The Protector (5 page)

“As well as can be expected. She’s much calmer than I would be in the same situation. I suppose she’s trying to put on a brave face, but I suspect her placid demeanor is no more than a thin layer of ice covering a turbulent winter pond.”

Quintus silently agreed. He’d seen the widow’s icy facade melt in the courtyard. The memory of her pain washed through him until an unbearable need to seek her out and make certain of her welfare sent him heading for the door.

“Quintus?” Caros stopped him. “Where are you going?”

His hands curled into fists. Where
was
he going?
Adiona wasn’t his woman to protect or care for. He had no rights to her. Indeed, he was probably the last person she wanted to see after the way he’d insulted her. His jaw clenched, he scraped his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Pelonia eyed him warily. He wished he could head back to the barracks. He cleared his throat. “Do you think Lady Leonia will listen to reason or insist on attending the funeral?”

“When I left her, she seemed determined to go,” Pelonia said.

Caros frowned. “I’m not surprised. Adiona cares for few people, but those who earn her trust have a friend for life. Octavia happens to be one of those she loves.”

“I don’t know her well,” Pelonia offered, “but Adiona seems stubborn enough to strike out on her own if need be.”

Fear spiked through Quintus. He suspected Adiona was determined, proud and
rebellious
enough to leave the safety of the
ludus
just to prove no one cowed or controlled her.

“She just might.” Caros caught Quintus’s gaze. “I’ll do my best to convince her to stay until I can make inquiries and discover her attackers if possible. But if she insists on leaving, I’ll send guards to keep her as safe as I can.”

Pelonia sighed. “I suppose you’ll send Alexius?”

“No,” Caros said gravely. “I think Quintus is the best man for the task.”

Relief and dread filled Quintus with equal measure. He closed his eyes, both savoring and despising the thought of being with Adiona for days, perhaps weeks on end.

Pelonia gasped. “You can’t. He’s still recovering from his fight in the arena.”

I’m fine.

“He’s fine,” Caros said. “Haven’t you noticed his limp is gone?”

Quick to begin making plans, Quintus listened with half an ear while the two of them discussed him as though he weren’t there.

“Yes,” Pelonia answered. “But he has no experience as a bodyguard.”

He scowled, not happy to hear how weak Pelonia saw him. Did Adiona share the same view?

“No matter,” Caros continued. “He has everything he needs. He’s a natural leader. The other men I send for added defense will have no trouble following him. And if his time in the ring taught us anything, it’s that he’s intelligent, resourceful and battle-ready. He’s strong and depends on the Lord for direction. We’ll send them out in secrecy. If we’re fortunate, they’ll reach Neopolis before her attackers guess she’s left our midst.”

Satisfied to realize Caros didn’t consider him a useless weakling, he had to admit the plan held merit. Of course, Caros didn’t know about Quintus’s gnawing fascination for the widow or the constant battle he waged to keep from handing her his heart on a plate.

Caros faced him. “What say you, Quintus? Are you willing to be Adiona’s protector in exchange for your freedom?”

“I’d rather take my chances in the ring.”

A smile twitched at the edge of Caros’s mouth before he smothered it beneath a scowl. “I’ve already denied your request to reenter the games.”

They both knew Caros possessed the power to reverse the decision and grant his approval. They also knew he would not. His friend cared more about Quintus’s life than he did. Caros knew he longed for freedom,
but wouldn’t walk away without paying his debt. It was obvious the
lanista
saw the situation as a lesser of two evils, a way for both of them to win.

The anger he constantly fought because of his powerless position nearly blinded him. “I suppose I have little choice, then,” he said tightly.

“Very little,” Caros agreed.

“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll head back to the barracks. I have much to prepare.”

In the corridor, he leaned against the wall and reined in his temper. The melodious music and laughter of the party mocked his agitated mood. Not for the first time, he wondered what he’d done to provoke God’s wrath on him.

“Do you really think that was wise?” Pelonia’s voice carried into the hall. “What?”

“Forcing Quintus and Adiona into such close proximity. Have you seen the two of them together?”

