Livia opened her eyes reluctantly, roused by the light touch of a hand on her shoulder. After a restless night, she felt as though she’d only just got to sleep and the last thing she wanted was to be dragged awake again.
‘Wake up.’ Hermenia’s voice was insistent. ‘It’s important.’
‘What’s happened?’ She heaved herself up on her elbows, turning quickly towards Julia on the other side of the room, but the little girl was sleeping peacefully. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Not exactly.’ Hermenia was still in her night tunica. ‘Nerva told me to fetch you. He needs to speak with you.’
‘Oh...just a moment.’
Livia climbed out of bed and pulled a shawl over her tunica, seized with a dull sense of dread. Was it about her and Marius? She glanced at Hermenia nervously, wondering if she’d felt compelled to tell her husband what she’d seen, after all. She couldn’t imagine what else it could be, but whatever it was, it had to be important. Judging by the faint glow emanating from the sky above the courtyard, it was only just past dawn, and there was no sight or sound of activity anywhere else in the villa.
She followed Hermenia into Nerva’s office, unsurprised to find Marius already standing in front of the Legate’s desk. He wasn’t wearing his armour, for once, though he looked no less imposing, his arms folded behind his back as if he were on trial. Was he? Her heart plummeted to the soles of her thin leather slippers. It was hard to tell which of the two men looked the most sombre. It must be a trial. Hermenia must have told and now they’d both been summoned for punishment. The only consolation was that there was no sign of Scaevola.
‘My apologies for waking you so early—’ Nerva’s expression was unreadable ‘—but Marius has something he needs to say.’
‘Oh.’ It wasn’t exactly the condemnation she’d been expecting.
‘Perhaps in the courtyard?’ The Legate gestured towards the door. ‘The two of you have a lot to talk about.’
She turned towards Marius in consternation as he took hold of her arm and led her outside. There was no softness in his touch, although it wasn’t exactly rough either. Instead it felt strangely official, as if he were a guard leading a prisoner, and yet she still couldn’t stop her body from reacting to the heat of his fingers against her skin.
‘Marius? What’s going on?’
She raised a hand to her arm, rubbing it lightly over the place where his fingers had been as he released her and folded his arms behind his back again. He still looked sombre and she glanced around as if the scene itself might reveal something, but it was too dark to make out much of the courtyard. A pair of torches illuminated the colonnade behind, but all she could see of the garden were decorative oscillae twirling in the trees around them, silver discs reflecting the last of the fading starlight. They looked eerily beautiful and mysterious sparkling in the darkness—almost as much as the situation she found herself in.
‘I played a game of tabula with Scaevola last night.’
‘You...played a game?’
She repeated the words slowly. There was no preamble, no apology for waking her, no mention of their kiss, just a bizarre statement of fact about a game. The words were as incongruous as they were surprising. She hadn’t thought that he was on good enough terms with Scaevola to play games with him, especially after the events of the previous evening, but what did tabula have to do with their situation? What did it have to do with anything? It didn’t even begin to explain why Nerva had sent them off alone together.
Alone. The thought made her pulse start to quiver. They ought not to be alone together. It was too dangerous. Hermenia had said as much, so why had she allowed it? She opened her mouth to ask, but he spoke first.
‘I won.’
‘What?’
‘The game. I won.’
‘Oh.’ She stared at him blankly. Did he expect her to congratulate him? ‘And you woke me to tell me that?’
‘No.’ His expression shifted to one she hadn’t seen there before, as if he were uncertain of himself. He seemed to be having trouble finding words. ‘There’s more...about Scaevola.’
‘Has something happened to him?’ She felt a fleeting, very fleeting, moment of concern. If he was hurt in some way then it would explain his absence. Although it might also postpone their wedding, she thought hopefully.
‘Not physically, but, yes, in a manner of speaking. He ran out of money.’
‘You mean he was gambling?’
He inclined his head and she rolled her eyes scornfully. Of course he’d been gambling and now he’d run out of funds again, just as he had in Lindum. She was amazed he’d had anything left to play with in the first place. Then she tensed as another thought struck her. Was that why Marius was there? Because Scaevola owed him money? Had he come to ask her to pay the debt? Her mouth turned dry at the thought. Surely that couldn’t be the reason he’d come to wake her and yet...what else could be so important?
She pulled her shoulders back, bracing herself for the worst. ‘If he’s indebted to you, then I’m afraid I can’t help. I don’t have any money of my own.’
He drew his brows together so sharply they met in a hard line in the middle. ‘I’m not here for money, Livia. Is that what you think of me?’ His gaze dropped to her mouth. ‘After last night?’
She tensed again as the low, intimate tone of his voice sent a frisson of excitement racing through her body, though she forced herself to ignore it. They shouldn’t talk about last night.
