Gladiator Heart (10 page)

Tristan wasn’t sure what possessed him to return to his tent for Valeria. He was in the midst of a war and a woman would only slow him down. What was he doing? Only a complete idiot would risk his life for a woman he barely knew. He hadn’t even expected to find her, but here she stood, staring at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“What are you doing here?” She looked as baffled and astonished as he felt.

“We’ve fallen to the Romans.” The words tasted foul on his tongue. Rome’s tactics of war were no longer superior for he and his men had learned their enemy’s ways quickly. In this battle they’d simply been outnumbered.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said. “You have to hurry. You have to go.”

“I said I’d come back.” Of all the things he’d be leaving behind, Valeria was something that couldn’t be replaced. Gods help him, he wanted more time with her.

“It’s too late—”

“It’s not too late.” He sheathed one of his swords and held his hand out to her. “We can get out, but we must do it now.”

She hesitated and glanced at his offered hand. Why wouldn’t she take it?

“I can’t go with you, Tristan.”

“Why not?” A tic worked along his jaw and he glowered at her. “You begged me not to leave earlier.”

Had he been wrong to come back for her? Had she only pretended to have feelings for him, lying to him as she’d lied about her reason for coming to the north, or the fact that she spoke his language?

Tristan should have known better. He should have left her and never looked back. There was good reason why he guarded his heart, but he’d felt something different with Valeria, something special, so he’d let her in, and she proved to be just as cold and uncaring as a woman could be. And a Roman on top of it. He’d never make the mistake again.

“You didn’t mean it, did you?” He barely suppressed his rage at her betrayal. “You hoped I’d be killed or that I wouldn’t come back.”

“No!” She shook her head in denial. “I was desperate to have you return.”

“This could be a trap you’ve carefully laid,” he continued to accuse her. “I’ll bet there are more men waiting outside for you to simply give the word.”

“Please, Tristan, listen to me when I say you must go. More men will be coming and I hate to think what they’d do if they found you here.” The sad, pleading look in her eyes was almost enough to convince him she was telling the truth.

In any case, he had to get out of there, and he would still take Valeria with him. He’d make her regret her lies and deceit, and do to her what he should have done from the beginning. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her close so he could toss her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” She kicked her legs and pounded her fists against his back as she lay draped over him.

Tristan tightened his hold around her legs to stop her kicking and slashed his sword down the back wall of the tent so he could leave with less chance of being noticed. The forest was close, and once he got there, he could disappear.

“Halt, northern swine!” a deep voice bellowed out behind him.

Tristan turned and saw Valeria’s fearsome protector, covered in Roman armor and heavily armed with weapons. It was time to find out just how loyal the soldier was. Tristan ducked out of the tent and raced towards the forest with Valeria flopping over his shoulder. He tossed away the extra sword in his hand to lighten his load.

“Dammit, Tristan.” She beat at his back with her tiny fists. “Rufus will kill you.”

“Let him catch me first.” He continued with sure strides towards the welcoming depths of the green forest.

“Put me down.” She reared up from his shoulder and twisted about. “Just put me down and get out of here.”

“I recommend you do as the lady asks,” a deep voice said in his own language from behind him.

Tristan spun around to face Rufus, with Valeria hanging over his shoulder, muttering foul curses at him. The woman certainly had spirit.

“Let her go,” Rufus ordered. “She’s innocent in this, or was, before you got a hold of her.”

Tristan felt a sudden shame for what he’d done to Valeria, knowingly taking her virginity and not caring what the consequences might be for either of them. He’d been so blind to his lust he hadn’t given the future much thought.

He gently lowered her to her feet, savoring the feel of her soft body against him as she slid down, inhaling the sweet, feminine scent that clung to her golden hair. He didn’t want to let go of her.

“Come to me.” Rufus extended his hand to Valeria.

Tristan was shocked to see her hesitate, one of her hands still desperately clinging to his arm. She didn’t move to take the hand that was offered.

“Valeria!” Rufus raged at her. “Come away from him.”

