Registering the dancer’s elaborate wig, heavy cosmetics and transparent costume, Pelonia paid no attention to Tiberia. The sensual delights the beauty’s gaze offered Caros knotted her stomach with jealousy. That he seemed captivated by the woman and didn’t rebuff the obvious invitation shattered Pelonia and broke her heart.
“Perfect. Our honored guests have arrived.” Adiona Leonia approached, her breezy manner one of an accomplished hostess. The smile she wore seemed genuine. She welcomed the three of them with a kiss on each cheek, then clapped her hands to draw the attention of her other guests.
The music and conversation died down. Pelonia forced herself to look interested in her hostess’s introductions, though her entire being danced with the awareness of Caros such a short distance away.
When she was finally able to glance at him again, he acknowledged her presence with a slight nod before he turned away. His lack of regard stung the same as a slap in the face.
Pierced through the heart, she lifted her chin in a valiant effort to maintain her dignity. The urge to flee into the night was strong. Inside, she felt herself crumbling. Tears scratched the back of her eyes and her chest locked up, making it difficult to breathe.
Thankfully, the introductions were over and her cousins’ attention had been claimed elsewhere. They were too caught up in chatting with other guests to notice her plight. Murmuring her excuses, she sought out a quiet corner of the huge palace to calm her nerves in private.
Blinded by the need for a hasty retreat, she ran into a solid male chest. “Excuse me, I—”
“What are you doing here?”
Speechless, Pelonia stared into the livid face of her uncle.
“Marcus,” Adiona exclaimed, covering the few paces it took to join them. “So good of you to come when you’ve only returned to Rome yesterday. The senator will be delighted you’re here. He feared you might not make it. I see you’ve already found your niece.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sight of Pelonia jolted Caros with a mix of pleasure and pain so intense it almost felled him. After five weeks and two days of missing her, he had to turn away or fall at her feet.
The sound of blood rushing in his ears drowned out the music and flirtatious banter of the dancer who’d approached him. Heart slamming against his ribs, every instinct urged him to toss Pelonia over his shoulder and carry her back to his home where he could keep her all to himself. Half mad with longing, he’d been in torment living without her.
His willpower at an end, the craving to see her forced him to seek her out. In an instant, he located her in the center of the entryway. Dressed in slave’s garb, he’d found her beautiful, but cloaked in silks and finery she was a feast for the eyes, an unspoiled oasis to a man dying of thirst.
A pained frown marred her brow. She spoke to her cousin, then pivoted toward the exit. He followed her, his feet carrying him across the tiled floor as though they possessed a will of their own.
He was too far away to stop Pelonia from colliding into the burly newcomer a few steps ahead of her. The man’s expression brimmed with recognition. His eyes flared with instant hate, his mouth twisted in a snarl.
Caros abandoned any pretense at politeness and began to shove his way through the thick crowd. From the corner of his eye, he saw Adiona abandon the clutch of guests she was speaking to and rush to Pelonia’s side.
“I see you’ve found your niece,” Adiona said at the same time Caros joined them.
Niece? “Marcus?” Caros’s right hand balled into a fist.
“Yes, I’m Marcus Valerius. Who wishes to know?”
“If you’re the man who abused Pelonia and sold her into slavery—” Caros swept Pelonia behind him and looked down on her worm of an uncle “—then I do.”
Marcus’s bravado began to fade until he noticed the circle of inquisitive onlookers forming around them. He puffed out his chest, determined, it seemed, to scrape together a show of strength, no matter how meager. “And…and who might you be?”
The music died on a discordant note and the din of conversation faded to shocked whispers. Adiona entered the fray. “You’ll have to forgive Marcus, my friend, he’s new to Rome.” To Marcus, she said, “Let me introduce you to Caros Viriathos, undefeated champion of Rome, lanista of the Ludus Maximus—”
“And the man who’s going to make you suffer ten times for every hurt you caused my lady.”
