Page 53 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)
Chapter Fifty-Three
C assius
Spring sunlight streams through the barn windows as I watch Diana demonstrate a new training technique to our latest group of students. Her confidence has grown these past months, matching the program’s expansion. She moves with easy authority, her voice clear and strong as she explains the importance of body language when working with horses.
When she catches me watching, her eyes soften with affection. These small moments still take my breath away—the casual intimacy of a shared glance, the brush of her hand against mine as we pass each other in the barn, the way she absently plays with my hair when we sit together on her porch in the evenings.
“Earth to Cassius,” she calls out, her tone teasing. “Want to help demonstrate the proper mounting technique?”
I give her an almost imperceptible wink and tease her subtly. “ Mounting. Certainly.”
As I pass her on my way to Atlas, Diana’s hand rests naturally on the small of my back. Even this light touch sends warmth through me.
“Show-off,” she whispers as I execute a particularly smooth mount and dismount.
“You love it,” I murmur back in English, enjoying her quick intake of breath. My accent still makes her smile.
The lesson continues, but my mind drifts to the small box I’ve been carrying with me for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment. But perhaps perfection isn’t what matters—we’ve built our love on reality, not fairy tales.
Later, as we review the day’s progress in her office, Laura pokes her head in. “Quick question about the garum production. We’re getting more orders than expected. We’ll need someone dedicated to managing it soon.”
“I might have some ideas about that,” I say, but Laura’s already gone, rushing to her next task.
Diana stretches, her shirt riding up to reveal a strip of skin that thoroughly derails my thoughts. “Busy day,” she yawns. “Walk me home?”
The evening air is mild, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.
“Let’s go the long way.” I fight to keep my voice casual. After weeks of planning, after consulting with Laura about Roman marriage customs and modern sensibilities, the moment has finally arrived.
Diana tucks herself against my side as we walk, fitting perfectly under my arm. The small box in my pocket seems to grow with each beat of my heart. We’ve made this trek countless times, but tonight feels different—charged with possibility.
“Remember our first kiss?” she asks suddenly, nodding toward the pasture where it happened.
“Every moment,” I reply softly. Without discussion, we turn toward the hilltop where we often watch the sunset. I’ve arranged everything perfectly—or as perfectly as a former patrician turned gladiator turned modern man can manage in this new world.
She gasps as we crest the hill. I’ve recreated a small piece of Rome here: white roses scattered across a blanket, amphoras of wine (though these hold her favorite Cabernet rather than the strong Falernian wine that made her wince the first and only time she tasted it), and small oil lamps casting a warm glow in the gathering dusk.
“Cassius?” Her voice holds a question.
I capture her hands in mine, my grip gentle but possessive, my thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “In Rome,” I begin, “when a patrician wished to marry, there were formal customs. The families would negotiate, contracts would be drawn, and the gods would be consulted.”
I draw her closer, my voice dropping lower. “But we’re not in Rome. And I’ve learned that some traditions are meant to be honored, while others deserve to be reinvented.”
With the commanding presence that once demanded respect in Rome’s greatest halls, I drop to one knee. I pull out not a ring, but a delicate golden torque—a blend of Roman tradition and modern craftsmanship. I asked Laura for a year’s advance on my earnings to have a metalworker make the beautiful bracelet that has a horse’s head carved onto each end.
“Diana Thompson, you’ve taught me what it means to be truly noble—not through birth or status, but through actions and heart. You’ve shown me that second chances aren’t just about starting over, but about becoming who we’re meant to be.”
Her eyes shine with tears as I continue, “I kneel before you not as a patrician or a gladiator, but simply as a man who loves you with everything he is and everything he hopes to become. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she whispers, then louder, “Yes!”
I stand and ease the torque around her wrist. “I thought it would be more practical than a ring that you could lose while mucking a stall.”
She pulls me into a kiss that is so enthusiastic it threatens to bruise my lips. It tastes of joy and promises and the ripe bloom of the future.
When we part, I rest my forehead against hers. “ Te amo , I love you,” I say in Latin, then English, then in the language of my heart that needs no words at all as I drown in her gaze.
The scent of roses mingles with an impossible hint of sea spray. A figure appears in the sunset’s glow—a woman in flowing robes, her presence both ancient and timeless. The Goddess Fortuna’s smile is knowing as she touches the wheel at her side, then gestures between Diana and me. The message needs no translation: some loves are fated, destined to survive even time itself.
As quickly as she appeared, she vanishes, leaving only the lingering scent of the distant sea. The sun sets over Second Chance, painting the sky in shades of promise. Below us, lights twinkle in the barn, the dining hall, the scattered homes of our strange, wonderful family. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new students, new opportunities for growth.
But right now, holding Diana close as stars appear above us, I am exactly where I’m meant to be. Not because fate or the gods ordained it, but because we chose this—chose each other, chose to grow, chose to build something beautiful from the ruins of our pasts.
“Take me home?” Diana asks, offering her hand.
I take it, knowing she means more than just her cabin. Home is wherever we are together, whatever we build together, however we grow together.
“Always,” I reply, and follow her down the hill toward our future.