She gave Tristan a defeated glance, her eyes wet with the start of tears, and stepped out of his arms and over to her fierce protector. He felt the loss of her warmth like a punch to his gut. He hadn’t been prepared to have feelings for her and he was having a hard time dealing with them. But deal with them he must. He’d push Valeria so far from his mind that he’d forget she ever existed.

“How do you want to die, Pict scum?” Rufus aimed his heavy sword at him.

Tristan tore off his fur pelt and tossed it to the ground, then drew his own sword from the sheath at his waist. “Not quietly, if that’s what you had in mind.”

“Rufus, stop this.” Valeria stood in front of him, blocking him so he couldn’t attack. She would not let him kill Tristan.

“Get out of my way.” Rufus tried to shove her behind him.

Valeria fought him, and her bare feet slipped around in the snow. She didn’t even feel the cold, only the frantic need to protect Tristan from a sure death.

“I mean it, Domina.” Rufus stared down at her, his brown eyes boring into hers, his mouth set into a severe line. “Move out of the way.”

He shoved her harder this time and sent her flying to her back on the ground. She lay still for a moment, unable to believe he’d gotten so rough with her. It wasn’t like Rufus to treat her in such a bad manner.

“Is that the only way you can handle a woman?” Tristan asked in a mocking tone, provoking Rufus to a fight. “By knocking her around?”

Rufus chuckled a deep, booming laugh. “You’re one to talk. Forcing yourself on innocent young women hardly makes you heroic.”

The two men stared each other down, their swords held at the ready. Rufus attacked first. He lunged forward and slashed his sharp blade, but Tristan blocked the blow and propelled him back.

Valeria scrambled to her feet, determined to put a stop to their fighting. “Stop this ridiculous nonsense, both of you.”

“I’m sworn to protect your honor,” Rufus argued. He swung another blow at Tristan.

Tristan dodged the blade and returned with a swing that would have sliced Rufus in half if he hadn’t pulled back.

“You’ve taken on quite a chore.” Tristan struck again, and Rufus blocked the blow. “Are you certain she has any honor left to protect?”

Rufus erupted in a loud battle cry and charged for Tristan. They met in a clash of bodies and steel. Both men grunted and snarled as they grappled with each other like two boys fighting, neither one of them willing to back down.

“Rufus Paulinas, I order you to cease this madness!” Valeria shouted out, trying to rein the warrior in. “I command you!”

The men stopped their struggling and scowled at each other.

“I promised to kill this man,” Rufus said, his nostrils flaring with fury. “I shall see it done.”

“No, you will not,” Valeria argued back. “You will release him at once.”

She hated using her authority over Rufus, and before now she’d never had a reason to. He only sought to protect her honor. If he knew what had really happened between her and Tristan he might not be so willing to come to her defense.

Rufus released his hold on Tristan and shoved him away, curling his lip and giving an angry snarl. “I’ll have to settle for seeing your death in the arena.”

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” Tristan snarled in response, his eyes darkening with anger.

“Dear Gods!” Valeria raked her hands through her hair. “You’re both acting like children.”

She cast a scolding glance first at Rufus, then at Tristan. Their hardened expressions didn’t change. Was she the only one with any sense?

“Tristan, you’d better go,” she told him, then she turned to Rufus. “You can take me back to the camp. I’m ready to go home.”

“I won’t let him go,” Rufus said. “He should be brought to Rome to pay for what he’s done to you.”

“And what has he done to me?” Valeria challenged, lifting her chin. “Aside from giving me food and shelter and warm clothes?”

Rufus stared at her in disbelief. “He… he…”

“He what?” She crossed her arms over her chest. Rufus had no need to know the truth. She’d let him believe Tristan hadn’t so much as touched her.

“Domina,
please
,” he said in a harsh whisper. “I only wish to avenge the loss of your innocence.”

Valeria blushed with embarrassment, while Tristan snorted a laugh. “She’s hardly what I’d consider innocent.”

Rufus silenced the younger man with an irate glare.

