“I understand you’ve … declined all your potential husbands.”

Tibi froze. Aware that her inability to secure a husband had not only enraged her father but had made her a joke, she was mortified to think of Alexius laughing about her behind her back. “Are you mocking me?”

“No. If anything, I admire your unwillingness to accept just any man for a husband.”

“I haven’t declined all of them,” she admitted, enraptured by his nearness and the intensity of his silver eyes enough to speak without subterfuge. “They don’t want me.”

Tibi tugged free of his grasp, regretting the loss of contact the same instant. To her chagrin, his easy release of her hand when moments before he’d insisted on holding her smacked of rejection.

“Then they must have been deaf and blind, as well as ignorant.”

Startled by the unexpected compliment, she reminded herself that Alexius charmed women with the ease of a cobra mesmerizing prey. And he was just as dangerous. To her, perhaps more so.

Dear Reader,

I’m often asked where I get the inspiration for my characters. Most of the time I don’t even know myself, but The Champion was a little different. Tibi and Alexius’s story is similar to the early relationship between my own parents. My mom was raised in a difficult home, and my father was the baby of a big loving family. When they met and married they were happy, but they knew something was missing.

Through the testimony of their friends and family, they realized they needed Christ to forgive their mistakes and make them complete. Though their journey to faith was quiet, it was genuine. They spent the next forty years planting churches, sharing their faith and inspiring others. This month they’ll have been married fifty-three years and are closer than ever.

Although I may not usually know where my inspiration to create my characters comes from, I always see them in their later years as similar to my parents, having lived long lives of faith, loving each other and surrounded by their happy families. I pray for these same blessings for you and your loved one.

I hope you’ve enjoyed Tibi, Alexius and my two other Roman-set stories, The Gladiator and The Protector.

I love to hear from my readers. Please visit my website, www.carlacapshaw.com, and/or write to me at Carla@carlacapshaw.com. Be inspired,

Carla Capshaw

The Champion

Carla Capshaw

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Blessed are those who hear the word of God, and keep it.

—Luke 11:28

My parents, Kenneth and Patricia Hughes.

Everyone should be as blessed to have parents like you!

Your fifty plus years of marriage and decades of ministerial service have shown me true love and true faith do exist in a world that constantly questions both. I love you with all my heart.

Chapter One

Rome, AD 84

“You’re useless, Tibi. You’ve been nothing but a disappointment since the day you were born.”

Numb to her father’s constant condemnation, Tibi stared out the open window of her family’s Palatine home. Except for a few distant cook fires dotting the nearby hills, darkness covered Rome like a thick, heavy blanket. The night was still and silent as though it waited to learn Tibi’s fate.

“Lepidus was the last man of good family willing to wed you,” Tiberius continued to rant. “If he wanted to sample you before the wedding, who are you to object? Instead of welcoming his advances, as you should have done, you reaffirmed your willful reputation and denied him at every turn. Little wonder he stormed from here with no wish to see you again. No man wants a disobedient wife. Not even when her father is willing to pay a fortune to be rid of her.”

Tibi winced, but remained silent. She’d stopped defending herself years ago when she realized that her father always sided against her.

“Why the gods cursed me with two daughters and took my adopted son is beyond my ken, but at least your sister over there had the decency to bring political connections to this house when she wed Senator Tacitus three years ago. As for you, you’re a disgrace.”

In the face of her father’s condemnation, she’d forgotten that Tiberia, her elder, more winsome sister, sat in an alcove near the inner courtyard. Closing her eyes, Tibi breathed in deep to ward off an onslaught of total humiliation. The sweetness of her perfume mocked her earlier decision to forgo the formless linen tunics and comfortable shoes she preferred in favor of feminine silks and the bejeweled sandals now pinching her toes. Despite her father’s belief that she went out of her way to foil all his plans for her, she’d prepared for tonight with care in an effort to please her family and make a good impression on her intended groom.

Shivering from the cool night air, she rubbed the tender spot on her upper arm where Lepidus had grabbed her. He’d cornered her in the shadows of one of the garden columns, then tried to force himself on her while the other guests cheered the gladiatorial contest her father had arranged for their entertainment. She’d narrowly escaped Lepidus’s mauling by biting his lip and refusing to let go until he released her. Neither he nor her father had considered her self-defense justified. Lepidus had stormed from the house, vowing revenge on her shameless behavior and leaving her to bear the brunt of her father’s wrath.

“Four broken betrothals, Tibi. Four. I’m at the end of my patience with you.”

Tibi tightened her jaw to keep from scoffing. When had he ever been patient with her? As a child she’d wondered why he tolerated her elder sister, Tiberia, yet ignored her. She’d tried to gain his love by being quiet and obedient, two traits her mother assured her would lead to his affection, but he continued to regard her as less important than the rugs he trod upon.

As she’d grown older, she realized that she disappointed her father simply by being a girl. The knowledge killed any hope of winning his affection. Instead, she’d worked to earn his respect and shone in areas traditionally reserved for boys. She’d studied history, astronomy and philosophy. She knew how to read and write Latin, as well as speak Greek. She excelled at archery and practiced athletics at the bath’s gymnasium. But she remained a failure in his eyes.

“Look at me,” Tiberius demanded sharply.

Tibi forced her feet to comply and turned around to face him. Aware of the bitterness oozing from her soul, she avoided looking at him directly and studied the lantern-lit room beyond his shoulder. A whiff of incense was the last trace of the disastrous banquet held earlier. Slaves had cleared the colorful room of dishes and swept the mosaic tiles clean. The low couches the diners reclined on while eating had been restored to their proper places against the frescoed walls.

“Your mother coddled you, insisting I waste coin on tutors that gave you the mistaken impression that your opinion counts the same as a man’s,” he sneered. “However, if you were wise, you’d understand that at eighteen years old, you’re well past a ripe marriage age. A girl is a drain on her family if she doesn’t marry for connections. Since no acceptable man will have you, I’m taking you to the temple of Opis tomorrow—”

Both girls gasped in unison. Tibi’s heart kicked with alarm. Her appalled gaze darted to her father’s angry visage. As she expected, his narrowed eyes radiated his antipathy.

“Father, please.” Tiberia, silent until now, rose elegantly from a bench placed beneath one of the archways leading to the garden. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? Perhaps Antonius—”

“Quiet! If I want your counsel I’ll ask for it, daughter. Your husband has already done all I can expect of him by arranging this gathering tonight. Even with his far-flung and lofty contacts, Tibi’s reputation for humiliating men precedes her. It was no simple task for him to snare Lepidus’s interest.”

Like Jupiter condemning mankind from the summit of Olympus, Tiberius jabbed his index finger in Tibi’s direction. “That…that girl has embarrassed me for the last time. If she won’t bring honor to this house through marriage, I’ll see that she fulfills her duty to this family another way and buy her a position as a priestess. Who better for her to serve than the goddess of abundance and fertility? She can attempt to garner blessings for all of us. Who knows? She might even be able to correct your failure as a wife and wrangle a child for you in the bargain.”

Tibi’s stomach churned. The threat of having to perform fertility rites caused her palms to begin to sweat. The room seemed to swirl. “No—”

“Cease.” Tiberius pinned her with a livid glare, his full cheeks bright red with fury. “How dare you presume to say no to me? I’m your father. Not some wretch you can chase off with your contrary ways.”

Horrified, Tibi watched him stalk toward her, an unnatural gleam in his eyes.

“Get to your room before I club you,” he ordered, his lips almost purple in his rage. “And don’t come down until you’re sent for. I can’t bear to look at you a moment longer.”

Brimming with resentment, she forced herself to keep silent before glancing toward the front door and the freedom beyond the heavy stone portal.

Tiberius lunged toward her, his fist clenched. She sped past him and up the stairs to her room. A servant had lit a fat candle on the dressing table in the far corner. Careful not to slam the door for fear of invoking more of her father’s ire, she closed the wood panel behind her and collapsed against it. Her heart was racing as much from her father’s threats as from her own anger. At times like this she missed her mother most. Not that Cornelia would have gone against her husband’s dictates, but she would have been a shoulder to lean on until Tibi’s punishment was carried out.

Despondent, she crossed to the dressing table and removed the diadem of sapphires and gold pins from her blond hair before braiding the long tresses into a single plait that hung to the small of her back. The candlelight illuminated the polished metal mirror hanging on the wall in front of her. She studied the distorted reflection of herself.

Unlike her dark, classically beautiful sister, she was an oddity, not only in looks with her light hair and pale skin, but in her thoughts and deeds as well. A proper woman was meant to be meek, to thrive only in the shadow of her husband and accept his opinions as her own. Little wonder no man had been willing to put up with her when what she longed for most was to be appreciated for herself.

A knock sounded on the door. “Open,” Tiberia called. “Father ordered me to stay with you until morning.”

Tibi gritted her teeth. She flung the door wide and glared at her sister. “From senator’s wife to prison guard all in one evening, Tiberia? How proud you must be.”

Tiberia rolled her dark brown eyes. “By the gods, Tibi, you cause your own misery.” Her regal sister strolled into the room. The glitter of her jewels and the opulence of her red silk stola declared her status as a woman of wealth and social importance. “I’ve been telling you for years if you’d guard your tongue and do what’s expected, life would flow more smoothly for you.”

“You believe I should have allowed Lepidus to molest me?” Tibi asked sharply.

“I think it would have made no difference.” Tiberia drifted across the room to Tibi’s dressing table and began to straighten the perfume bottles and jars of cosmetics into a line. “The marriage contract was ready to be signed. Once you were wed, you would have belonged to him to do with as he liked anyway.”

Tibi bristled with indignation. She’d expected as much from her sister, who was a firm believer in the established order, but it hurt that her own flesh and blood couldn’t be counted on to side with her.

“However, it seems that the matter is neither here nor there,” Tiberia continued. “Your chance to marry walked out the door along with Lepidus. Father was serious about offering you to the temple tomorrow.”

“I was just as serious about not going,” Tibi said, her spine taut. “He doesn’t believe it, but I want very much to wed and have children of my own someday.”

“One would never know by the way you cast off suitors.”

She considered the long list of fortune hunters, old men and toads like Lepidus her father had wooed on her behalf. “I realize I’m no prize,” Tibi said. “But surely there’s at least one man in the province who will want to wed me for me and not Father’s wealth or your husband’s social rank.”

“You speak of love?” Tiberia’s tone mocked her. “How did you become so fanciful?”

