She raised both hands, eyes wide. “Max,” she gasped. “It’s me!”
Iris marched forward and batted at his arm. “Get that thing out of her face.”
Max hurriedly lowered the dagger and sheathed it at his hip. “Sorry, but you shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that at night. Especially not a soldier.”
Iris snorted. “Only a soldier is stupid enough to mistake a tiny woman for an attacker.”
Max resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Speaking of attackers, don’t you know it’s dangerous to be out at night?”
“Of course we know that,” Iris said, her voice dripping with condescension. “My esteemed mistress has decided that this excursion to find you is worth being raped and murdered.”
Volusia crossed her arms. “I told you several times, we’re not going to be raped and murdered, Iris. If anyone bothers us, all I have to do is show my face”—she pulled down the scarf that covered her hair—“and they’ll leave us alone. No one would dare lay a hand on the governor’s wife—widow,” she corrected with a flinch.
She was probably right; military discipline was strict enough that no one would dare bother her. But that only went for the soldiers. There were plenty of others in Narbo who weren’t bound by military honor.
But Max sensed that she had not come here to be lectured about taking risks with her safety, so he set the matter aside. “I am sorry about Avitus. This must have been a great shock.”
Her face clouded. She glanced at Iris. “Would you keep watch over there, Iris? Make sure no one disturbs us.”
Iris gave a reluctant nod and headed to stand at the mouth of the alley, looking out over the street.
Volusia stepped nearer to him, and lowered her voice. “The reason I came here has to do with Avitus, actually.”
Max had to lean close to hear her. The scent of lavender from her clothes washed over him.
“I fear…I’m afraid…” Her words faltered, but Max waited patiently. “I think Avitus might have been murdered. By Petronax, or someone working for him.”
Murdered?A bolt of shock rippled down his spine, somehow managing to surpass even the surprise of Volusia being here. “Fuck,” he breathed.
Volusia went on to explain her reasoning, describing the tablet she’d found hidden in Avitus’s study and the words she had pieced together from it. Max’s stomach sank as he realized he believed her. Petronax had used his power as acting governor to hike up the tax rates for his own gain. And if Avitus had found out and objected, it made a horrible sort of sense that he’d end up dead.
“So what are you going to do?” he asked when she’d finished speaking.
She blinked at him. “You mean to say you believe me?”
Max shrugged. “Petronax may be my commander, but I know you better. And like you a lot more.”
She gave him a long look he couldn’t decipher. “Even if you believe me, I don’t think anyone else here will dare to side with me against him. So I’ll wait until I return to Rome and then bring my evidence to the consuls. My father has influence, as a former consul. He can help make sure I get listened to.”
It sounded like a good plan, so Max nodded. “All right. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“There is something I would ask of you.” Her hand stretched out in the shadows to find his. A spark of heat ran up his arm as her fingers brushed his palm. “I need someone I can trust on the journey to Rome. I know it’s asking a lot, but if you could arrange to be part of my escort—”
He tightened his fingers around hers. “I’ll speak to my centurion in the morning,” Max said without hesitation. It was a sacrifice; spending months journeying to and from Rome was not the kind of assignment that would be impressive enough to help in his quest for promotion. Furthermore, he hated Rome, even though his family lived there, and he had little desire to return.
But if Volusia asked it of him, he couldn’t say no.
“Oh, Max,” she whispered. “Thank you.” Suddenly, her arms were around his shoulders, pulling him into an embrace.
Her warmth surrounded him, blocking out all rational thought. His arms slid around her. Her head rested on his shoulder. For a long, blissful moment, nothing else existed but Volusia in his arms. Not Petronax, not the shade of Volusia’s dead husband, not even the increasingly raucous yells emanating from the group of soldiers on the street.
Volusia shifted, and he thought she was moving to break their embrace, but instead she tilted her face up and pressed her lips to his.
For ten years, he had wondered if his memory of their first kiss was colored by childhood exaggeration. Now, he discovered that kissing her was as heady as he remembered, if not more.
Her lips were tentative at first, but grew bolder after that first gentle brush. Instinct took over in Max. He anchored one arm around her waist. His other hand went to her chin, fingers brushing her throat. He gently angled her face to his, tilting her head back so his tongue could delve into her mouth.
She let out a soft sigh against his lips. Her hands tangled in his hair, giving a slight pull. He choked back a groan.
