Another cruel twist of the Fates' thread, just as he had reached the pinnacle of his career—to remind him of what he had lost, what had been torn from his grip.

'I thought you'd recognised the badge on my cloak, there in the portico.' Valens tried again. He held out the insignia, emblazoned gold against the deep blue wool, for her inspection.

She examined the badge. 'A lion with a spear. I'm sorry, it doesn't mean anything to me.'

'It is the symbol for the School of Strabo. One of the foremost gladiator schools in Italy.'

Still that amused tolerant expression, but this time with a liquid laugh, a laugh that made him feel bathed in sunshine. Valens relaxed a little. Maybe now they could begin to break the impasse. He could retire from this battle with his honour intact. She would think he was more than a man beset by demons, given to accosting women. She'd understand him to be what he was—a gladiator who'd made an honest mistake. He was surprised that it mattered, but it did.

'Now I begin to understand. It starts to make some sort of strange sense.' Julia forced her smile to brighten as her mind raced. It would have to happen to her. A gladiator, the nearest thing in Rome to a living god, thought she had flirted with him. For the time the gladiators fought, their names were on everyone's lips, their pictures emblazoned on plates and cups and their images moulded into small statuettes that were avidly collected by the games' many supporters.

Without having to think hard, she knew a dozen women who would offer their best stola to be in her sandals right now. But they weren't here, she was. And she intended to teach this gladiator a lesson. Not every woman he locked eyes with wanted to arrange an illicit meeting. She felt rather foolish for not having realised where she knew his features from earlier. All this could have been avoided. Juno's gown, what it must have looked like to him?

'What makes strange sense?' he asked, crossing his arms, making the material strain even more across his chest.

'Why you might think women would arrange assignations with their eyes. I understand many women are mad about gladiators. But I have to disappoint you again. For the entire twenty-one years of my existence I have found it possible to restrain myself from such behaviour and have chosen to remain in ignorance about gladiatorial games and the merits of gladiators in general.'

He lifted an eyebrow as if he did not believe her.

'Not everybody does, you know.' Julia gave a pointed cough. 'I merely came out to discover where my stepmother's litter was.'

'You don't follow the games?' Valens's eyes widened and he put a hand to his forehead. 'I refuse to believe it.'

'Is that some sort of crime?' Julia asked, beginning to enjoy herself. It was liberating to be frank. His face showed his absolute amazement. He appeared to have shrunk slightly, to have become a man. 'Where is it written that everyone must be passionate about the games?'

'Not a crime,' he said, running his hand through his thick dark hair. 'By the gods, no, just a surprise. Rome is such a gladiatorial-mad city. It seems all the conversation revolves around the games.'

'Does it, indeed? I had rather thought conversation in Rome revolved around the Senate or perchance the army and its recent victories over the pirates. There is life beyond the games. I, for one, have lived all my life in Rome and have never seen any need to visit the games.'

A silence. Julia resisted the urge to clap her hands together in triumph. She had done it. She had emerged from the long shadows of her marriage and had answered back. He had no ready quip to shoot back at her. She had won. She had proven to herself that she was indeed the new Julia Antonia.

'They were light-hearted remarks. I meant no harm by them.' His smile turned beguiling and her heart contracted. He touched her right elbow with feather-light fingers. 'Forgive me?'

'Apology accepted.' She'd end the conversation here. On a high note. Before she melted from the heat of his charm. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to see about getting home. Another conversation that will not involve gladiators.'

She stepped backwards and her sandal slipped, sending her to the ground and scattering her bathing things. Warm hands gripped her elbow and helped her to stand.

'Are you all right?' His face showed concern, while his hands held her steady and for a breath she rested her head against his chest. 'Your foot landed between two paving stones.'

'I'm fine.' Julia moved her arm and he released her. She dropped to her knees, starting to pick up her scattered belongings—her bath strigil, ivory comb and four carved hairpins. She jammed them back into her shoulder bag. Where was the fifth? She scanned the ground for the hairpin and her alabaster perfume flask. Her heart sank when she saw where the hairpin lay. Julia gingerly plucked it from the top of Valen's sandal. She made a face. Why she had thought today would be different from any other day, she had no idea. Once again she had ruined a perfectly good exit. Try to teach a man a lesson and end up falling at his feet, literally falling. Without a doubt, it could only happen to her.

