Bastian by Elizabeth Amber

speculatively. “And looking for honest work?”
    The boy straightened. “Yes!” he said, appearing hardly able to believe his fortune might be taking a lucrative turn.
    â€œVery well. We’ll try you at the dig and see how long you last.”

    Silvia followed Bastian out of the tent. In view of her recently reduced height, it was hardly surprising that her eyes naturally dropped to his muscled backside. As he walked, his hips rolled in a devilishly sexy way that drew the eye. Remembering him as he’d been the morning before, laboring over Michaela in his bed, she blushed. Stop it! she told herself. She was as bad as the minister!
    She quickly found herself taken to his foreman, whom she recognized as the sneak thief from the tent the previous night. Interesting.
    â€œWhat the devil is this?” the foreman demanded when she was presented to him.
    â€œOur newest employee,” Bastian informed him. “Feed him and his mutt, then put him to work. And don’t let him out of your sight.”
    Then to her, he said, “Do what Ilari says. We work from six to two, then we break for lunch and siesta until four. Then more work until dinner at seven thirty.”
    Then he turned to go.
    Knowing he’d be suspicious if she didn’t ask, she called after him. “What’s the pay?”
    He tossed a figure back at her. She had no idea if his offer was fair or not, but she nodded. Then he turned back and held out his hand as if to shake.
    Startled, she ignored it and put hers in her pocket, pretending not to understand what he wanted. But from his satisfied expression, it seemed she’d confirmed something for him by her reluctance.
    â€œSteal so much as one shard of pottery and I’ll see you put in jail,” he said by way of good-bye. With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into his tent.
    Behind her, she heard Ilari muttering something about not being a wet-nurse. She had a feeling they weren’t destined to be fast friends. A feeling that quickly gathered momentum when he assigned her the lowest scut work there was to be had.
    Within a few hours, she was exhausted. When they broke for lunch, Sal gobbled up his second meal of the day as though he hadn’t eaten in a month, then proceeded to nap the afternoon away in a nearby bosk, occasionally rousing himself to trail Bastian when he left his tent to supervise the dig. She, on the other hand, spent her day moving bits of rubble from one pile to another. It was mind- and body-numbing labor, and she made her feelings known to the foreman with an ongoing list of grievances regarding the dirt and cold. The fact that she was irritating him wasn’t all her fault. In the first few days, the host still wielded considerable control over the body. It would fade soon, but for now it was difficult to stop Rico from having his say.
    From time to time during the day, she saw Bastian standing in the doorway of his tent, eyeing her. Or out in the digs, eyeing her. Or holding maps and gesturing to workmen, and eyeing her. Or shouting orders others leaped to obey. He was obviously a man accustomed to obedience in his work. Yet he wasn’t above rolling up his sleeves and joining in at the hard labor, and when a large piece of fresco was located, he was there in the fray, muscles straining as he helped to uncover it.
    At the end of the day, he found her again. “You’ll return tomorrow?”
    Tiredly, she nodded. “Ilari won’t get rid of me that easily.”
    He nodded. “Breakfast is at five thirty. If you want to eat, be here.” He glanced around. “Where will you sleep?”
    â€œThat’s my business.” Exhausted, she ambled off in the direction of the most recognizable feature in the Forum: the Arch of Septimius Severus. She had a particular fondness for Emperor Septimius’s wife, Julia Domna, for she’d seen to it that Vesta’s temple was rebuilt after the fire