Call to Juno (Tales of Ancient Rome #3)(30)
“Being his nurse has changed his feelings toward me. And mine toward him.” She lowered her voice. “I never understood your infatuation with him. But in his agony he’s revealed the side that makes me realize why you love him.”
He glanced around to check if anyone could hear. “It’s not infatuation,” he hissed. “And don’t pretend you wouldn’t expose me to the general if you had the chance.”
As a reflex, she reached out her hand to touch his arm, then dropped it. “I told you I would never do that. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because you’re a conniving lupa. You coerced me into making you my army wife to force me to remain silent about that night in the brothel. I wasn’t prepared to let you harm Drusus. We both know Camillus despises soldiers who go with whores. I don’t want his chance to rise in the ranks hindered by you crying rape.”
His dismissal of her suffering was cruel. She may have forgiven Drusus but she could never forget. And Marcus had been there. He’d watched his friend abuse her and done nothing. And he’d paid for her as well, made potent by imagining it was Drusus, not a woman, he was taking.
She scanned the patrician’s face: his pockmarked cheeks, the puckered tissue near his eye, the mark on the bridge of his nose. His brown eyes could be soft. He hadn’t made her his concubine because of her threats alone. He’d felt sorry for her, too. And guilty for how he’d treated her in the lupanaria. “Please, my lord, I’ve done what you asked. I’ve nursed Drusus to health. Let enmity be finished between us. We were once friends.”
“You were no friend.”
“You know that’s not true. We would talk, you and I, when we shared a bed but not our bodies.” She pointed to his forearm. She knew the flesh under his armband was not marred only by his recent wound. The skin was scored with tiny scars—self-inflicted cuts to punish him for his desire for another freeborn. “I understand your torment.”
He growled. “Spare me your sympathy, Pinna. You’ve done well in saving Drusus’s life, but your job isn’t finished. He needs to be fit enough to fight. You know the way to strengthen men’s muscles. I’ve seen you massage them and teach them exercises. Although rubbing more than the general’s neck has caused you trouble.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you’re safe merely because you warm his bed. I should’ve told Camillus about you when you became his mistress. If he knew the baseness of your beginnings, he’d clout you hard enough to send you flying back to Rome.”
She lowered her basket to the ground and faced him squarely. “But you didn’t tell him, did you? And you promised you wouldn’t if I helped Drusus. You allowed the general to unwittingly take a she wolf as a concubine. You claim you’re prepared to be disgraced by admitting this, but do you really want him to be a laughing stock? And, remember, to confess means you would see your closest friend shamed. Both of you should have spoken up. And now both of you have remained silent. I don’t think you’ll risk besmirching either of your characters.”
He scoffed. “Ah, this is the schemer I recognize. Not the loyal nurse.”
She gritted her teeth, wanting to pound his chest and make him understand she was tired of using her wiles. Yet, wasn’t she justified to strive to be free of poverty and oppression? Without the web of intrigue she’d woven, she would never have become her Wolf’s woman. And she had not actually caused Marcus hurt. She’d wounded his pride, not his heart. Being perceived as a cuckold in the eyes of the camp had humiliated him even if she’d never been his lover. She placed her hands on her hips. “Only because you force me to be. I just want to be left alone with the general. I’ve healed the Claudian as you asked. When will I stop being beholden to you?”
“When Claudius Drusus can ride into the fray beside me again. When we capture Caecilia and put her husband to the sword.”
She shook her head. “What happened in that battle? You didn’t hate your cousin before. I sensed you felt sorry for her. Now you’re so bitter.”
“Are you blind, Pinna? Drusus may never be a warrior again! Mastarna did that to him, but it’s Caecilia’s fault. Too many men have suffered because of her lust for the Veientane.”
He’d grown loud. Her frown caused him to lower his voice. “Caecilia should never have spurned Drusus. Never have forsaken Rome. And it riles me the Etruscan dog sought to sully his name. He claimed Drusus attacked him from behind. But Drusus’s scar is on his front. He was facing Mastarna when he was wounded.”
Marcus had told her of the accusation. She’d wondered if jealousy had driven the lovesick knight to act dishonorably. Marcus had not seen his friend inscribe the love spell. She alone knew the depth of the Claudian’s obsession. Yet she’d dismissed the slur. Why would anyone believe the account of an enemy? Drusus was reckless, but she’d never thought of him as spineless. She picked up her basket, tucking it into the crook of her arm. “May I go, my lord?”
He stared at her, words hovering on his lips, but instead of berating her further, he strode away.
Pinna was relieved. Marcus was angry but she sensed it was bluster. And she must thank unrequited love for her protection: Drusus’s for Caecilia, and Marcus’s for Drusus. It was cruel to barter in emotions but she had no other choice. No one was going to take her Wolf from her. No man was ever going to reduce her to nothing again.