Malchio entered, leaving her alone once more. She tried to shake off her discomfiture. She couldn’t go down this road. Kissing led to sex, and sex led to obligation and disappointment.
She remembered the dread that used to fill her as each night with Memmius approached. He had never been cruel or intentionally hurt her, but she had learned all she needed to know about the marriage bed. Her relationship with Aelius was on her own terms, and she wouldn’t give that up. It didn’t matter that kissing him set her aflame and cast her mind into wanton disarray. She had insisted on a chaste marriage for a reason, and one foolish kiss couldn’t make her forget that.
Chapter 13
Aelius’s nose and lip throbbed the next day, and a black eye had blossomed. The heat of his fury yesterday still surprised him. He hadn’t gotten into a fight since his days in the army. He’d made a firm practice of letting insults and snide comments roll off his back like rain on polished marble. But once Crispina’s name had come out of Rufus’s mouth, all his carefully honed self-control had snapped.
And somehow, the aftermath of his brawl had induced his wife to kiss him.
He shook his head in disbelief as he sat in his study glancing over some correspondence. He and Crispina were supposed to attend a dinner party tomorrow, but the host wrote to suggest it may be better if they remain home, as Aelius surely needed to recover after the unfortunate incident in the Forum.
Aelius grimaced. No doubt the first of many invitations that would be rescinded or simply never arrive. How badly had yesterday’s impulsive violence damaged his prospects?
Very, a disagreeable voice in his head answered.Attacking your political opponent is not going to endear you to anyone.
His mind turned to something more pleasant: the feel of Crispina’s fingers on his skin, the warm press of her mouth, the silk of her hair against his palm.
Why did she have to go and do that?He was better off not knowing what it was like to kiss her. The brief taste left him hungry for more, but she’d made it clear nothing of the sort would happen. First, she’d fled from the bedroom as if he’d sprouted horns. Then last night, she had retired early and barricaded her half of the bed with strategically placed pillows. The message was clear: the kiss was a one-time anomaly, a mistake that would not be repeated.
Maybe he should get into another brawl. Something about it must have aroused her, and his political prospects were likely already damaged beyond repair. Maybe a career of street fights was the best he could hope for.
A shadow fell across his desk, and he glanced up to see Catullus, entering without invitation.
The poet’s eyes widened, flitting from Aelius’s face to his bandaged knuckles. “Infernal Dis, it’s true.” He dropped into a chair. “The whole city is talking about it. I thought the gossip had to be an exaggeration.”
Aelius groaned. “How bad is it?”
Catullus hesitated, and Aelius’s stomach dropped.
“Bad,” Catullus finally said. “But there is a bright side.”
Aelius leaned forward. He had hoped Catullus might see some way to get him out of the mess he’d created. “Yes?”
“As much as you’ve damaged your own reputation, Rufus has suffered equally. Because while no one wants to vote for a man who punches his rivals, Rufus crossed a line by insulting a respectable wife.”
“So we’re both doomed,” Aelius muttered.
“It seems that way, yes.”
Aelius sat back in his chair and let out a sigh of defeat. Marrying Crispina was supposed to help him win the election, not destroy his chances. But barely a month into their marriage, everything was ruined.
“You did succeed in making quite the impression,” Catullus said, his tone much too jaunty. “Everyone knows your name now. I even heard some gladiators are going to dress up in white togas and reenact your fight in the arena.”
“Lovely.” Aelius couldn’t hide the bitterness from his voice.
Catullus rose. “I’ll leave you to your wallowing. You know where to find me if I can do anything to help.” He left.
Aelius slumped in his chair. Hopelessness crashed over him like a wave hitting sand. Was he really doomed to another defeat?
A vision tugged at his chest, of being confirmed as consul before the senate ten years from now. Abandoning his goal would leave him with nothing. He thirsted to succeed, to win, to prove himself. He couldn’t let this one disaster break him.
He rose and paced the small study. There had to be a way to fix this. His mind ran back over the conversation with Catullus.The whole city is talking about it…Everyone knows your name now…
Maybe he could turn his ill-gotten notoriety to his advantage. An idea sparked. He turned it over in his mind. It was distasteful, yes, and it would require Crispina’s support, which she might withhold.
But it was all he had. Before he could reason himself out of it, he grabbed a blank piece of papyrus and started writing.
The reply to Aelius’s letter came in the evening. He read it over, then took it into his bedroom. Crispina was already in bed reading, her hair in a thick braid over her shoulder.
