The Gladiator's Mistress (Champions of Rome) Read Online Free Page A

disappointment.
    Besides, Valens Secundus had come to the garden for solace. It was what she had sought, and during this moment they shared a need.
    Whatever the reason, Phaedra knew that remaining with the gladiator in the garden would be considered improper, if not wrong. She should not put him in such a position, nor open herself to a possible scandal. But no one knew they were alone together. Phaedra’s husband assumed she waited in her room. Had anyone even noticed where the gladiator had gone?
    Valens stood before her with his hands clasped behind his back. His tunic fell just below his knees. Her gaze traveled from his well-muscled chest down to the woven belt resting on his flat stomach. The fabric draped over the juncture between his legs, and she wondered about his phallus. Phaedra had never seen a real one, of course, just those on statues. But all her married friends had told her what to expect on her wedding night. And the phallus was of the greatest importance.
    At the juncture of his thighs, the fabric of the tunic stretched a bit, as if the phallus had moved. Moved! Phaedra looked up. He stared at her with eyes wide, as she knew hers must be. Had his phallus never moved before? Phaedra understood that with the correct attention it became firm and rigid. But she had never been told that it might twitch.
    “Did you know—” she began. Yet the courage to finish her question evaded her. With any luck, Valens did not know exactly what she had begun to ask. A minute too late, she realized that she was pointing. She lowered her arm and averted her gaze.
    He shifted, rotating his hips so the fabric once again draped smoothly over his thighs. “My lady, you wanted a word.”
    Phaedra’s face flamed red and hot with embarrassment. She unwound the bridal veil from her wrist, slowly, hoping that she might think of something to say. She smoothed the fabric over her lap. “Tell me of your life. You have much fame. Even I, a person who never follows the games, knows of Valens Secundus.”
    “I am a gladiator, my lady.”
    “Have you no purpose beyond being a gladiator?”
    “For me, there is no other.”
    Phaedra suddenly realized that she had endowed the gladiator with attributes desirous to her, but ones he could not possess. For a brief instant she had imagined that he enjoyed a variety of interests and was a man with great intellectual and emotional depth who also just happened to possess the physique of a god. Phaedra’s chest tightened as she realized she had only fooled herself.
    She lined up the corners of her veil and folded it into a square. His dissatisfying answer echoed in her mind. Perhaps it would be better if he returned to the party and left her a moment to collect her thoughts. She had a wedding night to endure, after all, and her maidenhead to offer her husband.
    “I have kept you too long,” she said. “You may go.”
    Valens continued to stand, his hands at his sides, his palms facing forward, with fingers slightly curled. “My job is to entertain with feats of combat. I show the Roman disdain for death and the virtue of courage in the face of adversity. Above all, I bring honor to my ludus, the gladiator school that trains me, and the place I have called home for the last eight years. I know nothing else, my lady. I see in your eyes that my answer disappoints.”
    Phaedra did not deny his words. Yet he spoke with conviction and passion. What if his attention was set to other tasks? What might he accomplish then? “You sound as though you see yourself as little more than a trained beast, and that is your mistake. You are a man, capable of great achievements, greater even than your accomplishments in the arena.”
    Valens dropped his gaze from hers. “I am not.”
    “How can you not see who you are? What you have? You possess fame. Anything you ask for would be given to you, freely, gladly. You will never be forced to marry for money.” Phaedra pressed her lips together. She had not