“I’m talking about respect.” Tiberia’s attitude annoyed her, especially when her sister’s marriage had been celebrated as a rare love match. “When did you become a cynic?”

“I’m not cynical. I’m realistic enough to accept the world for what it is. I was fortunate to marry a highly acceptable man who returned my affections, but even if I’d despised him, I’d have wed him. Marriage is for personal and familial honor…social position…security…legitimate children. Much more serious issues than simple emotion.”

“That’s easily said when you have all that you hope for.”

“No one has all they hope for. Why should you be different? Father has no son. I have yet to give my husband his longed-for heir. My husband’s desired advancement within the Senate is far from certain.” Tiberia’s jaw tightened. “Listen to me. Respect can be earned and love is fleeting, Tibi. Men who fall in love can fall out again just as quickly. If lasting love and respect are what you want, join the temple. Do your duty to your family, bask in the affections of the goddess’s patrons, then seek your passions later wherever you happen to find them.”

Caught between the reality of her choices and her heart’s desire, Tibi shook her head emphatically. “How can I enter the temple when I’m not even certain I believe in the gods—”

“Say no more!” Tiberia fumbled the glass bottle she held, but caught it before it crashed to the floor. “It’s bad enough you’ve disgraced us all tonight, but do you want to invoke the displeasure of our ancestors and the deities as well?”

Tibi stood from the bed and began to pace the rectangular room. The floor tiles were almost as cold as her father’s heart toward her. The walls seemed to be closing in like a trap.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve followed Pelonia’s bad example and become one of those Christians.” Tiberia shuddered delicately. “You know I love Pelonia with all my heart. I can’t wait to see her when she arrives in Rome tomorrow, but her choice of religion and husband leaves much to be desired.”

Tibi stopped by the window. The cool night air ruffled the flaxen curls framing her face as she looked blindly into the night. Hope flickered inside her like the candle on the dressing table. In the chaos of the banquet preparations and the ensuing catastrophe she’d forgotten about their cousin’s visit. The reminder helped lessen her gloom. At last she began to see a twinkle of light in the darkness. If anyone might help her, Pelonia and her husband, Caros, might. Like her, they understood what it was to live on the edge of acceptability.

“I disagree,” Tibi murmured. “You and Father may see them as mismatched, but Pelonia adores Caros while he practically worships her and their sons. As for their religion, at least they believe in a God of love—”

“Enough.” Tiberia shook her head and eyed Tibi with exasperation. “Why do you have to be so blunt and disagreeable? Not everything has to be a contest of opinions. I realize that Pelonia leads a life charmed by Fortune, but she married a lowly gladiator. Those men are animals—foreigners and criminals who deserve to die in the sand.”

“Tiberia—!”

“And,” Tiberia continued undaunted, “if she doesn’t keep her choice of religion a secret she might find herself sentenced to the arena again. Is that what you want? To shame your family more than you already have? To be pitied everywhere you go because you threw yourself away on an ex-slave?”

Although she’d known Tiberia hated Caros for once enslaving their cousin three years earlier, she was stunned by Tiberia’s vehemence. The former lanista had repented of his ways long ago and proven to be a marvelous husband. No one outside their own family pitied Pelonia. If anything, women from Rome to Umbria secretly envied her.

“Better an ex-slave who’s handsome, rich and adores me,” Tibi said, “than to sacrifice my life serving a goddess I don’t believe in. As for shaming my family, didn’t you hear Father? I’ve been a disappointment since the day I was born. Truly, I’m certain he considers it a shame that I was ever born.”

The silence lingered. Tiberia couldn’t refute a fact they both knew to be true. She turned sharply on her heel and sought out the cushioned chair near the door. Her thoughts in a tumble, Tibi renewed her pacing. Certain she was beyond the reaches of prayer, she fully believed her father planned to be free of her one way or the other.

Somehow she had to escape to the Ludus Maximus before sunrise or her father would have a chance to carry out his threat. Caros had sold the ludus two years earlier to Alexius of Iolcos, but he and Pelonia stayed there when they returned from Umbria for several weeks each spring.

Tibi only hoped her cousin’s plans hadn’t changed without warning. If they had made other arrangements, she’d find herself facing Alexius and the mortification that would smother her if he learned the reason behind her current predicament.

A vision of piercing eyes the color of liquid silver formed in her mind’s eye. She slowed to a stop in the center of the bedchamber. Ever since she’d first met Alexius three years ago, she’d steered clear of the Greek as much as possible when she visited her cousins to avoid the peculiar way he affected her senses. Just the sound of his softly accented voice infused her with warmth.

She shook her head, determined not to dwell on the darkly handsome lanista or the way his quick smile seemed to melt her bones. Although he could have retired from the games when he took over the Ludus Maximus, Alexius preferred to fight. He remained Rome’s premier gladiatorial champion, a titan who stirred rumors as much for his womanizing as for his bloodlust and lack of pity in the arena.

And I’d be a fool to let myself become enamored with a man as callous as Father.

Not that Alexius had ever made the slightest overture toward her, she mused as she exchanged the silk she wore for a tunic of dark gray wool. In truth, the Greek seemed just as intent on evading her as she was determined to avoid him. Which didn’t surprise her, since females all over Rome vied for his attention and she was a woman no man wanted.

At the basin, she cleansed her face, wishing she could wash away the knowledge that she was a failure both to her family and as a woman as easily as she removed the kohl and rouge from her pale skin.

Once Tiberia fell asleep, Tibi quietly packed a small pouch of coins, three fresh tunics, several pieces of jewelry to sell if need be and a few other necessities into a leather satchel. Wondering if her plan to escape was brave or foolhardy, she reminded herself that she had no other option unless she wished to join the temple.

Icy fingers of disgust crept across the back of her neck. She made haste and secured a sheathed knife to her belt for protection before making her way into the dimly lit hall. Downstairs, she slipped past the guard who’d fallen asleep in the courtyard and silently out the door.

Taking a deep breath of crisp night air, she brushed off her fear of the eerily deserted streets and kept to the shadows as she hurried in the direction of the gladiator school.

Alexius of Iolcos set down his chalice of wine, rattled the dice in his hand and cast the ivory pieces onto the scarred wooden table. Seeing the winning roll, the bevy of beauties surrounding him clapped and shrieked like inebriated water nymphs. His opponents’ agonized groans competed with the revelry of his many guests and the wandering musicians whose bawdy songs filled the public rooms of the domus.

Alexius laughed and taunted the other players good-naturedly, although he was less than satisfied with his win. Of late, boredom trailed him without mercy. The endless stream of wine, women and work no longer muted the monstrous rage he constantly fought to keep caged within him. Known for his congenial nature outside the ring, he found it more and more difficult to smile and pretend that his meaningless existence was any more useful than a dry well in a desert.

As lanista of the Ludus Maximus and Rome’s current gladiator champion, he ruled over a kingdom of vice and violence. He had a comfortable life, a better life than a foreigner and once-condemned man had any right to hope for, but he’d known for months that he needed a change for his sanity’s sake.

“Master,” his steward, Velus, said over the music and grousing of the other players, “there’s a woman here to see you.”

“Who is it?” he tossed over his shoulder distractedly as he scooped up his winnings.

The steward’s fidgeting drew Alexius’s full attention. Velus didn’t usually hesitate when he announced the steady stream of female admirers who visited the gladiators on a regular basis. The older man, a dwarf Alexius had saved from certain death as lion fodder in the arena, motioned to come closer and whispered for only his master to hear, “Mistress Pelonia’s cousin, Tiberia the Younger.”

Tibi? Alexius tensed. His smile faltered. He forgot the remaining coins on the tabletop even as his heart began to echo the drums’ frenzied beat. Perhaps—hopefully—he’d misheard.

“Who brought her here?”

“She’s alone.”

He scowled. He usually admired the girl’s untamed spirit, but not when it led her to wander Rome’s dangerous streets at all hours of the night. There was no acceptable reason for a well-born woman to venture out alone a few hours after midnight unless…

“Has there been an accident?” he demanded. “Is she hurt?”

“Not that I know of, master, but she’s adamant to speak with you.”

“Where is she?” Alexius’s gaze circled the smoky room on a quest to find Tibi’s splendid golden hair. He didn’t want her here. The evening may have started out as a coena libera, the solemn last meal for the gladiators scheduled to fight the next afternoon, but had rapidly unraveled into a raucous affair of dancing, games of chance and other debauchery he didn’t want to be responsible for an innocent girl like Tibi to witnessing.

“She’s waiting in your office,” Velus said.

Alexius sent the steward to fetch Tibi something to eat and drink from the banquet table overflowing with fresh fruit, breads, roasted fowl and a variety of fish.

Several of the men and women playing dice with him had wandered over to the food during his exchange with Velus, but a few vultures waited expectantly for any scrap of gossip. Gossip he wasn’t about to feed them. Tibi’s reputation was colorful enough as it was. If she were tattled on for venturing to the gladiator school at this hour, she was bound to suffer trouble with her overbearing father.

Confident that Tibi would go unnoticed in his office, Alexius excused himself from the table as eager to find out the reason for her appearance as to send her safely on her way. As he cut through the maze of revelers, across the central garden and down the long, lantern-lit corridor that separated the house’s public rooms from his private sanctuary, he forced his feet to a slow pace, careful not to betray his interest in the night’s newest development. The girl’s arrival was the first thing to spark any excitement in him in…he couldn’t remember how long.

The thought of Tibi made him smile. Both beautiful, yet unaware of the fact, and classically feminine, but audacious, she was as unique as a sunrise—pleasantly different each time he saw her.

Unfortunately, as the cousin of his friends, Caros and Pelonia, Tibi was one of only a handful of females in all of Rome off-limits to him. Caros had made certain of that when he made Alexius swear to stay away from the girl.

Still…something unfortunate must have happened for her to seek him out. If she needed him, it might prove entertaining for a while to offer his help.

Alexius entered his office to find Tibi pacing in front of the long row of arched windows overlooking the gladiators’ training field. Stars sparkled in the black sky behind her, a serene contrast to her obvious agitation.

He watched her for a long moment, suddenly unable to breathe. In the six months since he’d last seen her, she’d grown even lovelier than he remembered. Candlelight caused her golden braid to shimmer as she walked from one side of the room to the other and her fair skin was as smooth and creamy as a perfect cameo. For a man who enjoyed women of all shapes, sizes and looks, it was a new experience for him to be knocked breathless by the sight of one.

