Barbarian Bride

By Eva Scott

On the bloody ground of the Colosseum, she fights to save her life. In the treacherous boxes above, he fights to save their love.

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?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Feb 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9780857991225

Eva Scott

Eva Scott is the bestselling author of rural romcoms such as Lonely in Longreach and Meet Me in Bendigo. A lifelong storyteller, she lived in Britain and Papua New Guinea before coming home to Australia to train as a cultural anthropologist. She now lives in rural Tasmania, amongst vineyards and orchards, with her husband and son, two cats and a cocker spaniel. If you'd like to know more about Eva, her books, or to connect with her online, you can visit her website: evascottwriter.com Photo Credit: Renee Shea

Book preview

Chapter 1

"A camel! You brought me a camel!" Klara shot to her feet as a young travel-stained Mongolian boy shuffled out leading a large animal. The crowd, gathered for her wedding festivities, broke into raucous laughter.

"What exactly am I supposed to do with a camel? Father!" She turned hands open in appeal to find her father doubled over with mirth. Klara didn’t want the fetid animal. They were renowned for their viciousness and as if to prove the point the camel in question chose that moment to spit vociferously.

It is my special wedding gift for your daughter.

Klara eyed Muunokhoi, otherwise known as Vicious Dog, with suspicion. The oily looking Mongolian probably wanted to off load the beast and no one would take it. Her wedding provided just the opportunity he needed. Well, he wasn’t about to fool her!

My old friend! Klara’s father, Rugila, threw his arms wide in welcome. It is gift enough to have you here.

Pretending to be busy adjusting the rows of brightly coloured beads hanging about her neck, Klara smothered a snort. Vicious Dog would have her father good and drunk within the hour. Wedding or not, the two of them would find something to toast. Two ants climbing up a blade of grass would do.

Klara turned to her husband-to-be. Bleda, do something! Bleda held up his hands and shrugged, laughing all the while. Clearly he was going to be of no help. She was stuck with the stupid camel until she could come up with a way of getting rid of it.

Men! She turned and strode out of the wedding tent. "I hate camels, she muttered as she placed a well-aimed kick at a bale of hay. And I suppose I’ll be the one who has to clean up after it, feed it, water it and do whatever else it needs. I’ll be the one spat at and kicked. The damned thing will eat all the grass and there will be nothing left for the sheep.

Furious, she strode past sprawling tents, children tumbling between them. So many guests had come to celebrate her wedding, swelling their tribe’s camp to five times the normal size. It now seemed to stretch endlessly out across the grasslands. Klara had no particular destination in mind as she walked away from the happy chaos of her wedding celebrations preceding tomorrow’s ceremony.

She’d known Bleda all her life. They’d been betrothed since they were young children. But they weren’t children anymore. Tomorrow represented the end of her personal freedom and a beginning of her responsibilities as a wife of a tribal chief. As her husband, Bleda would take her father’s place when Rugila died and she would become ‘mother’ of the tribe. She sighed. This kind of constraint came to all women in the end, one way or the other. Why would she be any different? Still, the yoke had already begun to chafe.

Picking up her pace, she began to run. Tents passed by in a blur as the need to be free out on the grass plain, under the vaulting sky, possessed her. Her legs pumped, her breath grew shorter and Klara wondered if her new husband would let her fight, or hawk, or even hunt anymore. She raced towards the perimeter of the camp, desperate to get away from everyone even if only for a few moments. The colourful beads around her neck bounced against her chest. She clutched them in her fist and yanked them over her head. Like the trappings of her almost-married status, they seemed to choke her and grow heavier with every step.

Klara could see the beginning of the grass plain ahead. Almost there. Taking a deep breath she leapt over a saddle left carelessly outside a straggler’s tent. Her long skirt became entangled in her legs and her stride faltered. Falling took forever and she had time to be grateful the entire camp wasn’t present to witness her latest humiliation; first the camel and now this. Her beads flew from her hands as she landed with a heavy thump, knocking all the air from her lungs.

As Klara sat gasping a shadow loomed over her, blocking out the afternoon sun.

What do we have here? The man spoke with a strange accent as he towered over her, hands on his hips. A young woman running hell-bent for the long grass with a fist full of trinkets. A man could be forgiven for mistaking her for a thief. He reached over and picked up the strands of beads.

