Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) (11 page)

His hard chest pressing against her breasts made her knees buckle. A stirring deep inside brought on a yearning so powerful, Elspeth was powerless to flee. She sucked in a deep breath and pressed her lips against his. Titus’s grasped her shoulders with his firm hands and returned her kiss with a rumbling moan.

His big hand slid to her waist. Elspeth shuddered. His lips pressed harder while his tongue flicked out and parted her lips. She melted into him, her body screaming for more. She wanted to be closer, climb inside of him as his kiss deepened and his hands massaged up her spine.

Smoothing his hand over her shoulders, he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. With a gasp, he opened his mouth and hesitated. “You had better go before this progresses further. Once I am committed, I cannot stop myself.”

Tightness gripped Elspeth’s heart. Biting her lip, she looked at the floor and nodded. Shame turned her stomach. How could she allow her body to control her mind? She spun around quickly and raced to her chamber, afraid to look back until the door closed. She emitted a trembling breath. Come morning, she would beg Greum to allow her to return to Dunpelder.

****

Elspeth left her shutter open to ensure she would wake at first light. She’d found a breach in the Vindolanda wall behind a hedge in the fortress garden, which made it much easier for her to slip out unawares.

She dressed in her blue Pict dress for her meeting with her brother. When she climbed the rock into the cave, the world’s troubles lifted from her shoulders. Laughing, she fell into Greum’s outstretched arms. “Och, ’tis good to see ye.”

“How goes it with the count?”

“He’s a pompous Roman, ’tis true. But I have more misgivings about the centurion, Dulcitius, who accompanied him here. I could never trust that man.”

Greum knit his brows. “Aye? And why’s that?”

“He’s devious. He struck Titus with a whip during a chariot race, and he looks at me with the eyes of a predator.”

“Do ye think ye are in danger?”

If she told Greum about the wager, he might lash out in a fury of rage. She chewed the inside of her cheek and kept it to herself. “Nay. Titus would not allow him near me.”

“Titus is looking out for ye now? I’m not sure I like that.” Greum folded his arms. “What are the plans of these Romans?”

“Dulcitius has been put in charge of the troops to the south, and Titus to the north. They’ve established their headquarters in York. I think Theodosius is wary about being too close to the wall after what happened to Queen Valeria’s da. I do not ken when they will return south.”

“Let us hope soon.”

“Titus plans to resume his tour of the wall upon their departure.”

“Very good.” Greum cupped her cheek with his and. “Ye are performing a great service. I am proud of ye.”

Elspeth nodded and looked to the ground.

“Is something needling at ye?”

“Aye. I miss Dunpelder. I have never been away for this long.”

“Soon ye shall return.”

“Can I not go away home now?” She tapped a rock with her toe. “Clearly, Titus will not invade the north. He told me himself he wants peace.”

“Nay, Elspeth. We need ye to hold on a bit longer. He still has the count to own up to.” Greum patted her shoulder. “If Titus can ensure a Roman agreement to remain south of the wall, King Taran is considering approaching him with a treaty.”

“Oh?” She stepped back. “And who put that notion into his head?”

“The queen, of course.”

She clapped her fingers to her mouth. “Och, wouldn’t that be a dream?”

“Aye.” Greum’s teeth flashed white with his grin. “All of Gododdin would sleep better knowing the Romans are at peace.”

“Let us pray for it, Brother, for I tire of this charade.” Elspeth couldn’t dare tell him her body was betraying her very soul. If she did not return soon, she might be lost forever.

After they said goodbye, Elspeth chided herself as she rode through the forest.
Ye cannot let Titus lure ye in again. Do not go into his chamber at night—yer body cannot resist him. Och. Why does that man have to be built of iron with eyes that can see through to me deepest desires? Why can I not find a fine Pict man who can turn me insides molten?

And Greum is right. He is a soldier, a puppet for Theodosius to command. No matter how my heart betrays me, he is Roman and I am Pict.

