The Patrician (34 page)

“Welcome to the family,” she said in Greek. She patted Jared on the hand. “You will no doubt want to get settled in. The steward tells me, ah, the rooms have been put to order, and I must see to our things.” Neta paused, her expression reflecting the awkwardness of the situation. “You are very kind not to toss my family into the street.”

Jared gave his aunt an affectionate hug. “I remember a time when you could have tossed a rebellious young boy into the streets. Instead you gave him the comfort and love of a mother.”

He said something in Hebrew that earned a smile from Neta. Bryna’s heart clutched at the tender exchange. Obviously, he held his aunt in a special place.

Neta left them standing in the middle of the dining area. Servants crept around the room, cleaning the dishes away, slanting apprehensive looks at the new master.

Jared laced his fingers through hers. Once she had resented him dragging her around by the hand. Now it felt natural, even comforting.

“How would you like to see your new home?” he asked.

She gave him a measuring look. There was an edge to his voice, the same type of distancing that she had sensed when they’d first met in Coeus’ dreary room. She drew his hand against her cheek. “My home is where you are.”

His eyes darkened to deep amber. Bending, he captured her mouth with his, cupping his hand behind her neck.

She leaned back, smiling at the irritation stealing across his face.

“I am not finished,” he growled, but she placed her hands between them.

“Nor am I,” she drawled. “But I do not think it would make a good impression on the servants if their master seduced his wife in front of them.”

It was all she could do not to laugh out loud at the dark look he sent the staff. Servants scattered to imaginary duties.

He turned back, nipped at her neck. “We can continue this in our bedchamber.”

Bryna couldn’t keep a giggle from escaping but their retreat was stopped short by the stodgy butler who had greeted them at the door. Standing at attention before them, he seemed completely unruffled by Jared’s surly demeanor.

“Your pardon, my lord, but Mistress Neta has instructed me that you are now in charge of the household.” He seemed a bit put out by the course of events, and sent a sour look at this upstart who had turned the current domestic arrangement completely inside out.

“Your name?” demanded Jared.

The man flinched at the harsh tone. “Talus, my lord.”

“Well, Talus, you will remember from this point on to make yourself known before interrupting. Is that understood?”

Talus sniffed. “Perfectly, my lord. I but followed the mistress’ instructions, as would be expected.”

She sensed the uncertainty beneath the butler’s stiff pride. “Jared, do not be so hard on him.” Bryna turned to the man. “There are many new customs, new ways that we all have to get used to. I hope that you will be able to help us—help me—to adjust to them.”

“I would be honored, my lady.” He bowed formally.

Bryna scanned the hallway. “Talus, where is my cat?”

The butler cringed, absently rubbed several bloody scratches on his hand. “I had one of the household boys take it to the kitchen. I will have him fetched back.”

“No,” interjected Jared, earning a peeved look from Bryna. “We’ll send for it later.”

Talus bowed again. “As you wish. May I escort you to the master’s chamber?”

“I know the...” Jared began, but Bryna jabbed an elbow in his side. Ignoring the glowering look he sent her, she smiled at Talus. “Please do.”

The tense lines around Talus’s forehead relaxed. He turned, leading the way with all the formality of royalty, through an arched doorway at the opposite end of the dining room. She nearly laughed out loud at the ferocious look on Jared’s face but he kept silent and followed the butler.

The corridor seemed to go on forever. Bryna could not help but marvel at the ornate frescos covering the walls. They did not portray scenes of victorious battles that Marcus Gaius, their former master, had favored. Nor were there vignettes of scornful gods and willful goddesses. No, these walls were awash with beautiful seascapes. Waves of turquoise caressed the plunging bow of a sleek ship sails billowed out to catch the breeze. Graceful gray dolphins leapt from the white foam ahead of the vessel, just as they had on the voyage to Alexandria.

And on the bow, the faintest outline of a figure, looking forward, looking ahead to a distant shore, shrouded in white and gray clouds. It was beautiful. “Whoever did this was very talented.”

“My thanks.”

She stopped and stared at Jared. “You?”

“A merchant does not spend all his time at the markets.” He tugged on her hand and continued down the hallway.

