Love Remembers

Excerpt

Dipping her head to keep from getting caught in the olive tree branches, she pushed the memory of her first love from her mind. He couldn’t possibly still think of her. Gregorius, the second son of Senator Tallus, had more appropriate women to devote his time to. Her heart clenched within her chest. No matter how hard she tried to forget, the taste of Gregorius’s kiss lingered, even seven years on.

Her legs ached. Her spirits sank. Where was the creek? Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, aiding her in the escape. Would Visius come looking for her? He probably sat on his horse trying to decide which way she ran if he wasn’t watching with laughter on his lips.

No. She refused to be his pleasure slave any longer.

With a final burst of speed, she continued on. The sound of running water met her ears. A melodic sound, like plucking the strings of a lyre. The creek. Tears burned behind her eyelids. The creek.

Her joy turned to fleeting frustration as she tripped on something. A bare tree root? A trap?

Aspasia toppled to the ground and the last thing she saw was the dark figure in the distance. Please, Gods, let it not be Visius.

“Do you see the form by the creek?” Gregorius strode across the olive tree grove with his brother in tow. Someone trespassed on the family property. Why didn’t the guards notify him or his brother? Damn the symposium. A waste of good time, spent listening to older men spin yarns of their youth while flinging wine at an innocent krater.

The closer he came to the collapsed figure, the harder his heart beat. Could it be? A petite hand clenched a chunk of moss. His gaze lingered on the delicate arm attached to the hand. Dirt and scratches marred the pale skin of the fallen woman.

“Are you going to take her home or kill her for trespassing?” Darius folded his arms. “Do you know her?”

Kneeling next to her, Gregorius’s breath clogged in his throat. He knew the birthmark on the woman’s bare shoulder—a wobbly circle just above her right shoulder blade. Aspasia. Could it be true? He had found her? “I will take her home.”

Where she belonged.

His brother pointed to the gold band encircling Aspasia’s left bicep. “She is a simple slave. Why waste energy on a piece of property, lovely as she may be?”

“She is not property.” Gregorius bit out his words. No one deserved to be beaten, abused as her body attested.

“Her arm. She is a slave to someone.”

Gregorius scooped her into his arms, frightened by how little she weighed. “She is a slave no longer.”

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