Widow's Pique Read Online Free PDF Page B

could be made the other way, though. That trade with Rome would benefit the coastal communities the most, linking isolated towns and villages, generating wealth and lifting social standing to the point where they'd be more Roman than Rome!
    Still. If there was a power struggle between Pavan and Mazares, it was no concern of hers. She was here to sign a contract that would make her rich, rich, rich, and not before bloody time, either. She stared into the churning waters. Jupiter alone knew why she'd hung on to the wretched business after Gaius died. True, the Guild of Wine Merchants had acted like vultures, descending almost before his body was cold, in the hope of dividing up his contacts, his client base and his vineyards between them, but so what? She'd only married Gaius for his money, why not sell? Why not give in to the Guild, let them have what they wanted? Fighting them at their own dirty game had got her so deep into debt that she'd had to resort to all manner of illegal activities, and it was getting harder and harder to keep that one crucial step ahead of the law. Especially when the law took such long, strong, muscular strides—
    'Mazares,' she called. 'This contract with the King.'
    'What about it?'
    The wind billowed out his white shirt and stirred the aureole of glossy curls that framed his face as he crossed the deck.
    'Well, I was wondering how much he'd need per annum.'
    The deep crevices around his eyes narrowed into canyons. 'How much what?'
    'Wine, of course.'
    That irritatingly lazy twinkle returned to his eyes. 'Are you implying our King's a dypsomaniac?'
    'Mazares, I don't give a fig whether the old duffer's a drunkard, a dilettante or a down-and-out degenerate. He invited me to Histria to supply him with wine and I—'
    'Wine?' Mazares threw back his head and laughed. 'WINE?'
    In fact, he laughed so long and so hard, that he had to rub a muscle in his side that went into spasm.
    'Have you actually stopped to look at the land that we're passing?' he wheezed. 'Because, if not, I suggest you take a look now.'
    Something solidified in Claudia's stomach.
    'This kingdom, My Lady, is wall-to-wall forests bursting with game and dotted with rivers, lakes and streams that are absolutely chock-full of fish.'
    Not barren and scrubby, then . . . ?
    'Our bright-orange soil gives us everything we could ever need in terms of grain, cattle, pigs and sheep, and it provides us with more fruit and vegetables than we can eat.'
    Not poverty-stricken, either, if they can export.
    'The climate is perfect for apples, cherries, figs, pears and plums, for nut trees of every kind, and the boughs of our olive groves sweep the ground because the yield is so heavy.'
    Not even a tiny bit of ferocious summer sun that bleaches the rocks white . . . ?
    'So, naturally, we have vines.'
    His hand made a sweeping gesture.
    'Miles upon miles of rolling vineyards, Claudia, that produce robust reds on the coast and whites so fine that they are the favourite of a great many high-ranking Romans. Including, I might add, the Lady Livia.'
    Who was, as it happened, the Emperor's wife . . .
    'Alas, My Lady.' He wiped his streaming eyes. 'The King didn't bring you all this way in order to execute some paltry little commercial deal.'
    'He ... ' She cleared her throat and started again. 'He talked about drawing up a contract between us.'
    By now, every eye on the ship was on her, though only two seemed to bore straight through. They were hard and they were grey, and she didn't trust herself to return Pavan's gaze. From the recesses of her memory, she recalled how foreign military commanders were forbidden to wear weapons and uniform unless in times of war or for ceremonial occasions.
    What a stupid, stupid time to remember. She focussed on a family of dolphins leaping joyfully alongside, and knew that she would always associate them with this terrible moment.
    'Yes, but . . .' Mazares composed his face into a mask of politeness. 'I'm sorry if you are