Her shoulders slumped. She must be stronger. She focused on that ridiculous Roman dress and let it stir her ire. How dare Titus flaunt her in front of his men like some sort of harlot, even if he did dream of peace? The dress was a symbol to remind her that he remained Roman at his core.
He was willing to parade me around like his icon of Athena. And though he admitted he had to win the wager, he still toyed with me virtue—in trade for horseflesh, no less. And then he’d forced himself to stop last night…warned me that if he continued, he’d take me virtue himself. The gods know he’d had me so twisted in knots, I would have allowed it! Atar help me I wanted it.

But then he did stop himself before anything happened last eve. Why? Was he honestly protecting me virtue—the same virtue he could’ve lost to Dulcitius? Or is it below him to bed a barbarian? I cannot forget he is still the enemy. He believes his race is superior to mine.
She sighed. How could this man be so enticing and so contradictory?

As she rode back to Vindolanda, Elspeth’s mind swirled with thoughts of Titus and his recent behavior. She was so consumed with convincing herself that Titus’s interest in her was purely to employ her as his servant, she had little time to react when horse hooves clopped behind her.

Her hands tightened around the reins, and her heart flew to her throat. The only friendly being in this part of the forest was Greum, and he would be heading the opposite direction. Elspeth dug her heels into Tessie’s sides and slapped her reins hard. “Run!”

She dared not look back. She dodged branches as her mare charged through the trees. Up ahead the path was blocked. Elspeth turned right and barreled into the scrub. Her heart pounded faster as a horse lurched beside her. As hoof beats gained beside her, a thick hand with black hair curling behind its knuckles reached in and grasped her reins. Elspeth’s gaze shot to the sneering face of Dulcitius’s
optio
, Paulus.

Clenching her teeth, she jabbed his arm with her elbow and dug her heel into Tessie’s barrel, demanding a sharp turn to the right—the only direction with a chance to flee.

A legionary rode into her path. With a quick flick of her wrist, she galloped past him. The Romans made chase, close on her heels.

Elspeth slapped her reins. “Faster, lass!”

Just as she began to pull ahead, she realized they were heading straight for a cliff. She cut right, but the men had fanned and closed in on her nose.

She cut left. They had her surrounded.

She pulled up at the edge of the two-hundred foot drop and stared down at the rocky crag below. To jump would be certain death.

Paulus chucked with an ugly grin and ripped the reins from her hands. “You’re a feisty wench. It looks as if you’re in a hurry. What are you doing, slipping out of the fort like you have a secret lover?”

She could scarcely breathe. “’Tis no business of yers.” Elspeth tried to grab her reins but he snapped them beyond her reach. “Leave me be.”

“Exactly who were you meeting up there in the rocks?”

Elspeth pursed her lips and stole a glance in the direction of the cave.
Good. He mustn’t have seen Greum.
“I do not report to the likes of you.”

“Ah, but I think you do.”

She pursed her lips. The dragon-hearted cur wouldn’t wrench a word out of her.

“We shall know what you were up to soon enough.” He pointed at one of the soldiers. “Bind her wrists. She’s proven she cannot be trusted.

After they tied her with hemp rope that grated into her flesh, Elspeth seethed inside, peering through the scrub as she searched for more Roman scouts. She prayed Greum had made it safely away. It was dangerous for him to be south of the wall. He had been slave to a Roman ship, and the Romans considered him a deserter. If they caught him, they would surely hang him without a trial.

As they rode toward Vindolanda, Elspeth reasoned the
optio
would take her straight to Titus. The whole time, she cemented her explanation to the centurion. Surely he would believe her. This would be no setback at all. But the bottom dropped out of her stomach when Paulus detoured south into the tented camp of Dulcitius’s men. He stopped beside a large tent with two Roman flags fluttering on either side of the entryway. “A delivery for you, sir.”

The canvas pulled back, and Dulcitius stepped out. A smile crept up one side of his face, his brown eyes assessing her like they would a stallion on the auction block. His tongue shot out and licked his lips. “Quick work,
optio
. And where did you find this lovely morsel?”

“She was riding through the woods. It appears the whore has a lover to soothe the itch between her legs.”

Elspeth gasped. “No.”

Dulcitius sauntered up to her. “Not a lover? Then who is it you met, hidden in the forest?”

Elspeth clenched her teeth. She would never tell them.

Dulcitius grabbed her wrist and yanked her from her horse. Elspeth kicked out her leg to break her fall, her knees jarring. Dulcitius twisted her arm, and her shoulder hit the dirt hard. She scrambled to stand, but her efforts were met with a kick to the gut. Wind whooshed from her lungs.