Shaking off her spell, he leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms over his chest and adopted a nonchalant tone. “Hello, Tibi.”

Tibi stilled, then spun to face Rome’s champion. “Hello…Alexius.”

“Why are you here?” he asked. “It’s a bit late—or early—in the day for you to drop by, no?”

Her cheeks burned under the heat of Alexius’s warm regard. Her heart fluttered wildly. Finding herself in his company was even more disconcerting than she remembered. Tall and muscular, he was a vibrant man who filled the room with energy and sent her senses reeling.

She dragged in a deep breath to calm her jangled nerves and swallowed thickly. “I understand Caros and Pelonia are coming to Rome for a visit. I’d hoped they were already here. I need to speak with them.”

Without taking his eyes off her, Alexius left the doorway and crossed the tiled floor to his desk. “I expect them some time today. Tomorrow at the latest.”

“Ah…” Tibi worried at her bottom lip as she struggled to hide her rising desperation. “I’m wasting your time then. I apologize for taking you from your guests.”

“No need to apologize.” He sounded sincere. “I’d much rather be here with you.”

His Greek accent whispered across her skin like the softest caress. Her eyes rounded with surprise before she quickly glanced away. How was it possible for him to touch her without actually touching her? “I must be going. I’ll come back later.”

“Where will you go?” he asked, easing toward her. “It’s the middle of the night. I suspect you can’t go home. You must be in serious trouble to risk the danger of wandering the streets like a common pornai.”

She breathed in his scent of smoke and the heady mix of exotic spices. “It’s nothing. I wished to speak with Pelonia. I…I’ve missed her this past year—that’s all.”

“I can tell you lie as plainly as I can see you’re trembling.” His calloused palms engulfed her cold hands, refusing to release her when she tried to pull away. “Tell me the truth and I’ll free you.”

She stopped struggling. It was no use to fight a man famous for his success in battle. “My father…”

“Go on,” he invited when she fell into silence. “What’s the old dragon done this time?”

Her gaze darted to the shadows dancing on the wall behind him. “He wishes me to wed.”

“No surprise there. He’d already prepared you for sacrifice on the marriage altar when I first met you three years ago. I understand you’ve…declined all your potential husbands.”

She froze. Aware that her inability to secure a husband had not only enraged her father but had made her a joke among the females of her social class, she was mortified to think of Alexius laughing about her with his women behind her back. “Are you mocking me?”

“No. If anything, I respect your unwillingness to accept just any man as a husband.”

“I haven’t declined all of them,” she admitted, disturbed by his nearness and the incandescence of his silver eyes enough to speak without subterfuge. “They don’t want me.”

She tugged free of his grasp, regretting the loss of contact the same instant. To her chagrin, his easy release of her hand when moments before he’d insisted on holding her smacked of rejection.

“Then they must have been deaf and blind as well as ignorant.”

Startled by the unexpected compliment, she reminded herself that Alexius charmed women with the ease of a cobra mesmerizing prey. And he was just as dangerous. To her, perhaps more so. “Now who’s the liar?”

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve no need for falsehoods when it’s easier to speak the truth.” His warm fingertips brushed her cheek and trailed down the sensitive line of her jaw. Gripped by the too-pleasant sensation of his touch, she prayed the dim candlelight disguised her response.

She eased out of his reach and nearly fell backward when she bumped into a table behind her. He reached to steady her, but she righted herself in time to escape his help. Hot-cheeked and mortified by her lack of grace, she was appalled to realize what a challenge it was to string coherent thoughts together when he touched her.

Outside, a rooster crowed. Morning was nearly upon them. Awareness grew between them until a slow smile curved Alexius’s full lips. “Shall we spend the day admiring one another or will you tell me more about why you’re here?”

“I wasn’t admiring you,” she denied. His smirk told her he knew otherwise. Grappling for control of her wayward nerves, she backed away another step and forced herself to concentrate. “As I said, my father wishes me to marry. Last night, he held a banquet.”

“Yes, he hired several of my gladiators for his guests’ entertainment. He sent the largest number of them back untried. Knowing him, he’ll demand I reimburse his fee. He’ll be disappointed.”

“It’s my fault the evening was a failure. The banquet was held in celebration of signing my betrothal contract. Before it was signed, I…I displeased Lepidus, my intended husband. He left amid a storm of indignation. Needless to say, I’m doubtful the agreement will be mended.”

“What did you do?”

“I’d rather not say. It’s…embarrassing.”

Alexius shrugged, not pressing her. “So your father finds a new man. Surely, Tiberius doesn’t want a son-in-law who’s too weak to harness a spirited girl like you anyway, does he?”

Her left eyebrow arched. “I’m not a horse, Alexius.”

He chuckled. “Of course not. But most men want a wife for breeding purposes, so in that regard you’re similar to one, are you not?”

“I see your point. Most men are arrogant barbarians. In that regard I can see you’re sim—”

He laughed, a deep throaty sound that should have annoyed her, but lightened the mood and tempted her to smile instead.

“I’ve always enjoyed your quick mind, Tibi, but go on. I’m intrigued. You were saying that your spineless intended broke the contract.”

Scowling, she continued under duress, her humiliation rising along with the first rays of the sun outside the window. Her father would awaken soon and wonder where she was.

And be murderous when he doesn’t find me.

“Father claims there are no acceptable men left in Rome who will bother with me. He’s decided if I’m to be of any use to my family, he’ll have to buy me a position as a temple priestess in the hope of garnering a blessing on his house.”

“Which order?”

She hesitated. “Opis.”

All humor left Alexius with a swiftness that shocked Tibi. Except for the arena where Alexius was purported to be as solemn as the grave he fought to avoid, he was known for his carefree manner and unique ability to laugh off almost any situation. “Why a priestess?” he asked with deadly calm. “There must be a legion of men in Rome willing to marry a girl with your dowry and family’s connections to Senator Tacitus.”

“He wants to be rid of me.” A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed the pain.

“You think Caros and Pelonia will protect you.” It wasn’t a question. His mood had not lightened. If anything he’d grown more intent, more furious beneath his inscrutable veneer.

“Yes…no.” Her head throbbed with tension. She began to pace the tiles again. Why was Alexius angry? Did he think she’d implicated him in her scheme by coming here? “I don’t know what I thought exactly, just that I had nowhere else to go. My friends will never defy my father. My sister agrees with him as well.”

“I’d expect no less from her,” he scoffed under his breath.

She paused. It was no secret that Tiberia disliked the lower classes, especially gladiators and their trade, but as far as Tibi knew no one ever found fault with her sister. Tiberia was the epitome of what a Roman woman should be—beautiful, graceful and well-connected in her happy marriage. For the first time she noticed Alexius was aware of her sister’s prejudice and that he bore Tiberia no fondness, either. “I suppose I hoped Pelonia and Caros might have a way to hide me or suggest a safe place for me to go outside of Rome until my father forgives me. I realize now that I was—”

“Desperate?”

“Imprudent.”

A half smile curved his lips, but failed to hide the flintiness of his gaze. “I’ll keep you until they return. Then the three of you can decide what to do.”

“No. My father might make trouble for you if he learns you’ve helped me thwart him.”

“You don’t worry he’ll cause problems for Caros and Pelonia if they do the same? They’re Christians—easy targets for anyone who knows their secret and wishes to take aim at them.”

“I’m certain they’re safe or I’d never have come here. Father wants to punish me. He has no wish to shame anyone else in the family—or his good name by association.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to kill your father for harming my friends.” Alexius sat on the edge of his desk and gripped the carved edge on either side of his narrow hips.

“You wouldn’t really murder him, would you?” she asked, frightened by the depth of his calm, yet aware that he was entirely capable of killing and with great ease.

“I’m very protective of my loved ones.”

She thought she saw a flash of pain in his eyes, but it might have been a flicker of the candlelight. “I didn’t intend to cause trouble for you by coming here. I think it’s best that I go.”

“No. Stay until Caros and Pelonia arrive. They’d never forgive me if I allowed you to leave and harm came to you.”

“My family knows they’re on the way. What if my father or sister suspects that I’ve sought them out and comes to search for me here?”

“I won’t let them find you.”

She bit her lower lip, confused by his willingness to help her. The sound of servants performing their morning chores filtered in from the hallway. She was running out of time. If her circumstances were any less dire, she’d never contemplate his offer. As it was… “My family can be very adamant.”

“I’m very convincing.”

She caught her breath, momentarily stunned by his smile, yet encouraged by his confidence. “They may insist on searching the ludus for me.”

He shrugged. “Let them. I’ll enjoy holding them off. I’m in need of a challenge.”

She frowned. “You don’t find battling for your life in the arena enough of a challenge?”

His silver eyes glittered with dangerous amusement. “It’s adequate, but not half as much fun as toying with your unreasonable relatives.”

Chapter Two

Alexius woke to a fist pounding on his chamber door. “Who is it?” He rubbed his eyes and swung his legs over the edge of his sleeping couch. Usually up before first light, he noted the angle of the sun outside his window and judged it to be midmorning. He and his men were expected at the amphitheater within hours.

“Velus, master.”

“Come in,” he said, pulling a fresh tunic over his head.

The steward entered carrying a tray of food that filled the large room with the aroma of fresh bread and roasted pork. The dwarf kicked the door shut behind him with more force than necessary.

“What ails you, Velus? You look as though you’ve downed a bucket of vinegar.”

“Tiberia the Elder is downstairs.”

Alexius frowned. “The shrew has arrived already?”

“She asked to see master Caros’s wife. When I told her Pelonia wasn’t here, she demanded to speak with you.”

“Demanded?” Few people rubbed his skin raw the way Tibi’s self-important sister did. “Have her wait in the entryway.”

“She won’t like that, dominus.”

“I don’t like her,” he said simply.

Velus grunted and set the tray on a side table. “The lady wishes to see her sister.”

“How should I know where Tibi is?” he asked, filling a basin with hot water from an amphora. “I haven’t seen her for—”

“Hours?”

He grinned. “I don’t remember when.”

Velus’s weathered features pinched with confusion. “She’s down the hall—”

“Even if I did know where to find Tibi, I wouldn’t tell Tiberia—or anyone else for that matter. I promised the girl I’d keep her hidden until Caros and Pelonia arrive later today.”

