29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

L aura

Our little misunderstanding is now in our rearview mirror as we prepare to go to the cottage, which I calculate is about half a mile away. The solar-powered UTV in the main tent has a front bench seat and a flat back area for hauling things. It also has a winch. It should help get all our worldly goods to the cottage when it’s habitable. In the meantime, it will be invaluable in gathering supplies for the thatched roof. I can’t wait for Varro to see it in action. I imagine it will blow his mind.

As I load the toolbox and other supplies, Varro is poking around Tony’s mech area.

“What are you looking for?”

“I’ll need something to use as a scythe to thresh the long, dried grasses.”

As I watch, he actually dares to put his mitts on one of the metal fenders as though he would yank it off!

“A, this girl’s name is Jenny.” I pat her hood as though she’s a long, lost friend. “You do not use her for spare parts.” I slant him a mock-disgusted look. His playful, who-me expression tells me all I need to know that our earlier misunderstanding is behind us. “And B, I have just the thing.”

I trot to our room and move the mattress off the frame. It’s where I stashed not only the original sword we found a mile from where we eventually located the Fortuna , but where I put the dozen coins I managed to snag in the confusion on the fateful day we found the gold—and I was abandoned.

Varro follows me to our room, where I pull off my mattress and unearth the sword.

When he gasps, then murmurs, “Invictus,” I have a pretty good idea who this bad boy originally belonged to, but I watch as he takes it from me as though it were the holy grail.

“This was given to me by a… patron.” The way he ground out the word given makes me think of exactly the type of things he had to do to earn the “gift.” “Where…?”

“We found it about a mile from here. It’s when I knew for certain we were close to finding the Fortuna .”

He’s turning the sword over in his hands with such awe and affection it’s as though he doesn’t notice what terrible shape the thing is in. The blade, though probably once shiny, is dull and covered in barnacles.

“I hate to use her when she’s in such poor shape, but I will. At night, I’ll restore her. She saved my life more than once.”

He has what I’d almost call a besotted look on his face. It only serves to remind me of how my feelings for this man are growing every day. The day we met, I never dreamed I’d see the softer side of this scarred ancient gladiator.

Soon, we approach Jenny. Varro’s clutching Invictus, which is now almost an extension of his arm.

He’s standing beside me as I sit in the driver’s seat and start up the engine. Being electric, it’s not loud, but it still grunts and hums, vibrating the ground under our feet. Varro lets out a curse, drops his sword, reaches in, grabs me around the waist, pulls me out of the machine, and tucks me under his arm like a handbag.

“You’ve angered it!” he says, rapidly backing away from Jenny.

“I haven’t…” I struggle to get my words out while I twist so my face isn’t in his ass. “You can put me down now that you have saved me from the Chimera.”

“If you are certain.” With a grunt, Varro sets me down, still not taking his eyes off the machine as though he expects it to attack at any moment. After a minute, he says, “You must think I’m a fool.”

He looks so adorably abashed, his cheeks red, brow lowered. I cup his face with both hands and say, “I think you are very sweet to protect me from the terrible machine. Don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.”

Soon, we take off in Jenny, which fills my companion with wild-eyed wonder.

“What propels it?” he asks from the passenger seat, gazing at the engine’s hood as though if he only had x-ray vision he could figure out the mechanics of what makes it work.

“Did you understand how they made glass? Or were you just happy to drink out of a goblet?”

His answer is a disapproving grunt.

“I have no idea how machines work, or how the heater in our tent functions. Or how my phone can store all the music and knowledge of the world in such a tiny box. I certainly know how to turn them on, though.”

About a minute into our ride, my favorite gladiator bitches that we’re not going fast enough. Really?

“This isn’t as fast as an old horse,” he complains. “I would have thought we could go twice this fast.”

I hate to tell him we’re going six miles an hour and that any faster on this terrain would risk a flip and a crash. If we ever get off this forsaken island, I’ll drive him at seventy miles an hour just to watch his handsome head explode. Twice as fast, my ass.

We stop on our journey whenever we see tall grasses poking out of the snow. As a woman who doesn’t enjoy the gym and who, until I left on this expedition, spent most of my free time sitting at a desk reading ancient Latin texts, I’m in no shape to keep up with a two-thousand-year-old gladiator. I’m lucky he’s not only strong and full of energy, but he’s pretty damn smart.

He uses Invictus to slash tall grasses, then separates the grains from the stalks with the flat of the shovel we brought. He requires very little of me, so I mostly sit on the passenger seat and watch, occasionally bringing him a new bottle of water. Otherwise, I’m free to watch as he discards his borrowed Henley and works up a sweat. I may have said no to more kisses last night, but a girl can look, can’t she?

I lean back on the UTV’s bench seat, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face as I watch Varro work. He’s a machine, threshing the tall grasses with an almost hypnotic rhythm. The muscles in his back ripple with each swing of the sword, a testament to the years of training he endured as a gladiator.

“You’re making it look too easy,” I call out, a teasing lilt in my voice. “Sure you don’t need a break?”

Varro glances over his shoulder, a playful smirk on his lips. “This? This is nothing compared to training in the ludus.”

I can’t help but admire his form, the way his body moves with a fluid grace that belies his strength. It’s like watching a dance. Mostly, I try to ignore the scars that mar his skin. There are crisscrossing lines on his back that show evidence of lashings. The scars on his front appear to be punctures from spears and slashes from swords.

Looking at them hurts my own flesh as I imagine the horror he must have gone through. It makes me want to trace the evidence of his pain with my fingertips… and my tongue .

“So, you barely consider this as work? Don’t let me stop you.” I cross my legs and settle in for the show. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

Varro chuckles, a deep, rich sound that makes me think of how warm his embrace was last night, how arousing it was with our bodies notched together so closely I could feel his cock pulse against me.

“Careful, Laura. Keep looking at me like that, and we might have a repeat of last night.”

His words spark heat to my cheeks, which arcs to my clit at the memory of our kiss—the way his lips felt against mine, the taste of him on my tongue. I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure.

“I thought we agreed to take things slow,” I remind him, but there’s no real conviction in my voice.

Varro shrugs, the motion causing his muscles to flex in a way that makes my mouth dry. “As you wish. But just so you know, I’m not opposed to… dancing with you again.”

I laugh, shaking my head at his boldness. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He flashes me a grin, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “So I’ve been told, although back in Rome, I was more likely to be told I was a worthless wretch, no more than a beast in my master’s stable.”

Trying not to let Varro see my wince, I turn my head and pretend to scratch my lip, trying not to let him see the pain spike across my expression. I’m an expert on ancient Roman customs and culture. It doesn’t make me approve of the sadistic way the masters treated their slaves.

As he returns to his work, I let my mind wander to more pleasant things. I imagine what it would be like to explore this thing between us, to give in to the desire simmering just beneath the surface. But I know we can’t rush it, not with so much at stake.

We need to focus on survival first, on building a life here on this island. The rest… well, the rest can wait.

But as I watch Varro, his skin glistening with sweat, his muscles straining with each swing of the sword, I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll be able to resist the temptation.

Because every moment spent with him, every shared laugh and heated glance, only serves to deepen the connection between us, to stoke the flames of a fire that has already ignited and threatens to flare even hotter.