Though Klara didn't love the man who was to be
her husband, she didn't want him murdered, and she vows to track down the man
who committed the crime. Sickened that she'd been attracted to the mysterious
Roman, Klara tracks Lucius Aurelius to the fringes of the Roman Empire, only to
find that they've both been trapped in a clever plot to overthrow Klara's
father, the Chief of the Huns.
Klara is separated from Lucius, captured by slavers and sold to a gladiator school. She is the only one who can save herself, by fighting for her freedom. Lucius can ensure her battle is easier, but only by sacrificing himself. How much is he willing to give up for the fiery woman he's come to love?
Settling
back, Klara surveyed the room for the candidate most likely to know Lucius
Aurelius. With so many unwashed, bearded
rascals to choose from it was hard to pick.
Finally her gaze alighted on a burly old man whose eyes reminded her of
Lucius. Abandoning the revolting beer
she made her way cautiously to where the man sat alone. He was intent on a dish of stew and didn’t
notice her approach. Klara stood before
him, awkward in her uncertainty of what to do next.
She
cleared her throat. The man shovelled
another spoonful of stew in his mouth and did not look up. She tried again, a little louder this time,
and still the man ignored her. Sliding
her knife from its sheath Klara slammed the point down into the table where it
quivered menacingly. The spoon stopped
half way to the old man’s mouth. He
looked up under busy eyebrows and regarded her for a long moment before the
spoon continued its journey. Chewing
slowly he simply sat and looked at her.
Klara put
her hands on her hips. Now she had the
man’s attention starting a conversation about Lucius seemed even harder than
she thought it would be. The man lowered
his gaze, scooping up another spoonful of stew, and she found herself
dismissed.
“Hey!”
she slammed both her hand down on the table.
“I want to talk to you.”
“So
talk.” The fact he didn’t bother to look up infuriated Klara. The man
has no manners— and they call Hun barbarians.
“I’m
looking for a man.”
He looked
up then. “Really?” Pushing the bowl away he leaned back in his
chair, letting his eyes roam over the curves of her body. “I’d be happy to oblige.”
Klara
swept the empty bowl off the table with the back of her hand. It clattered on the floor and rolled under
the table. Her chest heaved with
suppressed anger.
“Might I
suggest you would do better with men if you tempered your aggression? So unattractive in a woman.”
Klara
wrenched the knife out of the table and held it towards the man. “Do you know a man named Lucius Aurelius?”
she hissed.
The old
man’s bushy eyebrows shot up and disappeared into his hairline. “Lucius?
How on earth do you know Lucius?”
He narrowed his blue eyes and leaned forward, his hand shot out grabbing
her wrist. “Who are you?”
She tried
to reclaim her hand but the man was too strong.
Cleverly he’d grabbed her hand holding the knife so there was very
little point struggling. She raised her
chin and said, “I am Klara...”
“The
Hun,” the man finished softly. He let
her go and settled back. “I’ve heard
about you. Sit down. You’re in luck.”
If you interested in reading more here are some buy links –
I lives on the Sunshine Coast, in
Queensland Australia in the town which brought the world the Bee Gees. When I'm
not writing romance you can find me out on the water kayaking, fishing or
swimming. When on dry land it’s all about the shoes and the coffee (and old Bee
Gees records).
Come visit me at:
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