My Wicked Gladiators by Lauren Hawkeye

Author:Lauren Hawkeye [Hawkeye, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Erotica
ISBN: 9780062196958
Publisher: Avon Red
Published: 2012-05-15T22:27:12+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

It had been nearly four full weeks since I had been with Caius. In that time I had not been able to see more than a glimpse of him from afar, or of Marcus. Lucius was around, always around, and it restricted my actions until I was nearly out of my mind with need.

The only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge that my bleeding would finish today—I had never veered in pattern since my courses had first started as a girl. That meant that I would see Caius tonight, and I thought that the minutes seemed interminable as they swam slowly throughout the day. Now I was summoned to Lucius’ office, and more than wondering why, I dreaded going.

I was afraid that my emotions would reveal themselves on my face.

I was afraid that Justinus would not have held to his end of our bargain.

So as I entered the office of my husband, that small dim room where I had spent an illicit half hour, it was with a heavy weight in my belly.

“You asked to see me?” I hovered in the arched entrance, scanning the room as I did for signs that I had been there. I knew that Lucius had been in the room countless times since that day, and yet I looked anyway.

Lucius did not even look up from what he was doing, which was writing in the very same book that I had scoured so closely. I was afraid anew, afraid that I had left some trace of my presence, though I knew that I had not.

“Your courses are due to finish today, are they not?” I nodded hesitantly, though I did not for a moment think that he was keeping track of them himself. No, that would be too mundane a chore. He would be paying the doctor, Pompeius, to chart my cycle, and I found it slightly distasteful to have a near stranger know such intimate details of my life.

“If you do not become with child this time, we will have to reconsider our plan.” Our plan. My lips wanted to curl with distaste. This had not been our plan. I had not had any say in the matter at all. He continued, not noticing—or caring, I supposed—what my stony silence meant. “Perhaps the slave we have paired you with does not have strong seed, as we supposed. Perhaps I should choose a Gaul, or a Dacian.” This got my attention, in a gut-clenching way.

“You . . . you mean to change him? To mate me with a different man?” I was proud that my voice did not shake too much.

“Yes, Alba, that is what I mean.” His tone was irritable, the one he reserved for the slightly addle-brained. When, I wondered, had I become equivalent to the slow of mind in my husband’s attentions? Had his love for me truly disappeared? He might have been forced to make me go against my wishes at first, but was it now simply second nature to him?

Still, I waited, waited for him to tell me what he had summoned me here for.

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