The Roman

The Roman
Caroline Storer

ROME AD 79The one woman he ever loved was the one woman who betrayed him.And now, the Roman will have his revenge…Marsallas and Justina were young, beautiful and desperately in love once, until a tragic betrayal tore them apart.Six years have passed since that day and Marsallas has since thrown himself into the deadly world of chariot racing, gaining fortune, fame, and a salacious reputation throughout Rome. His bed is kept warm by a different woman each night, but his heart remains iced over as the memory of Justina’s betrayal continues to haunts him.The last thing he expects is to see her again, but when she steps back into his life he sees a chance to avenge his broken heart.But beneath the hurt, an attraction so intense still burns between the two, and as their fates begin to intertwine once more, their determination to resist one another starts to falter…

The Roman

Caroline Storer

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

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

Contents

Caroline Storer (#u8ef9b9f1-b8f9-5bde-b3ab-c78411123c39)

Dedication (#ue8ebb734-2337-576d-b009-03c62a0aadc0)

CHAPTER ONE (#ude73dad8-0247-58d0-b58a-c1873b8919b4)

CHAPTER TWO (#uc9efe841-54de-5fe4-af28-a5037ab3f9d3)

CHAPTER THREE (#u9bf3a3b3-3d07-5946-8e66-226ef34d815f)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u4a549fe5-4e00-59ef-98a1-11ec3919fc48)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Caroline Storer (#u28be2912-5b8e-52ba-8799-37dcf5d6f309)

Being a poor sleeper, I’ve been making up stories for years now to try and exhaust my mind, and get some much needed sleep. It doesn’t always work as the stories then demand to be written! I write mainly Historical romances, but I’ve also written Contemporary romances, Romantic Intrigue and I’ve also tried my hand at Futuristic and Time Slip romances.

I live on the beautiful island of Anglesey in North Wales, with my wonderful husband, Colin. By day I’m an Environmental Health Officer, where I get to meet lots of interesting people – all grist to the writer’s mill.

Firstly, I'd also like to thank my editor, Charlotte Ledger, for giving me this wonderful opportunity to publish my book with HarperImpulse.

Secondly, I want to say a huge "thank you" to all my friends and family who have supported me, in particular my mum and dad, and best friends Kath and Paula. I also want to mention all my cyber friends who, over the years, have given much needed help and encouragement. Thank you, Suzanne, Michelle (Styles) and Kate (Hardy).

And finally … for my wonderful husband, Colin … who always believed.

CHAPTER ONE (#u28be2912-5b8e-52ba-8799-37dcf5d6f309)

Circus Maximus – Rome AD 79

Marsallas closed his eyes, letting the stillness inside the stables act as a balm to his ravaged senses. He could still hear the crowd in the arena chanting his name, even though he’d ridden his last race of the day.

For a full five minutes he stood there, before he opened his eyes once more, and watched as his four horses, magnificent greys, were rubbed down by four slaves. Like him, the horses were quiet and still, allowing the slaves to tend them without any trouble. He walked over to them and stroked the muzzle of each of them in turn, his touch gentle and soothing. Lampon, the most forward of his horses, nudged him.

“Hah. You know me too well, Lampon,” he said softly, taking a pear from a small cloth sack that he carried. The horse whinnied as he took the fruit, and Marsallas patted his flank before moving onto the other horses. When they had all been given their pears, Marsallas stood back, letting the slaves finish their tasks.

They were magnificent animals – he had chosen well – and they had not let him down once in the four years he’d had them. They had raced over two hundred races together, winning over one hundred and fifty of them in that time. A phenomenal feat, considering it was one of the most dangerous sports in the Circus Maximus. His quadrigae were considered the best, and when he raced his four horse chariot he was always the favourite to win.

Once the slaves had finished tending to the horses, Marsallas dismissed them with a nod of his head, leaving him alone with his animals. He walked into each of the stalls and stroked his hands over the horses’ flesh, feeling their muscles and ligaments to make sure there were no sprains or bruises. The sheer brutality of the races took its toll, on both man and beast, and it was Marsallas’s duty to make sure that his horses were always kept in the best condition. Eventually he finished his rounds, and was closing the last of the doors to the stalls when he saw his team member, and close friend, Fabius Rufus coming towards him.

“Fabius,” he said in greeting, a small smile on his face as his protégé approached. He was secretly proud of the young man; the man he had trained to be as good as him in the Circus. But then he frowned, when he saw the preoccupied look on his face. “All is well, Fabius?”

“There is a woman here,” Fabius said, by way of explanation, ignoring Marsallas's question. “She wants to see you. She has a slave with her-”

“Fabius,” Marsallas interrupted, “I am not interested in entertaining the rich patricians of Rome tonight. I am tired, hungry, and I stink. I'm going to bathe, eat and sleep in that order. Besides, even I have standards, and an orgy is just a little too debauched for my tastes!”

Fabius shook his head. “You’re wrong Marsallas. The slave is male, and as large as a tree, and the woman just wants to talk to you, not seduce you.”