“So,” Harper said moments later, as their waiter left with their orders. “You know about my little business. How about you? Have you always been a hunter?”
Drina smiled wryly at the “little business” bit. She doubted men with little businesses had helicopters, BMWs, and diamond-encrusted watches like the one Harper was wearing this evening. But she didn’t comment on any of that, and merely said, “No.”
Harper raised an eyebrow. “No?” he asked with disbelief. “That’s it?”
“No, Harper?” she suggested mildly, but knew her eyes were twinkling with amusement and gave up teasing him. “Okay. Let’s see. .” She considered her past, and then smiled wryly and shook her head. “Well, I was a perfume maker, Amazone, concubine, a duchess, a pirate, a madam, and then a hunter.”
Harper’s eyebrows had slid up his forehead as she rattled off her résumé. Now he cleared his throat and said, “Right, let’s start at the beginning. I believe that was a perfume maker?”
Drina chuckled and nodded. “My father first settled in Egypt, my mother was Egyptian. It’s where I was born. Women had a lot more freedom there. We were actually considered equal to men, well mostly anyway. Certainly more equal than in other cultures,” she added dryly. “We could own businesses, sign contracts, and actually work and make a living rather than be a burden to our fathers or male relatives.”
“And you grew up to be a perfume maker,” Harper murmured.
“My mother wanted me to be a seshet, a scribe,” she explained with a grimace. “But I was fascinated by scent, how the blending of them could create another wholly different aroma and so on.” She smiled, and added, “It turns out I was very good at it. The rich came from far and wide to buy my scents. I made a very good living, owned my own large home and servants and all without having to have a man at my side. It was the good life,” she said with a grin that faded quickly. Heaving a sigh, she then added, “But the Romans arrived and ruined everything. Those bloody idiots invaded everywhere and brought their more archaic laws with them. Women were not equal in Roman society.” She scowled, and then a smile began to tug at her lips again. “I couldn’t run a business under their rule, but I could fight. I became a female gladiator. Amazones they called us.”
“After the Amazons I suppose?”
Drina nodded, and said dryly, “The Romans were as lacking in imagination as they were intelligence.”
Harper chuckled at her snide words, and she smiled.
“I wasn’t a gladiator long. It just wasn’t very challenging. The mortal gladiators were slower, weaker, and easy for me to defeat. It felt like cheating. I did try to avoid ‘to the death’ fights. That would have just been, well, like slaughtering sheep,” she said with distaste.
Harper nodded with understanding, and then they both fell silent and sat back as their waiter returned with the bottle of wine Harper had ordered. The man opened and poured a small amount in Harper’s glass for him to try, and when he nodded approval, quickly filled both glasses. He assured them their meal would follow directly, and then slipped away.
“So beating up mortal gladiators was no fun, and you gave it up to become. .” He arched an eyebrow. “A concubine, was it?”
Drina chuckled at his expression. “Well, not just like that. Some time passed.” She paused to take a sip of wine, smiled as the smooth flavor filled her mouth, and then swallowed, and said, “In retrospect, I think the concubine gig was my rebellious stage. I did behave and live with my family, playing the dutiful daughter for a while before that. But it was very hard. After having tasted the freedom of living and ruling my own life, to suddenly be reduced to a dependent child was very frustrating.” She blew out an irritated breath at the memory.
“Ah,” Harper nodded with understanding. “Yes, I suppose it would be.”
“Perhaps, had I started out living in that sort of society and hadn’t tasted freedom, I would have handled it better,” Drina said thoughtfully. “But I wasn’t, so I didn’t take well to being ruled by a man. At least not with Stephano doing the bossing.”
“Your father?” Harper asked.
“No, my eldest brother. He was named after our father. Our parents died when the Romans first invaded, and Stephano then became the “head of the family.” She grimaced. “He and I are like oil and water. Or we were. We get along well enough now, though.” She grinned. “But boy did he pitch a fit over the concubine thing. He even called in Uncle Lucian to deal with me.”
Harper’s eyebrows rose. “I’m surprised Lucian bothered to intervene.”
“Well, it wasn’t just the concubine thing. I was a couple of centuries old by then, and I suppose my being a concubine wouldn’t have bothered him if I hadn’t stepped over the line.” She hesitated, and then sighed and said, “As you probably have experienced, mortals become boring as lovers and partners after a while.”
He nodded solemnly. “Easily read and controlled, it’s hard not to give in to the temptation to do so.”
“Yes, well. .” Drina grimaced. “I’m afraid while I was seen as a concubine, I was really playing puppet master with my lover and kind of ruling the country through him. At least until Uncle Lucian caught wind of it and came to give me hell.”
Harper started to laugh, and then asked, “Who was he?”
Drina shook her head at once. It was just too embarrassing to admit. She’d nearly caused a civil uprising with her messing about, which was why her uncle had intervened. “Perhaps I’ll tell you one day, but not tonight.”
“Hmm, I’ll hold you to that,” Harper assured her.
Drina shrugged.
“So, next was duchess, I believe?” he asked.
“Yes, that was sometime later. I was suitably chastened after the concubine business. Enough to behave for a while again. We moved to Spain in that time, and the Spanish were as bad as the Romans when it came to women’s place in society. But eventually I grew weary of Stephano bossing me about again. And then I met a very handsome and charming duke, who quite swept me off my feet.”
“You’ve had a life mate?” Harper asked with surprise.
Drina shook her head. “No. But unlike most people, his thoughts were as lovely and charming as his words. He was an honest man.”
“A rarity,” Harper murmured solemnly.
“Yes. I quite liked him, and he truly loved me and asked me to marry him, and I agreed, promising myself I wouldn’t control him or do anything like I had with. . er. . when I was a concubine.”
“And did you?” he asked curiously.
Drina delayed answering by taking another sip of wine, but when a knowing smile began to tug at his lips, she gave up trying to think of a way of avoiding the question, and defended, “It’s very hard not to when you know you’re right, and he’s just being a stubborn git.”
Harper burst out laughing again, and she shook her head. “Anyway, he was only a duke, so it wasn’t like I was ruling a country and risking civil riots, but still I felt bad about it every time I did take control. I also felt bad because I was keeping him from having an heir, which I knew he wanted.”
“You didn’t wish to have a child with him?” Harper asked curiously.
Drina frowned and shook her head. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. But it seemed cruel. Our child would be immortal, and aside from the increased risk of revealing what we were, he or she would have to leave when I did. It seemed cruel to give him a child, and then take him or her away.”