The Gladiator (19 page)

“I think it's time we left,” Antonius announced.

“We can't. The rain has yet to die down,” Tiberia said grumpily.

“A little rain won't harm us.” His firm tone brooked no disagreement. “Tell Pelonia goodbye, my dear. You'll see her tomorrow one way or the other.”

With a quick bow to Pelonia, he started for the door, leaving his wife to give her a hasty embrace and follow in his wake.

Once they left the house, Pelonia sank into the chair behind her and dropped her face in her hands.
Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for bringing my family to me, but what am I to do about Caros?

 

Lost in his thoughts, Caros leaned against the study's doorway, facing the inner courtyard. The pouring rain had mellowed to mist and drizzle. Light from the lanterns in the interior rooms glimmered on the wet pavers. The twilight air was cool and refreshed, but Pelonia's imminent departure meant darkness was descending on him in more ways than one.

Across the courtyard, he saw Pelonia's tiny form exit the sitting room, her light colored tunic glowing like a beacon in the day's ebbing light. With her head bowed, she didn't see him, giving him a chance to observe her unhindered. The air of melancholy she wore disturbed him, churning up regrets he didn't want to address.

She leaned against one of the pillars and stretched out her hand to catch the rain dripping from the roof tiles. Her beauty held him in thrall. The shine of her hair, her creamy skin, made him long to touch her, even as the loneliness surrounding her lanced him with guilt.

Tiberia's appearance must have caused her to miss her family, freedom and the life of privilege she'd known with
greater fervency than usual. What madness had possessed him to believe he'd ever be enough to replace what she'd lost?

He left the doorway, the back of his hand brushing the cool raindrops off a potted palm as he cut his way through the courtyard. Her family's invasion today had shaken him out of his selfish dream world. The money he'd paid for Pelonia gave him the legal right to keep her and he'd convinced himself she would be better off with him because he loved her. But after today's revelations he understood that if she chose him, he had nothing to offer but a demotion in social status and her family's endless disappointment.

He'd made the right decision in the hours since Antonius left. It hadn't been easy to come to terms with losing her, but in the end he wanted Pelonia's happiness above his own.

He heard her call his name. A smile played about her lips. “Caros, there you are. I'd like to speak with you.”

“I want to talk with you as well. It's your last night here, after all.”

If he hadn't been watching her so intently, he would have missed the way her bottom lip quivered before she steadied it between her teeth, or how she dropped her gaze to hide all traces of her true feelings. Either reaction may have been caused by happiness or sorrow; he couldn't divine which. He had more reason to believe she was elated to leave, but the hope that she possessed even a shred of lasting emotion for him, and wanted to stay, was hard to kill.

The mystery of how best to proceed knotted his tense muscles to the breaking point. He strangled the impulse to shake her until she admitted her thoughts on the matter and probed for answers using a different tack. “I imagine your joy is boundless at regaining your freedom. I made a mistake not to insist Antonius take you away tonight and save us both the hassle of packing you off in the morning.”

“Yes, why didn't you? Tiberia was most upset to leave me here.” Her eyes sparkled with a glassy sheen in the lantern's light. “I suppose you didn't think of it because it's not
your
back that endures a hard pallet every night.”

“I offered to share my comfortable bed, but you declined.”

“And rightly so given this sudden wish of yours to be rid of me.”

The last thing he wanted was to be free of her. From the moment he'd seen her in the slaver's wagon, she owned him. For the first time since his family's murder, he'd dared to love another. Had he been wiser, he would have dismissed the ardent feelings she stoked in him. Relinquishing her hurt the same as severing his sword arm.

“I took the hint this afternoon when I offered my heart and you denied me,” he said, willing his pain not to betray him. “You'll be better off with your family.”

She glanced away, but didn't try to convince him otherwise. “Strange how my refusal didn't matter to you until the senator called me kin.”

Suspicion rang in her voice. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I admit I chose to ignore the claims you made about your father and the ties you held to an important family because it suited me. I'd have been obliged to return you to your cousin and, at the time, I didn't want to let you go.”

Rain dripped on the mosaic tiles as Pelonia considered him. “Because,
at the time,
you were determined to prove your mastery over me.”

“You misunderstood—”

“No, I think I understand perfectly. Victory is what you care for most in the world. Admit it, you didn't want to give me up because you were determined to win the pact between us. Even the offer of your heart today was just a ploy to overcome the last dregs of my resistance.”

The coldness in her tone was so unlike her, he flinched.

“But you want to lose the senator's goodwill or a court case even less than the game between us,” she said bitterly.

