The Warrior's Bride Prize. Jenni Fletcher
the words. It had been an insulting, not to mention revealing, thing to have said, and she didn’t want to offend him—or to provoke his suspicions either. After his earlier kindness to Julia she owed him better than that and criticising the Empire wasn’t an intelligent thing to do under any circumstances. The way she’d denounced Scaevola earlier had been incriminating enough, but she hadn’t been able to contain her anger at her own sense of powerlessness any longer. Still, if Marius repeated the words... Not that she thought he would. As stern as he seemed, there was something inherently trustworthy about him, or at least she thought there was. Then again, she’d been wrong about a man she’d trusted before.
‘I’m sorry.’ She adopted what she hoped was a suitably apologetic expression. ‘I’m just disappointed. I’d hoped I might get to see it today.’
That was true. Despite everything, she was still excited by the thought of catching her first glimpse of the wall and the land beyond it.
‘Indeed.’ He still sounded offended.
‘Can you see it from Coria?’
‘No, the landscape’s too hilly.’
‘Then do you think I might be allowed to visit?’
He gave her a sidelong look, as if surprised by her interest. ‘I think that might be up to your husband, lady.’
She grimaced, unwilling to talk about what her new husband would or would not let her do. After her earlier mistake, she felt more nervous than ever about meeting him. Loath as she was to admit it, she had the disturbing suspicion that no other man could possibly measure up to the one she’d thought that he was...
A soldier in one of the watchtowers called out a greeting as they entered the gateway and she pulled her head back inside the carriage, smiling at Porcia, though to her surprise, the girl didn’t look happy.
‘What’s the matter? We’ve arrived safely at last.’
‘Yes, but...’ Her maid leaned forward, as if she were afraid of being overheard. ‘What about you? What if it all happens again?’
What if...? She felt a ripple of panic start in her chest and begin to spread outwards, coursing through her veins like poison. There was no point in pretending that she didn’t understand Porcia’s meaning. She’d been thinking the same thing ever since they’d left Lindum, desperately hoping that Tarquinius was only marrying her off to be rid of her this time, without any ulterior motive. Now that she knew who her intended was, however, she had to admit that seemed unlikely. No doubt her brother had big plans for Lucius Scaevola in the future. And if he didn’t comply then Tarquinius would have no qualms about blackmailing him as well... Another ripple of panic spread outwards... And since her new husband wouldn’t be able to vent his anger on anyone else, it would all fall on her again, just as it had with Julius.
What if it did all happen again?
She shook her head helplessly. So much depended on her new husband’s character, on him being willing or able to stand up to Tarquinius. Both her and Julia’s futures depended on it.
Nervously, she peered out of the window again. They were inside the fort now, rolling down the Via Praetoria between storerooms, barracks and granaries towards the Via Principalis and what looked like the military headquarters, a huge stone building with a column-framed courtyard at the front.
‘Are we here, Mama?’
Julia lifted her head from the bench, yawning, as they turned away from the headquarters and rolled to a halt in front of a large villa.
‘Yes, love.’ She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, pulling her close. ‘We’re here.’
‘Is this our house?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘This is the Legionary Legate’s house,’ Marius interjected, already opening the carriage door. ‘My orders were to escort you here.’
‘Then I thank you for your escort, Centurion.’
She spoke formally as she took his proffered hand and stepped down, trying to ignore the way her breath caught and then quickened as their fingers touched. Standing so close, her nostrils filled with his scent of leather and sandalwood, she felt as though all her insides were performing a series of unwonted contortions. She could sense his body heat, too, radiating through his mail shirt, though perhaps that was just her own blood heating in response to his proximity. Every part of her skin seemed to be tingling, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, as if his hands were moving all over her body and not merely grasping her fingers.
She swallowed as her heart seemed to sink and do somersaults at the same time. She’d spent her time in the carriage trying to convince herself that her earlier reaction to him had all been a mistake, a reaction to the tension of the past few days, and yet holding his hand now, the feeling seemed ten times as strong, as if denial had only magnified her body’s response. If it were nerves, then it didn’t feel like any nerves she recognised. It felt strangely, shockingly, inappropriately pleasurable. How could it still when she knew that he wasn’t the man she’d come to marry?
She peeked up at him, but he was staring straight ahead at the villa, as if he felt no reaction to her at all. Perhaps he didn’t. It was hard to imagine such a powerful emotion being entirely one-sided, but judging by the severity of his expression, it clearly was. Which was a good thing, she told herself. If he felt the same then it would only make things more awkward and her earlier mistake had been bad enough.
She drew her fingers away, pulling her palla over her head as he turned to lift Julia down from the carriage, making a small bow as he did so, as if she truly were an empress. She smiled at her daughter’s delighted reaction. Even if she never saw him again, which she supposed was quite likely given the size of the fort, she’d remember him for that kindness. The rest of it she would try to forget, not just for her sake, but for that of her new husband. No good could come of dwelling on what-might-have-beens, on what her future might have been if Marius Varro had been the man she’d come to marry.
They started up the steps of the villa together, Julia in the middle like a shield keeping them apart. It made Livia no less physically aware of him, but at least it made the cause of her flushed cheeks less obvious. Now if she could just keep her daughter between them while she bade him farewell...
No sooner had the thought entered her head than the little girl tripped, sprawling forward on to the hard granite steps. Instinctively, she sprang forward to catch her, only to find Marius there at the same time, so that they both caught an elbow and lifted her up before she could hurt herself. Livia threw him a grateful look, but he only nodded sternly, waiting for her to move ahead before dropping unobtrusively to one side, though staying close enough to reach them, she noticed, in case Julia stumbled again. For some reason, his presence there made her feel better, as if he were protecting them both.
‘Ah, Livia Valeria.’ An aristocratic-looking man dressed in a pristine white toga decorated with a purple band appeared in the villa doorway, bowing his head in greeting. ‘I’m Fabius Augustus Nerva, Legate Legionary of the Sixth Victorious Legion. Welcome to Coria.’
‘Thank you. I’m glad to be here.’ She bent her own head in response. As intimidating as the man looked, she was relieved to find that his expression was welcoming. ‘This is my daughter, Julia.’
She gestured behind her, better prepared this time for the look of surprise that immediately crossed his features. Obviously he hadn’t been expecting a child either.
‘I see.’ Whatever his private thoughts, he recovered himself quickly. ‘Well, we’re always looking for new recruits. Have you come to join the legion, young lady?’
‘Marius says I’m an empress,’ Julia answered seriously.
‘Marius said that?’ The Legate’s eyebrows shot upwards as he threw a swift, questioning look at his Centurion. ‘Well, in that case I await your commands, but first you’d