But when she spoke, her voice was as sweet as the honeyed dates piled before them. “Forgive me if I misunderstand, sir, but are you suggesting you wouldnothave defended your wife against a public insult?”
The man’s face reddened and he cleared his throat. “Of course I did not mean that. But there are other ways to settle a dispute. Civilized ways.”
One of the other men’s wives leaned forward. “Well, I thought it was gallant.” She shot Aelius a dazzling smile. “I think we should elect men who respect a woman’s honor just as much as their own, and are willing to fight for it.”
Several other wives nodded in agreement.
Aelius returned the lady’s smile. “Thank you, lady.”
The conversation turned to other things. He leaned close to Crispina. “Thank you,” he murmured. She had effortlessly turned the conversation in his favor without causing offense or ruffling any feathers.
She acknowledged him with a slight tilt of her head.
After the food had been served, a painted ceramic bowl was passed around, heaped with a fine whitish powder. Most of the guests took a pinch and sprinkled it into their wine goblets. Aelius frowned when it reached him. “Do you know what this is?” he asked Crispina in a low voice.
She took the bowl and bent her head to sniff. “I believe it’s blue lotus, dried and crushed.”
“For what purpose?”
It was hard to see in the lamplight, but a flush seemed to rise in her cheeks. “It induces a feeling of peace and tranquility. And…is generally used to increase libido.”
“And you know this how?”
Now she was definitely blushing. She passed the bowl to the next person without taking any. “I think we should leave.”
Aelius glanced around the room. Husbands and wives were inching closer to each other. Not necessarily each husband to his own wife, either.Ah.
Crispina rose and slipped toward the door, and Aelius followed.
They climbed into their litter waiting outside, which set off toward home. “I didn’t realize it was going to be one ofthoseparties,” Crispina said, her fair skin still reddened. The blush turned her ivory complexion to rose, making her look even more beautiful.
“Have you been to one ofthoseparties before?” Despite himself, his interest was piqued at the thought of Crispina indulging in the sort of debauchery they’d left behind.
She gave him a sharp look. “No. But Horatia has imparted some stories.” She said nothing further.
There was a time when he would have seriously considered staying at such a party. But now, the thought of returning home with Crispina to an evening of quiet conversation in their cozy bedroom held far more appeal than anonymous lust.
But his relationship with Crispina hadn’t been entirely free of lust, had it? The specter of the fiery, impulsive kiss in the bathtub rose in his mind. He had wanted her since he first laid eyes on her, and it seemed that part of her, even if a deeply buried part, wanted him too.
If she did desire him, then there was no reason to keep up their celibate arrangement. It all became enticingly simple in his mind. Why shouldn’t two married people who desired each other act on that desire?
“Have you ever used that substance before?” Aelius asked as they returned to their bedroom.
Crispina sat at her dressing table and sifted her fingers through her hair, removing the silver pins and length of thread that held her braided bun in place. “Yes,” she admitted.
“You have?” His voice rose in surprise.
She shot him an icy glare, as if regretting her honesty. “Only once. I thought it would help things between me and Memmius. But it only gave me a terrible headache.” One of the silver pins slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.
Aelius bent to pick it up and laid it on her dressing table. “May I help you?” He rested a hand on the thick braid that had been released from its coil at the back of her head.
“If you wish.” She reached for a cloth and dampened it with oil from a small vial, then scrubbed it over her face to remove the light layer of makeup.
Bolstered by her accession, he untied the thin leather cord binding the end of the braid, then sank his fingers into her locks, disentangling the three parts. Her hair was warm silk against his palms, the feel of it somehow innocuous and wanton at the same time.
“So you would never want to try it again, the blue lotus?” His voice came out in a gravelly rumble.
“With you? I wouldn’t need it with you,” she said swiftly, then stiffened, her fingers curling around the oil-soaked cloth in her hand. Her next words were spoken in a clipped, austere tone. “Because of course the terms of our marriage did not extend to such things.”
