Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) (15 page)

It cracked a bit and a long sword slid out. “What ye be wakin’ me for in the wee hours?”

“I am Primus Centurion Titus Augustus Romulus. We need your assistance to track a prisoner into the wild.”

The door opened a bit wider and a pair of blue eyes blinked in the darkness. “And who ye be chasin’?”

“A Pict woman, imprisoned for treason.”

Those blue eyes narrowed. “Now why would a wee Pict lass be on trial for treason against a mighty Roman officer like ye?”

Titus stood taller. “She betrayed my confidence. Can you help us?”

“I have no quarrel with the Picts… No love for them either.” Colin stepped back to shut the door.

Titus shoved his foot inside before it could close. “We will pay you handsomely, of course.”

The Gale licked his lips. “How much do ye reckon?”

“Ten pieces of silver. Half now. Half when she’s caught.”

“Well, why dinna ye say ye could pay in coin?” He opened the door, revealing a plaid blanket wrapped around his waist. “Ye got yerself a scout.”

Titus doled out the coin with instructions to be at the fort at dawn. He hoped the scraggly Gale wouldn’t make off with the advance payment, or else he’d be after three lots of scoundrels.

****

To Titus, sleeping on a pallet of straw covered by his horse blanket had become a comfort when away from his bed. But when he closed his eyes, the vision of Elspeth’s coppery red hair sailing under Athena’s helmet, her bare leg clutching the horse as she fired her arrows into the target, consumed him. Watching her was like watching an eagle circle above its prey and swoop down with such precision to take victim completely by surprise.

Titus rubbed his temples and saw another vision—Elspeth’s sapphire eyes framed by her wild tresses. He chuckled when he pictured the dimples in her infectious grin. She always looked as if she were challenging him when she smiled. Perhaps she was. His chuckle turned into a groan. The woman had betrayed him, and now he had given her a chance to escape. He could be brought up on charges for delaying the pursuit. His ploy in hiring the guide and waiting for daylight when they could have possibly ridden through the gates was a tactical mistake not to be made by an officer of his rank.

Run.

****

Titus had no idea how long he’d been asleep when a sentry shook his shoulder. “A missive from York, sir.”

Titus blinked to more clearly see the boy who waved a scroll in front of his face. He sat up, snatched the vellum, and ran his finger under Count Theodosius’s seal. Once he unrolled it, his gut churned. The count demanded Titus’s presence in York immediately.
His timing couldn’t be worse
.

He glanced toward the sound of approaching footsteps. Emedius and Bacchus pushed into the small horse stall he’d found to lay his head.

“Forts Birdoswald and Castlesteads both reported being raided in the night,” Bacchus said.

Emedius nodded. “Savages wearing skins again, sir.”

Titus pounded his fist on his bed and stood. “This must be the asp-biting wrath of Medusa herself. I’ve been summoned to York and the wall is being raided by swine-hearted cavemen.” He crumpled the missive in his fist. “There is no way the prisoner could have traveled as far as Birdoswald in the bleating rain.”

“No.” Bacchus shook his head. “Mayhap the crimes are not related. This could be the retaliation we all expected.”

“Perhaps ’tis no’ the Picts,” a deep brogue rang out from the stable’s alley. Colin the Gale pushed his ruddy face through the stall door. “Ye’re havin’ a gathering, and I wasna invited?”

Titus planted his fists on his hips. “What do you know of these raids along the wall?”

Colin shrugged. “I ken Picts dunna dress in pelts.”

“Damn it man, who does?”

The Gale ran his fingers down his beard. “No local tribes I’m aware of. If ye ask me, they’re Roman deserters.”

“That’s all we need.” Titus pointed. “Emedius, choose your ten best men and pick up the prisoner’s trail with the tracker. Bacchus, return to Vindolanda to act in my absence.” He stepped out of the stall and addressed his men. “You legionaries will accompany me to York. Ready your horses.”

He returned to dress and Bacchus handed him his chainmail. “Seems everything happens at once, sir.”

“Blast it all. Theodosius’s summons could not have come at a worse time.” He gripped Bacchus on the shoulder. “Quash this insurgence else it will ruin us both.”

****

The rain began to ease, but Elspeth’s legs punished her from slogging through mud, sucking her feet downward with every step. She balled her fists so tight her fingernails cut into her palms. They could not stop, and she refused to complain. Greum and Seumas had risked their lives to save her and were most likely feeling as much discomfort as she.

