The sound of a muffled exclamation brought them both back to reality with a jolt.
‘Ah, Marius, Livia, there you are!’
Hermenia stood in the doorway, her raised voice making it obvious she wasn’t really talking to them, the horrified look in her eyes belying her cheerful-sounding tone.
Marius heeded the warning instantly, dropping his hands to his sides and moving away at the sound of approaching footsteps. Livia moved, too, snatching up a cup of wine from the table and gulping the contents with a speed that would have put most of his legionaries to shame.
He felt a spasm of dread. Had she drunk more than he’d realised, after all? Was that the reason why she’d asked him to kiss her?
No. The swift glance she gave him just before Nerva rounded the corner of the dining room assured him of that fact. She was sober.
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‘Good. You’re still here.’ Nerva gave Marius a stern look.
‘Yes, but it’s too late to talk tonight.’ Hermenia seemed to have recovered from her shock sufficiently to take charge of the situation. ‘Marius has been riding all day. Surely you can discuss matters tomorrow?’
‘Now would be better.’
‘It’s been a trying evening.’ The martial gleam in her eye didn’t brook any argument. ‘I think we’d all appreciate a good night’s sleep.’
Nerva frowned, but didn’t argue any further, and Marius found himself exhaling with relief. There was no sign of Scaevola for some reason, but he didn’t feel calm enough to speak with his commanding officer just yet. Livia was still too close, looking more enticing than ever with her swollen lips and flushed cheeks, tempting him to throw caution to the winds all over again.
He took a deep breath to steady himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He seemed to lose his mind every time she was close. If he threw caution to the winds, then it would only destroy both of their lives. They were both of them trapped.
In which case, the sooner he requested a transfer to another fort, the better. Only not tonight. Tonight he had to get out of there—as quickly as possible.
‘I am tired, sir.’ He made a formal bow, retreating behind his customary stern facade as he strode quickly towards the door. ‘Goodnight, ladies.’
Chapter Nine
‘Where’s Scaevola?’ It was Hermenia who asked the question.
Livia lifted her head, belatedly realising that her intended was nowhere to be seen. She supposed that she really ought to be the one asking about his whereabouts, but then she didn’t care. All she cared about, she realised, was the man who’d just left.
‘I’ve ordered him to go and sleep off the wine.’ Nerva was still scowling.
‘Ah.’ Hermenia’s gaze flickered towards her. ‘Well, perhaps that’s for the best.’
‘I’ve also persuaded him that what happened tonight was an accident. He’s agreed for the wedding to go ahead tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Livia felt as though she’d just been handed a death sentence.
‘Yes.’ The Legate at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. ‘I’m sure he’ll apologise for what he said.’
Livia stared at him in silent horror. She was sure of no such thing. On the contrary, she was quite positive that Scaevola would find all kinds of ways to vent his resentment at being forced to marry her, to punish her for looking like a ‘barbarian’, never mind for pouring an amphora of wine over his head. The vengeful glint in his eye had been unmistakable.
She swallowed nervously. How much more would he punish her if—when—Tarquinius told him the whole truth? It was vaguely ironic how close Scaevola had come to it himself, accusing her of looking like a savage—an insult to her mother’s people that still made her furious—when in fact she had even more in common with the Caledonians.
‘Very well.’ She tried to keep her voice from shaking. ‘Then I ought to get some sleep.’
‘I’ll help you get ready for bed.’
Hermenia took her arm and she felt her nerves tighten. The last thing she wanted was to talk about the scene the other woman had just witnessed, but it seemed there was no escaping it. She had no way to defend or justify her behaviour either. She could barely explain it herself. Only it had felt like something that had been going to happen, that she’d wanted to happen, ever since she’d first set eyes upon Marius. There had been an inevitability, even a kind of rightness to kissing him, no matter what anyone else might think.
‘I know what you’re going to say.’ She spoke in an undertone as they walked down the corridor.
‘Do you?’ To her surprise, Hermenia didn’t immediately berate her. ‘Because I don’t.’