Gladiator Heart (30 page)

Tristan sheathed his sword after the other men had left.

“Caesar’s cousin,” he remarked dryly as he stalked across the room. “I never would have guessed when you said you were visiting your uncle in the north you meant your uncle
the Emperor of Rome
.”

“And what if I had told you?” she asked. “What would you have done with me?”

A muscled flexed along his jaw as his intense grey gaze held her still. He didn’t answer.

Instead, he left her standing there and began to make an inspection of her rooms. He threw open the doors of her wardrobe and examined her abundance of fine clothes and sandals. When he walked into the bath, he let out a pleased laugh before coming back into the bedroom and stopping beside the bed. A gratified smile turned up his mouth and he stroked his hands over the soft, white silk bedcover, then pressed down to test the firmness of the mattress.

“Your room puts my little tent in the forest to shame,” he said. “I should have no trouble getting comfortable here.”

He stripped off his armor and dumped it unceremoniously on the floor, then removed the sword from around his waist and laid it on the bed. He sat on the bed beside it and removed his sandals. Wearing only the short, light blue tunic, he reclined back into the pillows and crooked his arm behind his head.

“Very comfortable.” He patted the empty space beside him. “Won’t you join me?”

Valeria cast a furtive glance to the closed doors. Even if she did get away before he could catch her, where would she go?

“There’s nowhere for you to run,” he said, detecting her thoughts. “The palace has been taken, and outside, the mob awaits. They’ll tear you to pieces.”

Emphasizing his words, screams and shouts carried in through the open windows, issued by the angry mob gathered outside. She walked over to one of the arched windows and peered down at the courtyard. The throng of citizens collecting in front of the palace was loud and unruly. They pushed and shoved at each other while shouting out, demanding justice and freedom. The people were geared up for war with all manner of weapons, from swords and shields, to heavy clubs.

In the center of the crowd was a wooden wagon, and Valeria recognized a bruised and bloodied Legatus slumped in the back of it, completely naked and covered in filth. His wife was dragged through the crowd and they beat her and threw stones and rotten food at her before tossing her into the wagon next. Her dark hair had been shorn and there were patches of blood on her scalp where the blade had cut too close.

Gods.

Valeria gasped in alarm. How easily people could transform into monsters.

Tristan stood behind her and braced his hands on the windowsill, caging her in with his warm, strong body. His nearness made her ache for his touch.

“This is the mob that rules Rome,” he said at her ear.

A woman’s anguished scream pierced the air. Valeria watched in horror as Septima was now dragged over to the wagon. A group of about five women descended on her in a fury. They stripped off her fine clothes and jewelry and beat her to the ground with their fists, then proceeded to shave off the long red locks of her hair. One of the women held a lock of hair up to the crowd and waved it through the air like a trophy. The people cheered while Septima was forced into the wagon with the Legatus and his wife.

Valeria started to cry, and hot tears slipped down her cheeks. It was no secret how much she disliked Septima, but she wept for the woman anyway. Or maybe she wept for herself. What a terrible fate to suffer.

“Domina! Domina!” her servant, Paula, shrieked as she scurried into the room. “Are you alive? Are you safe?”

Valeria was startled.

What was the girl doing in the palace?

Paula’s look of concern quickly transformed to one of astonishment when she noticed Tristan. Her eyes went wide. “Shall I fetch help, Domina?”

Tristan moved away from the window, allowing Valeria some space. He crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest and studied Paula with a curious, unflinching gaze.

“That won’t be necessary,” Valeria said. “I should be safe if the mob stays outside.”

“Nowhere is safe,” Paula said. “The rebels have taken the palace. You should see what they’re doing downstairs. Caesar Crispus will be very upset.”

“Crispus isn’t here, is he?” Valeria snapped, realizing how furious she was with her cousin for leaving her behind. Did her life really mean so little?

“Is there anything you require, Domina?”

Valeria was amazed by the girl’s loyalty. She had a chance to be free, and she had returned to serve. “There is nothing I require, Paula. You shouldn’t even be here. It’s not safe.”