Talus stopped outside a large arched doorway. “At Master Gideon’s command, the staff has readied your rooms for you. I pray you will find them acceptable.”

The paintings were forgotten for the moment as they entered the room. Bryna felt Jared watching her, gauging her reaction. She wanted to be very sophisticated, admire the rich woven coverlet, its shaded blue folds draping the ivory inlaid bed that sat upon a dais of black marble. A small carved stool of cedar wood made ascending the platform convenient.

A cypress table lined the left wall, an ornate flagon of silver placed meticulously next to a large matching basin. Neatly folded linen cloths sat close by, ready to dry face and hands. Another held a cluster of bronze oil lamps, their wicks cold in the light of day.

A chest bound in iron, a large brazier, still glowing with remnants of a fire and two chairs set close to the brazier to capture the warmth during the cool nights, completed the room’s furnishings.

Yes, she wanted to be very sophisticated, but in truth she was overwhelmed. Her mother had taught her how to manage a simple, thatched roof home. How would she manage such a house as this?

“I’ve...I’ve never seen anything so grand,” she whispered, moving slowly into the room.

“There will be several chests and other belongings arriving,” Jared told Talus. “See that they are well cared for.” The butler bowed, began to back out of the room.

“Oh, and Talus,” Jared stopped him.

“Master?”

“Be sure to knock before bringing them in.”

Talus pressed his lips together. “As you wish, master.”

Bryna slipped out of her
palla
and walked out to the open balcony. The Mediterranean Sea stretched out in front of her. The sun, beginning its descent, cast streaks of red and orange across the foam capped waves.

Jared enfolded her in his arms, drew her against his chest. “When I was lying, chained in Gaius’ dank prison, this is the scene I kept alive in my mind. The salt breeze replaced the fetid odor of filthy men. The turquoise color of the sea at sunrise.” She felt his chest rise with a deep breath. “That’s what I saw in the darkness of the
estraglia
.”

“I saw hills painted in shades of greens,” she replied softly. “When my hands became red and cracked from labor, I saw lakes as blue as the sky and rushing rivers filled with salmon. I saw deer, rabbits and all manner of wildlife come to quench their thirst.” She ran her hand along his muscled arm, the skin warm beneath her fingers. “And when I lay at night on the hard, cold floor, my back bruised for no other reason than the fact I am a barbarian, I saw my clan, my family, and dreamed of the day when I would return home.”

Jared’s arms tightened imperceptibly. “This is your home now.”

Bryna’s mouth curved upward as she turned in his arms. She traced his jaw with her finger, feeling the stubble of his beard. Despite the resolute cast of his eyes, she saw uncertainty and fear lurking behind them.

“Yes,” she answered. “Where you are, there is my home, be it a simple barbarian hut, a grand Roman manor or a cave.”

“Bryna.” Her name was a whisper on his lips that melted away as he captured her mouth with his. She met his kiss with equal fervor. Gods, she loved the taste of him. She slipped her arms around his neck and as he made to lift her, wrapped her legs around his waist.

His groan of approval sounded in her ears. In two quick strides they were at the bed. Bypassing the stool, he lifted her onto the pallet, laying her down with an urgency that jarred her. Bryna smiled. She did not mind the rougher handling. Her own blood ran like flame. Through hooded eyes she watched Jared, still straddling her, draw his tunic over his head. Gods, she loved the sculpted muscles of that broad chest, the crisp midnight black hair that disappeared beneath his loincloth. Her smile deepened at the tenting of the cloth. Would she ever look on this man, her husband, and not feel wonder?

His gaze burned hot as she slipped the sleeves of her dress from her shoulders. She sucked in a breath as he helped her shed the rest of the garment, the touch of his large hands sending shivers of delight through her as his fingers feathered against her ribs.

Bunching the material at her waist he leaned over her, trailed hot kisses from her ear down to the hollow of her neck. A deep warmth pooled in her belly as he continued along her collarbone until finally he dipped his head and took one breast into his mouth. A jolt of fire and want shot through her core. Bryna arched her back as he laved the nipple with his hot, moist tongue. “Jared!” The cry was desperate. Damn him, and his teasing. Even when she tried to spread her legs farther apart, all but begging him to enter her, he only laughed and nipped at her other breast. Gods!

