“Father.”
Caius’s face lit with a smile that matched Titus’s; partially forced, partially genuine, partially wary. “Titus, my son.” They approached one another and embraced. “You look well. Jerusalem seems to have agreed with you.”
“It is good to be back in Rome. You look well too, Father.”
Caius simply nodded at the observation. A hand clapped to his shoulder, he led him toward the impluvium. Its fresh waters glistened in the sunlight streaming in from the opening above. “Vinius met me at the Forum to tell me you had arrived.” A glint Titus well remembered entered Caius’s eye. “He tells me you brought a woman with you. One with a child?”
Titus took one last breath of peace. He knew very well his father’s smile would soon fade. “Yes, Abigail Visibullis. Jason’s widow. It is his son.”
Caius froze midstep, turned to look him in the eye. His smile had become a straight, unyielding line. “You brought the Hebrew slave into my house? The one who was the ruin of your closest friend? Fool.”
Titus bore the epithet without so much as a wince. “Would you have Jason’s legacy be lost to his only son, Father?”
“Of course not.”
“Then it was necessary that Abigail come to Rome to lay her claim for her son.”
“Jason’s son is then naturally welcome under my roof. The whore is not. Toss her into the streets where she belongs.”
Motion caught Titus’s attention a second before Abigail’s voice rang out. “As I already told your wife, I will gladly stay elsewhere. But my son will go wherever I do.”
Titus and his father both looked at Abigail, and both drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her. She had changed into one of her Roman costumes, and had changed just as quickly from lovely Hebrew mother to seductive goddess. The cloth draped in becoming folds over her curves, the jewelry complementing the tone of her skin. Titus forced himself to swallow and to remember that she was his friend now. That behind that perfect body was an intelligent, caring soul.
Abigail entered the atrium and stopped directly in front of his father. “I am not a whore,” she stated calmly, authoritatively. “I am no longer a slave. I cannot control what you think of me, but you will speak of me with more respect.”
Titus mentally lauded her, at least until a glance at his father showed only heightened interest. The last thing they needed was for Caius to decide she would be a challenge worthy of conquering.
“I spoke amiss.” Caius somehow made the apology sound as though he had not changed his mind a whit. His eyes did not leave Abigail. “Forgive me, fair one.”
She made no response, measuring him and obviously finding him lacking. When Titus held out a hand, she put hers in it and stepped close to his side. It was a move gauged to lay down the boundaries, and it apparently worked, for Caius’s eyes sparked with something new. Not exactly respect, but it resembled it.
They had been speaking in Greek, but Caius turned to Titus and said in Latin, “In your letters, you wrote only of your disapproval of Jason’s woman. You neglected to mention her beauty.”
Titus glanced down at Abigail only briefly. “I saw no reason to discuss beauty I did not possess. She was Jason’s.”
“No longer.” He ran his eyes over Abigail just as Titus had the first time they met, and Abigail stepped closer to Titus now as she had to Jason then. Protectiveness surged again. “You have taken her to your bed?”
Titus arched a brow artfully. “Would I take the widow of my closest friend to my bed?” He laced his words with enough sarcasm to elicit a knowing smile from his father.
“If you have not,” Caius said, “you are a fool. You know I would.”
“You would. But you will not.”
Caius nodded his deference to Titus’s claim. Turning away enough to break the tension, he said in Greek, “I imagine your mother has made sure a meal is ready, and you must both be hungry. Come, let us dine.”
“We will join you in a moment.” He watched as Caius nodded and walked away. Titus breathed a sigh of relief and looked down into Abigail’s face. She was still looking in the direction his father had gone, and if her expression were any indication, her thoughts were not very pleasant. He gently cupped her chin. “He will not touch you, Abigail.”
She nodded, but her features did not ease.
“Where are Samuel and the babe?”
As hoped, Abigail’s face softened and brightened with a smile. “Benjamin is asleep, and Samuel is being introduced to the other boys in the house, and Antonia, with whom he went, promised to see to his meal.”
Titus smiled. “She was my nurse. Mother must have sent her up; your children will be well cared for in her hands.”