“I understand,” Velus said. “But if you lie to his wife, senator Tacitus might take offense on her behalf and strive to make trouble for you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied, unconcerned. Conditioning his face with a mixture of oils and herbs, he picked up a small, straight-edged razor and began to scrape the bristles from his cheeks.

The Ludus Maximus supplied the games with the best gladiators and the senator’s popularity was down. Tacitus was too canny to risk his reelection by tampering with the mob’s favorite source of entertainment. “It’s not as though he can force me to close my doors because his wife is in a snit.”

“Yes, but if someone took Tibi away without your knowledge you’d be telling the truth when you said you didn’t know her whereabouts.”

“True.” Alexius finished shaving and rinsed the razor in the basin. A slow smile spread across his face as he dried his throat with a square of linen. “Tibi seems to think her sister will insist on searching the ludus for her. If she’s not here, I’ll have no trouble allowing the shrew to look until her heart’s content. When Tibi’s nowhere to be found, Tiberia will look elsewhere and we’ll have bought some time and peace for a while.”

“I’ll find a safe place to take her and report to you once the sister is gone,” Velus assured him.

Alexius laced up his sandals and slid on a pair of silver wristbands before heading toward the door. “Wherever you take Tibi, make certain she’s well-guarded and dressed to go unnoticed. I imagine all that blond hair and creamy skin attracts admirers by the score.”

Velus nodded and followed Alexius into the corridor. The shutters had been folded back from the row of arched windows to allow a bird’s-eye view of the peach orchard. Clear morning light filled the vaulted path to the stairwell. On the first floor, the two men parted company.

Alexius took his time walking to the reception hall. In order to give Velus more of an opportunity to leave with Tibi by way of the back door, he meandered along the inner peristyle, surrounded by the soothing cascade of the fountains and the sweet fragrance of orange blossoms.

“So you’ve finally deigned to arrive,” Tiberia screeched the moment he entered the brightly painted room. “You took long enough, gladiator.”

“I saw no reason to hurry.”

Tiberia’s dark eyes narrowed. She rose from the plush blue cushions of her chair, the voluminous folds of her white stola pooling at her feet. “Your dwarf informed me that my cousin hasn’t yet returned to Rome. However, I believe my sister, Tibi, came here to look for her last night. Fetch her for me. My father insists I bring her home.”

Hackles rose on the back of Alexius’s neck. His gaze slid to the display of weapons hanging on the wall above the hearth. He didn’t take orders well, but he controlled his irritation and maintained a tolerant expression. “Then why didn’t he bother to come here himself?”

“I offered, in hopes that he’d calm down before we returned. He’s furious enough to do her serious bodily harm.”

“Then she was wise to leave.”

“It’s no concern of yours, gladiator.”

“That may be. Either way, you’ve wasted your time. Your sister isn’t here, mistress. If I see her, I’ll convey the message.”

“You lie. I know she’s here. Only Pelonia is kind-hearted enough to take her in.”

“It seems to me a sister should be just as kind.”

Her expression soured. “Why would I risk my father’s good opinion of me for a bumbler like Tibi?”

“A bumbler?” Raised with a gaggle of close but competitive sisters, Alexius recognized the jealous comment for what it was. Few women were as graceful as Tibi. “How so?”

“What I mean is…she’s brought the situation upon herself.”

“What situation?” Alexius asked, pretending ignorance in an attempt to learn the details Tibi declined to confide in him. “Does it have anything to do with the reason my men were sent home untested last night?”

Tiberia flushed, but said no more to enlighten him. A citrus-scented breeze carried in from the central garden, rustling the potted palms near the open doorway. “You’ll have to discuss the use of your men with my father. Now, call Tibi for me. You’ve delayed me long enough.”

“I told you she isn’t here. And I suggest you tread lightly before calling me a liar again.”

Tiberia had the wit to put distance between them. “You do grasp that my husband has the power to order a search of this villainous den?”

“There’s no need for the senator to trouble himself. Ask nicely and you’re free to look for your sister now as long as you wish.”

Tiberia moved behind the chair and glared at him. With her haughty expression—as hard as one of the marble columns supporting the painted ceiling—she made it clear that she considered him less than human. To ask him for anything was an affront to her kind’s belief in her own superiority. He recognized the signs well. Other than his loving family, people had always looked down on him. First for being a poor farmer’s son, then for his life as a slave-turned-gladiator. He waited, his expression placid and betraying none of his desire to toss her into the street. If not for his esteem for her cousins, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“What will it be?” he asked, losing patience when she remained silent. “I’m expected at the arena. I have business to attend to.”

She raised her chin and attempted to look down her sharp nose at him. “I have several trusted slaves waiting for me outside. I’ll have them search the house and grounds.”

“I’ll inform my steward,” he said, pleased she’d taken the bait. Once she left to gather her people, Velus appeared in the doorway, his round face flushed, his breathing labored. “Is all well with you, Velus? You look as though you’ve run the marathon.”

The steward ambled into the room and closed the door behind him. “Everything is as it should be, master.”

“Excellent. Where did you take Tibi?”

“I’ve sent her to the arena.”

Alexius’s heart stopped. “You did what?”

Velus blanched, obviously realizing he’d made a rare misstep. “I thought she’d be well-protected with your men. I gave her slave’s garb and made Darius responsible for keeping her safe. No one in her family will suspect she’s there.”

“How could you possibly think that beautiful girl would be safe surrounded by men who plan to face death within hours?” Alexius grabbed a gladius from the display of weapons on the far wall and ran for the back of the house. He was shaking with fury and a sickening, unfamiliar sensation he could only equate to fear.

Outside in the courtyard, he called for his horse and vaulted into the saddle the moment his slave delivered the gray stallion.

Velus arrived on the doorstep, wringing his stubby hands.

“See to the shrew,” Alexius ordered over his shoulder as he spurred the horse through the gates. And if the gods have any mercy, I’ll see to her sister before my men do.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Darius, the young, ginger-haired gladiator trainer Velus had charged to ensure Tibi’s protection. Rather than calming her, Darius’s warning served to raise her anxiety as she followed Alexius’s troupe through the torch-lit path leading into the dank underbelly of the Coliseum.

“The competitors from the other ludi are slaves for the most part,” Darius continued. “They’re shackled and weaponless until moments before they’re armed and released to fight in the arena. If one of them escapes and happens to notice you’re a woman he wishes to molest, we’ll keep you safe.”

His dubious tone suggested such an event was as likely as the arena crumbling around them. Convinced that any slave given the option of running for freedom or ravishing her meager charms would choose freedom every time, Tibi tried to relax and reminded herself that she was here by choice. Although the circumstances were less than ideal, a few hours in the protective custody of gladiators were preferable to a lifetime of servitude to a goddess she didn’t believe in.

Unable to see through the wall of burly warriors encircling her, Tibi tugged the cowl of her dark wool cloak more tightly around her face. The distant roar of lions and the clang of metal against metal echoed in the passageway, competing with the thunderous din of the crowd that bled down the stairwells from the upper levels.

In the staging area, pandemonium reigned. The noise of hundreds of men and beasts reverberated through the cavernous space. Air whooshed through huge bellows, stoking fires used not only for light but for blacksmiths forging hasty repairs on a variety of iron weapons. Big cats—lions, tigers, spotted leopards—prowled in cages stacked against the pitted concrete walls. Bears, horses, boars with huge twisted tusks and even elephants awaited the ring in iron-barred stalls.

Sickened by the sharp stench of fetid hay and human degradation, Tibi watched the maelstrom of activity in awe. Life beneath the amphitheater spun like a well-oiled mechanism. Guards shouted orders to various troupes. Pulleys groaned as multiple lifts filled with dead warriors and animals were lowered from the arena’s sandy floor above them. Tibi cringed when the bodies were kicked aside. Just as Darius had said, trainers from the various gladiator schools unshackled their men. The fresh combatants lined up and traded their wooden practice weapons for polished shields, swords and tridents made of iron before being loaded onto the platforms that were raised back to the field.

“We’ll wait in here.” Darius waved her into a side room divided from the staging area by a low wall. Flanked by stone benches, the converted game pen held a large, chipped ceramic pot filled with water at the far end. The bulk of Alexius’s gladiators filed in behind her, while the rest remained beyond the wall to practice their battle stances.

Tibi tugged her cloak around her and buried her nose in a clean patch of itchy wool. The frenzied cheers of the mob blended with the tempest of activity clashing all around her. Doing her best to fade into a darkened corner, she studied the scarred, fierce-looking men. Some of them laughed and joked as though they were boys awaiting a romp while they played dice on the hay-strewn floor. Others were solemn, melancholy even. She wondered at the difference. Unlike most gladiators who were sold or sentenced into the profession, the men of the Ludus Maximus were volunteers who’d sworn their loyalty to Alexius, a tradition Caros began a few years earlier when, she suspected, he became a Christian and no longer wished to keep slaves.

The crowd’s muffled chant of “iugula, iugula,” demanding a fallen man’s death, chilled her. The gladiator games were a pillar of the Empire, but she’d never been allowed this close to the carnage before. Nausea swirled in the pit of her stomach. “How many men do you expect to lose today?” she asked Darius when he sat down beside her.

The edges of his mouth turned downward as he mentally took a head count. “Ten. Maybe twenty,” he answered prosaically. “The sponsor arranged battle re-enactments instead of a single man-against-man. The group fights are more expensive in lives and coin, but priceless in terms of buying the mob’s goodwill.”

Cringing, Tibi nodded. Everyone knew authority in the capital depended on keeping the public amused and satisfied. The emperor and other rich men who wished to influence or keep power did so by providing food and sponsoring an endless array of entertainments. The chariot races and gladiator games—the bloodier the better—were by far Rome’s favorite sports.

“What drew you to this life, Darius? Why did you volunteer?”

His dark eyes questioned her sanity. “The money’s good. So is the acclaim. Where else can slaves, foreigners, the condemned or poverty-stricken men like me go to earn freedom or fortune if not in the arena? We gladiators embody Romans’ worst fears. Because of that fear, most people look on us with a mix of repugnance and awe. But train a man with weapons, teach him how to entertain the crowd and in return the mob will give him a godlike reverence few men can ever hope to attain.”

“I know, but—” Another loud cheer signaled that the fallen gladiator was dead. She swallowed and wiped the sheen of perspiration from her upper lip with a shaky hand. “Some of you have wives and children. What good is fame and fortune if you’re dead? Why not be farmers or blacksmiths or—”

“It takes coin to set up a farm or a shop, mistress. Except for a few men like the master who fight their own rage in the arena, a volunteer does so because his plans require funds to prosper.”