She glanced over to the portico of the baths, but Sabina and her entourage had disappeared. The litter had probably arrived and her stepmother had left. Julia could already hear Sabina's rising screech of a lecture when she did make it back to the villa. 'I've lost my alabaster jar, but, other than that, I will survive.'

A small gasp of pain came from her throat as she put too much weight down on her ankle. Strong hands grabbed her arm and steadied her.

'You've hurt yourself. You're limping.'

Without waiting for an answer, Valens knelt down and wrapped his warm fingers around her ankle. Julia felt the warmth radiate up her leg. She should object, but the words refused to come. He pushed aside the cloth to reveal her sandal, and the reddened skin. His fingers hovered just at her ankle.

'Have you grazed your knee? Or is it just your foot?'

'Not my knee, you stopped my fall,' she stammered, remembering the feel of his chest against her hands.

'Yes, I remember.' His gaze held hers, until she looked away, pretending a sudden interest in the wool merchant across the road, festooned in an array of brightly coloured cloth. 'I'm not likely to forget. What I want to know is how badly you are hurt.'

Julia's heart turned over. She hated to think how long it had been since anyone had asked a question about her with care in their voice, much less touched her with gentle hands. This stranger asked after her health, with more warmth in his voice than Lucius had had in all the time they were married. She bit her lip and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

'I twisted my ankle in the fall. Nothing to worry about' Her words tumbled out. Her eyes were drawn to the way his black hair curled on his neck just above his tunic as he bent over her foot. Giving her head a quick shake, she attempted to recapture her wit. 'I'm sure I can cope. I wouldn't want to deprive any woman who might be looking to arrange an assignation with you…'

Valens kept his hand on her leg. Instead of letting go, he touched the area above and below her ankle with careful fingers, turning her foot this way and that, but never enough to cause real pain. Julia again felt the heat from his hand course up her leg. It terrified her and excited her.

Now she started to understand why the poets went on about instant attraction. She had never felt this warm melting for anyone before, and she knew little to nothing about this man, this gladiator. She stared at him, wondering how a turned ankle could make her so light-headed, breathless.

'I think I've had my quota for the day,' he said, answering her joke with one of his own. 'Besides, I wouldn't have wanted to miss the opportunity of holding such a pretty ankle.'

The intimacy of his smile made her knees weaken and her hands itch to bury themselves in his hair. She had to take control of the situation or her actions would echo her thoughts, and she'd be little better than the women who stood around the gladiators' entrance after a match, hoping for a glimpse of their hero. And swooning with great long sighs whenever any gladiator appeared.

Julia withdrew her foot from his hand.

'You are an idle flatterer. It is the first time in my life anyone has praised my ankles.'

'Maybe it is time somebody did.' He laughed and then his face sobered. 'How bad is your ankle? Is the pain better or worse than when you first turned it?'

'It is nothing. I'll shake it off in a few steps.'

She forced herself to ignore the pain as she rotated it, but the world blurred in a haze. She could do this. She was strong enough to withstand it. She forced her back straighten

'It looks more than a twisted ankle to me. You can barely put weight on your right foot.' Valens stood up, then reached out and lifted her chin. 'Your lips are white from pain.'

Julia's breath caught in her throat. For a heartbeat, she could only stare at him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes seemed to swallow her. Her lips ached, parted of then-own volition. He might kiss her.. in public. The thought acted like a plunge into the cold-water pool at the baths, bringing her to her senses. She ducked her head, hiding her face deeper in her shawl and made one last attempt to keep her dignity.

'The pain is lessening.' Julia took a step backwards and forced a smile on her face. She was a Roman matron, not a courtesan or a prostitute. Roman matrons had pure thoughts and a steady heartbeat. Keeping those thoughts uppermost, she folded her arms across her breasts. 'The Forum is only a few streets away, after that it is not too far to Subura and home. It should hold out if I go slowly.'