Klara scrambled to her feet. I am no thief! She made to snatch her beads back from the stranger who held them just beyond her reach.

Really? How can I trust you? You could be telling me all sorts of lies. What are you willing to do to prove you’re no thief? The sound of humour in his tone only served to increase Klara’s annoyance.

Give me those beads, she demanded, holding out her hand.

Not until you prove you didn’t steal them. Now she was closer to him Klara could see he was not born of the Great Steppe. His hair was light coloured, like the long grass in autumn although it hung to his collar in Hunnish fashion. His eyes were the strangest shade of blue, as if made from the dawn light. Those eyes were smiling at her as they roamed over her face and down her body. A prickling sensation unlike any she’d ever encountered followed wherever his eyes rested. Her cheeks flushed hot with awareness.

I demand you give me those beads right now. Other parts of her had begun to tingle alarmingly. This strange man compelled and revolted her all at once. As an almost-married woman she had a duty to get back to her wedding guests. She’d been gone too long already. Drawing herself up to her full height she decided it was time to bring this little encounter to a close. Klara lunged in an effort to grab back her beads. The stranger caught her easily and pulled her close, laughter reverberating deep in his chest.

His arm tightened about her waist and his breath brushed her cheek. What a determined little thief you are, he whispered. The scent of horses and something else, something wild and male, filled her and awakened an unfamiliar primal need within her. Klara pushed against his chest with her fists, he only held her tighter. She began to feel dizzy from his scent, from the beat of his heart against hers. A throbbing had begun low and deep inside her along with a longing she could not—dare not—name as she pressed against the hard length of him.

I will give you the beads in exchange for a kiss, he said. Klara stopped struggling and looked up into his fathomless blue eyes as panic began to take hold. She could not kiss a stranger! Not one this…devilish. Not when her husband-to-be was waiting for her.

No! she blurted.

No? Then I shall have to keep you here until I find out the true owner of those beads. In a big camp like this, it could take some time.

Klara’s eyes wandered to the stranger’s tent. Did he intend to take her in there? A shiver ran through her as his breath caressed her cheek. The situation was spiralling out of control. She had to stop it now before it was too late. Although what ‘too late’ might mean she could not say.

All right.

All right? Just like that? The stranger looked surprised and perhaps a little cheated.

I don’t intend to fight you for the beads. Nor do I intend to sit about while you discover the truth for yourself. So you may have your silly kiss and then give me my beads back. Klara spoke with as much dignity befitting her station as she could muster. She couldn’t let him know the heat radiating from him made her want to do things most undignified for a Chieftain’s daughter. This stranger had a disturbing effect on her. She’d let him take his kiss and be free of him.

A silly little kiss it is then, he said before lowering his mouth towards hers. Klara’s eyes shut in anticipation. She opened them, wondering why he had not begun. His lips hovered for a moment as if waiting for a signal from her. As her eyes met his, dark to light, she saw something shift deep within him. With it shifted the tone of the moment; no longer a bit of fun but something much more dangerous. She held her breath as his mouth finally descended upon hers.

The stranger’s lips were warm and dry. He kissed her softly at first then, throwing away all self control, he deepened the kiss, plundering her mouth with his tongue, one hand at her waist pressing her against him while the other cradled her head. Klara melted as molten desire invaded her limbs and her mouth opened beneath his. She clutched at the front of his tunic grateful his strong arms held her up. Unbidden, her lips returned his kiss, her tongue sought his and Klara lost all sense of time and place. She was captured momentarily under the spell of the stranger with his heavenly blue eyes.

His hands wandered down to cup her bottom and pulled her closer. Klara gasped as she felt his unmistakable arousal. The spell shattered in that instant. Pushing him away with all her strength she took a step backwards. Taken off guard, the stranger let go.

How dare you! she spluttered, angry not only at the stranger but at herself. She very nearly did something stupid right on the eve of her wedding night.

Come now, Princess. You agreed to one silly little kiss and you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that as much as I did. The stranger’s laconic smile was back on his face, his body relaxed with the all the lethal grace of a leopard.

Klara flicked her long plait back over her shoulder and put her hands on her hips. You crossed the line. I might have agreed to one little kiss but you took much more than that.