Tibi frowned. She’d always sensed an underlying danger in Alexius and assumed his hardened life was the cause, but his charming smiles and easy humor made it difficult to imagine he possessed true menace in his heart. Now, she saw that her instincts had been correct. She’d been right to keep her distance from a man filled with anger.

“What are your plans, Darius?” she said, realizing she’d allowed the conversation to dwindle.

The hard angles of his narrow face softened. “My son is two years old and my wife is with child again. We want to leave Rome, to give our children a better life.”

“Where do you plan to go?” she asked, touched by the gladiator’s affection for his family.

“The master has a farm in Umbria.”

“Umbria? My cousins and their friends live there also.”

He nodded. “When Alexius speaks of the place with its green hills and rich soil, it’s as though he’s gone to Elysium. We want our children to grow up in such a place.”

She fiddled with the muddied edge of her cloak, unable to imagine a battle-hardened killer like Alexius enraptured by any type of earth except the sand of the arena. “I can’t see your lanista as a farmer,” she admitted. “The image of him trailing a beast of burden with a plow is too foreign to contemplate.”

“He does like his comforts.” Darius chuckled. “I’m certain he’ll have plenty of slaves to do his bidding, but you might be surprised. He’s the son of a farmer and I believe Alexius is still a farmer at heart.”

Intrigued by the idea of Alexius as a farmer, his chiseled features softened by talk of his land, she suddenly regretted the differences between them that made it impossible for her to know him better.

Without warning, Darius launched to his feet. “Wait here, my lady. I see the editor. I have to speak with him about today’s roster.”

Tibi watched the young trainer go, uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the other men upon her. Trying to appear nonchalant, she turned on the bench to watch the mock fights in the staging area. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a huge gladiator stoop and rummage through a small pile of hay near an empty cage. The giant laughed as he straightened and lifted something small, black and squirming in one hand above his head. He pitched the bundle to one of his practice partners who then tossed it to a third man close enough to her position for her to see it was a tiny panther cub.

“Toss the runt over here,” the first man ordered in a thick accent as he lifted his sword. “I’ll wager five sesterii I can skewer it in one go.”

Tibi surged from the bench. Thanks to the violence going on above them, she’d had her fill of brutality for one afternoon. Unable to digest their cruel play, she dashed to the low dividing wall and planted her palms on the rough concrete. “No!” she shouted. “Wait!”

The outburst silenced the talk within the small area encircling her, but worked to draw the trio’s attention. Three sets of fearsome eyes locked on her like arrows seeking a target. She froze, her mind registering the long, jagged scar that ran across the leader’s blunt nose and weathered left cheek.

Clearly undaunted by her command, the gladiator swaggered toward her, inciting her entire body to tremble from fear. He swiped the cub from his comrade and stopped a sword’s length away from Tibi. Too proud to do the intelligent thing and turn coward, she lifted her chin and met his sharp gaze.

“Who’s going to stop me, little girl?” He dangled the frightened cub by the scruff of the neck, its tiny paws clawing the air. “You? I think not.”

Chapter Three

His blood pumping, Alexius raced down the steps of the Coliseum, his sole concern to find Tibi. The frantic ride from the ludus had been a torment. The potential dangers of the arena were legion. Imagining all the ways Tibi might be harmed—wild animal attack, rogue gladiators, an accident with any number of weapons—had his mind playing tricks on him. Memories of his last weeks in Greece a decade ago merged with the present, pitching up images of the beloved sister who’d died because he’d failed to protect her.

If it took his last breath to keep her from harm, he refused to allow Tibi to suffer the same fate.

Used to the noise and stench in the staging area, Alexius stormed past stacked cages and gladiators from the other ludi donning helmets in preparation for battle. He looked forward to his own fight later in the afternoon when he’d have the chance to release some of the pent-up aggression churning in his gut.

His relief began to rise once he located the familiar faces of his men beyond the central system of lifts, then quickly plummeted when he saw Tibi’s trim, cloaked figure engaged in what appeared to be a disagreement with his champion, Gerlach, an ill-tempered Germanian who loved nothing more than to wager and brawl.

He picked up his pace.

Gerlach cast a small object to one of his cohorts, Kester. He leaned over Tibi and placed his thick hands on her slim shoulders. The way he leered at her and his mistaken belief that he was allowed to touch the girl in any way infuriated Alexius. The fear shining in Tibi’s face before she was able to hide it filled his vision with a red haze. The monster inside him rattled its cage. Hay crunched under his sandals just as he imagined how Gerlach’s jaw would do beneath the force of his fist.

The cheers and greetings of his men faded to murmurs and questions of concern the closer he drew near. Ignoring them all, he swept past the game pen that housed the majority of his troupe and continued on his course toward Gerlach.

Alexius’s presence drew the Germanian’s attention. Seeing him, Gerlach switched focus. His arrogance fled. His hands dropped away from Tibi, the bully’s game of intimidation forgotten in light of his lanista’s arrival.

“Greetings, mas—”

Alexius swung. The satisfying sound of a bone cracking rent the air at the same time a bolt of pain traveled through Alexius’s hand and up his arm. Gerlach hit the ground. His cohorts, Laelius and Kester, jumped back. Breathing heavily, he ignored the men’s harried explanations, his main concern to comfort Tibi.

“Are you all right?” he asked. That she appeared unharmed soothed some of the bloodlust coursing through his veins.

Wide-eyed and pale, she nodded. “Are you?”

The breathy quality of her voice rippled over his skin like the finest silk. With trembling fingers she reached out to take his hand in hers. The knuckles were bloodied, but unbroken.

“It’s no more than a scratch.” Resisting the urge to take her in his arms and carry her back to the ludus, he slipped his hand from hers. His men were close by and watching them with interest. She was scandal-ridden enough. He didn’t want to add to her woes.

“It doesn’t look like a scratch.”

A rapid tattoo at the base of her throat snagged his attention and a sudden, irrational need to brush his thumb over the creamy spot consumed him. Frowning, he clenched his fists at his sides, confused by her singular effect on his self-control.

“What happened here? Where’s Darius?” he demanded more roughly than he intended. “Why aren’t you in his care as you ought to be?”

“He’s speaking with the editor. These men—”

“We were going through today’s stances,” Laelius interrupted in a quick bid to gain Alexius’s notice. “Gerlach found this runt and thought to have a little fun before we make for the ring. The girl interrupted.”

“They were torturing the poor cub.” Tibi moved to Alexius’s side. “Throwing it in the air and laughing at its cries of terror…”

He looked down only to find her pleading eyes were twin pools of misery. His heart twisted. Whatever it took, he’d see her made happy.

“When…when Gerlach told this other man to toss him the cub with the intent to skewer the poor animal, I could take no more. I realize we’re surrounded by cruelty in this place, that you gladiators are numb to barbarity, but that cub, it’s so small…so defenseless.”

Gerlach groaned. The hay rustled as he struggled to sit up. Alexius ignored him. He ignored everything except Tibi. She’d always had an unfair hold on him. He’d promised Caros to keep his distance from her, but that didn’t make him blind to her beauty or immune to her innate charm. She was kind and lively, intelligent without being crafty. But in this instance her earnest concern and deep well of compassion impressed him most. She had serious worries of her own to mull over, yet she possessed the rare ability to look beyond herself, to care for something as insignificant as a panther’s runt.

“Give her the cub,” he ordered Laelius without taking his eyes off Tibi.

Her relief evident, Tibi reached for the quivering animal. Cooing softly to calm its mewling cries, she cuddled the black ball of fur close to her chest and stroked its sleek head. “It’s not a runt,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his. “It’s newly born. Its eyes have yet to open. Where do you think his mother is? This little one will starve without her.”

“She was killed in the venatio this morning. By now, the beast is on the butcher block with the street orphans already waiting in line for the carcass,” Laelius sneered as he extended a hand to help Gerlach to his feet.

“How do you know?” Alexius demanded.

“The cub was found half-covered by hay near those empty cages over there.”

Alexius watched Tibi’s face leech of color as she realized the empty cages had housed the animals killed in the game hunts earlier that morning. “I didn’t consider… What can we do?”

Hearing the we, Alexius groaned inwardly. The catch in her voice was his undoing. The only way to save the wretch was to buy it. He’d have to look for the editor and work out an acceptable price. He smiled ruefully to himself. If the negotiations went as well as the day had gone thus far, it was going to cost him a fortune to a save a worthless animal he didn’t want or need. To his surprise, he was willing to pay almost any price to ease Tibi’s distress.

As he watched Laelius help Gerlach toward the underground tunnel that linked the Coliseum to the gladiator hospital, he caught sight of Darius and Spurius, the editor of the games, walking toward him. He reached for the cub, but Tibi held firm. “What are you going to do?” she asked suspiciously. “You won’t hurt him, will you?”

Alexius almost laughed. She seemed to think she could stop him from taking the little beast if he chose. “I won’t hurt him. I’m going to buy him for you.”

“For me? But—”

“You want him, no?”

“Of course, but that isn’t the issue. I have nowhere to keep him. I only wanted your gladiators to stop hurting him.”

The hopeful light in her eyes encouraged him. “We’ll work out the arrangements later. For now, the editor is coming this way. Let me negotiate with him while I have the chance. He’s a cur who’s quick to take advantage of any situation. If you want to help this animal and keep your identity a secret, hide your face and stand behind me. Try not to draw undue attention to yourself.”

Tibi’s mouth twisted with unasked questions, but she hurried to hand him the cub. Her cowl had slipped and she made quick work of readjusting the gray wool to completely conceal her distinctive hair and features.

“Greetings, Alexius,” Spurius called, his legendary girth making for slow progress down the hay-strewn path. “I’ve gone over the day’s proceedings with Darius. Your troupe is scheduled for battle within the hour. I’ll leave it to him to fill you in on the details.”

“They’re ready,” he said with a confidence born from experience.

“They always are,” agreed Spurius, as he came to a stop an arm’s length away. “Of course, it’s you the mob comes to see. What do you have there?”

“A runt Gerlach found in the hay. Apparently, its mother died in the ring this morning. How much do you want for it?”

“No,” Spurius said, gasping to catch his breath. “I mean, who do you have there?” He pointed a knobby finger over Alexius’s shoulder.

Alexius grinned to hide his rising tension. “No one of importance.”

