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Marius’s amusement fled at once. The eve of their wedding? Meaning that the wedding was going to take place tomorrow? He wondered what Nerva had said to persuade Scaevola to go ahead with it. Probably just the blunt truth, that he faced imprisonment otherwise, but confronted with the reality, he realised that he’d been hoping Scaevola would refuse anyway, that he’d object and leave Livia free. Not that her freedom would make any difference to him, he reminded himself. He had nothing to offer beyond a small room in a barrack block and a centurion’s pay, but at least she wouldn’t have to marry against her will.
‘Perhaps I should lead a patrol.’ Scaevola’s tone was sullen. ‘Then I could teach those red-headed barbarians a lesson.’
A heavy silence descended over the room. Marius looked quickly towards Livia, but her expression seemed even more frozen than before.
‘Lucius!’ Nerva’s voice had lost all trace of mockery. ‘There are ladies present.’
‘Forgive me.’ Scaevola looked pointedly towards Hermenia. ‘I forgot.’
‘Of course you did.’ The Legate’s wife got to her feet haughtily. ‘But it’s getting late. I believe we ladies ought to retire.’
‘Good idea. I’ve no desire to continue mixing with people who look like savages either.’
‘I am not a savage!’ Livia’s voice echoed loudly around the room, vibrating with emotion. ‘My daughter is not a savage!’
‘Of course not.’ Hermenia reached a hand across the table towards her. ‘She’s the sweetest child I ever laid eyes on.’
‘You keep her, then.’ Lucius swayed as he sat up, pointing one finger accusingly towards Livia. ‘Your brother ought to cover more than my debts if he wants me to take the pair of you. I ought to be paid, too!’
Marius was out of his seat and on his feet before the other man had finished speaking, closing the space between them in two strides, but Livia was there before him, lifting the amphora of wine from the table and depositing the contents over Scaevola’s head. For a few seconds, the Tribune’s face took on a look of open-mouthed incredulity before he shot to his feet, dripping purple liquid.
‘You did that deliberately!’ Scaevola’s face was mottled with anger, almost the same shade as the wine. ‘You all saw it!’
‘I dropped it.’ After her outburst, Livia sounded almost unnaturally calm.
‘You did not!’
‘Of course she did.’ Hermenia went to stand beside her. ‘I saw it fall.’
‘I won’t be insulted like this! If you won’t punish her, then I will!’
‘Lucius!’ Nerva sounded completely sober now. ‘We’ll speak in my office. Marius?’ He gave him a pointed look as he passed by. ‘Stay here.’
‘And I’ll find a fresh tunic.’ Hermenia followed after them, turning at the last moment to murmur a low ‘Brava, Livia’ over her shoulder.
Marius stared after them, slowly uncurling his fists and flexing his fingers, stunned by the realisation of what he’d almost done. He’d crossed the room with every intention of striking a senior officer, an act of disobedience that even Nerva wouldn’t have been able to ignore. It would have been a brief victory, a momentary satisfaction that would have destroyed his career and ended all chances of promotion, earning him a flogging at the very least.
He would have ended up just like his father.
Slowly, he turned his head towards Livia. In the light of a flickering oil lamp, her hair seemed to glow even brighter than before, vibrant and mesmerising. She was standing perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the opposite wall, though judging by her glazed expression, he doubted that she could see anything. If she hadn’t acted first, then he would have lost everything. He would have ruined his career—his life—for a woman he’d met only the day before, a woman who was going to marry another man, a woman whom, at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to haul into his arms.
The best thing he could do for them both was to leave. Leave and take a patrol north and only come back once she was married. With any luck, Scaevola would have been transferred to another fort by then, taking her with him, or if not then perhaps he could request to be posted elsewhere himself. Anything to make sure that he’d never see her again, to make doubly sure they wouldn’t ever be alone together. As they were now.
He flexed his shoulders, trying to relieve some of the feeling of tension. Leaving was the best thing he could do, but Nerva had told him to stay where he was—and even if he hadn’t, he had a feeling that his feet wouldn’t take him anywhere. If his eyes wouldn’t obey when he told them to look away, then what hope did he have of commanding the rest of his body? Besides, he couldn’t go, not
now... It would feel like abandonment and, for whatever reason, he couldn’t abandon her.
‘Livia?’
He used his Centurion’s voice, one that never failed to attract attention, and she spun around, catching her breath as if she were coming out of a trance.
‘Marius.’ Her expression looked haunted somehow. ‘Why couldn’t it have been you?’
He knitted his brows. What did she mean, that she wished she’d poured her wine over his head instead? That would have had fewer consequences, he supposed, though he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea. Considering that he’d been ready to risk his career for her, it seemed somewhat churlish, too.
‘Not that.’ She shook her head, as if she had guessed what he was thinking. ‘I mean, why couldn’t you have been the one I was supposed to marry? I thought that you were when we met. I wish it had been true.’
He didn’t answer, using every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to stop himself from crossing the room and going to her. The words made his pulse quicken, but what could he say? That he wished it, too?
