irritation in him when his plans had left her capsized and floundering.
She moved to the window, in need of air and something to focus on beside the conflicting mix of excitement, longing and fear that threatened to drive her mad.
Gladiators trained in the field below. She winced when she caught herself searching greedily for the tall Christian who tormented her thoughts by day and her dreams by night.
She twisted the end of her long braid around her finger. The clack of wooden practice swords and the glint of sunlight on shields reminded her of the attack the previous evening. She closed her eyes, absorbing the loss of her men, men she barely knew and shared no bond with beyond that of master and slave. What if Quintus were her protector and she was attacked again? What ifQuintus suffered the same deadly fate as Titus and her other guards?
She clutched her chest as a sudden rush of anguish robbed her of breath. She must keep him safe. How would she ever be able to live with herself if any harm came to him because of her?
“Adiona?” Caros asked.
“What?” Embarrassed by her overwrought reaction, she wrenched her eyes open and pretended interest in the gladiator practice.
“Are you well?”
“Of course,” she whispered just as she spotted Quintus training with another gladiator in the center of the field.
Her traitorous heart leaped at the sight of him and his powerful movements mesmerized her. A voice of reason clamored in the back of her mind to leave the window before he saw her, but her feet seemed buried in the concrete floor.
Without warning, Quintus broke from the fight and glanced her way as though her presence called to him from across the sand. He turned slowly toward the house. The sharp, angular cut of his jaw was locked tight, his full lips unsmiling. Sweat poured down his temples and the bronze column of his throat, soaking the front of his dark tunic. His muscled arms and legs seemed relaxed in their stillness, but the intensity in his gaze exposed the turbulent inner man that both frightened and fascinated her.
As their eyes locked, tender feelings unfurled within her chest. Despite her best efforts to remember his disdain for her, she found her thoughts focused on the gentleness and security she’d found in his embrace the previous night.
Confused and aggravated by her reaction when she’d vowed to feel nothing but hate for the slave, she shivered, uncertain if it was the chill in the air or the coldness of Quintus’s wintry gaze that spread ice through her veins.
Never had she felt more powerless to protect herself. Not when her father sold her off, not even when her husband locked her away in a damp cellar for days or when he ordered his minions to torment her for his amusement.
She swallowed the sharp lump in her throat and shoved the nightmares back into the dark recesses of her mind where the pain was more manageable.
Quintus’s beautiful mouth compressed. He seemed irritated. As though he, too, had been caught unaware by the sight of her and was unable to sever the ever-tightening bonds that drew the two of them together.
Don’t be an idiota. Scoffing at the fanciful idea of Quintus bearing her any emotion beyond dislike, she blamed the morning sun for the sudden flare of heat in her cheeks.
Caros gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You know I’ll concern myself with your affairs until I’m satisfied you’re safe and no longer need me,” he said, bringing her back to their conversation. “I’ve acted as your defender too long to leave you to the wolves now.”
“I know.” Every nerve in her body begged her to turn back to Quintus and she was grateful Caros was there to keep her from acting on the foolish impulse. “I’m truly thankful for your friendship.”
He waved away her gratitude. “Will you trust me then? Quintus is the best man to keep you in one piece. If Iweren’t convinced of his abilities, I wouldn’t suggest him.”
She eased from
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