fodder in the arena, motioned to come closer and whispered for only his master to hear, “Mistress Pelonia’s cousin, Tiberia the Younger.”
Tibi? Alexius tensed. His smile faltered. He forgot the remaining coins on the tabletop even as his heart began to echo the drums’ frenzied beat. Perhaps—hopefully—he’d misheard.
“Who brought her here?”
“She’s alone.”
He scowled. He usually admired the girl’s untamed spirit, but not when it led her to wander Rome’s dangerous streets at all hours of the night. There was no acceptable reason for a well-born woman to venture out alone a few hours after midnight unless…
“Has there been an accident?” he demanded. “Is she hurt?”
“Not that I know of, master, but she’s adamant to speak with you.”
“Where is she?” Alexius’s gaze circled the smoky room on a quest to find Tibi’s splendid golden hair. He didn’t want her here. The evening may have started out as a coena libera, the solemn last meal for the gladiators scheduled to fight the next afternoon, but had rapidly unraveled into a raucous affair of dancing, games of chance and other debauchery he didn’t want to be responsible for an innocent girl like Tibi to witnessing.
“She’s waiting in your office,” Velus said.
Alexius sent the steward to fetch Tibi something to eat and drink from the banquet table overflowing with fresh fruit, breads, roasted fowl and a variety of fish.
Several of the men and women playing dice with him had wandered over to the food during his exchange with Velus, but a few vultures waited expectantly for any scrap of gossip. Gossip he wasn’t about to feed them. Tibi’s reputation was colorful enough as it was. If she were tattled on for venturing to the gladiator school at this hour, she was bound to suffer trouble with her overbearing father.
Confident that Tibi would go unnoticed in his office, Alexius excused himself from the table as eager to find out the reason for her appearance as to send her safely on her way. As he cut through the maze of revelers, across the central garden and down the long, lantern-lit corridor that separated the house’s public rooms from his private sanctuary, he forced his feet to a slow pace, careful not to betray his interest in the night’s newest development. The girl’s arrival was the first thing to spark any excitement in him in…he couldn’t remember how long.
The thought of Tibi made him smile. Both beautiful, yet unaware of the fact, and classically feminine, but audacious, she was as unique as a sunrise—pleasantly different each time he saw her.
Unfortunately, as the cousin of his friends, Caros and Pelonia, Tibi was one of only a handful of females in all of Rome off-limits to him. Caros had made certain of that when he made Alexius swear to stay away from the girl.
Still…something unfortunate must have happened for her to seek him out. If she needed him, it might prove entertaining for a while to offer his help.
Alexius entered his office to find Tibi pacing in front of the long row of arched windows overlooking the gladiators’ training field. Stars sparkled in the black sky behind her, a serene contrast to her obvious agitation.
He watched her for a long moment, suddenly unable to breathe. In the six months since he’d last seen her, she’d grown even lovelier than he remembered. Candlelight caused her golden braid to shimmer as she walked from one side of the room to the other and her fair skin was as smooth and creamy as a perfect cameo. For a man who enjoyed women of all shapes, sizes and looks, it was a new experience for him to be knocked breathless by the sight of one.
Shaking off her spell, he leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms over his chest and adopted a nonchalant tone. “Hello, Tibi.”
Tibi stilled, then spun to face Rome’s champion. “Hello…Alexius.”
“Why are you here?” he asked. “It’s a bit late—or early—in the day for you to drop by, no?”
Her cheeks burned under the heat of Alexius’s warm regard. Her heart fluttered wildly. Finding herself in his company was even more disconcerting than she remembered. Tall and muscular, he was a vibrant man who filled the room with energy and sent her senses reeling.
She dragged in a deep breath to calm her jangled nerves and swallowed thickly. “I understand Caros and Pelonia are coming to Rome for a visit. I’d hoped they were already here. I need to speak with them.”
Without taking his eyes off her, Alexius left the doorway and crossed the tiled floor to his desk. “I expect them some time today. Tomorrow at the latest.”
“Ah…” Tibi worried at her bottom lip as she struggled to hide her rising desperation. “I’m wasting your time then. I apologize for taking you from your guests.”
“No need to apologize.” He sounded sincere. “I’d much rather be here with you.”
His Greek accent whispered across her skin like the softest caress. Her eyes rounded with surprise before she quickly glanced away. How was it possible for him to touch her without actually touching her? “I must be going. I’ll come back later.”
“Where will you go?” he asked, easing toward her. “It’s the middle of the night. I suspect you can’t go home. You must be in serious trouble to risk the danger of wandering the streets like a common pornai.”
She breathed in his scent of smoke and the heady mix of exotic spices. “It’s nothing. I wished to speak with Pelonia. I…I’ve missed her this past year—that’s all.”
“I can tell you lie as plainly as I can see you’re trembling.” His calloused palms engulfed her cold hands, refusing to release her when she tried to pull away. “Tell me the truth and I’ll free you.”
She stopped struggling. It was no use to fight a man famous for his success in battle. “My father…”
“Go on,” he invited when she fell into silence. “What’s the old dragon done this time?”
Her gaze darted to the shadows dancing on the wall behind him. “He wishes me to wed.”
“No surprise there. He’d already prepared you for sacrifice on the marriage altar when I first met you three years ago. I understand you’ve…declined all your potential husbands.”
She froze. Aware that her inability to secure a husband had not only enraged her father but had made her a joke among the females of her social class, she was mortified to think of Alexius laughing about her with his women behind her back. “Are you mocking me?”
“No. If anything, I respect your unwillingness to accept just any man as a husband.”
“I haven’t declined all of them,” she admitted, disturbed by his nearness and the incandescence of his silver eyes enough to speak without subterfuge. “They don’t want me.”
She tugged free of his grasp, regretting the loss of contact the same instant. To her chagrin, his easy release of her hand when moments before he’d insisted on holding her smacked of rejection.
“Then they must have been deaf and blind as well as ignorant.”
Startled
