"I'd forgotten how beautiful your bottom is, mea amor."

Startled by his touch, she jumped away from him with a small cry of surprise. She whirled around to face him, holding her pants in front of her while clutching her shirt closed. The instant she saw him frown she knew her ridiculous attempt at modesty had alerted him that something was wrong. She swallowed hard as she focused every bit of her skill into keeping her thoughts hidden. Forcing a smile to her lips, she managed to meet his gaze without flinching.

"I'm going to change," she said breathlessly. "Are you still going to fix me something to eat?"

"Yes." He eyed her warily for a long moment before he smiled. "And when we're done eating, I intend to make you hungry again."

There was no mistaking the significance of his suggestive words, and she struggled with the mixed emotions skimming their way through her. When she didn't answer him, his frown returned. She immediately drew upon every bit of her Prima Consul experience to disguise her real feelings behind an amused expression.

"Arrogance, like pride, goeth before the fall, caro."

"Go change, or I'm going to show you just how arrogant I can be," he growled with a playful smile, but she could still see the suspicious glint in his eye.

Not about to argue with him, she kept a smile on her lips as she left the kitchen. When she was certain he couldn't see her, she hurried across the living room floor to her bedroom. Behind her, she heard Marcus's slightly off-key singing. The sound made her release a half laugh, half sob as she raced into her bedroom and shut the door. Her back pressed into the wood, she closed her eyes and started to shake violently.

Deus, what had she been thinking? How could she have been so stupid? Making love with Marcus was the worst thing she could have ever done. And Juno help her, she'd confessed she still loved him. While he'd not said he loved her, his behavior had left her with little doubt. He wouldn't be so adamant about resuming their relationship if he didn't. If there was one thing about Marcus she could depend on, it was his loyalty and faithfulness.

But it annoyed her that he'd demanded she share her feelings without verbally expressing his love for her as well. His confidence was one of the things she loved best and least about him. It emphasized his decisive nature as well as his determination to protect those he loved, but it was exasperating all the same.

His silent assumption that they would continue as if the past thirty years hadn't happened was more than irritating. It was disturbing. Her stomach lurched. It didn't matter how either one of them felt. It was pointless to even consider resuming their relationship. It was impossible to recapture the past, and that's what they'd tried to do moments ago.

And no matter how wonderful it had felt, it was an illusion. They could never go back. She swallowed the tears she so desperately wanted to shed. Making love with Marcus just now had left her feeling far more vulnerable than she'd felt in a very long time. The sensation wasn't an unfamiliar one.

Marcus had always had an unsettling effect on her, and he knew it. There was no doubt in her mind that he would use that knowledge to keep her off balance until he got his way. He would use every emotional weapon he possessed to override her objections as to why they shouldn't resume their relationship. Her confession that she still loved him would be the first thing he'd use.

Still trembling, she quickly discarded her clothes and moved toward the bathroom. She needed a shower. If she was going to succeed in convincing Marcus that what had just happened could never happen again, she needed to wash his scent off her skin. Otherwise it would linger as a subtle reminder of how wonderful their lovemaking had been.

The flash of movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn her head toward the mirror. The woman staring back at her winced. When had she become so old? It seemed like yesterday that she and Marcus had blood bonded. She leaned forward to examine her face carefully. There were a few lines around her eyes, but the rest of her skin was smooth and youthful looking.

With a critical eye, she stared at her naked body. She wasn't a girl of twenty anymore, and her figure had begun to sag in different places, the skin less supple than years ago. She turned away from the mirror. It wasn't just time that stood between her and Marcus.

She could never forget what had happened to Gabriel. In Rome, when Marcus had summoned her to the Santa Maria sopra Minerva, she'd said she blamed him for Gabriel's kidnapping. Even though she'd quickly denied it, she understood why she'd tried to lay the blame at his feet. It was easier to fault Marcus for the past than to admit the truth.