“It’s safer than anywhere else in the city,” she insisted. “Senator Nero and Senator Braxus keep order among the rebels and the other Senators, and many of the servants have returned to the palace to assist them. There’s more help than they know what to do with.”

Was the entire city taking over the palace? Her uncle would have a serious conniption over this. Valeria found it all rather comical, in a distorted kind of way.

“What shall I do for you, Domina?” Paula bowed her head, ready to receive orders.

Valeria could think of nothing. With the city in the midst of a rebellion, it seemed rather silly to have a servant drawing her baths and fussing over her hair.

“Paula, your services are no longer required.”

The girl’s head snapped up. “What do you mean, Domina?”

“I am no longer your Domina.” Saying the words brought tears to her eyes. She cared deeply for the girl, so freeing her from service was something she owed to her in exchange for the years of her life she’d given. “You’re free to do as you chose. Your life is your own now.”

Paula burst into the fitful tears Valeria was holding back. “I cannot leave you. Please don’t send me away.” She sank to her knees and covered her face, sobbing uncontrollably.

Valeria hadn’t expected the emotional reaction. She briefly glanced at Tristan, and he frowned in confusion.

“Is the girl going to stay in here and cry all day?” he asked.

“Don’t be sad, Paula,” she said softly. “This is your chance to be free. Won’t you take it?”

Paula lifted her head and swiped at her tears. “I don’t know where to go. I’m all alone. I have no one.”

Valeria sighed, not sure what to tell her. The poor girl had been taken from her home and family and now the palace was the only life she knew. It didn’t seem right to send her off.

“You may stay in the palace as long as you like, but not to serve me.”

“Thank you.” She drew in a hiccupping breath as she calmed her sobs.

“Now leave me,” Valeria ordered. “Find some way to help downstairs.”

Paula bowed to her before she exited the room, maybe forever.

Valeria was left reeling, fully aware that she no longer resembled her old self. Things she’d once thought were important didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Not fancy clothes.

Or servants.

Or luxurious rooms at the palace.

And she had never felt more lost in her life.

“You’re a strange woman.” Tristan said, still surprised by what he’d seen Valeria do that day. “To free two servants in one day must be unheard of in Rome.”

“Freeing servants makes me strange?” she asked, a lost, confused expression on her pretty face.

“Maybe not strange.” He scrambled for the right word. “Just different.”

She lifted her chin proudly. “I guess we’re both different from what is commonly expected of us, are we not?”

Tristan considered her words. She’d once judged him to be a savage barbarian, and he’d assumed she was as selfish and spoiled as the rest of her people. How had he been so blind as not to notice Valeria was nothing like the majority of Romans? She was gentle and kind, yet strong-willed. He’d known this about her all along, but still he’d judged her based on where she was from.

What a fool.

He no longer had to be confused or disgusted by his feelings for Valeria. It wasn’t a Roman he craved, but a beautiful, amazing woman he’d been lucky enough to find tied up in his tent. Their meeting wasn’t a curse, it was fate.

“Did you send me all that armor this morning?” he asked.

“Yes, it was from me.” She went back to the window and looked down at the raging mob outside. “I didn’t know what else to do to help you.”

Her gift seemed all the more special in light of his realization. Every other woman had wanted something from him, had wanted to degrade him, where Valeria had only wanted to give him what he desired most.

Freedom
.

Now he desired something even more. He desired her. Tristan wanted her love, her kindness, her soft touch. He would possess her once again, and this time he would never let her go.

He stood behind her as she stared out the window, seeming lost in her thoughts, and circled his arms around her waist, pulling her up against his body.

“What do you want?” She twisted out of his hold. “Haven’t you had your fill of Rome yet?”

“Not until I have you.” His gaze roamed over her slender form as he imagined how he’d tear away her clothes and bury his hard, aching shaft deep inside her until she screamed in ecstasy.

“There are plenty of other women in Rome you can use to slake your lusts.” She turned her back to him. “I don’t want to be among that number.”

