Page 83 of Of Love and Treason
Two Urban Guards stepped out of a tavern and started down the street toward them.
Valentine took her elbow, turning her around and down a side street they’d nearly passed.
“We’ll try this route,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. He quickened their pace and tugged her down another alley, swinging her into the alcove of a doorway. As her back thumped against the bolted door, her heart lodged just below the base of her throat. Memories of the tribune’s unwanted advances rushed to the surface.Valentine is not the tribune.Valentine stepped next to her, his shoulder overlapping hers, shielding her from view. He lifted his chin to watch the mouth of the street. Iris hardly dared to breathe.
Seconds passed.
Valentine’s gaze remained locked on the street. She couldn’t see beyond him, so she studied his profile instead. Thick brows shaded warm eyes above a straight, triangular nose that might have been considered large. Thin upper lip shaped like Cupid’s bow. Lower lip fuller and curved down toward a square chin. Did he smell like...roses?
She leaned toward him, inhaling deeply. Yes, definitely roses.
He turned his head toward her, and she snapped back, heat rolling up her neck. He’d just caught hersmellinghim. What sort of crazy woman did things like that? His eyelids flickered as if surprised by her closeness, but he didn’t move away.
“Sorry.” He swallowed. “I’m just jumpy, I guess.” His breath smelled of chamomile.
“Why do you smell like roses?” Her words came out on the breath of a laugh.
Redness snaked up his neck this time, stopped by the twitching of his lips. “The other option was body odor. So you’re welcome.” His eyes stayed on her face but took on a thoughtful slant. “Couldyou—would you want to accompany me for a few hours? A circuitous route might serve us well. But if you’d rather, I’ll bring you straight home.”
A low rumble of thunder shook in the distance. She hesitated, but it only took one thought of spending the rest of the evening alone in the apartment to make her agree.
“I’ll come. You’ll be less conspicuous with me.” She tilted her head. “If anyone’s looking for you, they’ll be looking for a man alone.”
“That’s not why I asked.”
“We’d best stay clear of the market and forums.” She wrapped her palla more firmly around her head and shoulders. “They’re always crawling with Urbans.”
“Are you certain?”
She nodded. He gave her a slow smile and swung out of the doorway ahead of her. She struggled to keep up with his fast pace but refused to ask him to slow. The smell of the river grew stronger as they walked, and the Theatre of Marcellus loomed suddenly over their heads, rows of stacked marble-faced arches glittering in the gold of the setting sun. The sign painted near the entrance readHercules and the Lion. The theatre was filling with spectators for the evening show.
“Where are we going?” she gasped, trying to ignore the stitch in her side.
Valentine slowed. He tipped his head casually, looking around before leaning close and whispering, “A wedding.”
The words were barely audible. Something in his glance sent her heart skittering. And whether it was the way he looked at her or embarrassment over the feelings the look evoked, she flushed. Then laughed. He was joking.
They took three steps before Valentine spoke in a low voice. “I’m serious.”
She felt the blood trickle from her face. His eyes were not teasing as he stopped to face her.
“I’m sorry.” Dark eyebrows crinkled together. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Forgive me. I’ll bring you straight home.”
“No, don’t.” She grabbed his hand without thinking. “I’ve neverbeen to a wedding.” She added the last bit in a whisper. Was it treason to attend? Or only if you were the one getting married? Her pater would never allow it. She bit her lip. Titus would be furious. She shifted.
Neither of them was here right now, and truth be told, she didn’t want to go home.
His lips parted as if to protest again but she smiled and continued up the street ahead of him. Deep thunder rumbled to the east, where dark clouds gathered, even as the western horizon blazed with color. Crackles answered the thunder as white fingers of lightning glittered through the piling clouds.
Valentine caught up to her. “Down this way.” He took her hand and tugged her up a steep side street past an inn, a pub, a street eatery. Turning sideways down an alley, Valentine knocked at a small door and they were let immediately into a steamy kitchen.
“Valens?”
Valentine released Iris’s hand as a woman hugged him. She had a wide, matronly face, black hair streaked with gray, and a hairy brown mole on her chin.
“Lenia?”
Iris looked between the two. For all of Valentine’s confidence in where they were going, he seemed surprised at where they’d ended up.