The bystanders gasped in unison. Adiona snickered. Antonius stepped forward to wrangle Marcus from danger, but it was a halfhearted effort at best. Caros felt Pelonia’s cool hand on his upper arm, heard her say his name, but he ignored everything except the maggot in front of him.
With malicious pleasure he watched her uncle squirm, aware that all of Rome’s finest citizens would think Marcus a coward if he bolted. Judging by the nervous twitch in his left eye, Marcus knew it, too.
The tension mounted until a shout went up from the crowd, “I’ll wager a thousand denarii the old buzzard ends up dead.”
Laughter and more wagers broke the brittle atmosphere. “Thank the gods someone has a sense of humor,” Adiona muttered. Distracting her guests by calling for more music and refreshments, she exclaimed, “I’ll make that three thousand if anyone’s game.”
Pelonia tugged on the back of Caros’s tunic. She was having a difficult time focusing on the seriousness of the situation when all of her senses were dizzy with the delight of being so close to the man she loved. That her uncle was keeping them from a pleasant reunion added to her dislike of him.
“Caros, my darling,” Adiona said blithely. “If you must shed blood have a care for my floor and take the violence outside, will you?”
“With pleasure.” He caught Marcus by the scruff of the neck and ushered him down a side hall.
“Caros, don’t hurt him.” Pelonia chased after the two men, vaguely aware of the group of revelers following on her heels.
The corridor led outside to a small garden. A few torches provided enough light for safety’s sake, but the simple arrangement of benches and flower beds surrounding a whimsical fountain spoke of a private sanctuary vastly different from the public areas of the palace.
Wasting no time, Caros let his fist fly. Her uncle squealed in pain. Cupping his face as blood gushed from his nose, Marcus fell backward into the fountain, splashing water over the garden’s pavers. The scent of blood encouraged the spectators. Excitement whipped through the air. More wagers were shouted.
The Romans’ love of violence sickened Pelonia. Caros’s bloodlust frightened her. No matter what she tried, he ignored her pleas for reason. Fearing he would murder Marcus and end up in prison or worse, she threw herself in between the two men to beg for mercy just as Caros threw another punch.
His fist clipped her forehead. Pain shot through her skull. She staggered back.
“Pelonia!” he shouted.
At the same time, the crowd heaved a collective groan.
The ground shifted. She felt as though she were spinning. She stumbled and started to fall.
Caros caught her before she hit the pavers. He lifted her, cradling her against his chest. Ashen with regret, his face blurred before her eyes. “I’m sorry, mea carissima, I’m sorry.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. A feeling of safety, absent since she left him, enveloped her. “I…I’ll be all right.”
As he carried her through the stunned onlookers, he murmured, “I pulled back the moment I saw you, but you were too close.”
“I know. It’s not your fault.”
“We’re going inside. I’ll have you more comfortable in moments.” He groaned under his breath. “Your cousins are here.”
“What have you done to her?” Tiberia screeched.
“Not now, girl.”
“She’s my cousin.” Tiberia trailed them down the hall. “You will tell me what happened.”
Caros walked on without comment, but Pelonia heard Adiona relay a quick report of events.
“
By the gods!” Tiberia railed. “You were warned to keep your hands off her, lanista! Now look what you’ve done. I should have known you’d resort to brute force—one of your sort always does. Do you think her betrothed is going to stand still for this?”
Betrothed?
Pelonia felt Caros go rigid. Her cousin must be mistaken. She mused her hearing must have been affected by the blow or else her brain had been loosed from its moorings because she’d made no agreement to wed anyone.
Caros was the only man she’d accept.
“Is it true?” he asked for her ears alone.
She shook her head, sending another blast of pain through her skull.
He relaxed and brushed a kiss across the throbbing spot on her brow. “That’s good. You’re mine. You won’t marry anyone if you don’t wed me.”
His high-handedness should have irked her, but she snuggled closer. Why be upset when he was simply confirming what she wanted and already decided for herself. If only he would come to believe in Christ…
“If you weren’t such a barbarian, this would never have happened,” Tiberia rattled on behind them.