The stranger threw back his head and laughed. "Princess, that was one little silly kiss. Clearly you’ve never been kissed properly before. I’m happy to help with your education, simply say the word."

My education? You know nothing about me, she hissed. I’ve been kissed plenty of times and by better men than you. Now stick to the bargain and hand over those beads immediately. Right now! She stamped her foot and held out her hand. The situation had gone on long enough. If she stayed any longer who knew what would happen. Her lips throbbed in the aftermath of his kiss. The sensation inspired all kinds of images of what else might throb if she took him up on his offer of an ‘education’. She had wedding guests to attend to. Surely someone must have noticed she was missing by now?

Better men? Indeed! There’s a challenge and I could never resist a challenge. A lazy confident grin crinkled the corners of his sky-blue eyes. There was something magnetic about this man Klara couldn’t define. Was it the dangerous air he carried about him? Or his undeniably attractive scruffiness? Perhaps it was simply because he was a foreigner, exotic and forbidden. Whatever the allure, she wasn’t going to hang around to explore it.

Beads, now.

He laughed and held the beads out. As she reached for them he snatched his hand away. Wait! Taking one strand of beads out of the pile he tucked them in his pocket. Something to remember you by. If you want them back you can come and find me later. He winked and dropped the remaining beads into her outstretched hand.

You’ve as much chance of that as of waking up tomorrow morning a proper Hun!

The stranger threw back his head let out a bellowing laugh. You don’t need to be a Hun to be a proper man, Princess. Come by a little later after the feast and I’ll be happy to show you.

Klara turned away in a swirl of skirts, her cheeks flushed pink. Accustomed to wearing leggings and tunics, she hadn’t quite got the knack of the masses of fine silk that had gone into making up her wedding attire. As she straightened her skirts and prepared to storm off, the stranger delivered a smack to her bottom. Letting out a yelp of indignation she leapt around to give him a piece of her mind.

How dare you… but he was already gone. She could hear him singing softly off-key as he went about his business in his tent as if their exchange had never taken place. The stranger’s lofty attitude only served to fan the flames of her fury as she strode back through the camp the way she had come.

How dare he? Who does he think he is? Doesn’t he know who I am? she muttered. His outrageous and rude behaviour could not disguise the power of his kiss or her reaction to it. Klara slowed her pace as new thoughts assaulted her. Would it be like that with Bleda? Their kisses to date had been chaste—those of brother and sister, not of lovers. The stranger had kissed her like a lover. The memory of his lips on hers caused her body to suffuse with heat and an unfamiliar sensation uncoiled deep within her.

Klara shook her head to empty it of unwanted images which sprung unbidden. What did it matter if the stranger’s kisses set her on fire? Bleda’s kisses would be just as good once they kissed each other properly. Confident of her logic she lengthened her stride. But what if Bleda couldn’t arouse her like the stranger? What if she woke up tomorrow to discover she’d married her ‘brother’ and not a lover? She frowned at the sneaking suspicion Bleda might not live up to her expectations. There was only one thing to do.

She wound her way through the many cook fires, cauldrons bubbling away filled with chunks of meat boiling for the feast. Slipping her beads over her head as she approached her father’s tent she threw her shoulders back and tossed her long plait over her shoulder. Klara marched through the assembled guests, all laughing at some jest while tossing back cup after cup of kumis. She walked up to Bleda who, clearly drunk on the fermented mare’s milk, took a moment to focus on her.

Bleda, stand up, she said. Bleda gave her a wobbly smile, getting unsteadily to his feet.

Yes, my bride, your wish is my command, he slurred, causing the men around him to chuckle. He stood there, blinking in the last rays of sunlight, and Klara knew before she even asked. But she asked anyway.

Bleda, will you kiss me properly? Right now.

***

Lucius Aurelius hummed off-key as he rummaged in his pack for a clean tunic. Tonight’s feast promised to be a hearty one with much to drink and eat. He didn’t often get a chance to eat well when travelling. The import business kept him constantly moving and he ate what he could catch or exchange with other travellers. He liked his life. True, it was not a life his father approved of, but Lucius was not the sort of man to spend too much time worrying about his father’s opinion.

