Pelonia answered. “But he has no experience as a bodyguard.”
He scowled, not happy to hear how weak Pelonia saw him. Did Adiona share the same view?
“No matter,” Caros continued. “He has everything he needs. He’s a natural leader. The other men I send for added defense will have no trouble following him. And if his time in the ring taught us anything, it’s that he’s intelligent, resourceful and battle-ready. He’s strong and depends on the Lord for direction. We’ll send them out in secrecy. If we’re fortunate, they’ll reach Neopolis before her attackers guess she’s left our midst.”
Satisfied to realize Caros didn’t consider him a useless weakling, he had to admit the plan held merit. Of course, Caros didn’t know about Quintus’s gnawing fascination for the widow or the constant battle he waged to keep from handing her his heart on a plate.
Caros faced him. “What say you, Quintus? Are you willing to be Adiona’s protector in exchange for your freedom?”
“I’d rather take my chances in the ring.”
A smile twitched at the edge of Caros’s mouth before he smothered it beneath a scowl. “I’ve already denied your request to reenter the games.”
They both knew Caros possessed the power to reverse the decision and grant his approval. They also knew he would not. His friend cared more about Quintus’s life than he did. Caros knew he longed for freedom, but wouldn’t walk away without paying his debt. It was obvious the lanista saw the situation as a lesser of two evils, a way for both of them to win.
The anger he constantly fought because of his powerless position nearly blinded him. “I suppose I have little choice, then,” he said tightly.
“Very little,” Caros agreed.
“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll head back to the barracks. I have much to prepare.”
In the corridor, he leaned against the wall and reined in his temper. The melodious music and laughter of the party mocked his agitated mood. Not for the first time, he wondered what he’d done to provoke God’s wrath on him.
“Do you really think that was wise?” Pelonia’s voice carried into the hall. “What?”
“Forcing Quintus and Adiona into such close proximity. Have you seen the two of them together?”
Caros chuckled. “Why do you think I thought of Quintus? Who better to protect a woman than the man who can’t keep his eyes off her?”
Chapter Four
“Have you lost your mind, Caros?” Incredulous, Adiona stared at her friend as though he’d grown two heads. The very idea of Quintus acting as her bodyguard made her tremble.
“No, I’m sane enough.” Caros crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the marble desktop. Morning sunlight streamed through the office’s east-facing windows and glinted off the jewel-toned tiles in the mosaic floor. “You need a strong, trustworthy leader for your guard if you mean to leave for Neopolis anytime soon.”
“Quintus is capable for certain, but he despises me. What makes you think he’ll agree to your plan?”
“He doesn’t despise you.” He ignored her snort of disbelief. “He’s already agreed.”
Her heart skipped a hopeful beat. “He has?”
“He wants to earn funds to buy his freedom. Your situation provides a perfect solution to that end.”
“Yes, perfect,” she said tightly, wounded by the painful knowledge that Quintus had to be bought to spend time with her. She tugged the leaf off a potted plant, grateful Caros hadn’t noticed the root of melancholy growing inside her. “Why force him to buy his freedom? You’ve released your other slaves and kept only volunteers since you became one of those Christians. Why not simply release him? You have no need of money.”
“I’ve tried. He calls it charity and won’t accept my offer. The two of you need each other.”
She cringed at the idea of needing anyone. Unlike most men, Caros wasn’t stupid. He possessed hawklike powers of observation. He was aware of how attracted she was to Quintus and just how much Quintus chafed at being within a mile of her. If she didn’t know him better, she’d think her long-time friend was making a cruel joke at her expense. “I thought when you wed Pelonia you’d grow tired of meddling in my affairs.”
His smirk slid into a full grin. She gritted her teeth, vexed she seemed incapable of sparking the tiniest flame of 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 if Quintus 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