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed. She shuddered as he kissed her stomach, used his right hand to massage her mound in slow, lazy circles. She moaned, lifted her hips toward him. Through hazed vision, she saw him smile “Not yet, my love.”

She moaned when he inserted his finger into her sheath, stroking until she was hot and slick, ready to accept him.

Jared braced his arms on either side of her, and when she would have reached up to draw him down to her, took her hands in his own and held them above her head. He bent over and, kissing her, thrust deep.

Her senses became useless. She was aware only of Jared, of his presence within, of her love for him. They reached their peak together, passion erupting into a world of color.

His ragged breath was hot against her neck, her heart slammed against her chest with such force that she worried it would leap straight out into Jared’s hand. She slid her hands over his shoulders, raked her nails down his back as he brought her to shattering climax. With a deep shuddering cry of release he sent his seed deep into her womb.

Bryna’s entire body went limp. Her eyes would not focus and she wasn’t entirely certain she’d ever breathe normally again. Jared had rolled to his side but the weight of his hips and his leg stretched between hers felt wonderful.

 He propped his head on his hand. Gods, she loved the way he looked at her. Reaching out, she stroked damp, midnight tendrils of hair from his forehead, smiled at his contented sigh. How could she love someone so much? Each time they made love, their hearts, their very existences were being woven into a complicated tapestry. 

“You’re trembling,” he said, his voice husky. He caught her hand, kissed the inside of her wrist. “Let me warm you.”

“I’m not cold,” she replied. “Just...just unsure.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her in mock indignation. “Unsure? Well, that bruises a man’s ego.”

Bryna laughed. “Not about that. In that you are well accomplished.” She sobered. “I was thinking of Bran.”

Jared went still. “Your brother? Why?”

Bryna frowned, searched his face. His expression had gone bland, unreadable. “I want to start my search for him.”

“No.”

She did not care for the tone of command in his voice. “What do you mean no?”

“It is too dangerous.”

Bryna scrambled to her knees and looked down at him. “You promised to assist me with finding my brother.” He did not reply. She forced her voice to remain calm and prodded. “When we returned to Alexandria.”

“Bryna,” Jared replied, swinging his legs to the side of the bed, “You must know you have to realize after all we’ve endured that it would be a futile search.”

Bryna’s heart sank, her disbelief so keen it cut into her like a sharp knife. “He is alive. I made a promise to him.” She swallowed hard. “I keep my promises.”

Jared cut her a sharp look over his shoulder. “Promises are easily made when one is desperate.”

“Was that what spurred you to make your pledge to me?” Bryna’s voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

Jared released a breath. “Do not twist my words around.”

“But it’s what you believe!”

“What I
believe
is that your brother cannot still be alive and even if he were, he’d be wishing death to end his suffering.”

Bryna could only stare at Jared’s back, his harsh words twisting the invisible blade into her very soul. “Bran is alive and I will find him. Without your assistance.”

“No. You. Will. Not.” Jared stood, swiped his tunic from the floor and dressed in angry, jerking motions. “There is no more to say on the matter.”

When he turned to her, a wave of cold swept over Bryna. In manner and expression he was every bit a Roman.

“I will send a maidservant to see to your needs. I have household accounts and business matters to sort out. Do not leave this room.”

Bryna squared her shoulders. “You would make me a prisoner?” she asked.

He belted his tunic, pinned her with a hard glare. “Call it what you will. I am your husband. And a wife, even a
barbarian
wife, must do as she is told.”

Jared paused at the doorway. Bryna thought he would speak, apologize for his behavior, assure her she would find Bran. Instead, he stalked out without a backward glance.

Bryna stared after him, numb. Hope. She had actually begun to hope that she would have a future here. A future with Jared. How stupid could she have been? Despite all of his gentle words, she was still a possession. Instead of a slave she was a wife.

She picked up her shift from the foot of the bed and calmly dressed, poured water into the basin and washed her face, her fingers lingering over the swollen tenderness of her lips. She closed her eyes against the tears. He had wanted her. She knew he had wanted her. Moreover, he had come to her with passion. With love.