BooksBarbecue
Back The House with the Golden Door Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR
  3. PRAISE FOR
  4. Dedication
  5. 75 CE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. FLORALIA
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. LEMURIA
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. NEMORALIA
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 76 CE
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. EPILOGUE
  59. AFTERWORD
  60. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

She walks over, the wine still hot in her veins, and stands beside him. Spread out below is a familiar diagram. Herophilus’s explanation for the circulation of the blood. Amara stares at it. She has read the words many times before, but in this moment, she cannot process any of them. All she can see is Philos’s hand resting on the parchment. She lays her own over it and turns to face him. He is gazing at her, as if waiting to see what she does. It reminds her of Felix, both of them standing at the desk, and the thought makes her feel suddenly uncertain.

Philos takes her free hand, laying it over his heart. “Do you want me to leave?” His voice is so quiet it is almost a whisper, even though there is nobody to overhear.

Amara leans forward, closing her eyes as their lips touch. She feels the thud of his heartbeat under her palm, then he is kissing her back, the pair of them almost stumbling over in mutual eagerness. Philos has clasped hold of her, his hands running over her shoulders, over the red silk Rufus bought, and she is leaning against the desk, pulling his body against hers, blinded by desire. Then just as suddenly, she realizes he is pushing her away, trying to disentangle himself. She lets go immediately.

“I’m sorry.” He is breathing hard. “I’m so sorry.” Philos puts a hand to his mouth. “I should never have touched you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says, reaching out to reassure him. “It was my choice. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I wanted you to touch me.”

He does not take her outstretched hand. “But you wouldn’t if you knew.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve not been honest with you.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“Me?” Amara repeats, thoroughly confused.

Philos looks agitated. “I drew up the contract,” he says. “When Rufus took over as your patron from Pliny. I didn’t have any choice. Rufus didn’t want you to know about it.” He starts pacing in the small space of the study, and Amara watches in bewilderment. “I always meant to tell you, to warn you, but when you arrived here you were so upset about Dido, I couldn’t bear to hurt you even more. And then I thought perhaps it was better if you never knew.”

Amara sits down against the desk, alarmed now as well as confused. “What’s there to know? The contract just transfers patronage from one man to the other.”