“Go, Tristan.” Valeria somehow found the courage to look into his cool grey eyes. She committed every detail of his handsome face to memory, knowing he would always haunt her. That she would always feel the shadow of his touch on her skin. Letting him go was the only way to save him. She had no desire to have him killed, and she didn’t think she could bear seeing him suffer the atrocities Rome would surely inflict upon him.

His eyes softened as he looked back at her. “It’s not too late.” He held his hand out to her in a bold gesture.

Valeria stared at his strong hand. He had long, slender fingers and had used them to bring her so much pleasure. Remembering the gentle feel of his hands on her body had her wanting to take his hand, to find out where it would lead, but she refused the reckless impulse. It was impossible. They belonged to different worlds.

“Goodbye, Tristan.” Biting her lip, she had to look away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes.

“Hold the prisoner!” The Roman soldier who’d first come upon Valeria in Tristan’s tent was marching towards them. “Centurion Paulinas, hold that man.”

Tristan took off into the forest without a word, quickly disappearing among the trees. Two legionaries on horseback went chasing after him, their red cloaks billowing out behind them.

Please, Gods, let him get away.

Valeria wasn’t sure if her prayer would be answered, but she wished it anyway.

Tristan moved like the wind. Perhaps he was even faster than the wind as he cut around trees and leapt over ditches. Each long stretch of his legs carried him faster and farther into the forest.

Had he listened to common sense, he’d be long gone from the camp with no one chasing him. Because he’d made the unwise choice of following his baser, physical appetites, the Romans pursued him on horseback.

Valeria was not worth this much trouble. She’d lied to him, giving the name of her protector in place of her uncle’s name. Did she even have an uncle? He had to believe she’d lied about her feelings and had only shared his bed to save herself.

Tristan could not be captured. He’d rather die with honor than become a slave to Rome. No way would he let Valeria take delight in seeing him shamed and degraded. He should have stayed true to his instincts. He should have wrung her pretty little neck, and then tossed her aside with the other prisoners.

But he’d wanted to believe, just for a moment, that she cared for him. He hadn’t felt something like that for a really long time.

Tristan ran until his legs ached and his lungs burned. He pushed himself to keep going, but knew he’d never outrun men on horses. He’d have to stand his ground and fight. After he killed them, he’d take both horses and gather up what was left of his army.

But Romans didn’t fight fair.

Rather than facing him like men, the cowards lashed at him with leather whips from atop their horses. The blows rained down so fast he couldn’t get away from them. One of the men managed to disarm him and sent his sword flying through the air. They both continued to strike him, seeming to enjoy their positions over him. His thick furs covered most of his body and spared him the worst of their blows, but when they finally grew tired, one of them lashed out, wrapping the end of his whip firmly around Tristan’s ankles. Giving a hard jerk, he dumped Tristan onto his back, then dragged him through the forest behind his horse and into the middle of camp.

This was all Valeria’s fault. She had better pray to the Gods they killed him, because if they didn’t, he’d make her pay.

The men released him and forced him to his feet, then removed the rest of his weapons. His whole body was racked with pain. Dragging him behind the horse had been just as effective as if they’d beaten him to a pulp with their fists.

It was an odd feeling being ushered into his own tent and seeing a red flock of Romans among his things. Behind the table sat an older man with short dark hair, beady little eyes, and the typical chiseled Roman nose. He wore a red legionary cloak draped over his shoulders and he was looking over the maps Tristan had stolen from a Roman legion a few years back.

In the corner of the room behind him, Valeria sat perched on top of the trunk. She still wore a fur pelt, and now had on men’s breeches under her tunic and a pair of leather boots. Part of him wanted to leap across the tent and choke the life out of her for lying to him, while another part of him wanted to trust her, despite her lies.

What was he supposed to believe?

“Do you understand my language?” The man behind the table spoke to him. “Do you hear what I’m saying?”

Tristan pursed his lips tightly. He refused to yield anything to Rome. Better they kill him before he really lost control of his temper.

The man looked over his shoulder at Valeria. “Does he speak Latin, or not?”

Valeria spared Tristan a quick glance. He almost thought he saw an apology in those bewitching blue eyes, but he’d been a fool for her once, and he’d not make the same mistake twice.