Ahead an owl called. Greum held up his hand, signaling to stop. He listened for a moment and then returned the hoot.

They waited.

“Greum?” said a voice.

“Simian,” Greum shouted and plodded forward. “Devil’s breath, I’m glad to see the likes of ye.”

The Pict’s face was barely discernible in the darkness, but Elspeth knew him well. He had sent the traitorous tyrant Morgon to his end, and King Taran had rewarded him with a place on the royal council and desirable lands in Gododdin.

Unfortunate he’s married and twenty years older. If only I could find someone who could pull my thoughts away from Titus.
Elspeth looked skyward.
Och, I cannot believe that idea even crossed me mind.

“The camp is yonder,” Simian said. “Where are yer horses?”

“No way to cross with them. Had to scale the wall. How did ye find us?” Greum asked.

“King Taran has sentries posted for miles either side of Fort Houseteads. We feared the worst when ye didn’t show last night.”

“Seems there was a skirmish at Houseteads. Ye ken what that was about?”

“Nay. Word came of raiders wearing pelts. Bloody bad timing.” Simian mounted his horse and held his hand out to Elspeth. “Come up here and ride behind me, lass.”

“I can walk with the men. I’ll be right.”

“Sure ye can, but ye’re soaked clean through. I’ll bet that woolen dress weighs a stone at least.”

Elspeth pursed her lips and looked at Greum. He gave her a gentle whack on the shoulder. “Go on, save yer legs.”

Shivering, they trudged ahead for some time until Elspeth caught a glimpse of the glow from firelight. The rain had completely stopped and the moon was making appearances between gaps in the clouds that sailed overhead. “Are we getting close?”

“Aye. Not far now,” Simian said.

Greum shook himself, rattling his chainmail. “I must have been walking in me sleep. Yer words roused me like a cock at sunrise.”

“Hello the house!” Simian bellowed.

As they dismounted, the door swung open with a burst of firelight. The enormous form of King Taran loomed in the doorway. “Tell me ye found them.”

Greum pushed his way inside. “Ye’re not getting rid of me that easy, even if ye are the king.”

“Miserable heathen.” Taran grasped Elspeth with both hands. “Ye are well, lass?”

“Aye, sire. Me brother kept us safe.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her into the tiny hovel. “I guess we both owe him our lives.”

Queen Valeria stood in the center of the room, her eyes swollen and red. “’Tis an answer to prayer.” She held out her arms and Elspeth welcomed her embrace. “When you failed to cross the wall last eve, we thought all could be lost.”

When she embraced the queen, a round bump rubbed against Elspeth’s abdomen that hadn’t been there before—of course she was unable to get that close when there were bars between them. She pushed away and cast her eyes down. “Are ye with child?”

The queen smiled, and Taran stepped beside her. “Aye, and she would not listen to me and stay in Dunpelder. There was no persuading her ladyship to remain home—she had to meet with Titus and offer a treaty.”

Greum ripped into a piece of dried meat. “Ye didn’t think the Romans would actually negotiate?”

Elspeth swallowed, but held her tongue. His inference to Titus grated on her nerves. None of them knew him like she did. They had no idea what he was like deep inside. All they saw was another Roman officer in a leather doublet and bronze breastplate.

Valeria’s eyebrows arched. “I do believe Titus would have come to an agreement had there been more time. These things are not decided in one meeting.” At least the queen understood the centurion was no tyrant. “Besides, the king is a wanted man south of Hadrian’s Wall.”

“As is me brother,” Elspeth whispered, reminded of the empire’s tyranny.

She looked at Greum, who was shoving a whole slice of bread in his mouth. He pushed it to one side of his cheek, making it swell outward. He nodded at the king. “Do ye ken who the raiders were at Houseteads last eve?”

King Taran glanced between Elspeth and Greum. “Word came in that they are not a local tribe—I thought they could be Attacotti, but I cannot be sure.”

Seumas removed his chainmail and stood by the fire. “The Romans will be blaming it on us.”

Taran frowned. “Aye, and I’m sure they’ll be after you lot as well.”

Elspeth slumped onto the floor of the empty one-room roundhouse. “They saw us scale the wall. They’ll be on our trail at first light, I’d reckon.”

The king frowned and ran a hand over his bold jaw. “Then we leave now. Valeria will ride with me. Greum and Elspeth can take the queen’s mare. The others can figure it out.”