“Cease your prattle, girl. You’re paining my head,” Adiona snapped impatiently. “If anyone is to blame for tonight’s fiasco, it’s your husband.”
“What do you mean?” the younger woman demanded. “I didn’t see Antonius assaulting your guests.”
“No, but he came to me yesterday and requested I invite Marcus tonight.”
A door opened. “Take her in here, Caros. There’s a bed she can have for the night,” Adiona said.
Pelonia lifted her head long enough to peer over Caros’s shoulder and watch as everyone followed them into the room.
“Caros told me of the uncle who’d sold Pelonia, but I didn’t realize it was Marcus.” Adiona continued with Tiberia’s set-down. “Of course, your husband did. I suspect he knew something like this would happen, didn’t you, Senator?”
“Is it true, Antonius?”
She heard the distress in her cousin’s voice and hated having a part in the cause of it.
“Yes,” he admitted.
Caros tightened his arms around her.
“But why? You knew how important this evening was to me. You must have guessed Marcus’s presence would ruin it.”
“It depends on your definition of ruin, my dear. You see bloodshed and a wrinkle in the festivities. I see that Marcus has been humiliated beyond repair. All of Rome will shun him for the rest of his days without my having to say a word.”
“But how did you know—?”
“I took a chance our hostess would invite Caros and another chance his feelings for Pelonia would demand he act in her defense.”
“You’re as crafty as Marcus,” Adiona condemned.
“Hardly,” Antonius said. “However, I am an opportunist. One doesn’t become a successful politician without learning how to manipulate circumstances to one’s benefit. But unlike Marcus, I’d never sell my own kin into slavery nor lie to them for financial gain.”
Adiona snorted. “Perhaps not, but it’s clear you’ll manipulate and lie to those who aren’t your kin. What did you plan to do if your gamble failed?”
“I’d have confronted Marcus. This lofty assembly is the ideal place to ruin a reputation. Thankfully the lanista’s temper is predictable enough I didn’t have to do the unpleasant business myself.”
Pelonia stopped listening to the others quarrel as Caros placed her gently on the bed. She opened her eyes, grateful for the dim light. He crouched beside her and brushed her hair back from her cheeks. She smiled, loving the gentleness in his eyes.
“I regret all of this,” he said. “I’ll never forgive myself for striking you. Tell me, why did you throw yourself in front of Marcus?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. It was an accident, one I caused. I trust you’d never hurt me, but I thought you were going to kill him.”
He kissed the back of her hand. “That’s what he deserves after he sold you, but I only intended a good thrashing.”
She cupped his cheek and allowed her thumb to caress his warm lips. “I admit I don’t like how he cast me out, but I’ll be forever thankful the Lord brought me to you.”
Caros swallowed the lump in his throat. Tenderness washed through him. “I’m grateful He did, too.”
“Caros, are you listening to this tripe?” Adiona’s inflection strongly suggested he say something. “Antonius has arranged for Pelonia to wed Minucius Brutus. Do you have an opinion you’d like to share on the matter?”
“His opinion doesn’t matter in the least,” the senator injected. “He has no claim or rights to her.”
Clamping his anger, Caros gave Pelonia’s hand a reassuring squeeze before he stood to face the other man. “I may have no right to her, but I have claimed her. I trusted you to find her a suitable husband. Minucius Brutus is not acceptable. Given your failure to meet the terms of our agreement, I’m taking her back into my care. If she’ll have me, I’ll wed her. If she won’t, then I’ll wait until she does. She’s mine and no one else will lay a hand on her.”
“I won’t give my permission for her to wed a gladiator.”
“Then I won’t seek it.”
The senator grew red in the face. “How dare you?”
Caros had had enough. He launched forward, grasping Antonius and Tiberia each by the arm. Before they realized his intent, he pushed them through the door and shut the portal behind them. His hand on the latch, he turned to his friend. “Adiona, leave us for a few moments.”
