Valeria's Cross. Kathi MaciasЧитать онлайн книгу.
The closer Valeria got, the more handsome the soldier appeared. As daughter of the Roman emperor, her privileged life had afforded her introductions to hundreds of rulers and kings, but she thought Mauritius far more regal than any man she had ever met.
Of course, she had no intention of admitting that to him. For now Valeria would be content to hear his voice. She had heard so much about Mauritius since the day she had seen him in the arena, but they had never met—until now.
Valeria stood behind the bushes for a moment, mustering up her courage to speak to the captain. At last she stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Captain Mauritius?” Her voice squeaked, causing her cheeks to flush with embarrassment, but she stood her ground.
Valeria had expected Mauritius to jolt from his reverie and spin around in the direction of her voice, but he did not. Slowly he turned, as if he had known all along that she was there, watching him. Perhaps he had.
Mauritius smiled, revealing the whitest teeth she had ever seen. His dark eyes twinkled with a delight that appeared close to amusement, and he dipped his head in a slight bow.
“Captain Mauritius, at your service.” He chuckled. “And who might you be, lovely lady?”
Valeria could not speak. His eyes! Valeria had never seen any quite like them. It was as though he could see inside her soul. And his voice! Joy resounded in his words, as smooth and warm as honey, yet authoritative, as she would have expected from a man in his position. If she had thought he was attractive from a distance, he was more so now that he faced her with his square jaw and chiseled features, his dark curls moving slightly in the breeze. The golden cross that hung from a heavy chain around his neck sparkled in the sunlight.
“I asked your name,” he repeated softly.
Still Valeria could not utter a single word.
“Please, do not be afraid,” he coaxed, holding out his hand.
She offered her trembling hand in return. Her mouth felt dry, and she wondered if she would be able to speak. She cleared her throat.
“I . . . am . . . Valeria. I am delighted to meet you.”
“And so am I . . . delighted to meet you.” His smile seemed warmer now, more genuine, as he stepped closer, lifting her hand to his lips for a kiss of greeting and respect. His kiss produced the same strange sensation she had felt when Galerius kissed it, only this time it was not commingled with revulsion.
“I heard Emperor Diocletian had a beautiful daughter,” he said, “but I never imagined I would have the honor of meeting her.”
“How did you hear of me?”
“Since the day your ship arrived in Egypt, is there anyone who has not heard of the young woman with eyes the color of turquoise and hair as golden red as the mane of a lion?” He reached up and pulled a sprig of boxwood from her hair and handed it to her.
“Who told you about me?” She twirled the evergreen between two fingers on her free hand.
“Nanu.”
Valeria smiled. “Ah, yes.”
“But she did not tell me you were so incredibly lovely that you would take my breath away when I gazed upon your face.”
Valeria’s cheeks warmed at the compliment, and she quickly withdrew her hand when she realized she had allowed it to linger a moment too long.
The young couple stared at one another, wordless. At last, uncomfortable in the silence, Valeria spoke.
“I suppose I had better go inside and report to my tutor. He is probably waiting for me.”
“But we have only just met.” Mauritius’ dark eyes clouded with disappointment, and the tone of his voice took on a hint of pleading. “Please stay.”
“I suppose I could . . . for a moment more,” she agreed with a smile.
His eyes were dancing again, but he suddenly appeared shy, as if he were searching for the right words. Finally he asked, “Do you like Egypt?”
“More than any place I have ever visited. But, really, I must go now. My tutor will be searching for me.” Mauritius was far too handsome and outspoken for her to feel comfortable in his presence without a chaperone. She felt panicked in her need to escape from him, yet she could not pull herself away.
“You must not keep your tutor waiting.” He smiled as he dipped his head in farewell. “I shall look forward to seeing you again soon—with your permission, of course.”
“But you are leaving for Gaul,” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice.
“My troops do not even know that yet. How is it that you are privy to such information?” He grinned. “Were you hiding in the bushes when the general presented our orders?”
Valeria knew she was caught but could think of nothing to say in her defense. Instead, she turned on her heel and took a slight step away from the handsome soldier with the laughing eyes. To her surprise he reached for her and took her hand.
“I will be in Thebes for several more weeks before I have to leave for Gaul,” he said, gently turning her toward him. “With your father’s permission, I would like to see you again . . . and again.” He smiled, and her heart jumped.
“As would I . . . like to see you,” she said breathlessly, wondering even as she spoke how she could say such a thing to someone she had only just met. Then, before she could say or do anything more to further humiliate herself, she turned and hurried away. When she thought she was out of his range of vision, she abandoned her control and danced on the pathway, her skirt swirling about her ankles.
“I shall see you soon, beautiful dancing lady,” he called out to her.
And then she heard the servants’ laughter mingling with that of Mauritius’. Was this any way for an emperor’s daughter to behave?
Fighting tears of humiliation, she vowed she should never see the handsome soldier again. He simply held too much power over her, and she could not risk disgracing her family.
But she had to see him again, because at that moment she knew in her heart that she wanted to marry Mauritius—and she would not wait long to see it happen. She would find her mother and persuade her to speak to her father about the matter. Unless the young man decided he did not want her for his wife, or her father objected to her marrying a Christian, Valeria knew that Mauritius would soon be hers. She hugged herself and imagined for a moment what it would be like for him to hold her in his strong arms.
Valeria smiled. There were definitely advantages to being the emperor’s daughter. Besides, there was nothing to be ashamed of; her feelings for Mauritius were pure.
She could feel his eyes following her as she ran into the palace to find her mother, but she no longer cared that he was watching. She spun around and waved at him one last time, and he threw his head back, curls tumbling, and laughed.
A fine soldier like Mauritius! Father was going to love him; she was sure of it. Then life truly would be perfect.
6
Her assessment of her father’s acceptance of Mauritius was more than a bit premature and overly optimistic, but her mother was at least receptive to the idea. With Diocletian gone, Prisca invited Mauritius and his family to dine with them the next evening. After dinner, Valeria asked Mauritius and Nanu to take a moonlight stroll in the garden. Valeria’s excitement waned when her mother insisted that Eugenia accompany them. Much to Valeria’s disappointment, there was no handholding, but she considered even walking beside Mauritius a gift.
The next morning, after completing her studies, Valeria spent the afternoon in the arena with Nanu, watching Mauritius and Baraka, Nanu’s fiancé, compete in the athletic events. Afterward, the young people had dinner with Valeria at the palace. Eugenia was not feeling well, so after dinner Prisca gave them permission to walk alone