“I asked you a question.”

Gasping for air, Elspeth rolled to her knees. A fist connected with her temple, and stars crossed her vision. With quick breaths, she recovered her wits and scooted away.

Horse hooves thundered toward them.

Dulcitius yanked her up by the shoulders and looked toward the riders.

“The traitor eluded us,” said a legionary.

“What?” Dulcitius shifted his gaze to Elspeth and shook her. “Who is he? Plotting another attack on the wall, are you?”

With a snarl, Elspeth spat. Greum was safe—they would never be able to lay a hand on him once he cleared the wall. That was all that mattered. They could do what they liked with her.

Dulcitius shoved her away, and she stumbled to the ground. Her head throbbed and she curled forward, crossing her arms over her aching stomach.

“We shall find him.” Dulcitius bent down and jammed his face within a hair’s breadth of hers. “But you will burn.”

A raw chill shot through Elspeth’s bones.
Anything but fire.

He straightened and turned to Paulus. “Fit her with manacles. We will confront Titus at once.” He lifted the canvas of his tent. “Where is the count?”

A guard stepped forward. “He’s with Titus in the
principia
.”

The braggart grinned. “Excellent.”

****

Titus knew something was amiss by the hurried footsteps outside the war room door. He looked up from the map he was studying with Count Theodosius.

Dulcitius was the first to push through the door. “We have a traitor in our midst.”

When the guards ushered Elspeth into the room, Titus stepped back. Instinctively, he drew his sword, ready to fight the bastards with their hands gripping her elbows. His gaze shot to her face—her expression had an edge of defiance even fiercer than he’d seen before. Her mussed hair partially hid her eyes, but he didn’t miss the angry red and hint of purple surrounding her left.

“What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed.

“We caught her in a rendezvous with a man outside the grounds. She’s a spy and a whore.”

Elspeth shook her head, a stricken expression in her pleading eyes. “No. ’Tis not what ye think.”

The count stepped forward. “Dulcitius, your charges are grave. What is the basis of this?”

“Paulus followed her when she slipped away from the fortress this morning. We had hoped to catch the man she met, but he eluded my officers.” He shook an accusing finger. “What Roman confidences has she revealed to our enemies whilst feathering Titus’s bed?”

All eyes shifted to Elspeth.

A vice gripped Titus’s heart. He gaped at her in disbelief while hot sweat sprang across his skin. He did not want to believe it, but she hadn’t been there when he woke. Elspeth often rose early and tended to her chores.
She’d met a man in the forest?
His gut churned. Absently he took a step forward, sweaty fists returning to his hips. “Elspeth. Whom did you meet?”

She raised her chin and her blue eyes turned as cold as the northern sea. “’Twas me brother. He’s of no interest to the lot of you.”

“Brother?” Titus’s gaze snapped to Dulcitius’s glare and then to Paulus. He spread his palms. “But you said you have no family.”

Elspeth’s gaze shifted sideways. “Me brother was spared in the fighting.”

“This matters not. Clearly she’s a spy. She met the man in secret.” Dulcitius gestured to Titus. “What confidences have you shared with the wench?”

“You dare accuse me of divulging military business to a servant?” Titus roared. “She cleans my mail. That is all.”

Theodosius cleared his throat. “Take the woman to the gaol. She has proved herself to be a traitor.” He turned to Titus with disgust written on his face. “And I’d held such high hopes for you. See to it that she burns for her crimes against Rome.”

Titus glared at the count. The way Count Theodosius pronounced her sentence without so much as a trial made his blood boil. If only he could draw his sword, fight his way out of Vindolanda’s walls and spirit Elspeth away.
But that would be treason. How can I even think it?
He had spent his entire life serving Rome. He believed in Roman ideals. He could not turn his back on his country because of an infatuation—a woman who had clearly misrepresented herself. He thought back to each conversation they’d had. How much had he told her? Just last night he’d bared his ideals—his plans for a united Roman Britannia. But that wasn’t anything the barbarians could use against the empire. She didn’t have enough information to betray his trust. She couldn’t be a traitor.

Could she?