“What a pity. She’s tall enough to be an Amazone. I let myself hope you’d trained a gladiatrix to fight as a gift for the crowd.”

“No, but I might consider it,” he said, careful to sound intrigued, since women were a favored spectacle in the arena, although they were few and far between. “About the runt—”

“If she’s not here to fight, is she your new woman or just a slave…or both? From what I saw of her at a distance, she’s a beauty. Let me have a better look.”

“There’s no need for that,” he said amicably. The whoosh of the bellows nearby filled Spurius’s surprised silence.

“Come now,” the editor cajoled. “Perhaps we can make a bargain. I’ll trade you the runt for the girl.”

“Another day and I might take you up on the offer.”

Tibi gasped and thumped him on the back. He coughed to smother his laugh at her reaction, pleased that she wasn’t cowed by the situation. “Unfortunately, she’s not mine to trade. Besides, you wouldn’t want this particular wench. She’s nothing but sass and vinegar.”

“A saucy one, eh? That’s often the best kind.” The editor eyed him. “If she’s not yours, then who does she belong to?”

“She’s a freewoman brought here by mistake.”

“Her father?”

Alexius shrugged.

“Let me guess,” continued Spurius. “You’ve convinced the poor girl you’ll protect her honor.”

Alexius’s eyes narrowed at the underlying insinuation that no woman was safe with him. “Indeed I have. How perceptive of you.”

The editor burst out laughing, as though the idea was one of pure comedy. “She must be a foreigner and unaware of your…colorful reputation, then.” He strained sideways as though to speak directly to Tibi. “Be warned, girl. If the gossips see you with this great Greek bull, they’ll make certain you have no honor left to worry about.”

Bitterness welled up inside Alexius. His free hand clenched into a fist at his side. Tibi gripped the back of his tunic between his shoulder blades. “Don’t,” she whispered for his ears only. “Please don’t. He’s not worth your anger.”

“Perhaps I’m such a prize she doesn’t care,” he said, his tone rich with irony. He reached into the leather pouch attached to his belt and tossed Spurius a handful of copper as. “For the cub.”

The editor’s laughter subsided as he did a quick count of the coins. “I didn’t name a price.”

“I chose it for you.” He gripped Tibi’s wrist behind him, eager to leave when each moment added to the chance of her discovery. “Darius will lead the men of the Ludus Maximus this afternoon. I have business elsewhere.”

“What do you mean Darius will lead the men?” Spurius sobered in an instant. “You’re on the roster. You never miss a fight. The mob comes to see you. They’ll riot if you don’t appear.”

Alexius shrugged. All of Rome could be sacked today and he wouldn’t leave Tibi’s side again. “Then let them.” His full lips quirked. “I have a new…cub to look after.”

Tibi resisted the impulse to glance over her shoulder as Alexius propelled her toward the exit. Amazed that he’d left as important a man as the editor to sputter like a clogged drain, she kept her head down and shielded the cub that squirmed in her hand and licked her thumb with its rough tongue.

“Where are we going?” she asked as they entered a torch-lit corridor that had been chiseled from the earth and edged with flat stones.

“To the stables to fetch my horse.”

“And then?”

“Back to the ludus.”

“What if Tiberia is still looking for me?”

“It’s doubtful. Velus views strangers as though they’re hornets come to sting. I expect he’s sent the whole lot of them on their way by now.”

His lack of complete certainty renewed her anxiety, but she accepted the situation without further comment. She’d done all she could to buy herself time when she fled her father’s home. Either Tiberia was at the ludus or she was not, but given her sister’s tenacity, it wouldn’t surprise her if Tiberia decided to wait at the Ludus Maximus all afternoon. There was no way to know until they arrived and learned the truth one way or the other. Her future belonged to the Fates.

Considering the circumstances, the fact that she’d enjoyed even the smallest respite from her worries was a wonder due entirely to Alexius, she acknowledged with a frown. Whenever he was near, she had difficulty thinking of anything but him. Troubled by such an unwelcome reality, she took a deep breath to clear her head.

The mustiness of the tunnel mixed with the faint smell of hay the closer they climbed to the surface and the stable at ground level. “If I were to guess,” she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere between them. “I’d say you have a black stallion—maybe one of Caros’s Iberian champions—with a gleaming saddle and—”

“Wings?”

“You are Greek.” She laughed. “Wouldn’t it be a delight to have a pterippus like the Pegasus?” she added fancifully. “If I had a winged horse to do my bidding, I’d have it take me far from Rome.”

“Rome? Or just your father?”

She stroked the top of the cub’s smooth head and pretended a keen interest in the path’s dirt-packed floor. “Mostly my father. Although, I must admit, a fresh start far from the city’s gossips and expectations holds almost as much appeal.”

“You must visit your cousins in Umbria someday,” he said, leading her up the final stretch of stairs.

“I have. Once, two years ago I was invited to join the party when Tiberia and her husband sojourned with them in Iguvium for the summer. Truthfully, I’ve never seen a more beauteous place. It’s no surprise their friends Quintus and Adiona bought their own villa and vineyards nearby. I understand you have a farm there as well.”

He nodded.

“Your trainer, Darius, said your description of the area has given him the hope of settling his family there someday.”

“Yes, on its worst day Iguvium is far better than Rome on its best.”

“Then why do you stay here when it’s clear your heart is elsewhere?”

He opened the door without answering and waited for her to precede him through what appeared to be the back entrance of the busy stable. The strong odors of horseflesh and leather overpowered the rectangular space constructed of stone and rough-hewn timbers. Stable hands filled troughs with buckets of water. Horses, crowded into stalls lining both walls and the center of the long hay-covered floor, ate from feed bags or flipped their tails to clear the air of flies.

“Wait here,” Alexius said tersely.

As she idly petted the drowsing panther cub in her arms, she watched Alexius from beneath lowered lashes while he conversed with one of the Egyptian stable hands. It was widely known that women flocked to Alexius and after less than a day with him she understood why. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was not only physically arresting but possessed an inborn strength that was both undeniable and irresistible.

She leaned against the wall of the tack room and closed her tired eyes. Judging by his sharp tone when he left to seek out the groom, she’d somehow offended him with her chatter. Leave it to her to annoy a male renowned for his tolerance and good humor—at least outside of a fight. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time she was deemed too inquisitive when she was simply trying to make conversation, but it was the first time she wished she’d learned the art of acting serene and mysterious like her sister. If her experience with men held true, Alexius would want nothing else to do with her or, as it must seem to him, her talent for asking inappropriate questions.

In all likelihood, he regretted his decision to help her. Who wouldn’t? In less than a day, he’d been forced to deceive her family, fight his own men to protect her, spend coin on an animal he considered useless and break a contract to fight in the arena. Once Pelonia and Caros returned to Rome, he’d hand her over, glad to be finished with her and the trouble that constantly plagued her.

Unexpectedly bereft, she cursed the foolish delight she experienced only in Alexius’s presence. Somehow she had to resist the numerous ways she found him appealing. Her father would never accept a gladiator for a son-in-law, nor would Alexius ever consent to marry her. His respect for Caros had prompted him to assist her, nothing more. There could be no other reason. Alexius was a wealthy, handsome man of the world known to have any woman he wanted, whereas she was a reviled second daughter without even beauty to offer.

A horse in the closest stall whinnied near her ear, startling her out of her musings. Alexius paid the stable boy then motioned for her to join him halfway up the aisle.

“Is all well?” she asked.

He reached out and ran a gentle index finger along the cub’s silky back. “We’re to meet Ptah near the entrance. If the need arises we’ll have to share my mount, Calisto. I sought to hire a mare for you, but the games’ crowd is considerable today and there are no extra horses on hand.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, aware that most of the reason for the large show of spectators was due to Alexius’s place on the roster. And now he wouldn’t be there because of her. “Please don’t think your kindness to me has gone unnoticed. I plan to repay—”

He held up a bronzed, battle-scarred hand to quiet her. “I seek no repayment, except your goodwill. I told you this morning, I like being with you.”

Tibi’s heart danced in her chest. A strange weakness entered her knees, challenging her ability to walk as she fell into step beside him. “I assumed you were being polite—”

“Polite?” He laughed.

“Yes, polite.” She frowned up at him. “I realize you’re helping me because of your friendship with Caros. After what you’ve endured…and lost because of me today, you deserve compensation.”

“What exactly have I lost?”

“Your place on the field for one.”

“Maybe I consider today a gain.” He gave her a wolfish smile that was wholly unfamiliar to her experience. “What would you say then?”

Her face heated and her mouth ran dry. “I…I have money in my satchel back at the ludus.”

His burst of laughter startled a trio of tethered horses. “Keep your coin, my lady. I have no need of it. Nor do I want it.”

“But—”

“Cease or you’ll offend me.”

She glanced at him covertly. “I thought I already had.”

“Already had what?”

“Offended you,” she said over the rising babble of patrons gathered around the arched entranceway.

“How so? Nothing you do bothers me.”

She blinked in disbelief. Since the day of her birth she’d been told in word and deed that she was an unwanted irritant. If not for his earnest expression, she might have thought he was teasing with her again. “Before… When I asked why you stay in Rome.”

His expression soured. “That has nothing to do with you. Let’s not speak of the matter.”

She let the subject drop, although her curiosity gnawed at her. It was obvious that she’d struck upon at least one topic that vexed him.

“There’s Calisto.”

Hearing the pride in his voice, she turned her head to see Ptah leading a magnificent gray stallion, its flowing mane and tail the color of glossy obsidian. Like his master, Calisto walked tall, his head held high, clearly used to being admired by all who saw him.

“He’s spectacular, Alexius. Perfect.”

“Yes, you barely miss the wings.”

The humor in his silver eyes was infectious. “Don’t be concerned. I won’t hold that against him.”

Alexius collected the reins from Ptah and stroked Calisto’s silken muzzle and forehead. In his native Greek, he greeted the horse like an old friend.

“Let’s be on our way.” He tugged Tibi’s cowl forward. The feather-soft touch of his fingers along her cheek as he tucked a fallen strand of hair beneath the garment sent pleasant sparks across her skin. Her pulse spiked and her startled gaze locked with the liquid silver of his. All the noise and activity swirling through the stable faded away until only Alexius existed.

“Master…?” Ptah approached, breaking their connection. “Is there a problem? Can I help you?”

Alexius groaned and closed his eyes before turning around to address the boy. Released from her stasis, Tibi spun away, grateful for Calisto’s tall form to lean against for support. Trembling, her entire body felt feverish, despite the cool spring breeze blowing through the open windows.

