If they hadn’t been interrupted, Severina would have given herself to him, and that would have been a triumph too perfect for words.
As it was, Lucan wanted to grin and crow with success; his first assault had gone better than expected. She remembered now how hot the fire had once blazed between them. Her guard lowered long enough to taste her hungers and that was good, one more reason to wed him. Desire wasn’t the best foundation for a lifetime, but it would do.
‘Aren’t you going to take your medicine?’ she said, gesturing towards the table. ‘Your head’s probably hurting.’
Ah, the old distraction trick…too simple, something he’d encountered enough times to recognise it right away. He held back a smile.
‘I’m hurting, all right. But my head’s the least of my worries.’
She glanced down at his arousal and flushed scarlet. She worried her lower lip with her teeth, a nervous gesture that suddenly had him imagining a pleasingly wicked scenario.
‘I didn’t mean for that to happen,’ she said, looking away. ‘It can’t happen again. Not if our marriage is to be for business only, without conjugal obligations.’
‘Then you’re agreeing to marry me?’
Her frown was fierce, but her hesitation was good news for him. At least she wasn’t rejecting his proposal outright.
‘I’m agreeing to think about it,’ she said finally. ‘I won’t be rushed into anything so important.’
‘I’m not rushing you. But the hearing’s in three weeks.’
‘I know that. You’ll have an answer before then.’
‘I’d rather have you before then.’
She glanced up sharply. She’d caught the undercurrent of sensual meaning, but he wouldn’t recant.
‘Can I trust you?’ she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing in appraisal. ‘We’re to have a business arrangement, but then you kiss me?’
‘You did not protest.’
She had the grace to blush.
He moved closer and took her gently into his arms. ‘I wish to understand you,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell me your fears, Severina, and I will fight them for you.’
He felt her slight shudder. ‘You can’t fight them, Lucan. I have to work them out for myself.’
He was silent for a moment, considering. ‘At least let me fight the censor for you.’
‘Of course. I can’t do that without you.’
‘Then trust me. Let me move into the inn and pretend I’m the owner. Let me escort you to the architect tomorrow so we can draft building plans. Let us do that much, only that much. You can decide the rest later.’
She turned her face up to him and for a moment he almost stopped breathing, struck by her beauty and the fear in her eyes. He wanted to touch her, to caress the soft skin of her cheek, to smooth the furrow from her brow, to kiss those gently parted lips…
‘Do you really think doing those things will help?’
‘We can’t let Marcus Terentius take it without a fight.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘We can’t.’
Their gazes locked. Lucan’s chest tightened painfully. And then because he couldn’t help himself, he lowered his head and gave in to the temptation to kiss her again—lightly, sweetly, a mere whisper of desire.
‘I’ll return for you in the morning. We’ll take your construction ideas to an architect friend of mine and get an estimate of the cost,’ he said. ‘You’ll agree to that, won’t you? No harm in knowing all you can before making a decision, right?’
He knew he had her there. Nobody admired ignorance.
‘Yes, I’ll do that much,’ she said. ‘It can’t hurt.’
Lucan smiled and moved to the door. ‘Sleep sweetly, Severina.’
But he knew, from the flare of desire in her eyes as he pulled away, that Severina would have as hard a time resting as he, and that her biggest fear would be for her heart, not her inn.
Chapter Five
When Severina awoke, the sun illuminated the sky outside her window with soft peach light. She rose and washed quickly, wincing at her stiffness as she shrugged into a tunic of pale blue linen. She’d slept little and was tired.
But the work of the inn wouldn’t wait and it couldn’t all be done by her few slaves, even if it was hard not to eye her mattress and cool sheets without regret. Her bed was comfortable, the most sumptuous in the inn. Its stout ebony frame was carved with Egyptian motifs that reminded her of her childhood.
Its mattress was thick and soft, but during the night she’d have sworn someone had replaced the cotton with boulders. She’d tossed for hours, unable to quiet the anxious whirl of thought. The few times her weariness had overcome her, she’d been jerked back to wakefulness by strange things. The memory of a man’s green-gold eyes. The scent of Lucan on her pillow. And once, she thought she heard his laughter in another part of the house.
She’d foolishly thought herself prepared to meet him again. She’d bolstered herself for it. In a city as large as Rome, they must inevitably meet. They shared friends. They shopped the same markets and enjoyed the same entertainments. She’d always known the day would come when she’d feel someone’s gaze and suddenly look up into dark-fringed, oddly slanted tiger eyes. She’d practised the smile, prepared the words. Lucan. How nice to see you again. You‘re looking very well…
But the moment had gone nothing like she’d planned.
And then he’d appeared in her bedroom and she’d smashed a bronze figurine into his skull. He’d proposed something outrageous and she’d almost agreed, just before she’d made a fool of herself because the old feelings had still been there. Oh, how they’d been there.
It seemed unreal now, like something out of a dream. But it wasn’t. The statuette remained there on a nearby table, mute evidence that she hadn’t imagined everything.
And besides that, one had to have actually slept in order to dream.
The only good thing about the restless night was that she’d decided on several improvements to the inn. She wasn’t sure she could marry Lucan, but it wouldn’t hurt to consider his proposition.
He’d told her to spare no expense, that his coffers were deep and he could afford anything she needed.
She wasn’t so sure. She’d never seen evidence of his wealth. He’d been a soldier, and everyone knew that even experienced officers like Lucan didn’t command a huge salary. He’d occasionally spoken of business ventures, but none had seemed particularly lucrative.
Rich men lived in grand houses, and Lucan lived simply.
Rich men had fine garb, and Lucan dressed in ordinary clothing, letting his fair looks serve him well enough.
A simple man without great wealth, but she hadn’t cared. Mostly she’d admired his integrity and his golden male beauty, not sure she was worthy of him. She usually felt plain and mousy. Her chestnut hair tended to be unruly. Her eyes were grey. Grey. How boring.
And yet, Lucan had thought her beautiful and wanted her. Sometimes the look in his eyes had taken her breath. She’d known with surety that he kept his body tightly reined.
Now she was pleased that he had. Physical union with Lucan would have been too wonderful to forsake. She wouldn’t have been able to walk away. But more than once she’d wondered—what would it have been like to be loved by a man like that?
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