Marcus smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"I am a gladiator, Livia. All death I cause is needless and there is no honour in it. I am an entertainer, nothing more."
"Come down," I said. My heart thudded as I moved forward and put my hand on his bare shoulder. His skin was warm and smooth where I touched him, though now I was closer I could see the scars the years of fighting in the arena had left on him. "Come down and celebrate with us, Marcus."
He looked up at me, a small smile on his lips.
"Why are you so determined for me to come and celebrate?"
"You're always so set apart from everyone," I said. "Except for training, you're always on your own. The slaves say..." I trailed off, not sure I wanted to say more or give away that I'd been listening to gossip.
"Oh don't stop there, Livia," Marcus said, raising his eyebrows, looking amused. "What do the slaves say about me?"
"Nothing bad," I said quickly. "Only that you don't ever... seem to want...attention. From women, or men."
"I see." His face was blank and I was worried I'd offended him.
"I'm sorry," I said, withdrawing my hand, and turning away. "I've offended you."
With arena fast reflexes, his hand shot up and captured mine, stopping me from escaping.
"Not so fast, my little gossip. Come, tell me more." He tugged me to him, so I stood between his legs looking down at him.
"I'm not a gossip," I told him. "I just...listen."
His dark eyes moved over my face, studying me.
"Mmmm. You listen... and watch too, don't you Livia?"
"I don't know what you mean," I said, hoping the candlelight hid the blush in my cheeks.
"I've seen you watching the training sessions, Livia. You can't deny it. You're always there, like a mirage cat, fading into the background, but seeing everything that goes on in this arena. Why is that?"
"The women say you've been too badly injured. That you can't perform," I blurted out, desperate to change the subject.
Shock crossed his face and I regretted it for a moment, until he burst into laughter, his deep voice rumbling and filling the room. At first I was embarrassed, but I had rarely heard Marcus laugh, and it was infectious. A grin spread over my face.
"Do they now?" he asked, letting go of my hand to reach up and wipe tears from his eyes.
"I take it that isn't the case?"
Marcus's smile faded, but he didn't look annoyed. Instead, he stood up suddenly, bringing us so close we were almost touching. He looked down at me, and wound one of the loose strands of my hair around his finger. I suddenly found it rather hard to breathe evenly.
"No, it's not the case," he said softly. He dropped his hands and they settled on my hips. I could feel the heat of his touch through the rough linen of my tunic. Gently he eased me forward until my body was touching his, then pulled my hips in tight against him. I sucked in my breath as I felt his hardness press into my stomach.
"Why..." My voice stuck in my throat. I cleared it, and tried again. "So why haven't you ever asked for...someone?"
"How many times have you been summoned to a gladiator's bed, Livia?" he asked.
"I.. don't know... many times. Most festivals and after every fight I suppose, so..."
"A lot," he finished. "And tell me, since we're being honest with each other... how many times have you gone to someone's bed purely because you wanted to?"
I opened my mouth to say I was always happy to go, but the lie died on my tongue and he saw it.
"That's what I thought. I was a free man once, Livia. And I know the difference between a slave's duty and a womanwanting to be with me. I don't want anyone in my bed who doesn't want to be there."
I swallowed, still very conscious of his body pressing up against mine. He hadn't released me after making his point, and I wasn't sure if he had realised that or not.