Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) (20 page)

Stepping beside him, Colin tapped his arm and pointed up the nearby hill.

Titus passed the reins to Colin. His hand instinctively grasped the hilt of his sword as every muscle in his body made ready for battle. Picts lined the hill clad in iron breastplates and helmets. In the center was an imposing warrior, larger than the others, who sat atop a black stallion and held a sword in his hand. Titus panned the crest of the hill and estimated fifty warriors, some with arrows trained on his heart.

The large Pict warrior rode his mount forward, followed by another. Titus chose not to draw his weapon and wiped his sweaty palms on his doublet. As the Pict approached, Titus eyed the Celtic tattoo swirling blue on his cheek. It entwined down the man’s neck and under the laces of his linen shirt. At ten paces, the Pict’s blue eyes cut through him with an air of command.

This must be King Taran, son of
…
whomever
.

The king stopped his mount and sheathed his sword. “Ye’re wise to leave yer weapon in its scabbard.” He jumped down from his horse and removed his helmet. A mop of fiery red hair fell to his shoulders. “I’m Taran, son of Brude, chieftain of this land.” A giant among men, he could have been nearly a head taller than Titus.

The other man also dismounted. He stood eye to eye with Titus, but had leaner muscle and bone. “Taran is King of the Picts, the fiercest race in all of Britannia.” He too removed his helmet, revealing the Celtic patterns upon his face.

Taran gestured toward the other man. “This is Greum, son of Ewen and brother of Elspeth.”

Titus raised his eyebrows with a slight bow. “I am Titus Augusts Romulus,
Primus Pilus
Centurion
at your service.” He turned to Colin and gestured toward Tessie. “We recovered the lady’s horse, and I have brought it for her.”

Taran nodded. “Many thanks. I ken she has sorely missed the mare.”

Titus’s gaze strayed to an archer. Icy bumps rose across his skin. He could pick Elspeth from the line of warriors even before she removed her helmet. He drew in a ragged breath when she pulled the helm off and shook out her long, coppery tresses. The wind whisked her hair aside, and it fluttered like the shimmering of a mirror reflecting the sun. Elspeth gave him a single nod in thanks.

Titus forced his gaze to return to the king. “Your wife spoke of a treaty between the Romans and Picts.”

The king’s eyes narrowed. “Aye. We have no cause to fight if ye keep Roman soldiers off Pict lands.”

“I have no orders to conquer the north. Emperor Hadrian drew the borders of the Roman Empire, and set they shall stay.”

“Aside from the Roman foray to the Antonine Wall.” Taran pointed toward the ruins. “It cuts through Gododdin.”

“A mistake in history, one from which we can learn.”

With a deep exhale, the king’s shoulders relaxed. “Me sentries report of raids along Hadrian’s Wall. They tell me ye’re blaming the Picts.”

Titus liked it when negotiations proceeded without bravado, and he suspected the king was the same. “We have recently intercepted one of the pillagers. He speaks no language we can discern. He identified himself as Attacotti and indicated his orders come from a man named Josias. Have you heard of this man?”

“Nay, but having his name is a start.”

Colin stepped alongside Titus. “I recall a Josias. He was the
decanus
at Fort Chesters before the conspiracy. I assumed him dead like the others.”

“Could be a piss-swilling rogue deserter,” Elspeth’s brother said, looking at Taran. “There were plenty of them mulling about.”

Titus’s eyes strayed up the hill. Elspeth watched with her back erect, her bow loaded but lowered beside her. She appeared both powerful and vulnerable. Though she was tall, her female form was slighter, more fragile than those of her male counterparts.
’Tis a good thing she’s an archer. Hand-to-hand warfare is not for one as delicate as she.

“I offer up a Pict spy in the quest to find this Josias,” Taran said, drawing Titus’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Finding the traitor will clear the Pict name and further strengthen our petition for peace.”

Titus considered this. The indigenous knew the land far better than the legionaries he had marched from Hispania. Under normal circumstances, he should enlist them as auxiliaries, but there was no way he would secure their loyalty for Rome—he’d learned as much from Elspeth. Picts did not consider themselves under Roman rule. A treaty between nations would be the only option. “I agree that stopping these raids will help us bring about peace. But Roman soldiers are not always received well with the indigenous. Would your spy be open to reporting to me?”