The sun was well on its way to setting when he left his tent. He stood for a moment and surveyed the grass plain stretching unbroken to the horizon where the sun’s great orange orb seemed to sink into the very ground itself. Sighing contentedly he pulled on his thick coat with the eagle of Rome embroidered on the back against the increasing chill. Growing up in Rome meant warmth and endless sunshine. His bones weren’t used to the extreme changes of temperature the Great Steppes offered. Patting his pockets Lucius checked for the string of beads he’d procured from the luscious young Hun woman he’d encountered that afternoon.

Not normally given to such crass displays of boldness, something had overtaken him and he’d had her in his arms before he’d realised what he was doing. Her long hair the colour of midnight and those almond-shaped eyes, so dark as to have no end to their depths, captivated him. He could not let her go without tasting her sweet full lips and they had been delicious. If only he could convince her to share his bed… Perhaps she’d be agreeable to travel with him as his woman? Of course, she’d played hard to get but that was expected. She was a Hun and he, a Roman. It was an unlikely match although he had no doubt with her it would be a good one. Looking forward to finding her again he set off into the night humming a drinking song.

The camp was abuzz with energy and laughter. Many of the guests were far drunker than they ought to be and it looked like there would be fewer mouths to feed as a result. Fine by him. He was hungry and looking forward to the meat he smelled cooking all afternoon. No stuffed swans served here, only good old-fashioned meat and kumis. Was it any wonder he preferred to be out here in the world rather than shut up in some stuffy Roman villa pretending to be interested in inane conversation and inedible food?

It did not take Lucius long to reach the centre of the camp. The huge felt tent of the Hun chieftain, Rugila, created a backdrop to the feast laid out before it. Men and women sat shoulder to shoulder, meat piled high on platters in front of them. Children ducked and weaved, unable to sit still for excitement. He looked about until he spotted his companions.

Bataar! Lucius dropped down beside his friend, clapping him on the shoulder in greeting.

Lucius, you’re just in time. Any later and Ellac here would have eaten the lot!

Ellac replied with a mouth full of mutton, his words lost to comprehension. Lucius laughed and thumped him on the back.

Never mind, I am here now. Pass me some of that meat. He settled back and took a look around. The crowd was mostly Hun although there were many Mongolians, Persians and other races dotted about. He was the only Roman, the only man with light hair, so it was expected he’d attract attention. As well-travelled as he was, he’d become used to the curiosity of others. He smiled and nodded whenever he caught someone staring. Mostly people were content to look and some returned his smile. Every now and then he’d come across someone who wanted to start trouble, but that was rare and he doubted it would occur here at Rugila’s daughter’s wedding.

Have you seen the bride? he asked.

She’s over there, Ellac gestured with a shank bone. If you ask me, Bleda has his hands full.

Bataar chuckled. I hear she can hunt and fight as well as any man. If Bleda steps out of line she’ll cut his balls off. This statement sent both Ellac and Bataar into peals of laughter. Lucius peered across the gathering, the only light coming from the fire pit in the middle of the clearing. Shadowy figures of women moved back and forth, replenishing the plates of food. He looked for a large, strong woman. Surely the bride would be robust if she could outfight a man! That he’d like to see, although he’d heard Hun women were more than capable of fighting alongside their men and often did so.

Is that her? he asked, pointing to a thickset young woman dressed in a heavily embroidered skirt, her long hair carefully threaded with semi-precious stones. Bataar shook his head.

No. Look a little to the left. See there? Next to Rugila, the large man with the pointed felt cap, that little fellow next to him is Bleda the groom. Next to him is the bride, Klara.

Lucius squinted through the gloom. As the woman in question came into focus he felt the blood drain from his face. The thief! His hand went instinctively to the beads nestled in his pocket. His thief was the bride?

***

Klara was bored. There was no fun to be had sitting in the bridal party. She was expected to be demure and well behaved—neither state appealed to her—while everyone else around her had fun. Her eyes roamed around the gathering, watching people laughing and jesting with each other. How she longed to join in! Her gaze came to rest on the figure of a fair haired man; there on the other side of the fire sat her stranger talking with two men who looked vaguely familiar. Klara watched for a moment before prodding her father in the ribs with her elbow. Rugila grunted and turned from his drinking to see what she wanted.

Who is that stranger sitting over there? she indicated the direction with her chin.