If he ever found out she'd not taken their son's life when she'd known she could no longer keep him safe . . . she swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She'd not had the courage to save Gabriel from his fate, and she loathed herself for it. Afterward, her guilt had only been magnified when Marcus had left her alone to hunt for their son.

She'd wanted to go with him, but he'd been adamant in his refusal. For the longest time she'd hated him for that. It had made her believe Marcus blamed her for Gabriel's kidnapping, even though he'd denied it. But he had every right to blame her. A sob escaped her as she twisted the hot and cold faucet handles in the shower.

Even now the memories of those final moments before losing Gabriel were as vivid as when they'd happened. Right down to her blood spattering his small face and the stabbing pain that had ripped through her body the moment the Praetorian had struck her from behind.

She stepped into the spray of water that was still warming up and immediately shuddered. It was impossible to know whether it was from the water's cool temperature or the memories. For years she'd wondered if she could have fought harder that day or done something different to keep Gabriel safe.

Steam filled the shower as the spray grew hotter and warmed her chilled body. For four years, she and Marcus had lived, loved, and celebrated Gabriel's birth at the Rennes-le-Chteau estate. They'd been so happy. Atia had known Marcus would eventually take her and Gabriel to Rome to live in the Absconditus, but she hadn't wanted to leave their happy sanctuary. Instead, she'd pleaded with him to stay at the chteau until he took on the role of reigning Sicari Lord.

That had been a mistake. Gabriel would still be with them if she'd not convinced Marcus to stay at Rennes-le-Chteau. One more reason it was her fault that they'd lost Gabriel. Another sob escaped her as she wrapped her arms around her waist and allowed the hot water to wash away her tears.

She wasn't sure how long she'd stood in the heat of the shower, but the sound of Marcus calling her name made her jerk up her head. Through the steam covering the frosted glass of the shower door, she could make out his tall, dark shape as he entered the bathroom.

"Dinner's ready, carissima."

"I'll be out in a moment," she called with more than a hint of panic at the possibility of his entering the shower.

"I can keep it warm if you like." The teasing note in his voice made her heart slam into her chest. Deus, even when she knew things between them were hopeless, the man still held sway over her.

"No, I'm almost done."

"Hurry up then."

She watched his dark shadow disappear from the bathroom and expelled a deep breath. Tonight. She needed to end this tonight. Things had gone far enough, and she couldn't let them go any further. It would only lead to disaster.

Moving as quickly as she could, she finished bathing then left the bathroom to dress. The entire time she was pulling on her clothes she kept expecting Marcus to burst in on her. When she was finally dressed, her nerves were as taut as piano wire and her chest was tight with tension. She quickly ran a comb through her short curling hair and ignored the feeling of panic streaking through her.

The moment she left the bedroom, she knew she was in trouble. All the lights had been dimmed in the apartment, and she heard the melodic voice of a popular Italian singer in the background. Soft candlelight flickered in the small dining area that was a part of the living room. The table had been set for two with a vase in the middle holding a single rosebud.

Where had he gotten a rose at this time of day? She trembled as she remembered the day they first met. He'd showered her in rose petals that night. Deep inside she longed to recapture those wonderful moments, but she was a realist. She knew it wasn't possible. Marcus emerged from the kitchen and set a bowl of salad on the table. As he turned toward her, he stretched out his hand.

"Come eat, mea kara," he said.

There was nothing seductive, teasing, or wicked in his voice, only a tenderness that made her throat close against the emotion welling up inside her. Sweet Juno, sending him away was going to be far more difficult than she'd ever imagined. Her heart was racing as she moved forward.

She deftly avoided accepting his hand and seated herself at the table. A quick glance up at his face said he wasn't happy she'd evaded his touch. Averting her eyes, she undid her napkin and spread it out in her lap while Marcus sat down opposite her. Tension skimmed its way through her, drawing every one of her muscles taut and rigid.

As she served herself some salad, she could feel Marcus's gaze on her, and she steeled herself to look at him. The calculating expression on his face was unnerving, and she slowly put the salad tongs back in the bowl. He handed her the bowl of fettuccine Alfredo before helping himself to the salad.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked quietly. The question caught her by surprise, and some of her tension eased. At least he hadn't probed her as to her less than relaxed manner.

