as in appearance, he found humour everywhere and made her laugh. He cherished her, listened to her, valued her opinions and forced her to question her distrust of strong men, teaching her by his example that true strength in a man was sometimes very gentle.
But he’d wanted to marry her. He loved her. He was serious about it. He’d never offered marriage to any other woman.
He meant to hold her for ever, and Severina had been forced to face reality. Anxiety choked her happiness. All her memories, all her old fears found life again.
She’d fought hard for her independence, but a husband would own her. In the eyes of society and the law, Lucan could demand her complete obedience, and that thought filled her with unreasonable panic.
There were other reasons, too. Reasons that clawed at her from the past, reminding her that she must be careful of men and especially those who valued religion too much. Even something as valuable as faith could be a weapon in the wrong hands.
‘Master Lucan hasn’t completely returned to his old ways,’ Orthrus said. ‘He’s been seeing women socially, but I don’t think he’s been intimate with any of them. Maybe he’d like to, but…’ Orthrus glanced at his mistress ‘…his heart’s not ready and so it hasn’t worked out.’
‘Orthrus, please…’ Severina began walking again, as if to lead Orthrus away from the topic. To think of Lucan still hurt. To think of him with other women hurt more.
‘He hasn’t been drinking much, though,’ Orthrus said, quickly falling into pace beside her. ‘He got drunk only once, the same night you…but that was understandable.’
‘Let’s not discuss this.’
Orthrus ignored her. ‘Instead, he’s working all the time. Like a madman. He sleeps little, doesn’t eat well…he’s driving himself into the ground.’
Severina looked away. ‘Which apartment?’ she asked, indicating the long row before them with a slight jerk of her head.
During her time with Lucan, he’d lived with their mutual friends Donatus and Lelia, but he’d moved out after Severina ended the relationship. She’d been relieved at the time, unwilling to see him. And now…?
‘This way,’ Orthrus said. ‘Follow me.’
Nobody answered their repeated knocking at Lucan’s door. Orthrus swore softly. They’d walked a long distance, but Lucan wasn’t home.
‘It’s all right,’ Severina said. ‘We’ll come back tomorrow.’
‘Wait. Maybe I know where to find him. He’s bought a run-down property nearby. He’s probably there, directing the labourers who are restoring it.’
Severina’s eyebrows rose. ‘Lucan’s doing that?’
Orthrus smiled. ‘He’s shown a talent for it. Come, I’ll show you.’
He led Severina back the way they’d come, steering her left and through a maze of streets until they approached a dwelling that had once been a ramshackle building, its yard overgrown with weeds and covered with debris. Severina now gaped at the change in the property. In place of the ugly old building stood an attractive new one. The cluttered and weed-strewn lot had been replaced by a paved courtyard, complete with a fountain and lush plantings. Even now workmen were setting out trees and shrubs, sweating in the growing heat.
Her gaze immediately found the one labourer whose muscular back she recognised, and whose familiar lean hips and legs worked powerfully as he and another man struggled to lower a tree into a hole in the ground.
Lucan.
‘More to the left,’ she heard him say. ‘Centre it, Maro. That’s it. Now set it down. We’ll let Catulus cover the root ball. He’s got the shovel.’
Severina watched in abject fascination as Lucan straightened and grinned happily at Maro, his smile dazzling. And then, as if he sensed her presence like she’d sensed his, his eyes found her.
Their gazes locked.
For a moment, neither could move or speak. The entire universe narrowed to the short distance between them.
Lucan was the first to break the gaze. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to Maro, gesturing towards Orthrus and Severina. ‘It looks like I’m being summoned away. Buteo will help you.’
The other man nodded. Lucan turned, hesitating almost imperceptibly before he came towards her.
Like one in a dream, she noticed that he wiped dirt from his large hands against his coarse tunic, that there was a faint rasp of his callused skin as he shook hands with Orthrus.
She marvelled that Lucan showed respect to the slave, but it was like him to do that. Just as he was one of the few Romans who’d be out here sweating alongside his hired labourers.
‘Severina,’ he said.
The one word, softly spoken, almost a sigh.
He clasped her shoulders in both hands before giving her the customary greeting of friendship, a light, quick kiss to first one cheek and then the other. ‘Why have you come?’
She had trouble finding words with his heat so close, with his hand still firm on her shoulder, searing her skin even through the cloth of her palla. She was devastated by his nearness, by the masculine scent that enveloped her, by the startling golden light in his eyes and the shimmer of sunlight in the blond streaks of his shoulder-length, honeycoloured hair.
‘I need you.’ The words rushed out before she thought.
Amusement made him unbearably attractive. His grin flashed, deepening the dimple in his cheek. He pressed his palm to his chest, drawing her attention down to the lean, tanned fingers splayed against hard muscle and bone there. ‘Be still, my heart,’ he groaned, winking at Orthrus. ‘For I can hardly assuage a lady’s passion here in this public place.’
Severina’s face flamed at Orthrus’s laughter, low and undeniably male. ‘That is not my need,’ she said in her haughtiest tone.
‘My apologies, then,’ Lucan said, sketching a slight bow. ‘But a man can always hope, can’t he?’
And there was hope in his gaze, flickering to life within the golden-flecked light.
No, no! Don’t do this to me, Lucan. I can hardly bear it.
‘A censor came to the inn this morning,’ she said. ‘He’s investigating the ownership of the inn.’
Lucan shrugged. ‘So? Let him investigate. I own the inn; he’ll discover that soon enough.’
‘But that’s the problem. He says there’s nothing to substantiate your claim. No paperwork to prove you’re the titular owner, and…’ she drew in a deep breath ‘…many witnesses who’ll testify that I am. He’s threatening to make an example of me.’
Lucan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who is this censor? What’s his name?’
‘Marcus Terentius.’
‘Not