“He would work directly with you at Vindolanda to ensure our interests are served.”

Horse hooves skittered down the hill. Titus’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest when Elspeth reined her mount beside Taran. “I shall return to Vindolanda.”

“No!” Greum grasped her bridle. “They’ll burn ye.”

“I can talk to the Attacotti. The bleeding bastard will most likely reveal more to a woman. And I ken his speech.”

She can converse with the Attacotti?
Titus’s tongue stuck to the roof of his arid mouth.

Greum shook his head. “I will not—”

Titus sliced his hand through the air. “Elspeth can return without fear of the stake.” Leaning forward, Titus seized his opportunity. “I will send a missive to Theodosius indicating my reasoning on the matter. As an interpreter, she can indeed perform a valued service to Rome.”

Elspeth eyed her brother and then Taran. “No other warrior has my gift of language.”

Taran nodded to Greum. “Her reasoning is sound.”

Greum rubbed his palm along the hilt of his sword and growled. “If one thread of harm comes to her, I will visit ye in the night and slit yer throat while ye lie sleeping.”

Titus regarded the other man with a deadpan stare. “I will insure her safety, unless she disobeys a direct order.” Titus raised his brows at Elspeth.

She claimed his heart with her cheeky, dimpled grin, but she didn’t smile at him for long. She hopped off her mount and ran to Tessie, sliding her hands across the mare’s coat. “Och, ’tis good to see ye.”

Titus swiped a hand down his smile. His idea to bring the mare was definitely a start to his offering of peace.

Taran cleared his throat. “We must start at once. Elspeth will be our contact, but I do not wish her to camp at Vindolanda. Set her up in a roundhouse near the fort. And guard it, for no woman is safe alone.”

“I can take care of meself,” Elspeth huffed.

“Ye’ll listen to the king,” Greum bellowed, and then shot a narrow-eyed glance at Titus. “One word from me sister indicating any mistreatment—ye have been warned.”

Titus swallowed hard not because of the threat, but because he would get another chance to win Elspeth’s affections
and
catch the man behind the raids. This meeting had proceeded far better than he’d hoped. “I give you my word. Elspeth will be protected just as any Roman subject—though she’ll need to remain hidden until I can clear her name with Theodosius.”

Greum folded his arms. “Now why does that not leave me feeling all cozy inside?”

Taran held up his hand. “It is decided. The Picts and the Romans shall declare a truce. All charges against Pict subjects shall be dismissed. Elspeth shall assist in finding Josias, and Titus, Centurion of the Twenty-second Legion shall see this outlaw plagues us no longer.”

Titus was aware charges had been laid against the king for desertion, but that was under the rule of a different
Dux Britanniarum
—ironically, the Pict queen’s father. Agreeing to a treaty with this formidable tribe seemed a strategic move in establishing peace and prosperity along the northern frontier of Britannia.

His gaze strayed to Elspeth. This alliance would bring her close to him again, and he hoped this time she would stay.

****

Aside from thanking Titus for returning her beloved horse, Elspeth said little on the first day of their ride back to Vindolanda. She caught Titus’s gaze continually shifting toward her. Surely he wanted to talk, but the fact he had sent her to the gaol—and condemned her to burn—could not be easily cast aside for either of them. This thought conflicted with the euphoria of seeing him again. Had he truly forgiven her deception as she’d prayed he had? Now that she’d finally found a way beside him, Elspeth couldn’t separate her mixed concoction of emotions. Her skin tingled, yet her head throbbed. What if Theodosius rejected Titus’s argument for her assistance? Would he again demand she be burned? Would Titus obey the count like a sheep led down the run of a shearing yard? If he dared deceive her, she’d strangle him for certain.

But being close to Titus, riding with him, none of her doubts seemed to matter. She could have swooned when she’d watched his magnificent form standing with his fists on his hips at the bottom of the hill. Though a tad shorter than King Taran, Titus was as broad and sturdy as the great man himself. She would never admit it to the women of Dunpelder, but she thought Titus even more handsome, with his closely cropped chestnut hair and hazel eyes that could strike fear through a man’s soul with a glance.