He fought the instinct to pull her against him and show her how much he wanted her above all else. “If you believe so…”

Her eyes brimmed with misery and doubt. “I don't know what to believe, Caros. Either you lied to me when you said you cared for me or you're deceiving me now. I came out here with promises of my own…if you cared for me half as much I care for you—”

She gasped as his strong arms banded about her, dragging her against the marble column of his body. His lips silenced her with a kiss that plucked every thought of resistance from her mind. Her eyes drifted closed as his clean, spicy scent filled her senses. Her knees grew weak. Dizzy and shaking from emotion, she locked her arms around his waist to keep from falling.

A tremor ran through the corded muscles of his back. Through the thin linen of his tunic she felt the bumps and indentations of the scars from countless whippings. Her heart bled for the pain he'd endured. She held him tighter, the need to spend the rest of her life showering him with love and tenderness expanding inside her until the ache in her chest robbed her of breath.

The feeling was so intense, so poignant a sob built in her throat and a tear slid down her cheek.

How can I live without him?

He softened the kiss, drawing her even closer. “Look at me,” he rasped, his warm breath caressing her ear. “Look me in the eye.”

Her lashes fluttered open. His blue gaze burned with a light that singed her to the marrow, branding her his forever whether he chose her or not.

“Don't ever think I don't care for you.” He cupped her face in his large palms and brushed her tears away with the pad of his thumb. “You're
all
I care about. I'd forgotten how to love…No, I'd forgotten love existed until I saw you lying there in the slaver's wagon. I wanted to keep you even if it meant forcing you to accept me because life without you was dark and empty. Believe me, I've thanked your God more than once for bringing you here, though now the time has come to let you go.”

“You
do
believe in Him.”

He shook his head. “It's too late for me, but it's not too late for you to enjoy the kind of life you were born to with the kind of man you deserve.”

“You're
the kind of man I deserve!” Her voice cracked. “If you'd stop being stubborn—”

“No. Today I accepted you have to go. I've nothing to offer you except your family's eternal disappointment and a foreigner's name. If you stayed with me you'd lose your rightful place among the exalted families you'll mingle freely with when you return to your cousin.”

“I don't care.”

“You will. If not today, then when our children are born and must bear the stigma of having a father who was once a slave. What will you tell them when they ask why people look down on them?”

“The same thing I'll tell them when they ask why we don't visit the pagan temples or participate in the pagan feast days or accept the emperor as a god. I'll teach them we're a people set apart by our Heavenly Father who don't need society's mark of approval.”

He caressed a strand of her hair between his fingers. His eyes were soft and tender. “I've said it before and I'll say it again. You are truly a unique woman, Pelonia. I've never met
your like. When you leave here tonight and return to your cousin, remember you always have a friend in me. If you or your loved ones need a sword to fight for you, I'm here.”

“Tonight?” The cold evening air seeped into her bones. He spoke with finality, as though he hadn't heard her…or refused to.

He nodded and called for a litter. “This is goodbye,
mea carissima.
There's no reason to wait until morning.”

“D
on't look,” Tiberia said in a hissed whisper. “Adiona Leonia is standing over there by the statue of Mercury.”

Pelonia froze in a moment of instant dread, her gaze darting around the Forum's chaotic central market in search of Caros's obnoxious friend.

Her sudden tension palpable, Tiberia latched on to Pelonia's arm. “She's that beautiful creature in the golden tunic. She's rich beyond imagination. My husband jokes that even the gods owe her coin.” Her smooth forehead pleated with frustration. “I've given it my all to glean an invitation to one of her parties. So far she's rebuffed and ignored me, but I'm determined not to give up.”

“Why is an invitation from her so important?” she asked, her eyes settling on the elegant Adiona and the bright purple
palla
draped around her slender shoulders.

“She's one of the city's leading matrons. Antonius assures me I'll know I've been accepted into the highest social circles once I've been received by her.”

“I don't know why you bother. You're lovely in your own right. You have a wonderful husband and home—”

“You don't understand,” Tiberia said, clearly distressed. “My husband is a powerful and important man. It's my duty to add whatever honor I can to his house. If I don't, Antonius might think he's made the wrong choice of bride.”

“Never.” She squeezed Tiberia's hand. “Antonius loves you. As far as the widow Leonia is concerned,
you're
a senator's wife. It seems she'd be the one to vie for your attention.”

“Senators are voted in and out of their position, but Adiona—”

“Lingers like an unshakeable cough?”

Tiberia's lips twitched with laughter. “You're too kind. Adiona's more like a plague. Unfortunately, if I don't earn her approval I'll be a social pariah.” She lost a shade of color. “
Please
tell me she's not coming this way. I'm not prepared to meet with her.”