The cub whimpered and squirmed in her grasp. Appalled that she’d forgotten not only herself, but the little animal in her care, she loosened her hold, murmuring words of comfort in an effort to soothe him while she gathered her scattered wits.

What was wrong with her? Had she contracted some sort of sickness?

Alexius moved behind her. She held her breath in anticipation of his touch. When his large hands finally settled on her shoulders, she almost collapsed from relief. His warm breath feathered across the sensitive shell of her ear. “You’re not alone, little one. I feel the madness, too.”

Her head fell forward to rest on Calisto’s saddle blanket. She closed her eyes, desperate to understand her wildly off-kilter emotions and her even more foolish wish to believe the madness he spoke of was something as special as what she felt for him. “You do?”

“Yes…but I should know better.” He eased her back against his broad chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Gods help me. What am I going to do with you?”

Chapter Four

Still reeling from Alexius’s confession, Tibi allowed him to lead her and Calisto from the stable without another word. The design of his saddle, with a pommel at each of the four corners, made riding two people an uncomfortable prospect. Tibi didn’t mind walking. She desperately needed a bit of space between her and Alexius to clear her head. The thought of clinging to him for balance while she held the cub and rode in full view above the crowd seemed disasterous.

Outside, the day’s aromas and sounds assaulted her senses. The bright sun of midafternoon nearly blinded her after the many hours of dim light in the amphitheater’s lower levels. Heavy aromas of smoked fish, roasted nuts and fresh bread woke her hungry stomach.

The thick flow of people coming and going from the entrances of the gleaming white Coliseum surrounded them like a river, threatening to sweep them away. Alexius tightened his grip on her hand and navigated the shifting current with a single-minded purpose that must serve him well in the arena, Tibi acknowledged.

Careful to keep her face concealed, but her view unobstructed lest she trip or knock someone over, she adjusted her woolen hood. A row of makeshift stalls lined the busy circuit around the amphitheater. Hawkers did their best to tempt customers to stop and look at their wares—everything from leather goods to the freshest produce the season had to offer.

However, it wasn’t the food and supplies that drew the most notice. It was Alexius. All bronzed skin and sinewy muscle, he stood head and shoulders above the crowd, as perfect to look upon as a masterwork of Greek statuary. Young and old alike stopped to stare at him. Some watched slack-jawed while others jabbed their friends with their elbows and pointed with various levels of discretion. It wasn’t long before a path cleared, sidelined by an inquisitive horde that obviously held a gladiator of his skill in high regard. Alexius used the opportunity to move quickly, his only acknowledgment of the attention a quick wave or nod when someone bold enough called his name.

Several streets away, Rome’s central region gave way to one of the city’s more peaceful areas. Narrow alleyways led to wide-open squares where the elderly chatted around sculpted fountains and energetic children played knucklebones, chased one another or tossed sticks for their dogs to fetch.

The smoke from cooking fires and the aroma of roasted meats tinged the air. Not for the first time, Tibi’s stomach growled. Hoping Alexius didn’t hear its protests, she raised her face to soak in the warmth of the sun peeking through the rainbow of laundry strung between multistory apartment blocks. She inhaled the fresh scent of herbs growing in clay pots on each side of the footpath and listened to the even gait of Calisto’s hooves on the pavers.

“I’ve never been to this part of the city before,” she said. “Is this a new way back to the ludus or can I assume that you’re abducting me?”

Alexius sent her a sidelong glance. “If I were going to kidnap a woman, I promise she’d take much less effort than you do.”

She tensed. “I told you, you deserve compensation for your inconvenience—”

He sighed. “Don’t start that again. I wasn’t serious. Did no one in your family ever joke with you?”

There’d been very little laughter in her home, none since the year before when her mother crossed the Styx. “The mood in our domus follows my father’s lead. Since I’ve known him, he’s been somber, angry or outright dreary.”

“Then it’s a miracle you have any sense of fun in you at all. I suppose I’ll have to make allowances for your shabby upbringing and try to be patient with you.”

“Thank you so much for understanding.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but he merely chuckled when she tried to look threatening. “What of your family?” she asked as they passed a hunchbacked woman sweeping a flight of steps. “Judging by your disposition, they must have been a troupe of jesters.”

He grinned. “Actually, no. My father was a poor, illiterate farmer who loved the land second only to my mother. My mama was as beautiful as springtime. They said their first meeting was a lightning strike. Within days they married.”

“What a wonderful story. Were they always happy?”

“With each other, yes, but for a time my grandfather caused them endless grief. He was a rich merchant who despised the thought of his daughter married to a man so far beneath her.”

“What did he do?”

“He disowned her. She was made dead to him and everyone in his house.”

“How terrible!” she said, thinking her own father would do the same.

Alexius frowned at her. “Not so terrible at all. My abba adored her. They had little coin, but there was always a fire in the hearth and our table was never empty. My six older sisters were—”

“You had six older sisters? That explains much.”

“How so?”

“You Greeks are worse for want of sons than even we Romans. After half a dozen girls, I can only imagine how much your parents must have spoiled you.”

He laughed. “Yes, my sisters used to claim they could smell the stench of my rotten hide for miles.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Her smile faded. What must have happened for Alexius to lose his loving home and become a gladiator? “They must have been distressed when you left them.”

His manner shifted imperceptibly. His smile stayed in place, but the light left his eyes. “I hope not, but I imagine so. I never saw them again after I was sold to the slave trader and taken from Iolcos.”

A band of sadness squeezed her chest. No wonder she’d sensed such turmoil beneath his smooth facade. He’d been stripped from the home and family he adored. The pain must fester within him like an open wound. Aching for his loss, she wanted to wrap him in her arms and hold him until every drop of grief drained away. “What did you do? I mean…why were you sold into slavery?”

She felt his gaze on her profile as they walked down the shadowed street. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Men who were sold into the gladiatorial trade were usually murderers, traitors or the worst sort of thieves. She didn’t want to think of Alexius in those terms. He owed her nothing, not his patience or protection, but he’d been more than generous with both. True, she’d seen glimpses of the darker side of his nature, but he was also kind. He’d treated her with more respect in a few hours than she’d been shown in a lifetime. Perhaps it was madness to trust a gladiator, but no one made her feel safer or more confident about herself than Alexius did.

Deciding that the few hours she’d been granted with him were a gift that she loathed to waste, she pushed her doubts to the back of her mind. Tomorrow might find her in the temple, banished to spend the rest of her days serving a goddess who meant the same to her as a block of wood. So far, she’d had few moments worth remembering in her life, but she knew instinctively this day spent with her handsome Greek would be a time to cherish.

“You don’t want to know,” he said, seeming to read her thoughts.

She didn’t argue. Instead, they walked in companionable silence until her stomach growled again. A quick glance at Alexius suggested he hadn’t heard.

“Since I’m not worthy of being kidnapped,” she said, “and I’m fairly sure the ludus is in the opposite direction, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to get something to eat. Your stomach makes a great disturbance when it’s hungry.”

She gasped. “How rude of you to mention it.”

He laughed. “I’m a lowly gladiator. I can’t be expected to know decent manners.”

“I don’t think you’re lowly,” she said, her voice infused with sincerity. “Neither did all those other people we left near the amphitheater.”

His brow furrowed as he studied her with an intensity that made her squirm. She couldn’t think of anything inappropriate she’d said, but then maybe she’d been too forward. Two of her betrothals had been broken because she’d dared to give her opinion. She’d offered Alexius a compliment, but the male mind was a strange thing. On more than one occasion she’d been under the impression that a particular conversation had gone well, only to learn later she’d caused some offense worthy of shaking her already precarious social position.

“Is the way much farther?” she asked, nervous she’d hit upon yet another one of the subjects that soured his usually pleasant demeanor.

“Not much.”

“Do you think we might be able to find some milk there to feed this cub? I’m worried. He must be hungry.”

“Possibly. My friends who own the thermopolium where we’ll eat have a cat that gave birth a few weeks ago. Maybe she’ll be generous.”

Relieved and hopeful, Tibi marched on with renewed purpose.

“It’s this way,” Alexius said. They made a sharp right turn and crossed a small bridge before following yet another winding alley.

Tibi switched the cub to her right arm and shook the stiffness from her left. “You’d best not leave me. I’ll never find my way out of this maze.”

“A safe return is your incentive to be good. Your reputation does precede you.”

“Does it?” She cringed. “Did you learn of my misdeeds from your many admirers? My sister delights in informing me that I’m the cause of much debate and laughter behind closed doors.”

“It pains me to agree with the shrew, but in this case Tiberia is correct.”

“What…what have you heard?” she asked, forcing the words through a stranglehold of humiliation.

“Little I can credit.”

“No?”

“From what I can gather, you turn into Medusa once the sun sets.”

She glared at him, unable to find the smallest kernel of humor in a subject that had caused her years of grief. “Medusa is dead.”

“Her great-granddaughter then.”

Her lips tightened into a thin line. “Perhaps I’m innocent of all I’m accused of, and the stories about me have been exaggerated until no matter what I do I’m in the wrong.”

“That I can believe. The excuses I’ve heard for your ended betrothals are shallow at best. You’re in no way repellent, aloof or argumentative, but there is something about you that scares those spineless Romans to the soles of their sandals. If, as you claim, you’re not Medusa’s progeny, why are you such a pariah?”

The question made her fidget, completely stealing the pleasure she received from discovering that Alexius didn’t find her ugly or disagreeable. She wanted to tell him the truth, but what if he reacted like other men and labeled her unnatural? To her chagrin, she found his opinion of her mattered more than she cared to admit.

“You don’t have to tell me, Tibi. We all have secrets to keep.”

“It’s not that,” she said, instantly consumed with curiosity about the secrets he kept buried. No doubt she and half of Rome would be scandalized if the full truth of his deeds were ever discovered. As for the other half of the city, they were probably participants in his exploits. Her shoulders slumped. She must be a terrible bore after all the excitement he was accustomed to.

“The source of my downfall has a fixed starting point. As you can imagine, it’s rather embarrassing. I did something when I was too young to realize the consequences of my actions or how unforgiving people can be.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

One silky black eyebrow arched. “You Romans are a strange lot.”

“No worse than you Greeks.”

“At least we don’t hold our young responsible for their transgressions for the rest of their lives.”

