The Champion

The Champion
Carla Capshaw

A Warrior without Equal, a Woman without Options. Triumphs in the Coliseum—and society bedchambers—made gladiator Alexius of Iolcos famous for his brutal skill and womanizing ways. Yet the only woman who intrigues him is Tiberia the Younger, who now needs his help. Protecting Tiberia places Alexius in the greatest danger he has ever known—from her vengeful father and his own heart…Becoming a temple priestess may be an honor, but Tibi can’t bear to surrender her freedom or her newfound faith. Alexius’s solution stuns her. Marriage…to a gladiator! Scorned by her noble family, Tibi always felt unworthy. But with her champion by her side, can she accept—and give—a love strong enough to vanquish their enemies?

“I understand you’ve … declined all your potential husbands.”

Tibi froze. Aware that her inability to secure a husband had not only enraged her father but had made her a joke, she was mortified to think of Alexius laughing about her behind her back. “Are you mocking me?”

“No. If anything, I admire your unwillingness to accept just any man for a husband.”

“I haven’t declined all of them,” she admitted, enraptured by his nearness and the intensity of his silver eyes enough to speak without subterfuge. “They don’t want me.”

Tibi tugged free of his grasp, regretting the loss of contact the same instant. To her chagrin, his easy release of her hand when moments before he’d insisted on holding her smacked of rejection.

“Then they must have been deaf and blind, as well as ignorant.”

Startled by the unexpected compliment, she reminded herself that Alexius charmed women with the ease of a cobra mesmerizing prey. And he was just as dangerous. To her, perhaps more so.

Dear Reader,

I’m often asked where I get the inspiration for my characters. Most of the time I don’t even know myself, but The Champion was a little different. Tibi and Alexius’s story is similar to the early relationship between my own parents. My mom was raised in a difficult home, and my father was the baby of a big loving family. When they met and married they were happy, but they knew something was missing.

Through the testimony of their friends and family, they realized they needed Christ to forgive their mistakes and make them complete. Though their journey to faith was quiet, it was genuine. They spent the next forty years planting churches, sharing their faith and inspiring others. This month they’ll have been married fifty-three years and are closer than ever.

Although I may not usually know where my inspiration to create my characters comes from, I always see them in their later years as similar to my parents, having lived long lives of faith, loving each other and surrounded by their happy families. I pray for these same blessings for you and your loved one.

I hope you’ve enjoyed Tibi, Alexius and my two other Roman-set stories, The Gladiator and The Protector.

I love to hear from my readers. Please visit my website, www.carlacapshaw.com, and/or write to me at Carla@carlacapshaw.com. Be inspired,

Carla Capshaw

The Champion

Carla Capshaw

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Blessed are those who hear the word of God, and keep it.

—Luke 11:28

My parents, Kenneth and Patricia Hughes.

Everyone should be as blessed to have parents like you!

Your fifty plus years of marriage and decades of ministerial service have shown me true love and true faith do exist in a world that constantly questions both. I love you with all my heart.

Chapter One

Rome, AD 84

“You’re useless, Tibi. You’ve been nothing but a disappointment since the day you were born.”

Numb to her father’s constant condemnation, Tibi stared out the open window of her family’s Palatine home. Except for a few distant cook fires dotting the nearby hills, darkness covered Rome like a thick, heavy blanket. The night was still and silent as though it waited to learn Tibi’s fate.

“Lepidus was the last man of good family willing to wed you,” Tiberius continued to rant. “If he wanted to sample you before the wedding, who are you to object? Instead of welcoming his advances, as you should have done, you reaffirmed your willful reputation and denied him at every turn. Little wonder he stormed from here with no wish to see you again. No man wants a disobedient wife. Not even when her father is willing to pay a fortune to be rid of her.”

Tibi winced, but remained silent. She’d stopped defending herself years ago when she realized that her father always sided against her.

“Why the gods cursed me with two daughters and took my adopted son is beyond my ken, but at least your sister over there had the decency to bring political connections to this house when she wed Senator Tacitus three years ago. As for you, you’re a disgrace.”

In the face of her father’s condemnation, she’d forgotten that Tiberia, her elder, more winsome sister, sat in an alcove near the inner courtyard. Closing her eyes, Tibi breathed in deep to ward off an onslaught of total humiliation. The sweetness of her perfume mocked her earlier decision to forgo the formless linen tunics and comfortable shoes she preferred in favor of feminine silks and the bejeweled sandals now pinching her toes. Despite her father’s belief that she went out of her way to foil all his plans for her, she’d prepared for tonight with care in an effort to please her family and make a good impression on her intended groom.