Pelonia angled in front of her cousin to give the girl time to collect her wits. Her massive bodyguard trailing close behind, Adiona sailed through the crowd seemingly unaware of all the slacked-jawed males and disapproving women she left in her wake. Her kohl-rimmed eyes took on a perceptive gleam of recognition the closer she came.

“What a surprise, Publia, is it not?” The widow's bejeweled bracelets jingled as she came to a standstill.

She felt Tiberia stiffen behind her. “My name is Pelonia.”

“Oh, yes, forgive me, will you? I'm rather shocked. It's not every day one returns from a sojourn in the country to find a peacock has taken the place of a mouse.”

Refusing to give the widow the satisfaction of seeing her upset, she soothed her palms down the pale blue silk of her own tunic, deriving a measure of comfort from the fact she no longer wore slave's garb. With her hair fashionably arranged and pinned with sapphires, and her skin back to its
usual health from a month of daily treatments at the baths, she reminded herself she was no longer the trampled weed she'd been the last time she'd suffered Adiona's presence.

“How is Caros?” the widow asked. “I went by to see him when I returned to Rome yesterday. Gaius told me he ventured to Neapolis a week ago and has yet to return.”

“I don't know. I haven't seen him in a month,” she admitted once she absorbed the shaft of pain the sound of his name caused her. “I hope and pray he's well.”

Adiona's eyes flared with surprise. “You haven't seen him? Judging by your transformation, I assumed he'd made you his mistress.”

Pelonia's cheeks burned. Tiberia shrieked at the insinuation, drawing attention to her presence as she stepped to the fore. “My lady, you may not remember me. My name is Tiberia—”

“Yes, I know who you are.” Adiona settled a tolerant smile on the younger girl. “We met shortly before your wedding to Senator Tacitus, correct?”

“Yes, my lady. It's an honor to meet you again.” She slanted a terse glance rife with questions at Pelonia before returning her smile to the widow. “I really must assure you my cousin was
never
that man's mistress.”

“Your cousin?” Her exotic eyes danced with mischief. “How intriguing. My steward mentioned you'd had a relative return from the dead.”

“Yes, we're grateful the gods brought her back to us.”

“The gods?” Adiona's husky laughter mingled with the din of the milling crowd. “When exactly did Caros achieve divine status?”

“The
lanista
is hardly divine, my lady, but after the way he treated Pelonia, the gods below may want to enlist his help in learning a trick or two.”

“Really?” Adiona's manner cooled. “I've never known Caros to mistreat a woman.”

“He treated me well,” Pelonia said, eager to nip any gossip before it bloomed.

Adiona shifted her gaze to Pelonia as though she'd forgotten her presence altogether. “Marvelous, I'm glad to learn you won't spread lies about him.”

“Never, I—”

“We missed you at our wedding.” Tiberia quickly changed the subject, drawing the widow's attention back to her.

“I sent my regrets when family matters kept me from attending,” Adiona said. “I was loath to miss such a special occasion.”

“Thank you.” Tiberia managed to look serene. “I did receive your kind regards. Both my husband and I were saddened you couldn't join us.”

“I hope you'll let me make it up to you. I'd love to give a celebration in your honor next Tuesday night if you and the good senator are free.”

Tiberia beamed, her discomfort obviously forgotten in the face of being handed her dearest wish. “I'll have to speak with my husband, but I'm fairly certain we have no previous engagements.”

“Excellent.” The widow nodded to both of them as she took her leave. “I'll look forward to seeing all of you then.”

 

“No. Try this,” Caros instructed Quintus. “Lunge forward with your right foot. Use the force of your weight to bring the
gladius
through in an even arc, slicing your opponent's face or middle. If you have two opponents and one is behind you, follow through with the swing, careful to keep control of your sword arm. Otherwise get out of the way as though your life depends upon it. Stand around twiddling your thumbs and you'll end up with a blade in your throat.”

“Perish the thought!” a female voice burst from the sidelines.

Caros glared at Adiona. “When did you arrive?” As stunning as always, his friend couldn't seem to take her eyes off Quintus. Quintus, on the other hand, didn't look pleased to be standing there in nothing more than his sweaty tunic.

Intrigued by Adiona's continued interest in his slave, he realized the increase in Quintus's breathing wasn't entirely due to the morning's exercise.

Caros shook his head. The trainee was well on his way to becoming another of Adiona's love-besotted fools. “What are you doing out here tempting my men, woman? Do you mean to cause a riot?”

Her husky laughter reached across the golden sand. She cocked her head at a flippant angle; the bejeweled hoops adorning her ears glinted in the sun. Her eyes slid back to Quintus and captured the Christian's gaze. “There's only one man I'd like to tempt into anything.”

