Gladiator Heart

With shoes and warm clothes, escape was once again an option for her. If she were to take warm furs, some food, and some form of weapon, she might have a chance of surviving long enough to find help.

But how would she get away? Tristan didn’t stay gone for long, and he always posted a guard at the door. She would have to find another exit. Then she would follow the river until she came to safety. She had never been one to let others rule her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. Valeria gathered her courage and prayed the Gods would aid her escape.

Chapter Five

The evening had settled into a merry revelry. The men in the camp sang and laughed while roasting meat from the game they’d hunted down in the forest earlier in the day. Tristan had left Valeria in the tent to join his men, without putting her in shackles, telling her he’d return soon with food and drink.

She’d already packed and hidden the leftover food from her earlier meal, letting Tristan think she’d eaten it all. Now she took the bundle from behind the trunk where she’d stashed it, along with a small dagger she’d found in the trunk when she’d searched it during one of Tristan’s absences. She selected a fur that was heavy enough to keep her warm, but not so heavy it would weigh her down. She strapped the dagger just below her knee with a piece of the rope that had once been her bonds and slipped into her boots. It was time to make her escape.

She’d found a loose opening in the tent behind the table and spent some time throughout the day peering outside, observing the activity on that side of the camp. Only a few tents stood between her and freedom. Some soldiers had been around during the day, but now all the activity was on the other side of the camp and her path was clear.

Valeria tried to calm her beating heart, afraid it might leap right out of her chest. Escape was the only choice available to her. If she stayed, Tristan would eventually force her to serve him, or make good on his threats and turn her over to his men. She could end up dead. There was no other choice.

Excitement spiked through her veins, lending her the right amount of courage to take that first step and crawl out from under the tent. The cold winter air was the only thing that greeted her as she got to her feet. She pulled the fur over her head, keeping her braid tucked beneath her tunic, and felt she would be warm enough to make this journey.

Getting out of the camp was so easy that she paused behind the last tent in case someone was coming after her and she just hadn’t noticed. Unable to believe her good luck, she continued to make her way to the river, moving deeper into the darkness. The light from the fires in the camp faded more with each step she took. She wanted to scream with joy, but she knew she wasn’t safe yet. How long before Tristan found she was gone and came after her?

Would he come after her? She hadn’t taken anything of value from him and he didn’t know her true identity. It was obvious she was an unwelcome burden for him. He should be glad to be rid of her. She wouldn’t get over-confident though. She would make her escape as if he would come, and wouldn’t relax until it was obvious that he wasn’t following her.

She came alongside the river and the flames of torches flickered up ahead. Men’s voices carried through the night air and she stumbled upon the small group without even realizing it. There was no mistaking they were Tristan’s men. She immediately turned and started walking away from them, deciding she’d cross the river further down and double back if she had to. She’d studied Tristan’s maps enough to know that the river led to the wall in the south and she was quite certain his camp was on the west side of the river, so she’d have to pass his entire camp to be heading in the right direction.

“Hey, who’s there?” one of the men shouted after her. “Is that you, Daric?”

Valeria forced herselfto keep moving forward and tried to ignore them. There was a chance they were speaking to someone else and hadn’t noticed her.

“Ho, you there!” The shouts grew louder.

Heavy footsteps pounded after her in pursuit and she broke into a panicked run, the snow crunching beneath her boots. She couldn’t fight these soldiers, so she’d have to outrun them.

It became obvious that wouldn’t happen when she stepped out of one of her boots, stumbling as she almost lost her footing. A strong arm locked around her waist and lifted her off the ground. Valeria screamed and kicked, sending the other boot flying off as she dropped her bundle of food. The man swung her around and set her on her feet so she faced four other men. Her warm fur was stripped away and tossed to the ground.

“What have we here?” The man behind her grasped the long rope of her braid and gave it a firm tug, jerking her head back.

