To Love Again - Bertrice Small [151]
“But what if it is Wulf?” Cailin fretted.
Casia’s face grew serious. “Why then, my friend, you are going to have to decide just what it is you want—a beautiful but savage Saxon who is obviously penniless, and willing to risk his life in the ring; or the cultured and wealthy First Patrician of the empire. If it were me, Cailin Drusus, I would order this litter to turn back, and I would return to Villa Mare this instant. If a man like Flavius Aspar loved me, I would thank God each morning when I awoke for the rest of my days. I think you are mad to tempt the Fates so. Let me tell Peter to turn back. I will come home with you and keep you company this night. The Saxon cannot be Wulf Ironfist.”
“I must know, Casia. Seeing him, even from a distance, has filled my mind with doubts. If I do not resolve these doubts, how can I ever pledge my faith to Aspar? What if the Saxon is not Wulf, but someday in the future Wulf does appear upon my doorstep? What if I still love him?”
“The gods forbid it, you foolish creature!” Casia exclaimed.
The litter made its way down the Mese and then through a series of side streets. The two women had grown quiet. Casia twisted the rich fabric of her gown with her slender fingers. She was already regretting her impulsiveness. It was not Cailin alone who was opening Pandora’s box. She drew a deep breath. Nothing was going to come of this. Cailin, having a fit of bridal nerves, was seeing ghosts. The Saxon would turn out to be no one she had ever known. Still, Casia started nervously as the litter was set down and her head bearer, Peter, drew back the curtains to reveal that they were in the courtyard of Villa Maxima. Cailin reached out, touching Casia’s arm encouragingly.
Casia nodded. “I will find Jovian. Remain here, and whatever you do, do not open the curtains. Let them think the litter is empty.” She stepped from her elegant vehicle. “Peter, let no one be aware that I have a companion with me. I will not be long.”
“Yes, lady,” he replied.
Casia hurried into the magnificent atrium of the villa. A servant came forward and his eyes widened as he recognized the visitor. “Good afternoon, Michael,” Casia said. “Will you fetch Master Jovian to me, please? I will await him here. Were you at the games today?” she inquired brightly. “Was the Saxon not wonderful!”
Michael allowed himself a small grin. Casia had a fine eye for the gentlemen, and it was apparent she had not lost it. He bowed politely. “At once, lady. Shall I have refreshments sent to you while you wait? It is hot for autumn. Some iced wine, perhaps?”
“Thank you, no,” Casia returned. “I can stay but long enough to speak with Master Jovian.” She sat down upon a marble bench, watching as the servant went off, and wondering how long it would be before Jovian put in an appearance. The gods! Why had she ever suggested coming here?
Jovian came into the atrium, but to her intense distress, he was not alone. She silently cursed herself for a fool.
“Casia, my pet!” Jovian kissed her upon both cheeks. “What brings you here this day? I am quite surprised to see you.”
“Indeed, Casia,” Justin Gabras purred. “I, too, am surprised. I wonder if Prince Basilicus would be also?”
“No, he would not,” Casia replied sweetly, regaining her composure. “I grant the prince certain favors, my lord, but he does not own me. Nor would he presume to interfere with my friendships, many of which are of a long-standing nature.” She turned to Jovian. “May we speak alone?”
Before Jovian might answer, however, Gabras said, “Secrets, my pet? I am fascinated. What possible secrets could a whore have? I believed that everything about you was already common knowledge.”
Casia felt her temper rising. “I wonder how long it will be, my lord, before you are poisoned with your own venom,” she snapped. “Jovian! Where may we speak?”
“No! No!” Gabras persisted, chortling.