The Champion. Carla Capshaw
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bore after all the excitement he was accustomed to.
“The source of my downfall has a fixed starting point. As you can imagine, it’s rather embarrassing. I did something when I was too young to realize the consequences of my actions or how unforgiving people can be.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
One silky black eyebrow arched. “You Romans are a strange lot.”
“No worse than you Greeks.”
“At least we don’t hold our young responsible for their transgressions for the rest of their lives.”
“I’ve yet to tell you what I did. Once you know you may agree with the others.”
“Did you kill someone?”
“No!”
“Then I can promise you I won’t agree with them. But I would like to hear the rest of your story.”
“All right. I’ll tell you, but only because I know you’ll harp on me until I do.” She waited for a denial, but none came. Her lips twitched at his expression of patient innocence. “As a child I wanted the love of my father more than anything. I failed time and time again to gain his notice unless he wished to berate me for not being the son he wanted. Being unable to change my gender, I decided that if his love was out of reach, perhaps I could earn his respect if I proved that I was as intelligent and able-bodied as any boy. To that end I excelled at my studies and took up sports. Archery was my favorite.”
“I can see you with a bow and arrow.”
“You can?” Alexius was an expert with weapons. His insight into the subject intrigued her. “How so?”
“The bow is an elegant weapon. It suits you. Continue.”
Flattered that he found her elegant, she forgave him for his high-handed command and went on. “Those efforts were also to no avail. Father despised me still. After all I’d done to please him, his continued coldness angered and frustrated me.”
“I’m not surprised. I’d be angry, too.”
He agreed with her? The notion struck her as incredible when everyone else believed that only her father’s feelings held merit. They entered a large, sun-drenched square. People had gone indoors to avoid the heat of the day, leaving only the splash of the fountain to fill the stillness.
They stopped to let Calisto drink water from a trough in the corner of the square. Alexius relieved her of the cub, but with the pain of her past pressing down on her, she hardly noticed the missing weight.
“What happened next?”
She blinked. “Sorry?”
“You were angry at your father,” he said, his attention diverted to the tiny cub in his huge brown hand.
Amazed that such a large, fierce man possessed gentleness, she watched him dip his long, battle-scarred fingers into the fountain. He shook off the excess moisture and pressed a single drop of water to the cub’s tiny mouth. He repeated the action twice more until the panther’s small tongue darted out and licked his fingertip.
“Go on.” Silver eyes, fringed with thick black lashes, caught her staring at him. Her face heated and her lungs locked. A slow, gratified smile curved his sculpted lips, exposing straight white teeth. “What did you do?”
Fearing that he understood the havoc coursing through her veins better than she did, she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “The next year an archery contest was called for all the boys of the best families to show off their skills. Once again Father complained of his useless daughters and berated my mother for denying him a son to bring honor to the family. I wanted to prove him wrong so I sent one of our stable hands to secure a place for me under a false name. On the day of the event, I donned a short tunic and wore a cloak with a hood to cover my hair and keep my face shadowed. I was terrified of being caught at first, but I soon realized people see what they want to see. Everyone accepted my disguise without a qualm and assumed that I was just another one of the male archers.”
Alexius muttered something in Greek under his breath. “What happened next? You were discovered, no?”
“Yes, but not until after I’d bested every last boy. I felt triumphant, I assure you.”
He snickered. “I can imagine.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you can. When you win in the arena, do you feel a rush of invincibility? Is that why you continue to fight when you don’t have to?”
“I fight for reasons of my own.”
“One of those secrets you spoke of?” She ignored his glare. “Darius mentioned that you need to fight in the arena to battle your own rage.”
“The boy speaks too much,” he snapped. “He’s not paid to have or give an opinion of me.”
She backed away, a habit from never knowing when her father might turn violent. For the third time today, Alexius’s easy manner had evaporated, reminding her of the volatile side of his nature she didn’t dare trust.
He gathered Calisto’s reins. “We’d best be on our way.”
They left the square with no further words between them. Sunlight filtered through the olive trees, creating a dappled effect on the path in front of them.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“No,” she said. “I’m the one who’s sor—”
“Don’t. You did nothing.”
“My mouth always runs away from me. I pressed too much for something that is none of my business.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said.
“You didn’t—”
“Yes.” He stopped in the center of the walkway. “I did.” Still clutching the reins, his strong fingers gripped her upper arm and turned her gently to face him. “You don’t have to deny it. I saw you flinch away from me. I know you live in fear of your father, but I swear I’m not like him. Rest assured, even if I act like a barbarian at times, I promise you have no cause to be afraid of me.”
“I don’t think you’re a barbarian and I’m not frightened of you,” she assured him, sensing again that painful struggle inside him she wished she could ease.
“Good, because I’ll never hurt you, Tibi.”
His sincerity was palpable. From out of nowhere, hot tears welled in her eyes. No one ever worried about hurting her. On the contrary, she often thought her family looked for ways to cause her pain. Caught off guard by the force of her reaction, she turned back to the path and hurried to wipe the moisture from her cheeks.
“Tibi? Are you crying?”
“No, there’s a speck of dust in my eye. I’m fine.”
Alexius allowed her to walk a short distance ahead. He despised the air of sorrow that surrounded her slim, cloaked figure. Worse, he hated that something he’d said or done was responsible for her melancholy.
Usually blessed with the ability to charm even the most hard-shelled of women, he cursed his lack of finesse with the one woman he wanted most to impress. Judging by the way she’d backed away from him as though she expected some form of violence, she either thought of him as a monster or her father’s treatment was even worse than the gossips suggested.
Unwilling to squander the few remaining hours he had left to enjoy her fresh-faced beauty and good nature, he followed her up the path. The fact that he had to relinquish Tibi at all maddened him. From the moment he’d promised Caros to keep his distance three years ago, he’d regretted the foolhardy pact. He wanted her. He always had. The longer he spent with Tibi, the more he knew he always would. He was acutely aware that he was too far beneath her to be considered worthy of anything more