His Only Love

By Lizzie Ashworth

Treachery of the worst kind unfolds on the border of Rome’s grip in Britannia, a frontier fortress at the River Severn where the army’s tenuous hold teeters in the balance of old loves and vicious rivalry.

Greek slave Antius has held onto the hope that someday the love of his life will love him in return. But that man, Legate Lucius Antistius Marcellus, ranks high in the social circles of Rome, and Antius is in no position to make demands. Since Marcellus has taken a savage Briton girl to his bedchambers, hope is slipping away. Antius has nothing left but to agree with Silverus, tribune of the 1st Cohort, that Marcellus risks not only his future but the future of Rome’s Legio XIV Gemina under his command.

But Antius knows that Silverus has a private agenda regarding Marcellus, even if the two men can’t renew old relations within military ranks. As Saturnalia dawns and the legion prepares for the midwinter celebration, Antius faces the disaster he set in motion. The Roman governor over all Britannia will soon arrive at the remote fortress. As legate, Marcellus must welcome the governor with full Roman hospitality. Because of the note Antius sent, the governor will demand the captured Briton woman.

Marcellus doesn’t react kindly when he learns of Antius’ deception. Suffering his beloved master’s wrath, Antius turns to his beautiful young slave Quintus. For months he has waited to deepen that relationship, savoring each moment of the youth’s company. As Antius stumbles through the cold wind and hurries toward Quintus’ shelter, he hopes to carve out a few hours of pleasure in Quintus’ fireside bed.

What happens when Marcellus punishes Silverus and Antius for their treachery? Can the relationship Antius holds so dear survive his master’s fury?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lizzie Ashworth
• Release date: Nov 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781311523822

Lizzie Ashworth

I love to write! Which is a good thing, because no matter what I'm doing, my brain edits sentences, selects or discards words, equivocates over paragraph formation. My file cabinet is stuffed with folders full of ideas, scenes, and half-finished work.My favorite part of writing is description. I want my readers to see, smell, hear, and feel what is going on in the story as if they are there. I can't think of many things as wonderful as those hours when words are pouring through my head and spilling out onto the page, creating a physical world full of passionate people!Other pursuits have taken up parts of my life--a technical profession for a career, children, questionable progress in learning to watercolor. I enjoy cooking, gardening, and time at the Pacific coast. Sunrise and sunset create special moods for me, the twilight between two worlds--fully of creative energy. Most of all, I love snuggling up with a good book.

Book preview

His Only Love

A Gay Erotica Novelette

in the historical romance series Caerwin & Marcellus

by Lizzie Ashworth

His Only Love

A Gay Erotica Novelette

in the historical romance series Caerwin & Marcellus

by Lizzie Ashworth

His Only Love Copyright 2017 Lizzie Ashworth

2nd Edition 2020

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. This book is copyright material and must not be copied, translated, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the author, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Certain events and minor characters in this story are factual and based on

historical accounts of Ancient Rome.

…every man loves himself more than all the rest of men

Marcus Aurelius

(121 AD – 180 AD)

His Only Love

50 AD

Roman encampment near Shrewsbury, England

Even with his cloak wrapped firmly around his legs and a sheepskin over his shoulders, Antius shivered at the small table by the principia entry. The wretched weather of this forsaken island had become even more miserable with a stiff wind sending icy drafts into every corner of the fortress. But it wasn’t the cold alone that chilled Antius.

The governor would arrive later today. A disaster Antius had set in motion would unfold. When Marcellus found out what he’d done… His stomach knotted.

The heavy sheepskin pelt stank of animal scent, part of the misery he’d come to expect of these savage lands and its uncivilized inhabitants. And the wretched cold—nothing like the friendly climes of Rome or the sunny hillsides of his native Greece. His careful script suffered from the cramp in his hand. If Marcellus hadn’t required his presence, he would have long since abandoned this frigid hall and returned to his bedchamber at the praetorium.

As another man entered the hall and gave his name, Antius sighed, flexed his shoulders, and scrawled the words on his list. By the normal standards of the Roman army, such duties fell to a junior officer serving under the legion’s commander. But few normal standards applied at this godforsaken place. Of Legio XIV Gemina’s original commanders, only Marcellus survived.

Thank the gods, he whispered, sending a silent message to the mighty Jupiter. Marcellus was too young, too beautiful, to die on a savage’s crude sword. Of some things, Antius could still feel grateful.

The door banged as Marcellus arrived at the principia entry, bringing with him a gust of icy air. Antius’ gaze riveted on his master. The wolf pelt on his shoulders and the thick fabric of his white tunic and red cloak accentuated his noble masculine stature. Many years had passed since they were first tutor and student, and still Marcellus retained the boyish charm that had captured Antius’ heart. Manhood and years of military service had broadened his shoulders, matured his perfect musculature, and added a few scars and worry lines to his face, but that added rather than detracted from his magnificence.

If only they’d never come here. If only Marcellus had never met that Brittunculi, that lupa... Antius sighed.

Are they all here? Marcellus said as he stood near Antius, hands on his hips, to study the room. Groups of men clustered at two hearths with their massive fires, tribunes and centurions dressed with heavy cloaks and skins over their regular clothing.

Only Silverus remains absent, Antius said. Shall I send someone?

No, send no one. He chose the wrong time to confront me, Marcellus said in a rough voice. He’ll be along.

The big door eased open again to admit Quintus. The young slave’s unruly blond hair flew about his bare head. He clutched part of a bear fur in his hands as he squatted next to Antius. Marcellus cast a brief glance in his