,” she finally said. “Does she live with you?”
“Er, yes,” Aelius said, thrown by the non-sequitur.
“You promise me freedom, yet can a woman be truly free if she lives under the same roof as her mother-in-law?”
Aelius smiled. Of all the hurdles she could throw at him, his mother would be the easiest. “My mother, Gaia, is the kindest, sweetest woman in all of Rome. Come visit and I promise you’ll see.”
“All right.” She nodded. “But the invitation will have to come from her. My parents will let me visit a respectable matron. Not a bachelor.”
“Understood.”
“Speaking of that, you should go before my parents notice you’ve been here the whole time.” People were starting to make their way out of the stands around them.
“Very well. I’ll have my mother invite you straightaway.” Aelius slipped from the box and joined the crowds flooding out of the arena. Hope buoyed him as he walked home. He was one step closer to winning her hand in marriage. He only hoped that would be enough to win him the election in turn.