Caros chuckled. “Why do you think I thought of Quintus? Who better to protect a woman than the man who can’t keep his eyes off her?”

“H
ave you lost your mind, Caros?” Incredulous, Adiona stared at her friend as though he’d grown two heads. The very idea of Quintus acting as her bodyguard made her tremble.

“No, I’m sane enough.” Caros crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the marble desktop. Morning sunlight streamed through the office’s east-facing windows and glinted off the jewel-toned tiles in the mosaic floor. “You need a strong, trustworthy leader for your guard if you mean to leave for Neopolis anytime soon.”

“Quintus is capable for certain, but he despises me. What makes you think he’ll agree to your plan?”

“He doesn’t despise you.” He ignored her snort of disbelief. “He’s already agreed.”

Her heart skipped a hopeful beat. “He has?”

“He wants to earn funds to buy his freedom. Your situation provides a perfect solution to that end.”

“Yes, perfect,” she said tightly, wounded by the painful knowledge that Quintus had to be
bought
to spend time with her. She tugged the leaf off a potted plant, grateful Caros hadn’t noticed the root of melancholy growing
inside her. “Why force him to buy his freedom? You’ve released your other slaves and kept only volunteers since you became one of those Christians. Why not simply
release
him? You have no need of money.”

“I’ve tried. He calls it charity and won’t accept my offer. The two of you need each other.”

She cringed at the idea of
needing
anyone. Unlike most men, Caros wasn’t stupid. He possessed hawklike powers of observation. He was aware of how attracted she was to Quintus and just how much Quintus chafed at being within a mile of her. If she didn’t know him better, she’d think her long-time friend was making a cruel joke at her expense. “I thought when you wed Pelonia you’d grow tired of meddling in my affairs.”

His smirk slid into a full grin. She gritted her teeth, vexed she seemed incapable of sparking the tiniest flame of irritation in him when his plans had left her capsized and floundering.

She moved to the window, in need of air and something to focus on beside the conflicting mix of excitement, longing and fear that threatened to drive her mad.

Gladiators trained in the field below. She winced when she caught herself searching greedily for the tall Christian who tormented her thoughts by day and her dreams by night.

She twisted the end of her long braid around her finger. The clack of wooden practice swords and the glint of sunlight on shields reminded her of the attack the previous evening. She closed her eyes, absorbing the loss of her men, men she barely knew and shared no bond with beyond that of master and slave. What if Quintus were her protector and she was attacked again? What if
Quintus suffered the same deadly fate as Titus and her other guards?

She clutched her chest as a sudden rush of anguish robbed her of breath. She must keep him safe. How would she ever be able to live with herself if any harm came to him because of her?

“Adiona?” Caros asked.

“What?” Embarrassed by her overwrought reaction, she wrenched her eyes open and pretended interest in the gladiator practice.

“Are you well?”

“Of course,” she whispered just as she spotted Quintus training with another gladiator in the center of the field.

Her traitorous heart leaped at the sight of him and his powerful movements mesmerized her. A voice of reason clamored in the back of her mind to leave the window before he saw her, but her feet seemed buried in the concrete floor.

Without warning, Quintus broke from the fight and glanced her way as though her presence called to him from across the sand. He turned slowly toward the house. The sharp, angular cut of his jaw was locked tight, his full lips unsmiling. Sweat poured down his temples and the bronze column of his throat, soaking the front of his dark tunic. His muscled arms and legs seemed relaxed in their stillness, but the intensity in his gaze exposed the turbulent inner man that both frightened and fascinated her.

As their eyes locked, tender feelings unfurled within her chest. Despite her best efforts to remember his disdain for her, she found her thoughts focused on the gentleness and security she’d found in his embrace the previous night.

Confused and aggravated by her reaction when she’d vowed to feel nothing but hate for the slave, she shivered, uncertain if it was the chill in the air or the coldness of Quintus’s wintry gaze that spread ice through her veins.

Never had she felt more powerless to protect herself. Not when her father sold her off, not even when her husband locked her away in a damp cellar for days or when he ordered his minions to torment her for his amusement.