Still unable to form the words filling her heart, she settled for the enjoyment in the harmony of horse and rider with Tessie beneath her. Moreover, it gave her confidence that Titus knew who she was. He had not been repulsed by her skill with a bow, and now, even knowing she had been a spy, he clearly indicated that he wanted her near Vindolanda. She would no longer need to pretend to be a forlorn waif. That persona did not suit her—she preferred sneaking through forts and forests with her bow, and now she did not have to hide it.

There were so many things she wanted to say. So many questions to ask, but she could utter not a word with Colin the Gale riding with them. Perhaps Titus felt the same.

Elspeth did not trust Colin. Aside from being a Gale, the man had made friends with Taran and Greum, and Elspeth feared any slip of her tongue would make its way back to Dunpelder on eagle’s wings. And she could not forget Colin the Gale was a mercenary, loyal to the highest bidder. The man could turn traitor in the blink of an eye.

They rode until late afternoon, when the Gale pulled up his horse at a fork in the trail. “This is where I head home east.”

Titus held up his hand in salute. “You have been an honest traveling companion. Safe journey to you.”

Elspeth offered a smile and a nod.

Colin winked. “Goodbye, fair lassie. If ye’re ever in need of a roof, me cottage is always open to ye.”

Her jaw dropped.
How could he be so forward, and in front of the centurion?

Frowning, Titus reined his horse toward the west fork. “Come.”

The trail cut through the forest and was too narrow for them to ride side-by-side. Elspeth had been praying for time alone with Titus, but now her mouth dried like dust.
What should I say? I’m sorry I deceived ye? Will ye take me into the brush and kiss me again? Ever?

Titus kicked his stallion forward and regarded her over his shoulder. “We will need to make camp before the sun sets.”

Once Elspeth recovered from the onslaught of butterflies attacking her insides, she remembered where they were. “I ken a secluded spot where we’ll be safe.” When the trial widened a bit, she tapped her heels against Tessie’s sides. “Follow me.”

Thick clouds loomed above and the warmth from the air turned colder as the sun set. She led him down a narrow path that appeared more like a game trail. The trees were dense and blocked more of the sun. About a quarter-mile in, she stopped Tessie in a glade, green with wild grasses. “We can hobble the horses here.”

Titus dismounted and removed his helmet. “This place is beautiful.”

“Aye, and ye should see what’s yonder.”

After securing the horses, Elspeth led Titus along another narrow path that opened to a glassy pond fed by a tumbling waterfall. She watched his expression change from serious centurion to a countenance of a man seeing the beauty of nature spread before him. His sharp inhale caused butterflies to swarm inside her.

Elspeth clapped a hand to her chest to quash the longing. This was one of her favorite places. Giant oaks arced over the deep blue water with green moss draping down from gnarled branches. Though no higher than six feet, the waterfall cascaded over rocks while thrumming a babbling tune.

Elspeth grasped his hand and led him to the edge of the pool. Her palms perspired, but she tried to keep her voice steady. “This is a Pictish bath. ’Tis much cooler than Romans like it.”

With a faint smile, Titus knelt down and swirled his hand through the water. “It reminds me of the pictures in a book my nurse read to me as a child.”

“Aye?” Elspeth crouched beside him and scooped the water. “’Tis spring fed and pure.” She offered her trembling hand. “Taste.”

A hot flush radiated up her cheeks as Titus lowered his eyes and pressed his mouth to her palm. He gently sipped the cool water. “Delicious,” he said, licking his lips. She could scarcely breathe when he brushed her cheek with his fingers. “We must fill our waterskins.”

She stared at him and nodded once.

He made no move.

If only she could wrap her arms around him and smother him with kisses. But he wouldn’t want that. She’d betrayed him—he only wanted her to interpret for him. She must not make a fool of herself. She would perform her duty and maintain her loyalty to the Picts—just as King Taran had commanded.

Titus stood and grasped her hand. “Come. We need to find food before dusk.”

A rock sank to the pit of her stomach, and she tugged her hand away. He would never want to kiss her, not ever again. She stopped. “Can you ever forgive…”

Movement across the pool snapped Elspeth to action. In one motion she snatched an arrow from her quiver and loaded her bow. She waited for the movement again. A bush of yellow gorse shook and a jackrabbit leapt into sight. Without hesitation, she snapped the bowstring. The arrow shot the animal clean through the heart and it dropped without a lingering death.