The queen examined the caked blood on Elspeth’s sleeve. “You have been hurt.”

“An arrow grazed me arm.”

Greum rubbed his knuckles into her head. “’Tis deep. Pia needs to tend her.”

“Of course, Pia is the best choice, but we cannot wait. Since she’s not here, I’ll care for Elspeth right now,” Valeria said.

Taran groaned and eyed his wife. “We’d best be on our way.”

Valeria shot him an indignant glare. “Let me see the wound. This will not take long.”

Taran arched his brows. “I’ll bet ye’ll be wanting me skin of potent mead.”

Valeria smiled. “Thank you, my love.”

Elspeth wished they could just be on their way. Her arm throbbed with pain, and any ministrations from the queen would only make it worse.

Valeria stepped closer and rolled up Elspeth’s sleeve. “I’ll remove the wrapping.”

Elspeth nodded and gritted her teeth. The slight movement started the bleeding, and she hissed.

“’Tis red and angry.” Valeria held out her hand. “I’ll take that skin of mead now, my lord.”

The liquid stung like a violent lash across her back. Elspeth’s entire body shuddered. She tried to hold in a scream, but it burst forth nonetheless. “Boar’s ballocks, that hurts!” She gaped at the queen. The curse had spewed from her mouth before she could think.

Valeria blinked twice, her eyes wide then a smile quickly replaced her initial surprise. “I see you have learned a thing or two from your brother.”

“Apologies, m’lady.” Elspeth cringed.

Valeria bent down and delicately tore a piece of cloth from the linen smock she wore under her Pictish dress. Elspeth imagined the woman would look graceful doing back flips. “I understand.” Valeria tied the bandage taut. “Mayhap you can sit beside me at the high table of Dunpelder.”

“Aye, m’lady.” Though the queen had been subtle, Elspeth knew what Valeria meant. Sitting at the high table with the queen, a Pict lass would be very aware of her manners. Evidently the queen thought Elspeth could use some instruction in refinement. Perhaps Valeria was right. A warrior woman’s gruff demeanor was probably not the most attractive thing to a man.

And now that she was about to return to Dunpelder, it was time to start thinking about a husband.

Elspeth nearly choked.
The devil with that
.

She’d meant it when she’d told Titus she wasn’t ready. She was a warrior woman. The only man she’d ever met—ever kissed—was Titus.
Atar
save me, how much I crave his kisses…the time he fluttered his tongue along my neck brought on sensations I’d never experienced before. My body betrayed me—is still betraying me. I wanted a man I could never have. I still want him. How could I ever marry anyone else when my heart yearns for him?

Elspeth shook her head. She wouldn’t think about this now.
Marriage? Bah. I’ll beg the queen to leave me be. She’ll understand. Of that, I am certain
.

She followed Greum to Queen Valeria’s mare, Mia. Although she was happy to be among her own kind, her thoughts kept returning to the man whose mouth she could still taste. Why did Titus have to be a centurion—a senior officer in a Roman legion? Why couldn’t he have been born a Pict—or even a Gale?

But no, he was Titus Augustus Romulus. With a name like that, he had to be bred of nobility. Most likely, he wanted a proper noblewoman like the queen.

Elspeth clutched her gut.
What if he has an aristocratic Roman lassie waiting for his return? What if she’s as beautiful and refined as Queen Valeria? Men like women who are demure and subservient—not hot tempered and defiant like me.

When she hoisted herself onto the horse behind her brother, Elspeth gasped at the searing pain in her arm. Of course he didn’t offer her a hand. No wonder she was so independent.

It took them two days of slogging through mud to reach home. When the gray walls of Dunpelder loomed in the distance, Elspeth let out a relieved sigh. She was still riding behind Greum, and she hugged him tightly. “I’ve never been so happy to see me home.”
So happy and yet so empty inside
.

“Aye, and if ye keep squeezing me like that I’ll suffocate afore we reach the gate.”

Elspeth loosened her grasp at once. How different her brother was compared to Titus. She couldn’t imagine the centurion complaining if she squeezed him. The thought sent a flutter of tingles across her skin. Why could Titus not be sharing a horse with her?
Alas, battles for lands have to be fought, and I was born on the wrong side of that wall.
Elspeth scrunched her face. Correction, Titus had been born on the wrong side. With his powerful frame and solid legs, he would have made an excellent Pict warrior.