She moved her hips faster and he responded, matching her stroke for stroke. She rode the crest with him until the shuddering finish, a finish where she heard a cry and found it impossible to tell from whose breath it had been torn as he plunged deep within her body.


Later, in the circle of his arms, Julia trailed her hand in the cool water of the bath. A languor filled her; although her body ached in places she never dreamt possible, she had never felt this satisfied, this alive before. This was what lovemaking was supposed to feel like. At last, she understood why the poets praised it. Her encounters with Lucius had never made her feel this way.

She had assumed her failure with Lucius had been her fault, but she now knew that for a lie. She had not failed with Valens. What passed between them was beyond all her imaginings.

'It appears I have delayed you,' she said, her lips curving as she remembered the pleasure and it was pleasure he had given her.

Valens gave a smile and pushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead.

'Would that you could always delay me like this,' he said, pulling her close and running a hand down her body. Then he heaved a sigh and straightened. 'But I fear you are correct, the water will be only enough to wash the sweat from my brow. Luckily I found another way to ease my ache.'

Always. A thrill of excitement followed by a stab of fear ran through Julia. She wanted to think no further than his arms, but she had to. She wanted this to more than just one encounter. She knew that this was the man she wanted to be with for ever, but her father would never allow a liaison with a slave. It was a scandal for a Roman woman of patrician descent to be involved with a plebeian, a common man, let alone a slave.

The story Claudia had imparted about Marcia Augustina and her lover rose in her mind and a shudder ran through her soul. Exile, a living death and the lover had died. Julia gazed over Valens's naked shoulder towards the dolphins frolicking on the wall. Never to see Rome again or to hear her father's voice. To lose her identity and cease to be a member of the Julius family. Despite the passion she had just experienced, she wasn't sure she was ready for that. She had to be sensible.

Gladiators were for one night was Claudia's motto. It had to be hers as well. She would have to become like the other women who followed the sport. She stood up and started dressing, a small action to bring normality back to her world.

'You are thinking deep thoughts,' he said, catching her hand; his thumb traced small circles on the inside of her wrist, sending sensation after sensation up her arm. Her knees started to turn liquid and she was certain she'd press herself against him, demanding.

'Just thoughts,' she replied and wondered if there was anything she could do, any way she could get him to be a citizen instead of a gladiator. If he wasn't a slave, there was the slimmest of chances she could persuade her father to accept the union. Then she would not have to face the awful spectre of leaving everything she held dear. Her hands trembled as she tried to fasten her belt. 'Mainly about how we depart from this place and what happens after that'

'You should go first. Now,' he said, his face turning grave. He took the belt from her unresisting hand and tightened it about her chest 'Dinner will be soon and your stepmother will be expecting your presence.'

Their gazes met and held.

Julia swallowed hard. She should go, but her feet refused to move. She wanted to stay wrapped in this cocoon of safety, not to face what lay out there.

'I want to stay with you,' she whispered and lay her head against his chest 'A little while longer.'

He shook his head before planting a kiss on her forehead.

'You must go.' He gave her hand a squeeze and rubbed his thumb against her swollen lips. 'There will be time to be together, I promise, but for now…'

Julia felt the colour rise in her cheeks. He made it sound as if this meant more to him than a quick tumble. For now, that was enough. It would have to be enough. Until she figured out a way. There had to be a way.

'Sleep tight, my gladiator,' she said, gathering her things in her arms. 'May no Furies invade your dreams tonight'

'Should I encounter one, I know where to find a cure.' He opened the bathroom door, and quickly glanced outside. 'Now go while there is no one about and before your stepmother decides to investigate where you are.'

Julia walked quickly away from the bath suite, vowing with each tap of her sandal that one day she would not skulk in the corners with Valens, but would stand by his side.


Valens stared after Julia's slim figure as she flitted across the courtyard. With each step, he watched the curve of her ankle appear and disappear. She stopped in the doorway and looked back, her gaze meeting his. The tide of passion began to rise again in Valens's body. He longed to go to her and bring her back into this enchanted room.