“Looks like a fine piece of woman.” One of the other men walked up to her and ripped the legionary cloak away, leaving her in only the thin tunic.

Valeria shivered from the cold, then from fear. She saw in these men’s eyes the things Tristan hadn’t done to her that they would.

“Looks like you could use some warming up.” The man dragged his leering gaze over her, then snatched her by the arm. He forced his mouth down over hers and his foul, stinking breath sickened her.

Valeria slapped him away. “Don’t touch me!”

The men laughed and she knew there was no way she could escape them, but she would fight. The man forced her to the cold, hard ground, bruising her as he climbed on top of her, while the other men now shouted with encouragement, circling around them. He tugged at her tunic, lifting it, and she struggled to reach down and free the dagger tied to her leg.

“Hold still,” he said, one of his hands fumbling with his breeches. “I’ll give you something you’ll really like.”

Valeria’s fingers brushed the handle of the dagger, but the man’s movements above her kept her from reaching down all the way to grasp it. When he pulled back to force her legs open, she was able to sit up and close her hand around the handle.

She brought the weapon up and slashed the sharp blade across the man’s cheek, then held the tip pressed to his throat. Blood trickled forth from that wound as well.

“You will unhand me.” This time she spoke the words in his language.

The man’s eyes widened with surprise. “You cut me! The bitch cut me!” Anger darkened his eyes and he caught Valeria’s wrist, struggling to disarm her.

“Get off me!” She screamed in pain as he twisted her hand, forcing her to drop the dagger.

“Now you’ll pay.” The man fought her kicking legs and drew her tunic up to her waist. “Hold her down.”

Her hands were held pinned to the ground above her head, effectively immobilizing her. Valeria didn’t give up. She screamed and kicked and struggled. A few times she bit at her attackers, but that only earned her the back of a hand cracking across her face that brought blurry spots to her vision. When the man lowered himself over her body, she screamed even louder, cursing him in his own language while she fought even harder, but tears burned her eyes because she knew it would do no good.

Suddenly the man’s weight was gone. Cold air breezed over her and her hands were released. She looked up in shock to see Tristan beating the men back from her, then he scooped her off the ground and swept her into his arms.

He didn’t speak or look at her as he swiftly carried her back to his tent. She could feel his body tense and harden with rage and knew he would punish her for trying to escape, but she was so grateful that he’d found her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest, trying to fight back her tears. Escape would not be easy.

Tristan was so enraged with Valeria he had to throw her away from him onto the bed before he squeezed the life right out of her. She scrambled to sit up and backed herself against the wall of the tent, bracing her hands on either side of her as she dared to meet his angry stare.

He didn’t know where to start with her. It was apparent she was rattled from the attack by his men, but she’d fought them with all her might, swearing profusely at them. In his language. Yet another thing she’d kept hidden from him.

“You speak my language well,” he snarled, now forgoing the use of the proper Latin the Romans spoke. “You will only speak to me in my language from now on.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We won’t speak.”

She watched him with fear glistening in her eyes as he paced the tent, trying to figure out what he should do with her. He had to punish her for trying to escape. He couldn’t go easy on her any longer. She had no respect for him because he hadn’t demanded any from her. He would show her what it meant to disobey him.

“I suppose you think you’re brave.” He tossed off his fur and went over to her. He took her chin between his fingers and lifted her to face him so he could inspect the bleeding cut on her cheek. “It took courage to fight against my men.”

She stared back at him in cold defiance. “Even a slave has enough courage to fight for her life.”

Tristan was not prepared for this woman, with her strong will and her sly, artful ways. Why couldn’t the Gods have sent him a simple, manageable woman who would appreciate his protection and bend easily to his will? Instead, they’d chosen to send him the most spirited woman he’d ever met. One who would never trust him, nor welcome him as a man.

Why did he want her to?

Completely frustrated, he walked across the tent, filled the basin with fresh water from the pitcher, and took that and a clean towel back over to her. He set the basin beside her and wet the towel, then gently began to dab at the bruised cut on her cheek. His man had hit her so hard he’d broken the skin.