"Yes, I remember."

"You weren't happy with me at all."

"Can you blame me?" she muttered with a small amount of irritation. "You were so damned arrogant. One minute Seneca is introducing me to you, and the next you literally drag me away from my best friend's bonding festivities and my date for the evening, Carlo Giaccone."

"He wasn't for you, and I didn't have much time. I was supposed to return to Rome the next day. I wanted to make sure you knew I'd be back for you." An invisible finger caressed her cheek for a brief instant before it was gone.

"A point you made quite clear throughout the first few moments of our conversation."

"And what changed your mind about me?"

There was a note of curiosity in his voice, and she met his gaze steadily. It was the first time he'd ever asked her the question. He'd seldom questioned anything in those early years. He'd simply accepted it as though it were his due. His had been the manner of a Tribune about to become the reigning Sicari Lord.

"The rose petals all over my bedroom."

"The roses," he repeated with a small nod. "They weren't easy to acquire at that time of year."

"You must have wiped out half a dozen florists in Couiza, Esperaza, and Montazels."

"Not to mention the misappropriation of the Order's helicopter."

"So that's how you got them to Rennes-le-Chteau so quickly," she exclaimed with a small laugh. "I always wondered how you'd arranged it. And it explains why Seneca was so furious with you the next day before you left."

"He didn't stay angry for long when I told him I intended to blood bond with you." His words made her jaw sag as she stared at him in astonishment.

"I didn't know you'd told him that. He never said anything."

"I told him I'd not spoken to you about it."

"But we barely knew each other." She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks as he sent her a look of amused disbelief.

"I knew every beautiful inch of you by morning."

"You know what I mean. One night in bed together doesn't constitute the strongest foundation for a blood bonding ceremony."

"It wasn't the sex that made me want to bond with you, Atia. Although what happened in the kitchen a little while ago was an excellent reminder of how good it's always been between us." He eyed her intently as he spoke, and it was a look she knew well. He was about to lay down a boundary. "I bonded with you because I loved you from the first moment I saw you, and I wasn't going to let anyone or anything stand in my way until you were mine, then or now."

It was a firm, inflexible boundary. An emphatic statement that said he intended to have his way in the present, just as he had in the past. She flinched. How was she supposed to fight such determination, especially when he'd made it clear that he still loved her? That above anything else was enough reason to surrender. She dropped her gaze and picked at her salad with her fork.

"You've not lost your touch for fixing a meal with the least amount of ingredients. It looks delicious," she said quietly.

When he didn't answer her, she forced a smile to her lips and looked up at him. The frown on his face puzzled her. She'd expected to arouse his anger by deliberately changing the subject, but he seemed more worried than angry. Even more troubling was the flash of fear she saw in his cerulean blue eyes. He picked up his fork and took a bite of salad.

"And you've improved the art of changing the subject."

His eyes met hers across the flickering candlelight. It brought back memories of other times when he'd surprised her with a romantic candlelight meal. She averted her gaze and twirled several strands of fettuccine around her fork.

"Did Luciano finish making all the arrangements for Sandro?"

"Yes, and with the improvements that have been made to the research lab's security, I believe the document from the Tyet of Isis is as safe as we can make it."

"The Council is frightened," she murmured. "And I can't blame them. There have always been spies in the Order, but this was a Sicari murdered on our own ground. The last time anything like this happened . . ."

She stared down at her plate as the memories threatened to overtake her. A strong hand grasped hers, and she clung to it as though it were a life vest. She lifted her gaze to meet his. There wasn't any need to speak, because his eyes told her that everything she was feeling, he was feeling, too. They sat like that for a long moment, before Marcus released her hand and leaned back in his chair.

"I suppose the Council's instructed you to find the killer."

"Yes, although they know it's unlikely I'll be able to do so."