Quintus turned his back on her, the veins in his sword arm popping from his tense grasp on the
gladius.
A crimson tide of embarrassment rose up Adiona's cheeks. Seeing the hurt in her eyes, Caros groaned under his breath. Her seductive behavior made it easy to forget she wasn't nearly as jaded or wanton as she pretended. A victim of Cupid's arrow himself, he pitied her.

Leaving Quintus with instructions to continue the morning's practice, he dried himself off with a nearby towel and made his way to Adiona. “Let's go indoors. I'll have refreshments prepared for you.”

“There's no need,” she said as they walked through the gate and into the shade of the peach orchard. “Gaius brought my favorite cinnamon buns and sweet wine before I ventured to the field to watch you.”

“Ah, now I understand the intoxication in your eyes when you gazed at Quintus.”

Scarlet crept up her neck. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“No? I half feared you were going to pounce on him.”

“Nonsense. If I happened to pay attention to him overlong it's because the man's ineptness with a sword is mesmerizing.”

“He's much improved.”

“Possibly, but I worry he's going to impale himself.”

He laughed for the first time since Pelonia's departure. “I see. So it was your
concern
that made you proposition him?”

He held the door for her as they entered the domus. “You're hateful,” she said, slapping him on the arm. “I did no such thing. To think I came here as soon I heard you'd returned from Neapolis because I feared you were in the doldrums. Obviously your mouse was right to leave you.”

His humor fled. “You know nothing of it.”

“Oh, but I do. I saw her in the market three days ago. She looked splendid. I doubt she misses you at all. Truth to tell, I hardly recognized her.”

Envy snaked through him. He'd tried, by the gods, he'd tried to cast her from his mind, but Pelonia was embedded in his heart like a thorn he couldn't pluck free. He'd left Rome hoping a change of scenery would help distract him from constant thoughts of her. It did no good. Each night he dreamed of her only to wake restless, unfilled…his heart broken by the weight of his loneliness. “She's a diamond. Exquisite and rare.”

“How sweet, a poet gladiator. It's unfortunate you let such a prize slip through your fingers.”

His lip curled at her sarcasm. “It wasn't by choice, you hag.”

Her laughter grated on his nerves as she preceded him into the inner courtyard. Seating herself on the marble bench
beside the largest fountain, she fluffed the generous folds of her vibrant blue stola. “The senator must have arranged her departure then. No one else but the emperor has enough sway to force your hand. With Domitian new to power he has more important things to attend to, I'm sure.”

She surveyed him from beneath her lashes. “I understand there's a plot to wed her off to Minucius Brutus. Such a pity, considering your high regard for the girl. Minucius is upstanding enough, but as dull witted as the Brutus name implies.”

Jealousy chilled his blood. “Where did you hear this?”

“My steward. I quizzed him about the situation after I saw your little mouse at the Forum. You know how he keeps me informed of the city's most interesting tidbits. It seems someone began a rumor that Pelonia was a prostitute in a gladiator
ludus.”

He slammed his fist into his opposite palm. “Who started the lie?”

“I know not. Even if I did I doubt I'd tell you. From the flare of rage in your eyes, I'd be signing a death warrant. I can do without the blood on my hands. It's such a chore to wash off.”

“Does Antonius know the deceiver?”

“I don't believe so.” She brushed a wisp of dark hair behind her ear. “I suppose anyone who attended the party we hosted might be the culprit. At any rate, it seems there are too few agreeable men willing to wed your slave because of the report. From what I understand the senator had to double the massive dowry he'd originally settled on her before even Minucius expressed an interest yesterday. He's in desperate straits, you know. If you recall, the Brutus family suffered a major financial loss two years ago when their holdings in Pompeii were buried in the ashes.”

He felt like Vesuvius on the brink of eruption. The irony of the situation hit him hard. He hadn't returned Pelonia to
her family to see her married off to some weakling who wanted her solely for coin. Where was the justice when he'd gladly give half his fortune to see her once more, and the other half just to hear her sweet voice again?

“I'm going after her.”

Adiona looked doubtful. “What good could you possibly do? You'll never make it past the senator's front door. You must accept you've lost her.”

He sat heavily on the bench beside her, too tormented to care if she saw him in such a low state. “I released Pelonia to Antonius because he promised to find her a husband worthy of her.”

“Why didn't you wed her yourself?”

“Don't vex me any more than I am, Adiona. Why do you think I didn't marry her when she's what I want most in the world?”

“I honestly don't know.”

Her genuine bewilderment made him angrier. “I'm not good enough for her. Don't you see? I spent most of my life a slave, good for nothing but killing and violence. I have riches, yes, and invitations to the grandest homes in the empire, but only because I'm a novelty, an oddity for my hosts to show off before their friends like some two-headed bull.”