Valeria pulled back from him. Displeased, he grabbed her face in his hand and held her still while he cleansed the wound. She jerked free of his hold, slapping his hands away, refusing to let him touch her. Ready to hit her himself, he stood and threw the towel into the basin, splashing water up at her.

When he crossed the tent and knelt beside the fire to add more kindling to the dying flames, she wet the towel herself and dabbed at the wound. She kept her eyes down and wouldn’t meet the glances he sent over his shoulder. Completely at a loss for what to do next, he sat beside her on the bed. She stopped washing and nervously wrung the towel in her hands.

She finally looked up at him. “What are you going to do with me?”

Tristan gave a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand over his beard. He should beat her, starve her, torture her—Gods knew he wanted to. It’s what her people would do to him. He shouldn’t have trusted her enough to let her roam freely about his tent, instead of chained to his bed.

“I don’t know what to do with you.” His answer was too honest, even for him.

“What makes you different from other men?” Her question was directed more to herself than to him, as if she was striving to figure out some secret about him.

“Am I so different?”

He didn’t think so. Tristan was like any man, with the same needs, the same desires, and the same instincts. Why should she think him different from any other?

She turned her troubled eyes to him. “You must be, otherwise I wouldn’t feel…”

When she didn’t finish, he asked, “You wouldn’t feel what?”

She shook her head and looked down at her hands twisting in her lap. That she wouldn’t tell him what she’d been about to say had his temper flaring. What game was she playing now?

“Do you mock me?” He clenched his jaw, suppressing his growing rage.

“No,” she rushed out, flipping her startled gaze to him. “That’s not what I—”

Tristan pulled her to her feet, spilling the water basin on the ground. She dropped the towel as he dragged her to the foot of the bed. “I’ve had enough of your Roman tricks.”

He wrestled her to the ground, and she struggled with the little amount of fight she had left in her, but he got the shackle closed around her ankle. He rested on top of her for a moment, indulging in the feel of her soft curves pressed against him. He breathed in the sweet scent of her hair, let the softness of it tickle his nose. He went instantly hard. If he didn’t get up, he was going to take her and nothing would stop him from doing it.

He left her chained to his bed and spent hours walking around the camp alone. It was ridiculous for him to behave like this, for him to avoid going back to his tent because of a mere woman. But he knew if he went back in his agitated state he was either going to wring her slender little neck, or throw her down and have his way with her.

Valeria was just a prisoner. A Roman. She meant absolutely nothing to him.

Lying to himself wasn’t going to change the fact that he did care about her, and he didn’t want to fight his feelings any longer. Her beautiful face haunted his every waking moment, and taunted him in dreams. If he didn’t do something about this burning desire, this insatiable need he’d developed for her, he was absolutely going to lose his mind.

Valeria remained awake, waiting for Tristan to return. Why couldn’t she tell him she admired him? Because she wasn’t supposed to admire him. He was keeping her prisoner, shackled to the foot of his bed.

He could have done worse to her, like let those men rape her, or rape her himself, but he hadn’t. Tristan was different from other men. She’d known there was something special about him from the very beginning.

What was she supposed to do? Everything inside of her rebelled at the idea of letting him make her a slave. He wouldn’t let her go, and they couldn’t exactly become friends. Valeria didn’t belong here, in a war camp with her enemy, shackled in his tent. Something would have to be done with her. She could either let Tristan decide what it would be, or she could keep trying to escape and hope she was eventually successful.

Tristan came back into the tent, bringing a gust of cold night air with him. He ripped off his fur and flung it to the ground. He didn’t look at her as he stormed over to the bed and removed the sword from his waist, laying it next to the bed. He sat and pulled his boots off, then drew his tunic over his head and tossed it to the ground.

