Gladiator Heart

“Stay here,” he ordered, and headed to the door.

She sat up on her knees, her eyes stark and full of fear. “What’s happening?”

Tristan paused at the door. “I’m going to find out.”

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t, or he might never leave her.

“Please, don’t leave me, Tristan.” The panic was evident in her tone and she hurried to pull on her tunic.

He didn’t have time to pacify a woman’s fears with a battle raging outside. “I must, but you’ll be safe here.”

Seeing how beautiful she was, he muttered a curse. Then, casting his good judgment aside for an instant, he walked over and grabbed her up in his arms, drawing her close for what might be their last kiss. It was fierce and desperate, much like their joining had been. Gods, he didn’t want to let this woman go, but she wasn’t the reason he was here. War was the only thing driving him. The only calling that made sense in his life.

He tore his mouth away from hers, panting heavily as he stared into her shining blue eyes. “Don’t leave this tent.”

“But what if something happens to you?” She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him.

His body stiffened in shock. He tried to convince himself that she only held onto him out of fear, but he felt a kind of peace he’d never known before in her arms. It was time for him to let Valeria go.

“Nothing will happen to me.” He pried her hands from around his neck and set her back from him. “Promise you’ll stay inside.”

“Will you come back?” A glazed look of despair began to spread over her face, like she was finally realizing what he had known all along.

They were never meant to be.

“If I am able, I’ll come back.” It scared him how easily he’d answered, and how much he meant what he’d said. If they got far enough away from Rome and war maybe there could be a chance for them. Yet what would Valeria have without Rome, and he without war?

“What if you don’t?” Her voice was a broken whisper.

Tristan didn’t want to think about it. If a man went into battle with any doubts in his mind he was already at a disadvantage. Courage won battles, not fear. He’d made it this far and he had no intentions of losing. If for whatever reason he didn’t come back, Valeria would be in safe hands with the Romans. She belonged with them. And he belonged outside with his men.

“Take care of yourself, little Roman.” He left to meet his fate.

Valeria collapsed back to the bed. How had she not seen something like this coming? Tristan was at war. At war with Rome, with life, maybe even with himself. Their time together, though brief, had been passionate and intense, even sensual at times, and he’d left her with nothing more than to ‘take care’?

Being with Tristan had changed her. She’d gone from girl to woman in only a few short days. There was a possibility she would never see Tristan again, so she was not going to sit here and feel sorry for herself. As a woman, she had to take her destiny into her own hands. No matter what her feelings for Tristan, she didn’t need a man to make her whole.

The battle raged outside, intensifying. Valeria recognized the same sounds from that terrifying night at the fort.Death. It all sounded the same. She hurried up from the bed and searched through the trunk in the corner. She found another pair of shackles and some rope. Nothing she could use. She needed shoes and a weapon. Some warm clothes.

There were plenty of furs in the tent and she pulled one over her shoulders. Did she sit here and wait? She had no idea who Tristan fought. They might not be Roman but some other enemy. If she left and Tristan did happen to return for her, well—what then? Would he find her? Would he want to find her? If she waited and he didn’t return, could she live with the idea that he might not want her? Did it matter to her either way?

It shouldn’t. But it did.

An older man with short dark hair and a clean-shaven face came crashing into the tent. He was dressed in a red legionary cloak and golden armor.

A Roman.

She should be relieved to see him, she was saved, but she couldn’t deny the spark of disappointment that it wasn’t Tristan coming for her.

The soldier curled his lip with an ugly sneer as he assessed her from head to toe. “I didn’t know the Picts liked to travel with their whores.” He took a menacing step towards her.

Valeria was outraged that he’d speak to her with such contempt, but it was impossible for him to know who she was. Wearing the fur made her look just like the other northerners in this camp.

“I’m no Pict whore,” she lashed at him in perfect Latin, lifting her chin. “I am Valeria Augusta Marianus, niece to the Emperor Constantine and cousin to the Caesar of Rome.”

The soldier halted and stared at her, a look of complete surprise on his face. “Forgive me, lady.” He gave a reverent bow of his head. “We heard of your disappearance but assumed you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not,” she said in a curt voice. How lucky she was to be able to say it.

“Wait here.” The soldier bolted out of the tent.

Gods!

Wait here. Was that all she could do? Wait for Tristan or the Romans? Who would come first? What if they came at the same time? What side would she choose?

Valeria paced the tent, her impatience growing with every agonizing second that passed. Finally, she heard harsh voices arguing outside, and then Rufus burst through the door and came charging into the tent.

“Thank the Gods you’re all right!” His gaze roamed over her with scrutiny, inspecting her bedraggled appearance, stopping on her bruised cheek.

The sight of his shaved head and his giant body had Valeria close to tears, she was so grateful to see him. “I was afraid you were dead.”

“I’m hard to kill.” He wore armor with the Roman standard imprinted on it and carried a heavy sword.

Rufus felt whole with a weapon in his hand and wielded the sword as if it were an extension of his arm. He’d been in the army for so long that fighting came naturally to him, like breathing.

Valeria, on the other hand, was a gentle girl and had no place in the middle of a battle. Though stubborn and strong-willed, she’d been sheltered from the real horrors of the world. Rufus took great pride in being responsible for keeping her from harm. He feared he’d failed her this time. He never should have let her come here. What had that dirty Pict general done to her?

“Has my uncle come with more troops?” she wondered with hope shining in her pretty eyes.

Poor Valeria. She was constantly trying to win the Emperor’s affections, but the man spent all his time and energy on his son. He wanted his niece to marry so he no longer had to be responsible for her, and Rufus didn’t have it in him to tell her the truth.

“He is not here, but he sent three legions in his stead,” Rufus informed her. “We’ve taken the camp and all survivors will be brought to Rome as slaves.”

Valeria’s throat seemed to close up and she felt a nauseating pit of despair in her stomach. Tristan would either be killed, or he’d become a slave. It didn’t feel right. She might not know him very well outside of their lovemaking, but he deserved a better fate than that.

“And we are to return to Rome as well?” she asked, already knowing, and simultaneously dreading, the answer.

Where else would they go?

“Yes, Domina.” Rufus gave her appearance another disapproving glance. “I’ll get you some proper clothes. I have men outside so it’s safe for you to stay in here.”

Valeria was alone again, waiting. In a way she was glad to be returning home where it was warm and dry. She’d see her friends again, and Lucia, the woman who was like her mother. Had she remained with Tristan he would have traded her as a slave. Instead, he was to be the slave. She should feel a great sense of triumph. He’d kept her prisoner and seduced her into his bed, and she had a feeling if she’d refused his advances he would have forced his affections on her. He was nothing but a brute and a bully.

And that was a lie to make her feel better, because she’d rather be with him right now more than any other person in the world. Despite his sometimes horrible treatment of her, she had feelings for him. Real, true feelings, that in this moment were tearing her in two.

The sound of a fight erupted outside the tent. Valeria’s mind was a crazy mixture of hope and fear as swords clashed and rioted. Someone dared to challenge the men Rufus had posted at the door. She knew it was Tristan even before he came crashing into the tent. Her heart jolted and her pulse pounded when she saw him standing there, his auburn hair long and wild, a heavy sword in each hand, covered with blood.

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.

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