“I’ve yet to tell you what I did. Once you know you may agree with the others.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“No!”

“Then I can promise you I won’t agree with them. But I would like to hear the rest of your story.”

“All right. I’ll tell you, but only because I know you’ll harp on me until I do.” She waited for a denial, but none came. Her lips twitched at his expression of patient innocence. “As a child I wanted the love of my father more than anything. I failed time and time again to gain his notice unless he wished to berate me for not being the son he wanted. Being unable to change my gender, I decided that if his love was out of reach, perhaps I could earn his respect if I proved that I was as intelligent and able-bodied as any boy. To that end I excelled at my studies and took up sports. Archery was my favorite.”

“I can see you with a bow and arrow.”

“You can?” Alexius was an expert with weapons. His insight into the subject intrigued her. “How so?”

“The bow is an elegant weapon. It suits you. Continue.”

Flattered that he found her elegant, she forgave him for his high-handed command and went on. “Those efforts were also to no avail. Father despised me still. After all I’d done to please him, his continued coldness angered and frustrated me.”

“I’m not surprised. I’d be angry, too.”

He agreed with her? The notion struck her as incredible when everyone else believed that only her father’s feelings held merit. They entered a large, sun-drenched square. People had gone indoors to avoid the heat of the day, leaving only the splash of the fountain to fill the stillness.

They stopped to let Calisto drink water from a trough in the corner of the square. Alexius relieved her of the cub, but with the pain of her past pressing down on her, she hardly noticed the missing weight.

“What happened next?”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“You were angry at your father,” he said, his attention diverted to the tiny cub in his huge brown hand.

Amazed that such a large, fierce man possessed gentleness, she watched him dip his long, battle-scarred fingers into the fountain. He shook off the excess moisture and pressed a single drop of water to the cub’s tiny mouth. He repeated the action twice more until the panther’s small tongue darted out and licked his fingertip.

“Go on.” Silver eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, caught her staring at him. Her face heated and her lungs locked. A slow, gratified smile curved his sculpted lips, exposing straight white teeth. “What did you do?”

Fearing that he understood the havoc coursing through her veins better than she did, she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “The next year an archery contest was called for all the boys of the best families to show off their skills. Once again Father complained of his useless daughters and berated my mother for denying him a son to bring honor to the family. I wanted to prove him wrong so I sent one of our stable hands to secure a place for me under a false name. On the day of the event, I donned a short tunic and wore a cloak with a hood to cover my hair and keep my face shadowed. I was terrified of being caught at first, but I soon realized people see what they want to see. Everyone accepted my disguise without a qualm and assumed that I was just another one of the male archers.”

Alexius muttered something in Greek under his breath. “What happened next? You were discovered, no?”

“Yes, but not until after I’d bested every last boy. I felt triumphant, I assure you.”

He snickered. “I can imagine.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you can. When you win in the arena, do you feel a rush of invincibility? Is that why you continue to fight when you don’t have to?”

“I fight for reasons of my own.”

“One of those secrets you spoke of?” She ignored his glare. “Darius mentioned that you need to fight in the arena to battle your own rage.”

“The boy speaks too much,” he snapped. “He’s not paid to have or give an opinion of me.”

She backed away, a habit from never knowing when her father might turn violent. For the third time today, Alexius’s easy manner had evaporated, reminding her of the volatile side of his nature she didn’t dare trust.

He gathered Calisto’s reins. “We’d best be on our way.”

They left the square with no further words between them. Sunlight filtered through the olive trees, creating a dappled effect on the path in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“No,” she said. “I’m the one who’s sor—”

“Don’t. You did nothing.”

“My mouth always runs away from me. I pressed too much for something that is none of my business.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said.

“You didn’t—”

“Yes.” He stopped in the center of the walkway. “I did.” Still clutching the reins, his strong fingers gripped her upper arm and turned her gently to face him. “You don’t have to deny it. I saw you flinch away from me. I know you live in fear of your father, but I swear I’m not like him. Rest assured, even if I act like a barbarian at times, I promise you have no cause to be afraid of me.”

“I don’t think you’re a barbarian and I’m not frightened of you,” she assured him, sensing again that painful struggle inside him she wished she could ease.

“Good, because I’ll never hurt you, Tibi.”

His sincerity was palpable. From out of nowhere, hot tears welled in her eyes. No one ever worried about hurting her. On the contrary, she often thought her family looked for ways to cause her pain. Caught off guard by the force of her reaction, she turned back to the path and hurried to wipe the moisture from her cheeks.

“Tibi? Are you crying?”

“No, there’s a speck of dust in my eye. I’m fine.”

Alexius allowed her to walk a short distance ahead. He despised the air of sorrow that surrounded her slim, cloaked figure. Worse, he hated that something he’d said or done was responsible for her melancholy.

Usually blessed with the ability to charm even the most hard-shelled of women, he cursed his lack of finesse with the one woman he wanted most to impress. Judging by the way she’d backed away from him as though she expected some form of violence, she either thought of him as a monster or her father’s treatment was even worse than the gossips suggested.

Unwilling to squander the few remaining hours he had left to enjoy her fresh-faced beauty and good nature, he followed her up the path. The fact that he had to relinquish Tibi at all maddened him. From the moment he’d promised Caros to keep his distance three years ago, he’d regretted the foolhardy pact. He wanted her. He always had. The longer he spent with Tibi, the more he knew he always would. He was acutely aware that he was too far beneath her to be considered worthy of anything more than assisting her for an afternoon, but if she belonged to him, he’d cherish her as she deserved.

“The thermopolium is around the corner,” he said, catching up to her in a few long strides. “Over there. The one with the blue door.”

Inside the smoky establishment, the aroma of fresh herbs, garlic and roasted fowl made Alexius’s mouth water for a good Greek meal. A gladiator’s typical diet of barley gruel kept him full when he was training, but never satisfied.

The small room was dimly lit and empty except for the proprietor, his friend, Marcellus, a short, boney man with gray hair at his temples, a hawkish nose and deep-set brown eyes.

Certain he could trust the older man not to spread news of him or his companion, Alexius introduced Marcellus to Tibi before telling her, “His wife, Aldora, is a fine cook. She prepares all the food here.”

“My Dora is Greek, like Alexius,” said Marcellus who welcomed Tibi with an elaborate wave of his arm. “He says she cooks like his mama used to do.”

“Yes, her delicious meals are renowned throughout the city. Where is she?”

“At the market.” Marcellus cast his gaze toward Tibi’s hooded figure. “She’ll be sorry she missed you and your guest. Do you want your usual table in the garden?”

“Yes, but first we need to visit Iris.” Alexius indicated the sleeping cub straddled along his forearm. “If she is willing to take in an orphan, we need her help.”

Marcellus grinned and fussed over the panther cub before fetching an oil lamp and leading them down a narrow flight of steps into the domed cellar. A continuous chorus of meows filled the damp space. In the far corner stood a large wooden crate padded with hay. “Dora made a spot down here when she found Iris birthing her litter. She’s a placid cat. I doubt she’ll object to feeding one more.”

Thankfully, Marcellus was right. Iris, a gray-and-white ball of fluff, welcomed the cub without fanfare. She sniffed the panther, licked his head and ears, then nudged the little black body into the pile of her own white kittens.

Alexius watched Tibi. Once Marcellus returned to the main room upstairs, she slipped the cowl off her head, revealing a long braid that appeared a burnished gold in the lantern light. She sank to her knees, her soft hands clenched into anxious fists against her thighs. While she focused on the cub, he concentrated on the delicate shell of her ear and the long, slender curve of her throat. He could still feel the sparks of awareness in his fingertips where he’d touched the creamy smoothness of her cheek. If Ptah hadn’t interrupted, he’d have taken her in his arms and kissed her breathless.

“There you go, little one,” Tibi encouraged, once the snuffling cub rooted its way to Iris’s warm body and began to nurse. “That’s a good boy.”

She glanced up at Alexius. Relief lit her large brown eyes. “It’s presumptuous, I know, but do you think we might ask your friends to keep him for a few weeks? Iris seems to have welcomed him. I can offer them coin—”

He wondered at her constant offers of money, as if no one ever did her a kindness for free. “I’ll pay them if it comes to that, although I doubt they’ll accept it.”

The panther cub safe and secure with Iris and her brood, Tibi replaced the cowl to cover her hair and followed him up the stairs. Marcellus led them past the half-dozen tripod tables and stools that took up most of the small room. The worn brick floor joined a back wall studded with shelves containing an array of ceramic plates, bowls and platters. A slave pushed aside the curtain concealing the doorway to the kitchen. He took his place on a small stool near the hearth and began to turn a spit laden with chickens over the fire.

Careful not to bump his head on the low door frame, Alexius followed Marcellus and Tibi outside where a high brick wall, dripping with colorful bougainvillea and wisteria, provided privacy from the adjacent businesses and apartment blocks. Lifelike, plaster statues of satyrs and centaurs guarded the square perimeter.

Alexius showed Tibi to a table in a secluded corner. Years before, the thermopolium’s water supply had been diverted to create a Grecian fountain in the center of the courtyard. Pots of varied sizes and shapes overflowed with herbs, miniature fruit trees, and a profusion of colorful flowers lent the cool breeze the sweetened scent of spring.

Like the interior room, the area was empty except for a few slaves sweeping the bricks and scrubbing the tables. He’d timed their arrival well to coincide with the afternoon lull. They had several hours before the rush of evening patrons, limiting the risk of Tibi being discovered in his company.

“What a lovely place,” Tibi said, leaning in to smell the vase of purple wisteria adorning their table. “Judging by the front door, I never would have guessed there was such an oasis to be found here.”

A slave poured a mug of water for each of them. “Aldora misses our homeland. She tries to re-create a piece of it here for herself.”

“Has she succeeded?”

He nodded. “It’s as close to the glory of Greece as I’ve found in this latrine of a city.”

She started to speak, but appeared to change course. “Rome is the capital of the world, Alexius. People of every tribe and tongue wish to live here. There must be something about it you consider worthwhile. The training school, your men—?”

“You.”

“All of your women,” she added, ignoring him.

Savoring the sound of his name on her lips, he hoped the tinge of bitterness in her voice stemmed from jealousy. “I wouldn’t want any of them if I had you.”

Her forehead pleated with disbelief. “For a little while, possibly, though I doubt it. What about after? Once the novelty value of an unsophisticated girl wore off.”

He sat back in his chair. She doubted his honesty and why should

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