The Gladiator by Carla Capshaw

her.”
    He snorted. “I knew it.”
    â€œBut Christ has pardoned me for the wrongs I’ve committed. I owe it to Him to follow His example and forgive others when they wound me.”
    â€œYou should have told me we were discussing religion.” He waved his hand to dismiss the subject.
    â€œNo, Caros, we’re not.” She gripped his forearm to stop him from leaving. “We’re talking about love and kindness, generosity of spirit. The act of extending mercy, because…because you understand how much you need it for yourself.”
    For one unguarded moment, she saw through his hardened exterior to the place deep inside him that was raw with need.
    Her heart nearly burst with want of comforting him. She could barely refrain from throwing her arms around him and holding him until the torment in his eyes disappeared for good.
    He glanced skyward. “Few people ever receive mercy, Pelonia. Fewer still deserve it.”
    â€œTrue, but Christ taught He has enough mercy and forgiveness for anyone who asks Him for it. You must only believe in Him.”
    â€œYou can’t fathom the things I’ve done,” he said so quietly she strained to hear.
    She could imagine. A man of his skill in the ring had probably killed countless people over the years. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, Caros. Christ’s forgiveness is a gift. One none of us deserves, but His grace is extended to all just the same.”
    â€œHow much will this ‘gift’ cost me? I used to visit the temples until the priests kept demanding more coin to fatten their coffers.”
    â€œIt’s free. You can’t buy it or earn it. You must only believe.”
    He closed his eyes. An expression of pain marred his features. He shook his head. “I can’t believe in grace orforgiveness when everything in my life has taught me there is none.”
    Her heart sank with disappointment. “You don’t have to believe in Him this moment, Caros, but I pray one day you will.”

Chapter Nine
    M arcus Valerius contemplated his nephew by marriage, Senator Antonius Tacitus, with a healthy dose of respect. Shrewd beyond his thirty years, the senator would be difficult to dupe. Antonius’s young wife, Tiberia, might be a beauteous and spirited woman, but her brain rivaled the size of a lentil. Not so her husband.
    â€œWhy do you need such a large sum of money, Marcus?” The senator tossed a parchment onto his bronze-plated desk. “As I understand it, you inherited your brother’s holdings when the marauders killed him a fortnight ago.”
    â€œYes, but the property is far from the delights and advantages one can find here in the capital. Besides—” Marcus spread his hands and schooled his lips into a cajoling smile “—is it really so large a sum between family?”
    The senator’s lips thinned. “Five thousand denarii is a large amount between anyone—especially family. What assurance do I have you’ll repay me?”
    â€œI’m willing to use the Umbrian estate as collateral,” Marcus said, determined to risk all if necessary in his goal of establishing himself as an influential man of Rome. “Thevineyards alone are worth ten times as much as I’m asking to borrow. When you consider the additional orchards, wheat fields, livestock, the villa and outbuildings…do you think I’d be foolish enough to risk the place if I weren’t convinced of my plans?”
    â€œA good business strategy doesn’t ensure success, Marcus. Importing wine from your own estate and selling it here in the city without the expense of an importer sounds profitable, but there are innumerable wine merchants in Rome.” Antonius adjusted the lantern light. “According to my wife, your brother opted against this sort of venture, claiming it was too risky.”
    Marcus gritted his teeth. Opening the wine shop was the