Page 89 of Enslaved
The great unease in Marcus’ breast escalated to alarm as he saw the look of pity on the faces around him. Finally, Nero spoke. “We are sorry to give you tragic news on such a glorious day, General. Your father is dead, poisoned by the woman who betrayed you.”
“No!” The denial was loud and firm, not yet filled with anguish. Marcus’ accusing eyes swung to Petrius. His brother stepped forward and raised his arm to indicate the center of the arena.
“This is my gift to you, Marcus.”
He swung around and saw her. He knew instantly that it was Diana by her lovely pale gold hair. She was wearing his favorite magenta.
“No!” The cry this time rent the air. The mixture of anger, pain, and fear were palpable. Icy fingers closed about his heart and squeezed until all the breath left his body.
Marcus ran to the front of the box and vaulted down to the floor of the arena, twenty-five feet below. He bent his knees in anticipation of the impact as his feet hit the packed earth of the track. He was running before he came out of the crouch. The moment he landed, a gate on the far side opened and a pair of lions, starved for a week, sprang forth.
The crowds were on their feet screaming their encouragement. Here was sport! A three-way race to see who could reach the female first—the warrior, the lions, or the flames.
Marcus had a will of iron. He was a man who would not acknowledge defeat even when it stared him in the face. He drew his gladius sword and willed his powerful legs to cover the ground faster.
Marcus and the lions reached their goal at the same instant. One sprang at him, while the other lunged at Diana. Even as his sword thrust into the lion’s vitals, killing it, he heard her tortured scream.
He flung the carcass away and plunged his weapon into the second lion. Mortally wounded, it fell away from his beloved, but not before a swipe of its great claws had torn open her breast and shoulder and throat.
“Marcus…”
With horror he saw that her hair was already afire as the tarred stake burned about her head. He held her agonized gaze with his fierce black eyes. “I’ll love you forever, and beyond,” he vowed as he raised both arms and plunged his sword into her heart.
Chapter 28
The jolt Diana’s body experienced had the power of a lightning bolt. One moment she was burning hot; then she was freezing cold. She felt as if cool air were rushing past her. Her eardrums felt as if they would burst. She experienced the sensation of falling, and awoke with a cry of terror on her lips, trembling uncontrollably.
The first things she saw were the peach-colored covers of the bed in which she was lying. Diana thought she was back in her own chamber in Aquae Sulis. Then she felt Marcus’ powerful arms about her and realized she was safe. Her relief was overwhelming.
“Marc … Marc … Marcus,” she sobbed. “I had a terrifying nightmare that I was being put to death at Circus Maximus. Thank God I woke up!”
“Hush, hush,” came the deep soothing voice.
“Oh God, it was unbelievably real. Just hold me … I feel so safe in your arms.”
As his arms tightened, she rubbed her cheek against the muscles of his chest. It felt like solid rock and she clung to him desperately. Even the familiar scent of his body was comforting to her. His hand stroked her hair until her trembling lessened. On a shuddering sob she whispered, “Darling, I can’t go to Rome with you, please don’t ask me, Marcus. Please understand.”
“Lady Davenport, do you know where you are; do you know who I am?”
Diana’s eyes widened. Her glance traveled about the chamber and it slowly dawned on her that it was the Elizabethan room she had occupied at Hardwick Hall. She closed her eyes to steady herself. When she reopened them and still found herself in the peach-colored room, she whispered, “Dear God, I’m back.”
The man who held her loosened his arms and pulled back so that he could see her face. His black eyes bored into hers intensely, as if he were trying to read her thoughts.
“Yes, indeed, you are back. The question is, back from where?” the Earl of Bath demanded.
Diana did not want to be back in her own time, yet she certainly did not wish herself back in Rome. She had had a miraculous escape. Then she realized time or place had nothing to do with her deep longing. It was Marcus from whom she could not bear to be separated. But, of course, she wasn’t separated from him. He was here, holding her. Mark Hardwick was Marcus Magnus. She knew it as surely as she knew she was Diana Davenport. The only problem was,hedidn’t know it!
She searched his face. Except for the scar, he looked exactly the same. She knew this man more intimately than any woman had a right to. Surely he would believe her story. Diana took a deep breath and let it out in a tremulous sigh.
“It all began when I went into an antique shop and found a Roman helmet. When I put it on, I was swept back to the time when the Romans occupied Bath. It was called Aquae Sulis—”
“I know it was called Aquae Sulis,” he said dryly. “I am an archaeologist.”
She smiled at him. “Everything Roman fascinates you because you actually lived in Aquae Sulis. Your name was Marcus Magnus. You were a general who trained legionaries before they went to fight in Wales.”
The earl looked at her incredulously, as if he were dealing with a liar or a madwoman. He stood up, towering above her in a threatening manner. “You’ve been gone for months. Have you any idea the trouble and the scandal you caused by disappearing?” His dark face hardened. “When you are ready to tell me the truth, I shall be willing to listen.” He strode to the door.
“You insufferable, pig-headed devil! At least you might have the courtesy to listen to my story before you dismiss me as a crackpot! Where are you going?” she cried.