“Need I remind you this is my house?” she sputtered.
Fists pounded on the other side of the door.
“Need I remind you I can pick you up and deposit you in the hall like I did the others?”
Adiona began to argue for principle’s sake, or so Caros suspected, then thought better of it and sauntered toward him. She reached up and patted his cheek. “May Fortuna be with you, my darling, I do believe you’re going to need her.”
Once they were alone, Caros returned to Pelonia. With great care he removed her sandals and covered her with a blanket before kissing her gently on the cheek. “Go to sleep, mea carissima. Tomorrow is a new day and we have much to discuss.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Abandoned by the guests who’d witnessed his disgrace, Marcus berated the Fates. A few jeers wafted back to him, branding him with shame. Soaking wet, he levered himself out of the fountain. The agony emanating from his nose and up through his eye sockets was enough to blind him. Humiliated in front of the very citizens he’d planned to impress, he swore to wreak vengeance on all those who’d ruined him.
Staggering back up the path, he gingerly cupped his swelling face in an effort to stem the slow, yet steady, stream of blood. He’d spent the last five weeks establishing his business. With the money he borrowed from Antonius he’d rented an expensive location in the Forum to set up shop.
It was a natural assumption to think the senator had arranged his invitation to Adiona’s tonight to fulfill his promise and introduce him to the influential contacts he needed to lure a wealthy patronage.
Perhaps if he’d stayed in Rome he might have been better prepared to meet Pelonia. As it was, he’d been slow to recognize the trap closing around him.
And it was a trap—a neatly set one. Though Marcus had yet to figure out the connection between his niece and the lanista, he harbored nary a doubt that Antonius had engineered the night’s events in an effort to avenge Pelonia. Once again the twice-cursed wench and her blasphemous beliefs were the catalyst for all his troubles. He’d thought he’d taken care to remove her from his path, but the gods must be testing him—and his patience—to see if he were truly worthy of their blessings.
Shivering, he gritted his teeth, then winced at the burst of pain behind his battered nose. He’d lost everything. He needed no oracle to see Antonius intended to demand his investment back. With the money spent, his savings gone and no way to make a quick ret
urn now that he was a pariah, the property in Iguvium was forfeit.
Soaked to the skin, he ordered a slave to fetch him a fresh tunic and a cloth to dry himself.
The longer he waited outside like a beggar, the more his fury grew. Shamed by how easily his enemies surprised him tonight, he likened Antonius and the lanista to a beast he must slay if he ever hoped to regain his pride. Pelonia was its heart. Cut her out and the beast would topple.
Fortunately for him, his niece was an easy target. Rome was an unhealthy place for a Christian.
“Pelonia, wake up!” Tiberia said. “We must get you out of here. Soldiers are at the front door demanding your arrest.”
Her cousin’s urgency acted the same as a cup of cold water splashed in her face, waking Pelonia from a sound sleep. A dull ache throbbed behind her forehead, but she thrust back the luxurious bedcovers and jumped up instantly, her feet hitting the floor before she even had her bearings. She shook her head to clear the grogginess. “What? Why?”
Tiberia passed her a servant’s tunic. “Hurry, change into this. Perhaps you won’t be as noticeable. Antonius and the lanista are buying you time, but we don’t have long before the soldiers surround the palace.”
“We stayed at Adiona’s,” she said aloud, glancing about the room Caros had put her to bed in the previous night.
Now fully awake, the gravity of what was happening filled her with fear. “Why am I being arrested?”
“Can’t you guess?”
“Marcus told the authorities I’m a Christian.”
Tiberia nodded. “I left to warn you before I heard the full story, but it seems he reported you for sedition.”
Exchanging the silks she’d worn the previous night for the tunic, Pelonia hurried to tie her sandals. The charge against her made the threat more real. Because followers of Christ refused to accept the emperor as a god, Christians were executed for being traitors of the Empire.
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