Valeria watched his every movement from where she rested on her pile of furs on the ground. The tense silence hanging in the air had her fidgety and nervous.

“Tomorrow I’ll move you with the rest of the prisoners,” he finally said without looking at her. “We’ll be trading for supplies in the next day or two.”

Valeria shot up from the furs to look at him in disbelief. “I’m to be traded with the other prisoners?” Now she’d really done it. She never should have tried to escape.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said. “What did you think would happen?”

She couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her face. What a fool she was to think this man was any different from the barbarians he led into battle. She hated him.

He shot her a cold look, his brows furrowed. “Don’t waste your tears on me.”

“I hate you!” she cried.

In the quickest of movements he was over to her and pulling her to her feet, curling one of his muscular arms around her waist and drawing her upward along his body so they were eye to eye, their noses almost touching. “I’d expect no more from you.”

“Let me go,” Valeria railed at him, letting her sobs come freely as she pounded her fists against the solid muscles of his chest.

He circled his strong arms around her, holding her tight against his hard body with one hand at her back and the other at her waist so she couldn’t move to strike him. The heat of his skin warmed her through the thin material of her tunic and her breasts ached as they smashed against his hard chest. His musky, manly scent swirled around her and she breathed it in even deeper, not certain why she liked the way he smelled. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his, and stilled as his grey eyes stared back at her. He held her even tighter, pulling her closer.

She couldn’t say what it was or when it happened, but something formed between them. Desire, warm and palpable, drew them closer and closer, until his lips were almost brushing hers. Valeria took a shallow breath and let her body soften in his strong hold, sagging against him. The thin, angry line of his lips parted and then he closed his mouth over hers.

Heat raced through her as his lips slid against hers, kissing her with hungry impatience. She’d expected to dislike his kiss, and instead found a burning temptation. She eagerly returned his kisses, opening her mouth for him when he slipped his tongue inside and bracing her hands on his shoulders to pull herself closer to his hard body. He forced her back down to the bed beneath his heavy weight, but her shackles tightened and stopped him from getting her right where he wanted her.

He was quick to retrieve the key from his boot and she watched him as he removed her chains, panting heavily to catch her breath. He slid back up her body and stretched out over her, pushing her all the way back on the bed beneath his heavy weight. He settled his hips between her legs and began grinding himself against her while taking her mouth in another sweeping kiss that left her dizzy.

Why did it feel so good to have Tristan touch her this way? She didn’t know what he was making her feel, and it was confusing, frightening. Completely surrounded by his body, his warmth, his scent, she was in the enemy’s arms, and she wanted even more of him. Did she desire him out of fear, hoping he might change his mind about what to do with her, or was there something else making her want this man?

It was desire, plain and simple, and it was impossible for Valeria to deny her feelings any longer. But could she really surrender to Tristan’s taking of her? She’d never been intimate with a man. She knew how it worked, that a man entered a woman’s body, but she’d never been brave enough to explore such relations. It could be that none had ever sparked the flames of her passion as Tristan did, and she wanted to explore these new sensations she was feeling. His passionate assault was like nothing she’d ever experienced and it might be her only chance to know something this consuming. Tristan was taking her on a voyage into the unknown, and she eagerly thirsted for the special knowledge that only this man, who was her enemy, could give her.

He continued to kiss her, his lips hard and searching, his wet tongue tracing her lips. Valeria parted her lips and he slipped his tongue inside, eagerly exploring her mouth. His kisses turned more intense, more devouring, and waves of pleasure surged through her, making it easy to forget she was a Roman and Tristan was a northerner. Driven by her own rising passion, she found the courage to return his plundering kisses, imitating his actions and getting a quick study in the art of kissing.

His hand slid under her tunic and caressed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. A warm, needy ache blossomed in her center. With every teasing brush of his fingers he came closer and closer to touching the secret flesh between her legs. Tristan was going to make love to her and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Did she want to stop him? Would he stop if she wanted him to? All the modesty Rome had spent years ingraining into her person made her think of how shameful it would be to allow him to do this, but she liked his touch, had never felt anything more perfect, and there couldn’t be anything shameful in that.