Shivering from the cool night air, she rubbed the tender spot on her upper arm where Lepidus had grabbed her. He’d cornered her in the shadows of one of the garden columns, then tried to force himself on her while the other guests cheered the gladiatorial contest her father had arranged for their entertainment. She’d narrowly escaped Lepidus’s mauling by biting his lip and refusing to let go until he released her. Neither he nor her father had considered her self-defense justified. Lepidus had stormed from the house, vowing revenge on her shameless behavior and leaving her to bear the brunt of her father’s wrath.

“Four broken betrothals, Tibi. Four. I’m at the end of my patience with you.”

Tibi tightened her jaw to keep from scoffing. When had he ever been patient with her? As a child she’d wondered why he tolerated her elder sister, Tiberia, yet ignored her. She’d tried to gain his love by being quiet and obedient, two traits her mother assured her would lead to his affection, but he continued to regard her as less important than the rugs he trod upon.

As she’d grown older, she realized that she disappointed her father simply by being a girl. The knowledge killed any hope of winning his affection. Instead, she’d worked to earn his respect and shone in areas traditionally reserved for boys. She’d studied history, astronomy and philosophy. She knew how to read and write Latin, as well as speak Greek. She excelled at archery and practiced athletics at the bath’s gymnasium. But she remained a failure in his eyes.

“Look at me,” Tiberius demanded sharply.

Tibi forced her feet to comply and turned around to face him. Aware of the bitterness oozing from her soul, she avoided looking at him directly and studied the lantern-lit room beyond his shoulder. A whiff of incense was the last trace of the disastrous banquet held earlier. Slaves had cleared the colorful room of dishes and swept the mosaic tiles clean. The low couches the diners reclined on while eating had been restored to their proper places against the frescoed walls.

“Your mother coddled you, insisting I waste coin on tutors that gave you the mistaken impression that your opinion counts the same as a man’s,” he sneered. “However, if you were wise, you’d understand that at eighteen years old, you’re well past a ripe marriage age. A girl is a drain on her family if she doesn’t marry for connections. Since no acceptable man will have you, I’m taking you to the temple of Opis tomorrow—”

Both girls gasped in unison. Tibi’s heart kicked with alarm. Her appalled gaze darted to her father’s angry visage. As she expected, his narrowed eyes radiated his antipathy.

“Father, please.” Tiberia, silent until now, rose elegantly from a bench placed beneath one of the archways leading to the garden. “Isn’t that a bit extreme? Perhaps Antonius—”

“Quiet! If I want your counsel I’ll ask for it, daughter. Your husband has already done all I can expect of him by arranging this gathering tonight. Even with his far-flung and lofty contacts, Tibi’s reputation for humiliating men precedes her. It was no simple task for him to snare Lepidus’s interest.”

Like Jupiter condemning mankind from the summit of Olympus, Tiberius jabbed his index finger in Tibi’s direction. “That…that girl has embarrassed me for the last time. If she won’t bring honor to this house through marriage, I’ll see that she fulfills her duty to this family another way and buy her a position as a priestess. Who better for her to serve than the goddess of abundance and fertility? She can attempt to garner blessings for all of us. Who knows? She might even be able to correct your failure as a wife and wrangle a child for you in the bargain.”

Tibi’s stomach churned. The threat of having to perform fertility rites caused her palms to begin to sweat. The room seemed to swirl. “No—”

“Cease.” Tiberius pinned her with a livid glare, his full cheeks bright red with fury. “How dare you presume to say no to me? I’m your father. Not some wretch you can chase off with your contrary ways.”

Horrified, Tibi watched him stalk toward her, an unnatural gleam in his eyes.

“Get to your room before I club you,” he ordered, his lips almost purple in his rage. “And don’t come down until you’re sent for. I can’t bear to look at you a moment longer.”

Brimming with resentment, she forced herself to keep silent before glancing toward the front door and the freedom beyond the heavy stone portal.

Tiberius lunged toward her, his fist clenched. She sped past him and up the stairs to her room. A servant had lit a fat candle on the dressing table in the far corner. Careful not to slam the door for fear of invoking more of her father’s ire, she closed the wood panel behind her and collapsed against it. Her heart was racing as much from her father’s threats as from her own anger. At times like this she missed her mother most. Not that Cornelia would have gone against her husband’s dictates, but she would have been a shoulder to lean on until Tibi’s punishment was carried out.

Despondent, she crossed to the dressing table and removed the diadem of sapphires and gold pins from her blond hair before braiding the long tresses into a single plait that hung to the small of her back. The candlelight illuminated the polished metal mirror hanging on the wall in front of her. She studied the distorted reflection of herself.