‘Try to walk in them.’
He sat back on his heels as she stood up, testing the leather.
‘They’re a perfect fit.’ She tugged her stola up, showing the boots off to Julia. ‘What do you think?’
The little girl scrunched up her face. ‘They’re not very pretty.’
She looked down with a laugh. That was undeniably true. They were a strange kind of wedding present, yet they made her happier than any gift she’d ever received before. ‘You’re right, but some things are more important. They’re actually quite comfortable.’
‘Then we’ll take them.’ Marius was looking up at her with a strange expression in his eyes, one that made her want to sink down into his arms. ‘Now is there anything else you want? Anything you need to do before the wedding?’
She hesitated, looking between him and Julia. Her daughter was smiling, looking happy, truly happy for the first time in as long as she could remember. More than that, she was aware of a burgeoning feeling of happiness, too. She was being selfish, but if she told him the truth then it might jeopardise all that. How could she risk it?
‘No, there’s nothing else.’ She swallowed the guilt, looking him straight in the eye. ‘I’m ready.’
Chapter Fourteen
The sky was a slate-coloured grey, heavy with rain that threatened to pour over their heads at any moment as Marius tucked the last of his equipment inside his goatskin saddlebag. There were only ten of them riding north that morning, a single contubernia of his finest soldiers to accompany them, but he’d made sure that every man was armed and armoured to the hilt. Ordinarily he would have made the journey on his own, but today he wasn’t taking any chances. There were still breaches in the wall defences and if Nerva insisted on him taking his new wife with him then he wasn’t going to do it without a heavily equipped escort.
His new wife.
He looked across to where she was standing to one side, gazing forlornly back at the Legate’s villa as if she’d left a part of herself behind. Which in one sense, he supposed, she had. He hadn’t witnessed her farewell to Julia, but her face had been paler than usual and her eyes distinctly red-rimmed and swollen when she’d appeared in the vestibulum that morning.
After their brief wedding ceremony the evening before—so brief and so sparsely attended that it was hard to believe something so monumental had actually taken place—they’d dispensed with the usual formalities so that she could spend her last evening with her daughter. He’d even insisted on her sleeping in Nerva’s villa, claiming that he needed to arrange matters for their departure, though truthfully because he hadn’t wanted to separate her from Julia any sooner than was necessary. He felt bad enough about separating them; even worse about taking Livia into potentially dangerous enemy territory. Letting them spend their last night together was the least he could do.
It wasn’t quite the way he’d thought to spend his wedding night, alone on a pallet bed in his barracks trying not to think about how heart-stoppingly radiant Livia had looked in a plain white wedding gown tied with the traditional woollen belt and a deep yellow flammeum crowning her glorious curls, but the last thing he’d wanted was a bride wishing she were somewhere else. Besides, they hadn’t discussed that aspect of marriage yet and, much as he was looking forward to it, he didn’t want to rush her either. Not that she’d seemed so averse to him yesterday. On the contrary, if they hadn’t been in public, in the middle of a market in broad daylight with her four-year-old daughter at their side...
He clamped down on the memory before he got carried away and went to stand beside her, speaking gently. ‘It’s time to go.’
‘Yes.’ She dragged her gaze away from the villa, pressing her lips together as if she were trying not to cry. ‘How far away is Cilurnum?’
‘Just a couple of miles. We’ll be there before noon.’ He hesitated, wondering whether or not to address what was obviously upsetting her and then deciding to go ahead. ‘You won’t be far away.’
‘I know.’ A look of anxiety touched her eyes. ‘It’s just hard. What if she has a fall? What if she catches a chill?’
‘Then Hermenia will send word and I’ll bring you back.’ He reached out and took one of her hands, folding both of his own around it. ‘I promise, Livia. You can come back whenever you need to.’
‘Thank you.’
Their eyes met and he felt the familiar urge to envelop her tightly in his arms, but he couldn’t, not yet anyway. Their trip to the market had gone some way to restoring the closeness between them, but he didn’t want to jeopardise it again so soon.
‘We should be going.’ He took a firm step backwards, releasing her hand again.
‘Yes.’ Her voice sounded faintly unsteady as she plucked at the folds of her cloak. ‘You were right about this. I’d be freezing without it.’
‘Here.’ He tugged the hood up over her head, settling it gently over her hair. ‘In case it rains.’
‘In case?’ She looked pointedly skyward.
‘When it rains. Welcome to north Britannia.’
‘I don’t mind the weather.’ She walked alongside him to where the horses were waiting, grasping hold of the bridle and pulling herself up into the saddle before he could so much as offer to help. ‘If it didn’t rain so much then the scenery would look different and I love it too much to object.’
‘You do?’ He lifted an eyebrow, surprised as much by the easy way in which she’d mounted her steed as by the words themselves.
‘Yes.’ She seemed equally surprised by the question. ‘Don’t you?’
‘I do. Only a lot of visitors find it too empty and weather-beaten. I thought you might prefer the area around Lindum.’