‘No. You’re right—I shouldn’t have said that. I just thought...’ She licked her lips, trying to put her confusion into words. ‘I don’t think of you like that, but why are you here, Marius? What’s so important about a game? Did Scaevola lose so much?’
‘Yes, but it’s not about money...’
‘Then what?’
He muttered an expletive before answering. ‘He staked you.’
‘What?’ Her body seemed to go into shock, though it took her brain a few seconds to catch up with the words.
‘He had no money left, so he staked you.’
‘In a game of tabula?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re saying that he offered me as a prize?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that you won?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you won...me?’
The word fell like a stone into a river between them, a heavy splash followed by a series of small, yet equally powerful shock waves. Neither of them moved or made a sound, as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room suddenly. Which was impossible, she thought, since they were in a courtyard. It wasn’t even a room. There was no roof. There was air around and above them...
But Marius was still speaking, she realised, only she couldn’t make out the words. His lips appeared to be moving, but there was no sound, at least none that she could hear. She felt as if she were inside a bubble, isolated from everything except the vibrations of her own heartbeat, thudding against her chest like a drum. And then the shock waves ceased and the air seemed to pop suddenly and sound came back in a roaring torrent, bringing with it a tumult of anger and disappointment.
This time, she felt as if there was too much noise around her, as if every thought in her head were shouting and clamouring for attention all at once. Scaevola had staked her. That idea was outrageous enough, but what exactly did it mean? Since he couldn’t not marry her without facing some kind of retribution from Tarquinius, he couldn’t have staked her personally—which meant that it had to be something else that Marius had won, something that Scaevola himself didn’t want, but that other men might.
There was only one thing she could think of.
She clutched a hand to her belly, feeling as if she were about to start retching. Was this Scaevola’s idea of punishment for her pouring wine over his head? Or was it simply a glimpse of her future, being used as payment for her husband’s gambling debts? Either way, how could he demean her like this, whoring her out as if she were his possession to do with as he pleased? How could he still expect her to marry him after this? Even if he didn’t want her himself, how could he stoop so low? Worse still, how could Marius agree to it?
‘Livia?’
Marius reached out a hand towards her, but she staggered backwards, horrified by the thought that he’d actually colluded in the game. He’d played for her, treating her just as callously as Tarquinius and Scaevola had ever done! She would never have believed it of him, not unless the words had come from his own lips, which they just had. Were all men the same, then? Whatever their outward behaviour might suggest, were they all equally monsters underneath?
Or was it because of their kiss? She lifted a hand to her mouth. The memory of that encounter had been one that she’d wanted to savour, to remember during the lonely years to come, but perhaps he’d taken it to mean more. Perhaps he’d thought that she wanted to sleep with him!
If she’d ever been tempted by the idea, she wasn’t any more. Every moment she’d spent with him felt jaded. Foolishly, she’d thought that he was different, that there had been some kind of special bond between them, but now she realised that it had only ever been physical. He’d gambled for her body, that was all.
She lifted her hands, making a barrier between them.
‘Let me get this straight. You won me in a game of tabula from the man my brother sent me to marry?’
He nodded stiffly. ‘I was trying to help.’
‘Help?’ If there had been any kind of weapon nearby, she would have attacked him with it. There were only stones at her feet and she wondered how much damage she could inflict by hurling them.
‘You said you didn’t want to marry Scaevola.’
‘And you think that gives you the right to gamble on me?’ She took an angry step towards him, lifting a finger and jabbing it into his chest. ‘Do you think I’ll just do what I’m told because the two of you played a game?’
‘No.’ He didn’t flinch. ‘I intended to give you a choice.’
‘A choice?’ Somehow the words only made her angrier. ‘Before or after my marriage? Or doesn’t Scaevola care who his barbarian wife sleeps with?’
A hand shot up and circled her wrist as she made to jab him again, his face registering a series of emotions, starting with shock and culminating in anger.
‘I intended to give you a choice about marrying me.’
‘Marrying...you?’
‘Yes.’ He let go of her wrist again, though her arm stayed where it was as if frozen. ‘That’s why I’m here. I came to ask you to marry me.’
Her mouth fell open, though she had no idea what to say. She hadn’t been asked anything for as long as she could remember. She’d only been told what to do for the past ten years. The idea of being asked to make any decision at all seemed incredible. Being asked whether she wanted to marry him rendered her utterly speechless.
Even when they’d kissed, the thought of marrying him had never occurred to her. She might have wished that he’d been the man she’d come to marry, but the possibility had seemed as remote as the stars. She’d been a legal possession of her brother and an integral part of the business arrangement he’d made with Scaevola. There had been no question of her having a choice.