“I’m not interested in other women.”

“How dare you say that to me after you’ve whored yourself all over Rome?” She flung the insult over her shoulder.

Tristan felt the bite of her words like a slap in the face. He’d done no such thing. “That’s a strong accusation.”

“Do you deny it?” She turned and met his gaze, her eyes snapping fire. “I saw you with that slave girl, or do you forget?”

Could it be possible she was
jealous
? Tristan’s spirits soared. She had feelings for him after all.

“You saw me do what exactly?” He remembered that evening. Valeria had fled the room before anything had happened. She had no idea what he’d suffered that night.

“You had intercourse with her in front of all those people,” she shrieked, the outrage clear on her face. “I’m sure you enjoyed yourself immensely, she was very beautiful.”

Tristan couldn’t keep from smiling. “Do I detect a note of jealousy?”

“No,” she insisted, her lower lip pouting. “I have no reason to be jealous. I have no claim on you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “You have more of a claim on me than you know.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing in reply.

“I didn’t do anything with the girl.” Tristan sobered as he remembered the rest of that evening. “Do you think so poorly of me that I would degrade myself and another in such a manner?”

“But they made you do it. They—”

“They didn’t make me do anything. I took ten lashes for refusing to do as they ordered.”

Ten lashes that had been delivered by a cruel, unsatisfied mistress. He had a suspicion the public flogging had been more titillating to the onlookers than the act of copulation they had expected to see.

“That must have been awful for you,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry you were treated so poorly.”

Tristan stood close to her and cupped her face in his hand. “None of it is your fault.”

“
All
of it is my fault.” She cast her eyes to the floor. “You’d still be free in the north if you’d never found me.”

He took her head in both his hands and lifted her face upward. “We don’t know that. The Romans have been after my armies for a long time. You got caught in the middle.”

She placed one of her hands over his and pressed her cheek into his palm. “What are you going to do? The closest legions will be returning from the front as soon as they get word of what happened. There may not be much time.”

He was well aware their time was running out. “I need to meet with the others. Then I’ll decide what to do.”

“Get out of the city, Tristan,” she pleaded, her eyes welling with tears. “Before it’s too late.”

He captured her mouth in a languid, heated kiss, as if they had all the time in the world. Blood pounded through his veins, his shaft hardening and lengthening, hungry for the feel of her velvety warmth surrounding him.

But first he had to be certain how much time they had left.

Senator Nero stood behind the giant wooden table in the palace library, his brows furrowed in consternation.

Attila’s suggestion that the nobles who were tried and convicted be forced to fight in the arena against the gladiators would only fuel more violence. He was learning that was one thing Rome loved.

“While it’s a good plan,” he said in his smooth, authoritative voice, “some of the nobility served in the legions, and others could afford private training. What if by chance they were to best one of you?”

“We let them live,” Atilla replied. “Just as we were allowed to live. They have a chance to earn their lives.”

The other men in the room nodded and voiced their agreement.

Senator Nero looked to Tristan with uncertainty. “What do you think?”

Knowing he’d been a general, in command of three northern armies, the senator placed more value on his opinions. Tristan honestly didn’t care what the city of Rome did with their noble class. He had the only one who mattered to him secured in her room upstairs with a guard at the door.

“I have no desire to be involved in what goes on in the arena,” he said. “If I am free, as you promised, I should like to return to my home.”

Senator Nero’s brows quirked inquiringly. “The hero of Rome would leave the city?”

“It was never mentioned I had cause to stay.”

Behind Senator Nero, the younger man who always accompanied him, Senator Braxus, appeared deep in thought. “It wouldn’t do well to have you leave Rome so soon,” he finally said. “We’d have you stay, at least until the trials in the arena are concluded.”

Tristan clenched his fists at his sides, suppressing his rage. He’d asked from the very start of this if he would simply become a slave to a new master, and they had promised him freedom, only to forswear on the agreement after the deed was done. When was he going to learn to stop trusting Romans?