The Champion. Carla Capshaw

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as though you’ve downed a bucket of vinegar.”

      “Tiberia the Elder is downstairs.”

      Alexius frowned. “The shrew has arrived already?”

      “She asked to see master Caros’s wife. When I told her Pelonia wasn’t here, she demanded to speak with you.”

      “Demanded?” Few people rubbed his skin raw the way Tibi’s self-important sister did. “Have her wait in the entryway.”

      “She won’t like that, dominus.”

      “I don’t like her,” he said simply.

      Velus grunted and set the tray on a side table. “The lady wishes to see her sister.”

      “How should I know where Tibi is?” he asked, filling a basin with hot water from an amphora. “I haven’t seen her for—”

      “Hours?”

      He grinned. “I don’t remember when.”

      Velus’s weathered features pinched with confusion. “She’s down the hall—”

      “Even if I did know where to find Tibi, I wouldn’t tell Tiberia—or anyone else for that matter. I promised the girl I’d keep her hidden until Caros and Pelonia arrive later today.”

      “I understand,” Velus said. “But if you lie to his wife, senator Tacitus might take offense on her behalf and strive to make trouble for you.”

      “I’ll take my chances,” he replied, unconcerned. Conditioning his face with a mixture of oils and herbs, he picked up a small, straight-edged razor and began to scrape the bristles from his cheeks.

      The Ludus Maximus supplied the games with the best gladiators and the senator’s popularity was down. Tacitus was too canny to risk his reelection by tampering with the mob’s favorite source of entertainment. “It’s not as though he can force me to close my doors because his wife is in a snit.”

      “Yes, but if someone took Tibi away without your knowledge you’d be telling the truth when you said you didn’t know her whereabouts.”

      “True.” Alexius finished shaving and rinsed the razor in the basin. A slow smile spread across his face as he dried his throat with a square of linen. “Tibi seems to think her sister will insist on searching the ludus for her. If she’s not here, I’ll have no trouble allowing the shrew to look until her heart’s content. When Tibi’s nowhere to be found, Tiberia will look elsewhere and we’ll have bought some time and peace for a while.”

      “I’ll find a safe place to take her and report to you once the sister is gone,” Velus assured him.

      Alexius laced up his sandals and slid on a pair of silver wristbands before heading toward the door. “Wherever you take Tibi, make certain she’s well-guarded and dressed to go unnoticed. I imagine all that blond hair and creamy skin attracts admirers by the score.”

      Velus nodded and followed Alexius into the corridor. The shutters had been folded back from the row of arched windows to allow a bird’s-eye view of the peach orchard. Clear morning light filled the vaulted path to the stairwell. On the first floor, the two men parted company.

      Alexius took his time walking to the reception hall. In order to give Velus more of an opportunity to leave with Tibi by way of the back door, he meandered along the inner peristyle, surrounded by the soothing cascade of the fountains and the sweet fragrance of orange blossoms.

      “So you’ve finally deigned to arrive,” Tiberia screeched the moment he entered the brightly painted room. “You took long enough, gladiator.”

      “I saw no reason to hurry.”

      Tiberia’s dark eyes narrowed. She rose from the plush blue cushions of her chair, the voluminous folds of her white stola pooling at her feet. “Your dwarf informed me that my cousin hasn’t yet returned to Rome. However, I believe my sister, Tibi, came here to look for her last night. Fetch her for me. My father insists I bring her home.”

      Hackles rose on the back of Alexius’s neck. His gaze slid to the display of weapons hanging on the wall above the hearth. He didn’t take orders well, but he controlled his irritation and maintained a tolerant expression. “Then why didn’t he bother to come here himself?”

      “I offered, in hopes that he’d calm down before we returned. He’s furious enough to do her serious bodily harm.”

      “Then she was wise to leave.”

      “It’s no concern of yours, gladiator.”

      “That may be. Either way, you’ve wasted your time. Your sister isn’t here, mistress. If I see her, I’ll convey the message.”

      “You lie. I know she’s here. Only Pelonia is kind-hearted enough to take her in.”

      “It seems to me a sister should be just as kind.”

      Her expression soured. “Why would I risk my father’s good opinion of me for a bumbler like Tibi?”

      “A bumbler?” Raised with a gaggle of close but competitive sisters, Alexius recognized the jealous comment for what it was. Few women were as graceful as Tibi. “How so?”

      “What I mean is…she’s brought the situation upon herself.”

      “What situation?” Alexius asked, pretending ignorance in an attempt to learn the details Tibi declined to confide in him. “Does it have anything to do with the reason my men were sent home untested last night?”

      Tiberia flushed, but said no more to enlighten him. A citrus-scented breeze carried in from the central garden, rustling the potted palms near the open doorway. “You’ll have to discuss the use of your men with my father. Now, call Tibi for me. You’ve delayed me long enough.”

      “I told you she isn’t here. And I suggest you tread lightly before calling me a liar again.”

      Tiberia had the wit to put distance between them. “You do grasp that my husband has the power to order a search of this villainous den?”

      “There’s no need for the senator to trouble himself. Ask nicely and you’re free to look for your sister now as long as you wish.”

      Tiberia moved behind the chair and glared at him. With her haughty expression—as hard as one of the marble columns supporting the painted ceiling—she made it clear that she considered him less than human. To ask him for anything was an affront to her kind’s belief in her own superiority. He recognized the signs well. Other than his loving family, people had always looked down on him. First for being a poor farmer’s son, then for his life as a slave-turned-gladiator. He waited, his expression placid and betraying none of his desire to toss her into the street. If not for his esteem for her cousins, he wouldn’t hesitate.

      “What will it be?” he asked, losing patience when she remained silent. “I’m expected at the arena. I have business to attend to.”

      She raised her chin and attempted to look down her sharp nose at him. “I have several trusted slaves waiting for me outside. I’ll have them search the house and

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