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‘Then as I see it, you’ve no choice. I suggest that you either apologise to your new bride and hope that she forgives you or prepare to stand trial.’

‘Her brother wouldn’t dare to accuse me of anything!’ Scaevola blustered. ‘He knows who I am.’

‘I’m sure he does, but do you know who he is?’ Nerva held up a hand before the youth could answer. ‘He’s a powerful man in Lindum and you’re a long way from Rome. Your family name won’t protect you this far away. Now I suggest that you take the night to consider your choices. Try staying sober for once.’

Lucius gave an angry snort, his handsome features contorting with malice as he turned and almost walked into Marius. ‘As for you, Centurion, you had no right interrupting me earlier.’

‘You’re absolutely right, sir.’ Marius folded his arms pointedly. ‘I didn’t.’

‘Insolent dog! I ought to have you whipped.’

‘If there’s any whipping to be done then it will be on my authority, not yours!’ The last vestiges of Nerva’s self-control seemed to snap. ‘You deserved to be interrupted. Don’t ever insult a lady in my presence again, do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now get out. I’m sick of the sight of you.’

Marius lifted his chin, meeting Scaevola’s glare with a hard look of his own as the latter stormed out of the room.

‘I apologise, sir.’ He unfolded his arms again as he turned to face his commander.

‘For which part?’ Nerva gave him a barbed look. ‘The interruption or the insolence afterwards? He’s right—you ought to be disciplined.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I ought to have you whipped.’

‘Whatever you think best, sir.’

The Legate held his gaze for a long moment before waving a hand dismissively. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’d rather have Scaevola whipped, no matter what his father might say, but what on earth possessed you? I’ve never seen you behave that way to a senior officer before.’

Marius shrugged his shoulders non-committally. He’d never concealed anything from Nerva before, but he could hardly tell him the truth, that he’d resented the other man’s treatment of Livia. Or that, even now, he could hardly stop thinking about her. Even though she’d left, he could still picture every detail of her face: her patchwork of freckles, her sharply curved brows and, most of all, those luminous eyes fringed with dark lashes so long they seemed to caress her rounded cheeks.

When she’d pulled her palla back, proudly unveiling the mass of her burnished red curls, he’d found himself half-wanting to cheer, half to bury his face in them. The way she’d stood up to Scaevola had made him want to bury himself in other places, too, not that he ought to think about that. He ought not to think about those places at all. Even if he couldn’t seem to help himself. The way that she’d looked and acted had been nothing short of spectacular. He’d never desired a woman more in his life.

He cleared his throat at the thought. ‘Scaevola just seems to bring out the worst in me, sir.’

‘He does in all of us. We’ll be lucky if the fool doesn’t start a mutiny. Half the legionaries already want to stab him in the back, or so I’ve heard.’

‘I couldn’t comment, sir.’

‘No, of course not.’ Nerva gave him a penetrating look. ‘Although I do expect you to inform me if the situation deteriorates any further.’

‘I will, sir.’

‘Good. Now tell me about the woman.’ Nerva gestured for Marius to follow him into the villa, leading the way past the colonnaded courtyard to his office. ‘Not exactly a blushing young bride, is she?’

‘No, sir.’ The words made him strangely defensive. ‘I suppose not.’

‘You’ve had a chance to speak with her. What do you think?’

‘I don’t dislike her, sir.’

He didn’t trust himself to say any more. None of his thoughts were exactly appropriate for sharing. Admittedly, she wasn’t young, in marital terms anyway, and she certainly hadn’t been blushing that evening. She’d looked more like a ghost when Lucius had insulted her. And he definitely didn’t dislike her.

‘And there’s a child...’ Nerva closed his office door behind them. ‘Well, Scaevola’s right about one thing. His father will be furious when he finds out.’

‘Couldn’t you lend Scaevola the money, sir??

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