Alyssa Morgan - Gladiator Heart

She quickly turned away before he could react and waded into the shallow water. “It’s freezing!”

“Then you’d best be quick about it,” he barked and gathered up her boots. “I have more important things to do.”

She cast him a hostile glare over her shoulder before sinking down into the water, submerging herself fully. She came up sputtering and shivering. “Gods!”

Tristan stared at the wet tunic clinging to the curves of her body, the flare of her round hips and her high, full breasts with their nipples peaking under the wet cloth. Looking at her was torture, and he finally turned away, more for his benefit than to give her a measure of modesty. If he saw her naked, he feared he’d be powerless against the sinister, lustful urges she inspired in him.

He kept a watchful eye on their surroundings to be sure no one would come upon them while Valeria bathed and splashed around in the water. Every muscle in his body was tense with need and desire and he ground his jaw tightly. He reminded himself she was a Roman who deserved nothing more than pain and humiliation at his hands. Only the nagging hardness in his breeches disagreed.

“I’m finished,” she said from behind him.

Tristan turned to see her dripping wet, shivering beneath her clean, but soaked, tunic with her long golden hair hanging loosely about her shoulders and down her back. The vision of her body was clearly visible beneath her wet clothing. She looked like some forest nymph or water sprite sent to tempt him with her enchanting beauty.

“You cannot wear wet clothes,” he said tersely. “You’ll freeze.”

“I’m well used to that by now.”

“Take it off.”

She blushed and brought one of her hands up to draw the neck of her tunic tighter. “I will not.”

“Do as I said,” he ordered, raising his voice to quell her argument.

“Will you bring me back through your camp naked?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes.

She might as well be dressed as she was. “Cover yourself with this.” He tossed the cloak to her.

“I’m to return wearing only this?”

“Would you prefer to return naked?”

“I will be underneath that. It would be easy for any man to take it from me.”

“No one will touch you,” he assured her. Not unless they wanted to challenge him. “Keep it closed around you. I’ll bring you directly to my tent where you can let your wet clothes dry by the fire.” He tossed the boots at her feet, then turned his back to her.

Gods, what was he doing? Hadn’t he shown this woman enough kindness? He should march her into the camp naked and dripping wet. He should make her suffer for all he had suffered, but the rational part of him knew she had not been personally responsible for the horrors Rome had inflicted on him.

When she had the cloak pulled tightly around her and the boots on, with her wet tunic draped over her arm, he led her back into the camp. They were met with curious glances from the men, all of which he ignored. Talk of her presence had spread after the incident in the prisoners’ tent, but not many had seen Valeria. Tristan could see the effect her beauty had on the men and hurried to stash her safely in his tent and away from their appreciative stares. Women in camp were always bad luck, and this one doubly so.

Bathed and fed, and resting before the warm fire with her drying clothes, Valeria wondered if she was still dreaming. When would she awaken to the true horrors of her situation? She kept waiting for Tristan to make his move, to turn cold on her, but he seemed to be battling inner demons of his own and maintained a polite distance. It was too confusing.

She combed out her hair with her fingers as it dried, able to get rid of most of the tangles, and then she wove it into a loose braid to keep it neat and orderly. Tristan took his midday meal as she did this, then told her to stay in the tent while he came and went, tending to issues with his men and the camp. They hardly spoke to one another, and rather than feel nervous, she felt strangely comfortable.

She took the opportunity to dress during one of his brief absences now that her tunic was dry. With the boots, though a bit large for her, and the red cloak, she was warmer than she’d been in days. She worried things were going too easy for her, like she was drifting languidly in the calm that came before the storm. She and Tristan could not keep up this delicate dance for much longer. One of them would have to make a move. If she let it be Tristan, he would win.

With shoes and warm clothes, escape was once again an option for her. If she were to take warm furs, some food, and some form of weapon, she might have a chance of surviving long enough to find help.

But how would she get away? Tristan didn’t stay gone for long, and he always posted a guard at the door. She would have to find another exit. Then she would follow the river until she came to safety. She had never been one to let others rule her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. Valeria gathered her courage and prayed the Gods would aid her escape.

The evening had settled into a merry revelry. The men in the camp sang and laughed while roasting meat from the game they’d hunted down in the forest earlier in the day. Tristan had left Valeria in the tent to join his men, without putting her in shackles, telling her he’d return soon with food and drink.

She’d already packed and hidden the leftover food from her earlier meal, letting Tristan think she’d eaten it all. Now she took the bundle from behind the trunk where she’d stashed it, along with a small dagger she’d found in the trunk when she’d searched it during one of Tristan’s absences. She selected a fur that was heavy enough to keep her warm, but not so heavy it would weigh her down. She strapped the dagger just below her knee with a piece of the rope that had once been her bonds and slipped into her boots. It was time to make her escape.

She’d found a loose opening in the tent behind the table and spent some time throughout the day peering outside, observing the activity on that side of the camp. Only a few tents stood between her and freedom. Some soldiers had been around during the day, but now all the activity was on the other side of the camp and her path was clear.

Valeria tried to calm her beating heart, afraid it might leap right out of her chest. Escape was the only choice available to her. If she stayed, Tristan would eventually force her to serve him, or make good on his threats and turn her over to his men. She could end up dead. There was no other choice.

Excitement spiked through her veins, lending her the right amount of courage to take that first step and crawl out from under the tent. The cold winter air was the only thing that greeted her as she got to her feet. She pulled the fur over her head, keeping her braid tucked beneath her tunic, and felt she would be warm enough to make this journey.

Getting out of the camp was so easy that she paused behind the last tent in case someone was coming after her and she just hadn’t noticed. Unable to believe her good luck, she continued to make her way to the river, moving deeper into the darkness. The light from the fires in the camp faded more with each step she took. She wanted to scream with joy, but she knew she wasn’t safe yet. How long before Tristan found she was gone and came after her?

Would he come after her? She hadn’t taken anything of value from him and he didn’t know her true identity. It was obvious she was an unwelcome burden for him. He should be glad to be rid of her. She wouldn’t get over-confident though. She would make her escape as if he would come, and wouldn’t relax until it was obvious that he wasn’t following her.

She came alongside the river and the flames of torches flickered up ahead. Men’s voices carried through the night air and she stumbled upon the small group without even realizing it. There was no mistaking they were Tristan’s men. She immediately turned and started walking away from them, deciding she’d cross the river further down and double back if she had to. She’d studied Tristan’s maps enough to know that the river led to the wall in the south and she was quite certain his camp was on the west side of the river, so she’d have to pass his entire camp to be heading in the right direction.