"Other than those of us who were in Rome, have there been any new arrivals to the estate?"

"Not that I'm aware of. There aren't even any outside guild members here on vacation." She shook her head. "And we've not had anyone new transferred here in more than a year."

"Then that means whoever killed Sandro has been on the estate for a while." Marcus grimaced, and she saw his jaw clench. "We need to find a way to flush the traitor out."

"We can use the document to do that." She saw resistance cross his features, and she leaned forward. "We both know it's what they're after, so we taunt them with it. We keep working at deciphering it. And whether we're close to unraveling what the damn thing says or not, we let everyone, including the bastardo who killed Sandro, think we're on the verge of solving the puzzle."

"No. Doing that puts you in harm's way," he ground out in a tight voice.

"What about you? You're not invincible."

"I never said I was, but your abilities are limited, despite our blood bond. I refuse to put you at risk like that."

"To paraphrase my . . . our daughter, every Sicari is at risk all the time. I'm no different. The Prima Consul can be replaced."

"But I can't replace you." His words echoed harshly in the room. "If you think I'm just going to let you offer yourself up as bait, you can think again."

"You don't really have any say in the matter, do you?" she said calmly as she took another bite of fettuccine.

When he didn't answer, she looked across the table at him. Thunderstruck . It was the only word that came to mind as she stared at the expression on his face. She quickly ducked her head to hide her smile. She couldn't remember ever seeing him speechless before.

"What in Jupiter's Stone does that mean?" he snapped.

"This is my world, Eminence. And unless you're going to announce yourself to the Council as the reigning Sicari Lord, I'm afraid you'll have to control your tendency to order others about. Particularly me."

She raised her head and met his glare with one of her own. This was her guild. She was the leader of the Order, and unless he was willing to step forward and acknowledge that the Absconditus existed, he had no real power here. For once she was in charge. And he knew it. His eyes narrowed as he fixed his harsh gaze on her.

"By the gods, you're a stubborn woman, Atia Vorenus."

His flatware rattled loudly against his plate as he shoved his chair away from the table and stood up. Hands braced on the table, his face was dark with frustration as he glared at her. Not about to let him intimidate her, she continued eating her meal. After a long moment, he released a violent sound and stalked away.

He was every inch the Sicari Lord as he paced the carpet. Tall, regal, and proud. He was far from happy with her at the moment. And he'd be even less happy when she told him that she didn't want things to go back to the way they'd been all those years ago. She quietly laid her fork on her plate and turned in her chair.

"Marcus, I think we need to come to an understanding. I've made a new life for myself since we were blood bonded." She watched him draw up short, his mouth open in protest. Deus, if only she had the fortitude to let him overrule her, but she didn't. She shook her head. "Loving you is easy. It always was. But neither one of us can erase the past-no matter how hard we try."

"I'm not trying to erase the fucking past," he snarled.

"I didn't say you were. I'm saying we can't go back to that time before Gabriel was taken from us," she bit out with frustration as she sprang to her feet.

"I'm not trying to relive the past, Atia. I'm just trying to enjoy what's left of my life with the woman I love. I want to grow old with you."

"It's not possible." The words were hard and inflexible even to her ears.

"I don't believe that."

"It doesn't matter what you believe, Marcus. What matters is that I'm saying no."

"Then explain it to me. Tell me why it's not possible."

"Because we blame each other for what happened, and that won't ever go away," she cried out in a bitter voice.

The blood drained from his face as his eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn't identify. She thought it might be fury, but it could just as easily have been pain. It was impossible to tell. The silence in the room stretched thin as an ancient parchment about to crumble under the strain.

"I never said I blamed you," he said in a wooden voice.

"You didn't have to say it," she said with resignation as she rubbed her temples. The beginnings of a headache had set in, and she wanted to go to bed. It had been a long, emotional day.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Atia." His expression was hard and icy. "I never blamed you, but that's the second time in less than a month you've blamed me for Gabriel's kidnapping."

"I don't blame you."

"Then exactly what is it you find me guilty of?"