His fingers curled around the doorframe, holding him there. He had never expected to discover her here, and had allowed his desire for her to overcome his reason. The depth of his reaction frightened him. It was impossible to ignore that he had feelings for the girl and wanted her to be his.

He grabbed his strigil and used the blade to scrape his skin clean for the second time that day. He wished he could discover a device to peel off the layers of his life and send him back to before, and he could lead his life spotless up to the point where he met Julia. Valens pressed down with the strigil, bringing his mind back to the present. His past had no meaning for him. He refused to remember it. He walked in the sandals of a gladiator now—who he had been had no bearing on who he was or who he could be. He had learnt that lesson and it had kept him alive.

He wished he held a status worthy of her. There was no denying the hardest part would be when her father married her off to another, but to offer now would mean punishment— for both of them.

He had no illusions about what would happen or about the double standards of Roman life. Roman matrons were for Romans only—in public, at any rate. Men might enjoy the company of slaves, but women never—Roman women must be kept pure for breeding more Romans.

He slammed the strigil down and angrily bathed his body in the cool water. The wetness enveloped and soothed him.

There was little point in railing against what could have been. He had to be sensible. The only way forward was to carry on with his plan. Should the gods favour him, he'd win the rudius; if not, he'd die trying. Either way, he'd regain the honour he needed.

Valens closed his eyes and allowed himself to dream about what could happen, if all went as planned. He built villas in the air, imagining Julia with two small boys clinging to her skirts as they lived together on his estate near Pompeü, far away from the frenzy of the arena. He dribbled water over his head and smiled at his fancy.

Then he pushed it away. All that could come after he had defeated Aquilia, after he had won the rudius and was a slave no longer.


Julia stood at the entrance to the dining room, waiting to have her feet washed by one of the servants. The last bang of the gong sounded, and even though she anticipated Valens would not be there, Julia had decided to wear her rose-coloured gap-sleeve gown. It could help explain the high colour in her cheeks, she decided as she slipped off her sandals and prepared to enter the room.

The dining room with its frescoed walls of blue and green, depicting the perfect garden, was the one room her father had refused to allow Sabina to modernise. Julia instinctively sought out her mother's favourite fresco, a tree with two doves in it. But before her eyes reached it, her gaze fell on Valens. He raised an eyebrow and his lips contracted to give a silent appreciative whistle. She felt the colour rise higher in her cheeks.

His hair curled slightly from the damp of the bath, and he had dressed carefully in a longer pure white tunic, one that only revealed his calves. If she had been meeting him for the first time, she would have sworn he was a patrician, rather than a gladiator. She found it impossible to do anything but stare at him. The memories of what they had just experienced flooding her body.

'Ah, Julia, at long last you arrive.' Sabina's sneer cut across Julia's confusion. 'It is so pleasing that you have taken time out of your busy schedule and finally decided to make an appearance. I see the pile of wool is sitting untouched in the atrium where you left it yesterday.'

'I had a slight headache and was resting,' Julia answered calmly. 'It wasn't until I heard the gong that I realised the time.'

The truth, but not the whole truth. Julia trained her gaze on the ornate floral patter of the middle couch.

'Sabina, Julia is but a little late,' her father said. "The other guests have just finished having their feet washed. And it is a pleasure to see her looking so pretty.'

'Try to keep better track of the time,' Sabina said, pursing her lips as if she had swallowed a glass of vinegar. 'You shall have to have the right couch with the gladiator next to you. I have already assigned your usual place to Livia.'

Julia vaguely listened while Sabina told the two other couples where they would be reclining. Her heart had leapt at the thought of being so near Valens so soon, but then had plummeted to the hem of her gown. She would have to be very careful not to betray her interest in him. This was the first time she had encountered him under the watchful gaze of her father. She had to remain calm.