She swallowed the sharp lump in her throat and shoved the nightmares back into the dark recesses of her mind where the pain was more manageable.

Quintus’s beautiful mouth compressed. He seemed irritated. As though he, too, had been caught unaware by the sight of her and was unable to sever the ever-tightening bonds that drew the two of them together.

Don’t be an
idiota. Scoffing at the fanciful idea of Quintus bearing her any emotion beyond dislike, she blamed the morning sun for the sudden flare of heat in her cheeks.

Caros gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You know I’ll concern myself with your affairs until I’m satisfied you’re safe and no longer need me,” he said, bringing her back to their conversation. “I’ve acted as your defender too long to leave you to the wolves now.”

“I know.” Every nerve in her body begged her to turn back to Quintus and she was grateful Caros was there to keep her from acting on the foolish impulse. “I’m truly thankful for your friendship.”

He waved away her gratitude. “Will you trust me then? Quintus is the best man to keep you in one piece. If I
weren’t convinced of his abilities, I wouldn’t suggest him.”

She eased from his grasp. With a fleeting glance out the window, she saw Quintus was gone. Her heart heavy with disappointment, she knew it wasn’t Caros she didn’t trust.

I don’t trust myself.

She made her way to the couch across the room. Aware that she was being a coward, she found it infinitely safer for her peace of mind to indulge her fascination for Quintus from a distance.

“I’d prefer someone else.”

“You’re just being stubborn.” He ran his scarred fingers through his hair. “You won’t leave here without Quintus in command of your guards.”

“You can’t make my decisions for me.”

“No, but I can lock you in a room upstairs until I discover your attackers and have them arrested.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Furious he threatened her freedom, the one thing she valued most, she began to pace as though looking for a way of escape. “I’d never speak to you again.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the office and glared at him. “Fine. Have the
slave
packed and ready to leave within the hour.”

Caros’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she managed not to flinch. He knew her too well. It wasn’t like her to capitulate with ease. But why waste time arguing with the stubborn ox when she could simply agree, then order Quintus back to the
ludus
once they’d safely left the city? She had the other members of her guard to protect her if the need arose, while Quintus’s absence assured
he wouldn’t come to harm because of his association with her.

“It wouldn’t be wise of you to leave until late in the afternoon.”

“You know I must reach Neopolis as soon as possible. If there’s a chance to see Octavia before the end, I’d like to.”

“I understand.” He spoke gently as though she were one of his skittish Spanish mares. “But think, you may not reach her at all if you don’t proceed with caution. Preparations must be made and new guards chosen if you’re to be kept safe. Leaving later will provide the time we need to find the right men
and
ensure enough light for you to make the first tavern outside the city before nightfall.”

“Fine,” she snapped, rife with frustration, but unable to argue with the truth. “We’ll wait. However, I
will
leave for Neopolis today, and gods protect you if you try to stop me.”

When the sun began to wane and the afternoon turned cooler, Quintus made his way to the courtyard behind the main house. Most of the day had been spent in unbroken activity. After praying for wisdom, he and Caros had weighed various plans of escape and worked out the quickest, safest route to Neopolis. Quintus had overseen every detail of the trip’s preparations himself. His own life meant little to him, but the thought of Adiona coming to harm chilled him to the marrow.

The pair of geldings he’d chosen for the road portion of the journey to the port town of Ostia waited to be hitched to the
raeda,
a small covered coach in the center of the courtyard.

Alexius hailed Quintus from where he sat on a bench
under an olive tree. The Greek joined him by the horses. He broke his half-eaten apple in two and fed a piece to each animal. “These scruffy beasts have certainly seen better days, no? With Caros’s stable flung wide for you, why not choose horses with more…appeal?”

Eager to get the journey under way, Quintus cast a glance around the walled space until he located the assembly of formidable guards he’d selected based on their swordsmanship, speed and, most importantly, intelligence.

“These mounts are perfect for my purpose,” he said, turning back to Alexius. “I picked them for strength, not beauty. If Lady Leonia’s assassins are watching the compound, they’ll expect her to leave in luxury, not cramped in the back of a shabby covered wagon.”

