Seduced By Her Rebel Warrior. Greta Gilbert

kind of business that could take place between the commander of a Roman legion and the daughter of a Roman governor: marriage.

      There was a spate of hushed talk and Atia felt as if she were sinking into the floor. He had done it, then. Her father had selected her fourth husband and was sending her to him along with her precious dowry.

      It would be a sine manu marriage—as they all had been—with her father retaining control over Atia and her dowry. Whoever her new husband was, Atia would be expected to submit to his every wish—at least until such time as her father determined the alliance of no further use.

      Atia laboured to keep the emotion from her expression. She could tell her father was relishing this moment. He had given the bored patricians exactly what they craved. She could hear the gossip starting already—whispers about the meaning of the match, along with a smattering of comments on Atia’s advanced age, unfortunate nose and general plainness. She had never been more grateful for the effects of the tears.

      Her father returned his attention to Rab. ‘You will guide my daughter and her armed escort and help ensure their safety from rebel attack. It is a dangerous mission, but it is how you may prove your loyalty to Rome.’

      ‘Yes, Governor,’ said Rab, his head bowed.

      ‘Good, now kiss my ring.’

      Rab betrayed only the slightest hesitation as he bent to do the deed and kept his expression blank as Atia’s father pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. When Rab returned to standing, he appeared smaller somehow. Defeated. He had managed to get free of his first prison, but now he was obviously trapped inside a new one.

      And this time, Atia was trapped with him—the man who had offered her his ghutrah and called her beautiful and tried to kiss her.

      The man who had done all those things not out of desire, but in a desperate, futile effort to get himself free.