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‘Well, thank you, kind sir...you don’t look too bad yourself.’
She was in his arms, and, as far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered. ‘Do you find it warm?’ he asked.
‘Is this another of your euphemisms, which could be interpreted as let’s find a tree?’
‘Callie Smith,’ he scolded softly with his mouth very close to her ear.
‘You left me alone, abandoned me, and now you can’t get enough of me?’
‘Correct.’
‘Don’t you have any scruples?’
‘Hardly any,’ he confessed. ‘I’m planning to take you to see a magical gazebo.’
‘Filled with your etchings?’ she guessed.
He laughed, and was further amused by the fact that people dancing close to them were hanging on their every word. Leading Callie off the dance floor, he led her through towering glass doors onto a veranda stretching the entire length of the palace. Even this late in the year, plants illuminated by blazing torches still flowered profusely, and their fragrance filled the air. He wouldn’t usually notice such things, but being with Callie always heightened his senses. A pathway led through the formal lawn gardens, and where they ended there was a lake with an island at its heart. Lights glinted on the island, and a rowing boat was moored alongside the small wooden pier that stretched out into the lake.
‘Really?’ Callie queried with a pointed glance at her dress and shoes.
‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’ he demanded.
Slipping off her shoes, she accepted his steadying hand as she gingerly boarded the boat. ‘I used to escape the palace by rowing out to the island,’ he explained when he joined her. He’d left his uniform jacket and white bow tie on the shore with his highly polished shoes. Freeing a few buttons at the neck of his shirt, he sat across from her and reached for the oars.
‘I can understand why you might want to be alone here,’ Callie agreed as she trailed her fingertips in the water. ‘It’s so beautiful and peaceful on the lake.’
‘I didn’t notice that when I was a youth,’ he admitted, plunging the oars into the mirror-smooth water. ‘It took time for me to trust the Prince, my father, and sometimes I was just angry for no reason and just wanted to get away. Now I think I was afraid of disappointing him. I’d only known rare acts of kindness on the streets, and the fact that he never gave up on me seemed to be just one more reason for me to put him to the test.’
‘That’s only natural.’
‘I was lucky.’ He put his back into the stroke and as he saw Callie’s appreciative gaze focus on his bunching muscles his impatience to reach the opposite shore grew.
‘How did you live,’ she asked, ‘back before the Prince found you?’
He shrugged and dipped the oars again. ‘I cleaned around the market stalls in return for spoiled fruit, stale bread, and mouldy cheese. I had some good feeds,’ he remembered, ‘but the stallholders had many calls on their time, and I was proud even then. I might have been filthy and wearing rags but I vowed that I would never sink any lower and would always strive to rise. My bathroom was the Tiber, and my bedroom better than most people could boast.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked.
‘I slept at the Coliseum,’ he explained. ‘I came to know a member of the security staff, and he turned a blind eye when I curled up in the shadows of that great arena.’
‘You make it sound romantic,’ Callie said with a frown, ‘but you must have been freezing in winter.’
‘It was certainly a challenge,’ he recalled, ‘but atmospheric too. I used to sleep in Caesar’s box, rather than in the dungeons where the poor victims used to languish as they awaited their terrible fate. I had nothing in the material sense,’ he added as their small craft sliced through the water, ‘except when it came to determination. I had plenty of that, as well as the freedom to change my condition, which I did.’
‘What age were you when this was happening?’
‘I was grubbing around the streets from the age of four. That was when my mother died,’ he explained. ‘The whorehouse where she worked kicked me out. In fairness, no one could spare the time to take care of me. I think now that I was better off by myself. The clientele at the brothel weren’t too choosy who they abused, if you take my meaning.’
‘I do. But how did you manage on your own on the streets at the age of four?’
‘There were other, older children on the streets. They showed me how to stay alive.’
‘How did you end up at the Coliseum?’
‘A lot of homeless children slept there. I saw the tourist posters advertising this colossal building, and I wanted to see it for myself. Getting inside was easy. I just joined the queue of tourists and walked straight in. I soon learned that if I pretended to be a lost child, concerned attendants would feed me. It worked for quite a while until they began to recognise me, but by then they had developed a soft spot for the boy from the gutters and so they turned a blind eye. The people who worked at the Coliseum didn’t have much money, either, and so they saved food from the trash for me to root through. There were plenty of half-eaten burgers and hot dogs for supper. I don’t remember being hungry. The Coliseum was like a hotel for me, growing up, so don’t feel sorry for me. I did fine. The Coliseum was both my home and my school. I saw everything you can imagine during my time there. I learned about sex, violence, thieving, unkindness, and great acts of kindness too.’
‘Can you remember your parents?’ she asked as he took a deep pull on the oars.
