Gladiator Heart by Alyssa Morgan Read Free Book Online

and shivering. “Gods!”
    Tristan stared at the wet tunic clinging to the curves of her body, the flare of her round hips and her high, full breasts with their nipples peaking under the wet cloth. Looking at her was torture, and he finally turned away, more for his benefit than to give her a measure of modesty. If he saw her naked, he feared he’d be powerless against the sinister, lustful urges she inspired in him.
    He kept a watchful eye on their surroundings to be sure no one would come upon them while Valeria bathed and splashed around in the water. Every muscle in his body was tense with need and desire and he ground his jaw tightly. He reminded himself she was a Roman who deserved nothing more than pain and humiliation at his hands. Only the nagging hardness in his breeches disagreed.
    “I’m finished,” she said from behind him.
    Tristan turned to see her dripping wet, shivering beneath her clean, but soaked, tunic with her long golden hair hanging loosely about her shoulders and down her back. The vision of her body was clearly visible beneath her wet clothing. She looked like some forest nymph or water sprite sent to tempt him with her enchanting beauty.
    “You cannot wear wet clothes,” he said tersely. “You’ll freeze.”
    “I’m well used to that by now.”
    “Take it off.”
    She blushed and brought one of her hands up to draw the neck of her tunic tighter. “I will not.”
    “Do as I said,” he ordered, raising his voice to quell her argument.
    “Will you bring me back through your camp naked?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes.
    She might as well be dressed as she was. “Cover yourself with this.” He tossed the cloak to her.
    “I’m to return wearing only this?”
    “Would you prefer to return naked?”
    “I will be underneath that. It would be easy for any man to take it from me.”
    “No one will touch you,” he assured her. Not unless they wanted to challenge him. “Keep it closed around you. I’ll bring you directly to my tent where you can let your wet clothes dry by the fire.” He tossed the boots at her feet, then turned his back to her.
    Gods, what was he doing? Hadn’t he shown this woman enough kindness? He should march her into the camp naked and dripping wet. He should make her suffer for all he had suffered, but the rational part of him knew she had not been personally responsible for the horrors Rome had inflicted on him.
    When she had the cloak pulled tightly around her and the boots on, with her wet tunic draped over her arm, he led her back into the camp. They were met with curious glances from the men, all of which he ignored. Talk of her presence had spread after the incident in the prisoners’ tent, but not many had seen Valeria. Tristan could see the effect her beauty had on the men and hurried to stash her safely in his tent and away from their appreciative stares. Women in camp were always bad luck, and this one doubly so.
    Bathed and fed, and resting before the warm fire with her drying clothes, Valeria wondered if she was still dreaming. When would she awaken to the true horrors of her situation? She kept waiting for Tristan to make his move, to turn cold on her, but he seemed to be battling inner demons of his own and maintained a polite distance. It was too confusing.
    She combed out her hair with her fingers as it dried, able to get rid of most of the tangles, and then she wove it into a loose braid to keep it neat and orderly. Tristan took his midday meal as she did this, then told her to stay in the tent while he came and went, tending to issues with his men and the camp. They hardly spoke to one another, and rather than feel nervous, she felt strangely comfortable.
    She took the opportunity to dress during one of his brief absences now that her tunic was dry. With the boots, though a bit large for her, and the red cloak, she was warmer than she’d been in days. She worried things were going too easy for her, like she was drifting languidly in the