Читать книгу The Protector - Carla Capshaw - Страница 8

Rome, 70 AD

“The General’s come home, child. Put down your doll and go greet him like the proper daughter you’ve been taught to be.”

Eager to obey her maid Prisca, the closest person to a mother she’d ever known, Adiona hastened to her feet.

A chilly morning breeze swept through the room. Adiona shivered, but not entirely from the cold. Her father was a stranger. He’d abandoned her to the care of servants when she was only three years old. Her sole memory of him was a vague recollection of his rigid back as he left for Britannia.

Filled with nervous energy, she draped a blue palla around her shoulders as she grappled to recall her father’s face. Would the General recognize her? Would she please him? He’d been away on campaign for so long.

In the courtyard, the splash of fountains mingled with the smoky-sweet scent of incense as she and Prisca passed the family shrine. Praying she would make a good impression on her parent, she smoothed her dark hair back from her face and made her way across the mosaic tiles with brisk but anxious steps.

Down a short corridor, she heard men in conversation. She recognized neither voice, but assumed one was her sire. Her steps slowed and her stomach rolled. What if he found her lacking? What if he cast her away the same as he’d done her mother?

Light in the hall dimmed the farther she moved from the courtyard. The voices grew louder.

“I haven’t seen Adiona,” one of the men said. “I only returned to Rome three days past. After nine years away I’ve had more important matters to attend to.”

Father? Why hadn’t he come to her sooner? Did he have no care for her at all? Her questioning gaze darted to Prisca. Her brow pinched, the maid lifted a finger to her lips, warning Adiona not to speak.

“Naturally,” the other man continued in a gravelly voice. “A daughter is less important than a favored pet.”

“Right you are, Crassus. A son is the gods’ blessing, but a daughter…”

“Is only as valuable as the marriage she makes. Of course, that’s why I’m here. I understand Adiona will reach a marriageable age next week.”

“She’s going to be twelve already?” the General asked, a touch of surprise in his voice.

“According to your servants, she is. Let me be frank, General. I’m in need of a young and healthy wife to breed me sons. I believe the girl will suit my purpose.”

A shudder ran through Adiona. She held her breath, willing her father to reject the stranger’s offer.

“And if I agree to a marriage between you, how would the alliance benefit me?”

Adiona gasped. Would her father send her away without even seeing her first?

Prisca frowned and shushed her to silence. “Stay here. Don’t follow me until I call you.”

A dull ache spread through Adiona. Pressing back against the cool concrete wall, she wished she could disappear.

“Silver is in the bargain for you, General. I understand your last campaign didn’t go well. I’ll take the girl without a dowry and settle your debts, as well as sponsor your legions for the next year. Considering the sum you owe, who else besides the emperor could afford to be as generous?”

“The question is why you’d be so free with your coin?”

“She’s the loveliest creature I’ve ever seen. With an ornament like her on my arm, I’ll be the envy of every man in Rome.”

In the silence that followed, Prisca went to the door way and cleared her throat to make her presence known.

“What is it, woman?”

“The child is waiting in the hall.”

“Bring her in. I’m anxious to see this girl whose face is worth a fortune.”

Prisca poked her head around the door frame and waved her forward. “Come, Adiona, the General’s ready to see you.”

Chilled to the bone by her father’s indifference, she remained frozen in place. “Come here, child.” Her maid walked toward her, extending a hand. “Come greet your sire and his important guest.”

Adiona shook her head. She had no intention of placing herself on display like one of the prized cows her tutor had showed her at market.

Prisca fiddled with one of the curls tumbling over her shoulder. “Don’t shame me. What will your father think of the training I’ve given you if you prove to be willful and disobedient?”

Terrified, Adiona crossed her arms over her chest in a meager display of self-protection. “I won’t go.”

Her maid’s lips thinned. The older woman’s grip tightened on Adiona’s upper arm. “Yes, you will.” Prisca thrust her over the threshold and blocked the portal, Adiona’s sole means of retreat. Caged like one of the beasts at the menagerie, she was flooded by a wave of panic. Too frightened to look at her sire, she turned on her heel and fought to push past the maid.

“Adiona!” The General’s icy command froze her to the spot. “Present yourself.”

She swirled around, taking in the faces of the two strangers on either side of the wide desk. The one dressed in an army red tunic was big, his face scarred. The other man was old and withered. He reminded her of a giant pockmarked bullfrog leaning on a gnarled cane. His jaundiced gaze was less than fatherly as it roamed over her in the same way the buyers sized up the heifers at market.

Only he wants a broodmare.

She shrank back.

“Come here, daughter.”

Prisca shoved her forward. Gathering the remains of her courage, Adiona forced her heavy feet toward the huge man whose fisted hands and cold gaze promised retribution if she continued to embarrass him in front of his visitor.

She stopped several paces out of his reach, her chest aching for one kind gesture from him. With a sinking feeling, she realized the General would never be the father she longed for, a father who welcomed her with love and open arms.

“Well?” he demanded. “Have you gone mute since I left?”

She shook her head. Her chest tight, she answered as duty required. “Hello, Father. Wel…welcome home.”

“That’s better.” He turned back to the bullfrog without offering her the slightest show of warmth. “I want you to meet Crassus Scipio. He’s asked to wed you and I’ve decided to agree to his request.”

Anger pierced through her heartbreak and rejection. Her rebellious gaze slid to the old man. The gleam in his eyes repulsed her until she feared she might retch at his feet.

Trembling, she turned to the General, the defender of Rome who did nothing to protect his own daughter. “Please don’t,” she begged him, “please don’t give me to him.”

His face hardened. “Ungrateful whelp. You should be honored that one of the richest men in Rome desires you for a wife.”

Honored? Had years of war addled her father’s wits?

“If Crassus agrees, I’ll arrange your marriage to take place next week when you come of age.”

“But—”

“No more interruptions, girl.” He snapped his fingers, summoning Prisca. “Take her out of my sight and make the necessary preparations. It’s time she set aside her dolls and learned to be a proper wife.”