But if Scaevola really had gambled her, then surely it meant that his agreement with Tarquinius was no longer valid? Nerva’s sending them outside to discuss matters suggested that he thought so, too. Tarquinius might dispute it, given that she was still legally under his care until a marriage took place, but then Tarquinius wasn’t there. Marius was.
‘So when you said that Scaevola staked me, you meant all of me?’
‘Yes.’ His voice was clipped, as if he were angry.
‘I thought...’
‘I know what you thought.’ He was definitely angry. ‘But as I said, I wanted to help. You said that you couldn’t go back to your brother and that you had no money to be independent. You also said that you didn’t want to marry Scaevola. If you’ve changed your mind about either of those things, then you’re free to do as you please. I’m only offering you an alternative. It might not be the same as freedom, but it’s the best I can offer.’
She stared at him in wonderment. He could hardly have looked or sounded any less like a suitor. In fact, it was hard to believe he was the same man who’d kissed her so passionately the night before. His expression was almost fierce, his dark eyes gleaming like obsidian stones in the half-darkness, as if she really had offended him this time, which given the nature of her assumption was a reasonable response.
She seemed to have made a habit of mistaking and misjudging him. But then the very last thing she’d expected was for him to propose! True, there had been an undeniable physical attraction between them from the start and she believed that he was honourable enough to want to rescue her—and surely he’d played the game of his own free will!—but neither of them had ever mentioned feelings.
Her heart seemed to stall in her chest. She knew why she preferred him to Scaevola, but why did he want to marry her? It made no sense. He’d said that he wanted to be Senior Centurion. Winning her away from a tribune could only damage his career prospects, so why had he gambled? Was it because he’d felt honour-bound after their kiss—the kiss that she’d asked for? Had she trapped him somehow? Or was it possible that he might care for her, too?
On the other hand, what did it matter why he was asking her to marry him? The reasons were surely irrelevant. All that mattered was that he was prepared to save her from a life with Scaevola. Even if he was acting out of a sense of honour, how could she say no? She ought to grasp at the opportunity. Still, she wanted to know...
‘How much did you bet?’
She asked the question lightly, hoping that the amount he’d risked would tell her something about his feelings, but his frown only deepened.
‘It doesn’t matter. I won.’
‘I’d still like to know.’
‘Some money...and this.’ He gestured towards his gladius. ‘It belonged to my father.’
‘Oh... May I?’ He nodded and she reached out, curling her fingers gently around the hilt. ‘It looks valuable.’
‘It is.’ He cleared his throat. ‘It’s also the sword of a man who brought dishonour on his family, who was accused of cowardice, disobeying orders and inciting mutiny. Before you make a decision, you ought to know that Varro isn’t a name most people would choose to associate themselves with.’
She lifted her head to look at him, her fingers tightening around the hilt. He was telling her something painful, she realised, something important about himself before she gave him an answer. He was telling her about his family history under the assumption that there was nothing out of the ordinary about hers. Ironically, he was giving her a chance to say no. Surely she owed him the same? It was only fair that she told him about her mother, too.
‘In that case, there’s something I ought to tell you as well.’
‘I can’t offer you riches, Livia.’ He seemed to not hear her. ‘But I’ll be a good husband. A good father, too.’
She caught her breath at the words. A good father. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted most when she’d come north, a good father for her daughter? Providing a stable home for Julia was the most important thing of all. How could she risk telling Marius anything that might jeopardise that? After all, he was a Roman soldier facing a potential Caledonian rebellion. What if she told him about her heritage and he was horrified?
No, she decided, now was hardly the time to complicate matters with the truth. Besides, he hadn’t seemed to care about her being half-Briton, and as for her mother’s tribe and the rest of it...well, she could tell him all that after they were married...when she was ready...or perhaps never... Marius didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d tolerate blackmail, but surely there’d be no reason for Tarquinius to blackmail a centurion either. Her secret would be safe. Even if it felt wrong not to tell Marius, as if she were misjudging him again.
Yet, ironically, she wanted to tell him the truth. She wasn’t ashamed of her mother or her heritage. No matter how often Tarquinius had denounced her, she was still proud of her mother, a woman whose warmth and vibrancy had shone like a beacon in her early life. She could never be ashamed of anything connected with her. She wanted to tell Marius about her, to be as honest with him as he was being with her, but the habit of secrecy was so strong that she didn’t know where to start.
‘If you need time to consider...’
He seemed to interpret her silence as a refusal, starting to move backwards, but she tightened her grip on his gladius convulsively, stopping him from leaving.
‘No. There’s nothing to consider. I don’t care about your name, Marius. I don’t care about your father’s dishonour. If you’ll have me, then I’d be honoured to marry you.’