“You ought to go inside,” Quintus said in a rough voice. “You’ve been hurt. Your cuts need tending.”
He was determined to see her safe before his control splintered and he lost his inner battle to take her into his arms once again.
“I’m fine. Please,” Adiona whispered, “just go back to the party without me.”
He’d forgotten about the celebration the moment he saw her clinging to the gate, running for her life. “No. I won’t leave you.”
“I want you to go. The gossips will roast me alive if I’m caught out here alone with a…a slave.”
Let that be a lesson to you, fool.
He’d thought his pride had suffered every indignity imaginable since his enslavement. Leave it to this haughty beauty to prove him wrong again.
“You weren’t embarrassed to be caught with a slave when you clung to me moments ago.”
Suddenly, she transformed from weeping victim to an iron-spined matron of Rome. She thrust her shoulders back and pinned him with a glare so hot he felt singed. “I’ve had enough of your insults, you ignorant, contemptible…man!”
CARLA CAPSHAW
Florida native Carla Capshaw is a preacher’s kid who grew up grateful for her Christian home and loving family. Always dreaming of being a writer and world traveler, she followed her wanderlust around the globe, including a year spent in the People’s Republic of China, before beginning work on her first novel.
A two-time RWA Golden Heart Award winner, Carla loves passionate stories with compelling, nearly impossible conflicts. She’s found inspirational historical romance is the perfect vehicle to combine lush settings, vivid characters and a Christian worldview. Currently at work on her next manuscript for Steeple Hill Love Inspired Historical, she still lives in Florida, but is always planning her next trip…and plotting her next story.
Carla loves to hear from readers. To contact her, visit www.carlacapshaw.com or write to [email protected].
The Protector
Carla Capshaw
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.
—1 John 4:18
To my sister, Nicolette Denton. The saying “The sister everyone wishes she had” was written about you. Thank you, not only for being the best sister in the world, but an incomparable sister in the Lord as well.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Prologue
Rome, 70 AD
“The General’s come home, child. Put down your doll and go greet him like the proper daughter you’ve been taught to be.”
Eager to obey her maid Prisca, the closest person to a mother she’d ever known, Adiona hastened to her feet.
A chilly morning breeze swept through the room. Adiona shivered, but not entirely from the cold. Her father was a stranger. He’d abandoned her to the care of servants when she was only three years old. Her sole memory of him was a vague recollection of his rigid back as he left for Britannia.
Filled with nervous energy, she draped a blue palla around her shoulders as she grappled to recall her father’s face. Would the General recognize her? Would she please him? He’d been away on campaign for so long.
In the courtyard, the splash of fountains mingled with the smoky-sweet scent of incense as she and Prisca passed the family shrine. Praying she would make a good impression on her parent, she smoothed her dark hair back from her face and made her way across the mosaic tiles with brisk but anxious steps.
Down a short corridor, she heard men in conversation. She recognized neither voice, but assumed one was her sire. Her steps slowed and her stomach rolled. What if he found her lacking? What if he cast her away the same as he’d done her mother?
Light in the hall dimmed the farther she moved from the courtyard. The voices grew louder.
“I haven’t seen Adiona,” one of the men said. “I only returned to Rome three days past. After nine years away I’ve had more important matters to attend to.”
Father? Why hadn’t he come to her sooner? Did he have no care for her at all? Her questioning gaze darted to Prisca. Her brow pinched, the maid lifted a finger to her lips, warning Adiona not to speak.
“Naturally,” the other man continued in a gravelly voice. “A daughter is less important than a favored pet.”
“Right you are, Crassus. A son is the gods’ blessing, but a daughter…”
“Is only as valuable as the marriage she makes. Of course, that’s why I’m here. I understand Adiona will reach a marriageable age next week.”
“She’s going to be twelve already?” the General asked, a touch of surprise in his voice.
“According to your servants, she is. Let me be frank, General. I’m in need of a young and healthy wife