His searing lips left her mouth and traced gentle kisses along her neck, his hot breath on her skin making her entire body shiver with pleasure. His beard was soft and tickled her as his mouth moved down to close over the crook of her shoulder. She shuddered, her needy body responding to his heated touch. He pushed her tunic up higher, over her hips, revealing her stomach, then finally her breasts were bared to him.

When his big, warm hands closed over the mounds and squeezed them gently, the pleasure his touch created brought a soft moan from her, and then his mouth was there, hot and wet, licking at one of her nipples and drawing it into his mouth to suck on it. Valeria arched her back, the thrill of his touch sending a flood of pleasure flowing through her. When he closed his mouth over her other nipple, she moaned his name, her hands grasping at the furs beneath her. He took his time there, suckling eagerly and tugging on her with his mouth until she thought her body would come apart from itself.Never in her life had she imagined a thing like this would feel so magical.

“Beautiful, Valeria,” he murmured around a mouthful of her flesh.

Hearing him speak in his own language, his deep voice husky with desire, was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced.

He ran his hands over her hips and up along her sides to lift her tunic over her head, then his mouth came down over hers as he tossed the garment aside, leaving his grasping hands free to caress her, arousing her as he stroked her breasts, her stomach, and then around to cup her backside. He lifted her off the furs and pulled her hips against his, grinding the rock-hard bulge in his breeches against her center.

Valeria tamped down her fear and tried not to panic, but she didn’t know what she was supposed to do, or how she was supposed to touch him. All of this was so new to her, the feel of a man’s rough hands on her body, the stirring of desire caused by his touch. Tristan must have sensed her anxiety because he stopped and looked down into her eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid with me.” He cupped her face in his hand, holding her still while he brushed a soft kiss over her lips. “I won’t hurt you.”

He roamed over her body with his mouth and hands, coaxing the slowly building pleasure from her in waves. Growing adventurous herself, she explored his strong body with her hands, sweeping over his smooth skin and the rippling muscles in his chest, stomach and arms. Then she got more daring and embraced him, pressing her breasts against his chest, the soft hairs brushing her skin as she ran her hands up and down the length of his back. The barrier of his breeches stopped her from exploring further, but he quickly accommodated her by stripping them off.

His mouth found hers once more and his kiss was urgent, his lips firm and devouring. He led her hand between their bodies and down to touch him. Surprised by her own daring, she closed her hand around the hot, steel-hard length standing up from his hips. His shaft pulsed and grew harder and longer in her hand. The blatantly sexual response went far beyond her meager understanding of what was about to happen. Fear made her freeze, made it hard for her to swallow.

Gods, what was he going to do to her?

His hand moved between her legs to stroke the soft folds of flesh at her center, then his fingers delved into her, searching for something, and bringing a quivering cry from her when he found it. He smoothed his finger over her most sensitive spot in slow, lazy circles. Valeria clasped desperately at his shoulders as she tingled beneath his touch and a sweet pleasure spread through her every nerve ending. When he thrust a finger inside her, she sucked in a startled breath. He stroked it through her juices, making her wetter as he brought her to a height of pleasure she’d never known before. She wasn’t sure if she could take anymore. She wanted him to stop, she needed him to keep on going. A helpless whimper escaped her.

He bent his head to her ear. “Do you want me?” His voice was gruff, filled with tension.

“Yes,” Valeria answered, not sure what she was asking for, only knowing that she wanted to be released from this sweet torture, and Tristan was the only one who could do it.

He lowered his body over hers and spread her legs open with his knees so he could push his hard length into her. He was big in size and stretched her to the point of pain as he slid deeper. She curled her fingers around his arms, digging her nails into the taut muscles. She didn’t think she could take all of him. It was impossible.