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Chapter Sixteen
Marius was halfway through the atrium when he stopped to sniff the air. Something inside the villa smelled wonderful. Not only that, but the whole place seemed to have been transformed during the course of the afternoon, every surface polished and every floor scrubbed until it gleamed. While he’d been outlining his plans for an expedition north, inspecting equipment and preparing Ario’s men for what they might find, it seemed his wife had been equally busy.
‘Livia?’
He called her name as he removed his mail shirt, draping it over one of the few remaining chairs before following his nose to the courtyard. There she was, her new red cloak pushed back over her shoulders as she crouched beside a small firepit in the centre, stirring a heavy pot that hung from a hook attached to a tripod of three metal poles. She clearly hadn’t noticed him arrive, so he was able to examine her face in profile for a few moments, her small brow wrinkled in concentration as she lifted the spoon, blew on its contents and then lifted it to her lips.
The effect on his body was instantaneous. He’d never been so jealous of a spoon in his whole life.
‘Smells good.’ He sat down on the low wall that ran along the perimeter of the courtyard, resting one forearm on his leg to hide the evidence of his sudden and surprisingly potent arousal. ‘Fit for the Emperor himself.’
‘He’s not invited.’ She smiled, though it was a few seconds before she twisted her head to look at him, almost as if she were bracing herself to do so. ‘It’s mutton stew, one of my father’s favourites.’
‘I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.’
‘You haven’t, but it’s ready now if you’re hungry?’
‘Famished. You know there are ovens on the east wall of the fort. You can use them.’
‘I know. The quartermaster told me, but I wanted to cook here. My mother used to say a house wasn’t a home until you’d cooked in it.’
Home. The word gave him an almost visceral jolt. He hadn’t had a home, tents and barrack blocks excepted, for twelve years. His last home had been with the family his father had paid to take care of him while he was away fighting and then after, when he’d known that he wouldn’t recover...
He pushed the memory away quickly. ‘So what do you think of it? The house, I mean?’
‘It’s perfect.’ She gave a contented-sounding sigh. ‘I can’t believe no one’s lived here for so long.’
‘Ario doesn’t like living apart from his men. He expects them to follow him because he’s their comrade and a good leader, not just because of his rank.’
‘You mean he’s still more Briton than Roman?’ She peered up at him from under her lashes.
‘I suppose so.’ He ceded the point. ‘In any case, consider this your home for the time b
eing. You can do whatever you like with the place.’
‘Our home.’ She dipped a ladle into the pot and doled out two bowlfuls. ‘Not just mine.’
‘Ours, then.’ He tried to catch her eye as she passed him the bowl, but she kept hers cast downwards as if she were deliberately avoiding looking at him. There was an edginess to her movements, too, he noticed, as if she were nervous about something.
‘Do you want to eat inside?’ She gestured towards one of the rooms as his stomach growled with anticipation. ‘There aren’t any tables, but we could put some chairs together to make one.’
‘No. I’m comfortable here.’ He patted the space on the wall beside him. ‘Join me?’
‘Yes. Oh!’ She sat down and then sprang up again almost instantly, picking up a basket of bread and placing it on the wall between them, along with two cups and an amphora. ‘I forgot these.’
Marius lifted an eyebrow. ‘The quartermaster was generous.’
‘His name is Trenus and he was. He said we ought to drink a toast to our marriage.’ She lifted the amphora with a smile. ‘Care for some? I promise not to spill any this time.’
‘Yes, please. It’s been a long day.’
‘Ye-es, I suppose so.’
The words only seemed to make her more anxious somehow as she poured two cupfuls and then sat down again, arranging her skirts with more precision than was necessary, her fingers twitching over the fabric as if she couldn’t bear to keep still.
‘Ario seems friendly.’ There appeared to be a deliberate lightness to her tone as well. ‘Did you really save his life?’
‘Possibly, although I doubt it. He’s been in tougher situations than that and survived. I just happened to be there at the right time.’
