concentrated, waiting for inspiration, the perfect way to set his trap. Then, with a sudden clarity of mind, he saw Quintus Magnus watching Gigiperrin that day in the throne room, remembering the heartfelt look in her eyes when she pleaded for his help — and Magnus’s answering stare. Honorius was sure his instincts were right and that Magnus was taken with her. What a perfect opportunity to humble them both.
Hmmm.
Honorius wanted the bitch to willingly come to his chambers. But how? He needed to find a way to twist her thoughts with deception. Ah, a trap, he needed a trap. He ran his hand over his face, his mind churning, until the answer came and he grinned.
Oho! He imagined how she would react when she found out — a wondrous moment in itself — but her body would still hold the wet heat of desire from false expectations when he finally ravaged her.
He suddenly recalled taking Gigiperrin’s flute and ring, and tossing them into the chest with the rest of his personal treasures. “We must find them,” he vowed, rising from his bed. “We shall dig them out and wear the ring … and use the flute when we take her.”
The trap would be readied, the bait so deliciously obvious. She would come and, afterward, Honorius would be merciless in his vengeance. Indeed, our will be done.
Today!
• • •
Gigi scrubbed the rotisserie prongs with a linen rag and potash. Everyone thought she was odd because she insisted on cleaning the utensils, pots, and pans until they shone. All she needed do, so they said, was burn off the chunks left behind, or wipe away the grease with a bit of cloth. Good as new.
The cook fumed at her elbow. Gigi had never thought she’d find herself longing for rubber gloves, scouring pads, and a big bottle of antibacterial soap. Rinsing, she handed the prongs to the grumbling woman, who snatched them away, turned on her heel, and returned to one of the raised hearths, called a hob .
“You’re welcome, O Mistress Hob … goblin,” Gigi said sweetly in English, “for allowing me to protect everyone from botulism or salmonella or whatever.”
Sighing, she turned back to her stack of dishes. Nearly a month had passed since her encounter with Magnus in the abandoned garden. Having gone through various stages of daydreaming, passion, doubt, guilt, and crushing embarrassment, Gigi finally called a truce with her emotions, counting on the fact he would continue to protect her, and that was good enough.
Or at least he thought her Roman ring would protect her. But why? And how did he even know she had it?
It now hung in a pouch from a leather cord around her waist, out of view from prying eyes. She hadn’t needed it to fend off Honorius, thank goodness. In fact, she hadn’t seen anyone from the royal court, so even her fear of the emperor’s evil had faded with time.
According to a rumor among the slaves, he’d spent the month basking in one long, endless orgy of women, wine, and food. For a time, Gigi worried he would call for music at his parties and remember her, but if there was any music, he hadn’t thought to command her presence. Whatever the case, Gigi figured the rumors were true, because the kitchen workers had been pressed to redouble their workload for weeks on end.
“Gigi!”
Frowning, she turned at the call. What did Silvia want now?
A slim man with a long, narrow face stood nearby, his slave just behind, holding a wrapped package.
Silvia wrung her hands and explained, “You’re summoned to the baths, girl. This fellow’s come for you, says you must accompany him without delay. You’re to have the full treatment — a sweat and a scrape, then a plunge and some primping.”
Gigi could feel a hot blush cross her face as all the kitchen workers turned to gape. Why was she going to the baths? Who — ?
“He says it’s Quintus Magnus who called for you,” Silvia went on.
Overjoyed, Gigi’s fingers touched the hidden ring, wondering what he was planning. Dinner and a
Hmmm.
Honorius wanted the bitch to willingly come to his chambers. But how? He needed to find a way to twist her thoughts with deception. Ah, a trap, he needed a trap. He ran his hand over his face, his mind churning, until the answer came and he grinned.
Oho! He imagined how she would react when she found out — a wondrous moment in itself — but her body would still hold the wet heat of desire from false expectations when he finally ravaged her.
He suddenly recalled taking Gigiperrin’s flute and ring, and tossing them into the chest with the rest of his personal treasures. “We must find them,” he vowed, rising from his bed. “We shall dig them out and wear the ring … and use the flute when we take her.”
The trap would be readied, the bait so deliciously obvious. She would come and, afterward, Honorius would be merciless in his vengeance. Indeed, our will be done.
Today!
• • •
Gigi scrubbed the rotisserie prongs with a linen rag and potash. Everyone thought she was odd because she insisted on cleaning the utensils, pots, and pans until they shone. All she needed do, so they said, was burn off the chunks left behind, or wipe away the grease with a bit of cloth. Good as new.
The cook fumed at her elbow. Gigi had never thought she’d find herself longing for rubber gloves, scouring pads, and a big bottle of antibacterial soap. Rinsing, she handed the prongs to the grumbling woman, who snatched them away, turned on her heel, and returned to one of the raised hearths, called a hob .
“You’re welcome, O Mistress Hob … goblin,” Gigi said sweetly in English, “for allowing me to protect everyone from botulism or salmonella or whatever.”
Sighing, she turned back to her stack of dishes. Nearly a month had passed since her encounter with Magnus in the abandoned garden. Having gone through various stages of daydreaming, passion, doubt, guilt, and crushing embarrassment, Gigi finally called a truce with her emotions, counting on the fact he would continue to protect her, and that was good enough.
Or at least he thought her Roman ring would protect her. But why? And how did he even know she had it?
It now hung in a pouch from a leather cord around her waist, out of view from prying eyes. She hadn’t needed it to fend off Honorius, thank goodness. In fact, she hadn’t seen anyone from the royal court, so even her fear of the emperor’s evil had faded with time.
According to a rumor among the slaves, he’d spent the month basking in one long, endless orgy of women, wine, and food. For a time, Gigi worried he would call for music at his parties and remember her, but if there was any music, he hadn’t thought to command her presence. Whatever the case, Gigi figured the rumors were true, because the kitchen workers had been pressed to redouble their workload for weeks on end.
“Gigi!”
Frowning, she turned at the call. What did Silvia want now?
A slim man with a long, narrow face stood nearby, his slave just behind, holding a wrapped package.
Silvia wrung her hands and explained, “You’re summoned to the baths, girl. This fellow’s come for you, says you must accompany him without delay. You’re to have the full treatment — a sweat and a scrape, then a plunge and some primping.”
Gigi could feel a hot blush cross her face as all the kitchen workers turned to gape. Why was she going to the baths? Who — ?
“He says it’s Quintus Magnus who called for you,” Silvia went on.
Overjoyed, Gigi’s fingers touched the hidden ring, wondering what he was planning. Dinner and a
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