Mastered by Her Slave by Greta Gilbert

Author:Greta Gilbert
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Time passed with a chariot’s velocity. No sooner had they abandoned their alleyway assassin than they were home preparing for an emperor’s feast. With the concentration of an artist, Tira painted Clodia’s face. She dabbed ochre paste onto Clodia’s lips and red wine sediment onto her cheeks. She lined her eyelids with ash paste, and on her eyes brushed a mixture of saffron and soot. “You are a picture of Venus, Domina,” she pronounced proudly.

She dressed Clodia in a yellow silk tunic and green stola, and arranged her hair into a tall bun, to which she attached small, false curls to frame Clodia’s face. She selected four rings, one emerald, one ruby, one beryl and one amethyst, for every other of Clodia’s fingers. “This will help the gods recognize you tonight.” Finally, she placed five gold necklaces, one by one, around Clodia’s neck. But Clodia would not allow the fifth necklace. Instead, she grasped it and placed it around Tira’s own neck. “Gratitude, Tira, For all you have done.” Then Clodia whispered into Tira’s ear.

By the second evening hour, Clodia was arriving at the emperor’s palace, Artair by her side.

Their plan was as simple as it was dangerous. The next day, Clodia would attend the inaugural games with her father, while Artair waited outside the arena. After the midday executions, Clodia would feign sickness, and excuse herself.

Outside the arena, the two would meet. Artair would dispatch a messenger to notify Clodia’s father that she was ill and returning directly home with her bodyguard. Then they would head straight for the Aemilius bridge.

It was as beautiful as it was simple, and, as her father approached, Clodia let her mind fill with visions of the lands across the Tiber.

“I expected more of a fight from you,” he said, surveying Clodia approvingly.

“You misjudge me, then, Father,” replied Clodia, holding up her fingers to display her jewel-studded rings. “Why would I not embrace any opportunity to advance my father’s position and my family’s name?” She bowed deeply, flashing her most biddable smile.

“Then the gods smile upon both of us, daughter.”

“Is he here, then?” Clodia asked. “I am anxious to meet the man whom you have deemed fit to sire your grandson.”

They crossed into a great atrium where crowds of senators and their wives mingled around a large marble fountain surrounded by a rectangular pool. At the far end of the pool the emperor himself sat upon a throne, while men in purple-trimmed togas crowded around him and a group of dancers moved in rhythm with to the airy tones of flautists.

Clodia’s father led her through the crowd, to the other side of the pool, where a tall, thin man with black eyes and hair as white as snow leaned upon a cane. “Senator Lucius Bruttius Silanus, I present to you my daughter, Clodia.”

Clodia bowed low. “I am honored, Senator.” The man’s wrinkled mouth curled into a yellow grin.

“A beauty indeed, Magistrate,” the man said, addressing Clodia’s father. “And you say she

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