Page 25 of Of Love and Treason
Her mouth dropped.
“What will you do when your pater dies? Have you family who would take care of you?”
Fresh anger fought old fears. Horrible man! How dare he barge into her home and rip the coverings off her worst anxieties? Iris lifted her chin, about to inform him that she could earn her own living, when he continued.
“If you think you can support yourself by kneading a few loaves of bread, you’re mistaken. Where would you live? You could no more feed yourself than pay rent. You would be destitute.”
Iris fought to keep the anger from her voice. “Thank you, Tribune. Your concern is overwhelming.” She took a step toward the door. “But you must forgive me—I was just about to leave.”
The couch creaked as he stood and cut off her escape, stepping too close. “I have not finished.”
She stiffened as he ran his fingers along her upper arm, the heat of him radiating toward her.
“You need not be destitute. I have spoken with your father about an arrangement that would ensure your care.”
Iris took a step back and angled her face away from him. “My father cares for me very well. I have no complaints.”
He stilled and drew his hand away. “So he has not told you this either?”
Iris remained silent.
“I regret to be the one to inform you that your father is deeply in debt.” He spoke the words crisply, dropping them into her gut like marble blocks. He didn’t sound regretful. “His debt is so great he could not possibly repay it if he had four years to do so, much less a mere four months.”
Liar.She would have known. Her father would have said something. He’d just spoken of buying a meeting with the augurs. He wouldn’t have suggested it if they had no money. Yet she felt strangely out of breath as she whispered, “That is not true.”
“It most certainly is.” He lowered his lips toward her ear. “He’s borrowed hundreds ofaureito pay for your healing charms and physicians. And you will both pay the price unless you agree to my proposal.”
She tried to swallow but her throat was tight and dry. “And your proposal would cover my father’s debts?”
“All of them.”
The pieces slowly fitted together. “In return for me? I confess, I am confused, sir. I cannot cook or—”
His voice went husky; lips caressed her jaw. “I do not want you to cook.” He ran his hands down her arms to further illustrate his intent. She shuddered and stepped back, bumping the high worktable behind her and lurching forward to keep her balance. The tribune wrapped one arm around her, pulling her tight against him, pinning both arms to her sides. He buried his face in her neck and raked his free hand through her hair, following it as it tumbled free to the small of her back.
She twisted away. “Please, stop, Tribune. You’ve given your speech and I must speak with my father before—stop, please!” She wrenched to the side, trying to remember what Titus had told her to do in a situation like this. Her action freed one arm, which she swung toward his face. He caught her wrist and slammed her back against the counter, sending the jars rattling and one crashing to the floor.
“Pater will be back soon,” she gasped, shoving his hand from her thigh. “He could legally kill you for this.”
“He wouldn’t dare.” He gripped her wrist until the bones ground together and she cried out.
Iris brought up her knee as hard as she could, but he sidestepped and slapped her face.
Her head snapped back, unable to brace for the blow. She could not hold him off.
“Dorma?” She shrieked the first name that came to mind.“Dorma!”
Tribune Braccus tried to cover her mouth with his as the door hit the wall with a noise like a crack of lightning.
“Tribune!”
Titus.
Iris sagged in relief as Braccus released her and took a step back. She sank to the floor, shaking.
Titus’s voice was tight with anger or urgency. “I’m glad I found you, sir; you’re needed at the Castra Praetoria immediately.”
The tribune hesitated and cleared his throat, his voice turning toward Iris. “Think about what I said.”
