girl's head jerked at Claudia - 'is trying to pin that sodding kidnap on yours truly and I ain't having it!'
'Kidnap?' Such were the Shockwaves down Marcus's arm that the jerk woke the pup, who promptly relieved himself down his richly embroidered, lushly dyed, fine patrician tunic. 'And who might you be?' he asked, setting Doodlebug down and mopping his tunic.
'Flea, and I'm innocent, I tell ya. Get her to cut me loose.'
Huge amber eyes rolled up from the mosaic. Did she say, fleas? As a measure of his anxiety, the puppy deposited a more solid little mess and Orbilio wondered how much more Jupiter could pack into the space of one small day.
'Orbilio.' Claudia reached into her robe and drew out a key. In one fluid movement, the manacles were off her wrist and Flea found herself chained instead to the leg of a wrought-iron bench. Claudia's tone softened, became silky. 'Marcus.'
'What do you want?'
Claudia glided into the courtyard, where Flea's howls of protest couldn't carry. Here the sticky breeze was blocked out by high walls redolent with the smell of the climbing roses and sweet briar which scrambled over them and the
blue glazed pots of heliotrope, night stocks, oregano and dill dotted beneath them.
'Tut, tut, you men, you're always in such a rush.' She positioned herself on a white marble bench beneath the statue of Venus and patted the empty space beside her. 'Why don't you pour us a nice glass of wine?
He closed his eyes, to try and shut out the curls piled high on top of her head (apart from three, which had tumbled loose over her left ear). He tried to ignore the gown which hugged the fullness of her breasts, showed the fierce points of her nipples and revealed hints of sun-bronzed cleavage in the breeze. He resisted the urge to inhale the spicy perfume which trailed around her, or hook those ringlets in his little finger and return them to their rightful mooring posts.
'Claudia, this is not a convenient time.' His eyes rested on the legionary standing in the shadows. 'What is it you want?'
Orbilio had not meant for the words to come out so sharply. He caught the brief flash of emotion in her eyes before the shutters hurtled down.
'I'm sorry,' he said. What on earth was he thinking of! 'It's just that—'
'How foolish of me to imagine I'd be welcome here.' Claudia's tone could have curled parchment. 'I'll make it brief.'
Shit. To buy time, he bent down to scratch the ears of the puppy who'd waddled out to find them, allowing Doodlebug to show his gratitude (and many other things besides) by flipping over on his back, squirming and whimpering with pleasure.
'It's a . . . work thing,' he explained, indicating the soldier standing at the far end of the peristyle, hopefully out of ear's reach. 'I'm under pressure—'
'Then I won't detain you.' Dammit, her face had set like a gemstone in a ring.
He jabbed his fingers through his hair and felt them tangle. Him and his big mouth! Between them, they were driving her away and without Claudia around to bring chaos to his life, he'd be consigned to nothing more than living death.
Existing in a vacuum: colourless, expressionless, without light or warmth or feature.
'Unfortunately, I need a favour and, regrettable as it is, you're the only one who can help.' She fixed a hard gaze upon his water clock, the one fashioned like a temple, and clamped her luscious lips. 'I shall pay you, of course.'
'Claudia!' A nail drove itself into his heart.
'The problem, you see, is Junius.'
Junius! The name cut through Orbilio like a Persian scimitar. Was this another Olympian joke at his expense? Mother of Tarquin, how many times had he lain awake at night, tormented by thoughts about the relationship between Junius and Claudia. Torrid images kept him from his sleep: the Gaul's corrugated musculature, his thick head of sandy-coloured hair, his strong, proud back - how familiar was Claudia with the body of her bodyguard? More than once Junius
'Kidnap?' Such were the Shockwaves down Marcus's arm that the jerk woke the pup, who promptly relieved himself down his richly embroidered, lushly dyed, fine patrician tunic. 'And who might you be?' he asked, setting Doodlebug down and mopping his tunic.
'Flea, and I'm innocent, I tell ya. Get her to cut me loose.'
Huge amber eyes rolled up from the mosaic. Did she say, fleas? As a measure of his anxiety, the puppy deposited a more solid little mess and Orbilio wondered how much more Jupiter could pack into the space of one small day.
'Orbilio.' Claudia reached into her robe and drew out a key. In one fluid movement, the manacles were off her wrist and Flea found herself chained instead to the leg of a wrought-iron bench. Claudia's tone softened, became silky. 'Marcus.'
'What do you want?'
Claudia glided into the courtyard, where Flea's howls of protest couldn't carry. Here the sticky breeze was blocked out by high walls redolent with the smell of the climbing roses and sweet briar which scrambled over them and the
blue glazed pots of heliotrope, night stocks, oregano and dill dotted beneath them.
'Tut, tut, you men, you're always in such a rush.' She positioned herself on a white marble bench beneath the statue of Venus and patted the empty space beside her. 'Why don't you pour us a nice glass of wine?
He closed his eyes, to try and shut out the curls piled high on top of her head (apart from three, which had tumbled loose over her left ear). He tried to ignore the gown which hugged the fullness of her breasts, showed the fierce points of her nipples and revealed hints of sun-bronzed cleavage in the breeze. He resisted the urge to inhale the spicy perfume which trailed around her, or hook those ringlets in his little finger and return them to their rightful mooring posts.
'Claudia, this is not a convenient time.' His eyes rested on the legionary standing in the shadows. 'What is it you want?'
Orbilio had not meant for the words to come out so sharply. He caught the brief flash of emotion in her eyes before the shutters hurtled down.
'I'm sorry,' he said. What on earth was he thinking of! 'It's just that—'
'How foolish of me to imagine I'd be welcome here.' Claudia's tone could have curled parchment. 'I'll make it brief.'
Shit. To buy time, he bent down to scratch the ears of the puppy who'd waddled out to find them, allowing Doodlebug to show his gratitude (and many other things besides) by flipping over on his back, squirming and whimpering with pleasure.
'It's a . . . work thing,' he explained, indicating the soldier standing at the far end of the peristyle, hopefully out of ear's reach. 'I'm under pressure—'
'Then I won't detain you.' Dammit, her face had set like a gemstone in a ring.
He jabbed his fingers through his hair and felt them tangle. Him and his big mouth! Between them, they were driving her away and without Claudia around to bring chaos to his life, he'd be consigned to nothing more than living death.
Existing in a vacuum: colourless, expressionless, without light or warmth or feature.
'Unfortunately, I need a favour and, regrettable as it is, you're the only one who can help.' She fixed a hard gaze upon his water clock, the one fashioned like a temple, and clamped her luscious lips. 'I shall pay you, of course.'
'Claudia!' A nail drove itself into his heart.
'The problem, you see, is Junius.'
Junius! The name cut through Orbilio like a Persian scimitar. Was this another Olympian joke at his expense? Mother of Tarquin, how many times had he lain awake at night, tormented by thoughts about the relationship between Junius and Claudia. Torrid images kept him from his sleep: the Gaul's corrugated musculature, his thick head of sandy-coloured hair, his strong, proud back - how familiar was Claudia with the body of her bodyguard? More than once Junius
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