respect and kindness whenever their paths had crossed. Yet in spite of
his impeccable manner, she’d seen the lust in his eyes, and known that with the
slightest encouragement he would have embarked on an illicit affair.
“Lady Antonia.” Quintus Fabius Seneca took her chilled
fingers and kissed the back of her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Antonia forced a smile to her lips and rescued her hand. “I
did not know you were in Britannia, Praetor .” Please Juno, let him be
merely visiting the province. If he was now stationed in Camulodunum, the
chances of Scipio discovering her future plans became alarmingly possible. But
would her former husband truly imagine, for even a moment, the child she
adopted was really his?
“A happy coincidence,” the praetor said, and for some
reason Antonia didn’t believe a word. He gestured toward one of the ornate
couches, indicating she should sit, as though he was the master of this
townhouse and not her father. “It delights my heart to see you looking so well,
despite the deprivations of this barbarous province.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw her father flinch at the
slight. His atrium was extravagant in the extreme and while it might not
possess the spacious proportions of the grandest villas in Rome, Antonia was
certain it ranked among the most lavish in Britannia. It certainly compared
favorably to the one he’d had in Gallia, until he had moved to Britannia three
years ago in order to capitalize on the sudden demand for luxury goods.
“On the contrary, I find this province to be most
accommodating.” As she sat on the couch, she tried not to let Gawain’s mocking
smile intrude into her thoughts. Now was not the time to let base lust dictate
her words.
“Indeed, your father’s establishment is most comfortable.”
The praetor offered her father a condescending smile, and Antonia bit
her lip to stop herself from responding on his behalf. “And your loyalty, my
lady, does you credit as always.”
Antonia saw her father take a breath, undoubtedly to extol
the extent of her loyalty to Rome, the Emperor and goddess knew what else. The
last topic of conversation she wanted was one that centered around her,
especially since the praetor knew far more about the state of her
marriage to Scipio than her father ever would.
“What brings you to this far-flung outpost of the empire, Praetor ?”
Antonia folded her hands on her lap and prayed to Fortuna that he was merely
traveling through the province and had no plans to stay longer than a few days
or so.
“Duty, my lady.” He clasped his hands behind his back and
looked as though he prepared to address the Senate. “We are pledged to rid this
primitive isle of the scourge of Druids and that is my mission. Not that you
need to concern yourself with such unpleasant matters of state.”
Scipio hadn’t wanted her to concern herself with such
matters, either. He had been astonished, and not in a good way, when his young
bride had voiced her opinions on politics, law and injustice within his
hearing. It hadn’t taken her long to realize the extensive education her father
had paid a fortune for was the last reason why Scipio had taken her for his
wife.
But she was no longer Scipio’s wife.
“Surely the Druids live in the wild forests of Cambria, Praetor ?
The last places they would flee are to Roman strongholds.”
Instead of ignoring her or responding with a cutting remark
as Scipio would have done, the praetor turned his full attention her
way.
“With the fall of the rebel leader Caratacus last summer,
the Druids were driven from their homeland.” The praetor frowned and
although Antonia wished he had never set foot in Britannia, a part of her
recalled why she’d enjoyed his attention in Rome. It was because, in spite of
his innate air of superiority, he always considered her opinion worth the
trouble of a genuine response. “We know many of them escaped to their barbaric
Isle of Mona but
his impeccable manner, she’d seen the lust in his eyes, and known that with the
slightest encouragement he would have embarked on an illicit affair.
“Lady Antonia.” Quintus Fabius Seneca took her chilled
fingers and kissed the back of her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Antonia forced a smile to her lips and rescued her hand. “I
did not know you were in Britannia, Praetor .” Please Juno, let him be
merely visiting the province. If he was now stationed in Camulodunum, the
chances of Scipio discovering her future plans became alarmingly possible. But
would her former husband truly imagine, for even a moment, the child she
adopted was really his?
“A happy coincidence,” the praetor said, and for some
reason Antonia didn’t believe a word. He gestured toward one of the ornate
couches, indicating she should sit, as though he was the master of this
townhouse and not her father. “It delights my heart to see you looking so well,
despite the deprivations of this barbarous province.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw her father flinch at the
slight. His atrium was extravagant in the extreme and while it might not
possess the spacious proportions of the grandest villas in Rome, Antonia was
certain it ranked among the most lavish in Britannia. It certainly compared
favorably to the one he’d had in Gallia, until he had moved to Britannia three
years ago in order to capitalize on the sudden demand for luxury goods.
“On the contrary, I find this province to be most
accommodating.” As she sat on the couch, she tried not to let Gawain’s mocking
smile intrude into her thoughts. Now was not the time to let base lust dictate
her words.
“Indeed, your father’s establishment is most comfortable.”
The praetor offered her father a condescending smile, and Antonia bit
her lip to stop herself from responding on his behalf. “And your loyalty, my
lady, does you credit as always.”
Antonia saw her father take a breath, undoubtedly to extol
the extent of her loyalty to Rome, the Emperor and goddess knew what else. The
last topic of conversation she wanted was one that centered around her,
especially since the praetor knew far more about the state of her
marriage to Scipio than her father ever would.
“What brings you to this far-flung outpost of the empire, Praetor ?”
Antonia folded her hands on her lap and prayed to Fortuna that he was merely
traveling through the province and had no plans to stay longer than a few days
or so.
“Duty, my lady.” He clasped his hands behind his back and
looked as though he prepared to address the Senate. “We are pledged to rid this
primitive isle of the scourge of Druids and that is my mission. Not that you
need to concern yourself with such unpleasant matters of state.”
Scipio hadn’t wanted her to concern herself with such
matters, either. He had been astonished, and not in a good way, when his young
bride had voiced her opinions on politics, law and injustice within his
hearing. It hadn’t taken her long to realize the extensive education her father
had paid a fortune for was the last reason why Scipio had taken her for his
wife.
But she was no longer Scipio’s wife.
“Surely the Druids live in the wild forests of Cambria, Praetor ?
The last places they would flee are to Roman strongholds.”
Instead of ignoring her or responding with a cutting remark
as Scipio would have done, the praetor turned his full attention her
way.
“With the fall of the rebel leader Caratacus last summer,
the Druids were driven from their homeland.” The praetor frowned and
although Antonia wished he had never set foot in Britannia, a part of her
recalled why she’d enjoyed his attention in Rome. It was because, in spite of
his innate air of superiority, he always considered her opinion worth the
trouble of a genuine response. “We know many of them escaped to their barbaric
Isle of Mona but
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