“Good thinking, but I’m surprised Adiona agreed.”

“I didn’t ask her.”

“I see.” Amused disbelief crossed the Greek’s dark features. “Do you mind if I stay until you
do
ask her? That ought to prove entertaining.”

“She’s an intelligent woman. She’ll see reason.”

“Usually I’d agree with you,” Alexius said, trying not to laugh, “but the lady seems most
un
reasonable where you’re concerned, my friend. In truth, I’ve considered lending you my armor for this venture.”

Quintus offered a halfhearted smile. Alexius had a knack for turning every situation into a farce, but in this case he was too close to the truth for comfort. The next two weeks promised little but inevitable arguments and power plays. He didn’t delude himself into thinking Adiona would be placid or agreeable, but he was determined to fulfill his duty and keep her safe no matter how often she tempted him to wring her slender neck.

Whatever it takes to earn my freedom.

Disgusted with himself to realize a part of him looked forward to being with her no matter how badly she behaved, he crawled under the
raeda
to ascertain the underpinnings were sound enough to hold the bounty of possessions a peacock like the widow was sure to require. Satisfied all was well, he slid out from under the vehicle, dusted off his tunic and went to check the supplies.

He opened the coach’s back door, expecting the covered space to be stuffed with Adiona’s frivolous trinkets and overabundance of clothing. To his surprise, no new chests had been added to the foodstuffs and
amphorae
filled with water he’d placed there earlier.

What is she waiting for?

He bristled, recalling the orders she’d sent for him and his men to be ready to leave when she commanded. The curt note still rankled. He should have ignored the missive like he’d intended. As he’d expected, she was the last to arrive.

Alexius said farewell and wished him a safe journey. Another hour passed and Adiona had yet to make an appearance. His temper rising, Quintus began to pace. He’d gone over his orders with his men and the horses were restless. He’d hoped to leave while there was enough light to see them safely beyond the city gates and installed in a
tabernae
before darkness made them prey for thieves and other riffraff. Not for the first time that day, he wondered if Adiona had any concept of the lengths he and her friends had gone to to ascertain her welfare.

A servant girl with a leather satchel approached from the direction of the main house. Quintus recognized her as the maid Adiona had sent for earlier in the afternoon. Tall and slim, the girl’s wool tunic matched her dark
brown hair and eyes. She seemed as timid as her mistress was untamed.

“I’m called Nidia,” she said shyly, her eyes downcast. “My lady said she’ll be along in a moment. These are her belongings.”

Quintus took the satchel she held out to him. It was lighter than he expected. There must be some mistake.

“There’s no more,” Nidia said as though she guessed his thoughts. “My lady realizes you mustn’t be weighted down if you mean to travel quickly.”

Mystified but pleased by Adiona’s good sense, he placed the satchel in the back of the covered cart and latched the wooden door just as Caros made his way through the gate that separated the courtyard from the private gardens of the main house.

“Are you ready to leave?” the
lanista
asked.

“Only for the last two hours.”

Caros grinned. “No one claimed punctuality is one of Adiona’s virtues.” Quintus snorted.

“She
does
have virtues, you know. She strives to keep them hidden, but I’m confident you’ll see the truth once you’ve spent some time with her.” Caros grinned at Quintus’s dubious frown. “To be fair, I think she’s tardy now because of a late delivery of tunics she ordered.”

“That’s understandable,” Quintus said drily. “Wouldn’t want to be unfashionable when we slink away in the dark.” The
lanista
chuckled. “There’s plenty of light. You’ll make it to the inn before night falls, just as you planned.”

“Not if we don’t leave soon.”

Just then, Pelonia and Adiona came into view. Their
quiet conversation failed to carry across the courtyard, but their serious expressions warned of their concerns.

Quintus focused on Adiona, an unsettling yet unbreakable habit he’d developed over the last several months. The surprise of seeing her dressed in a slave’s tunic and worn leather sandals left him momentarily speechless. She should have looked ordinary, drab, but the harsh, shapeless wool and rope belt failed to disguise her willowy frame or delicate bone structure.