Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) (24 page)

“When?” Her eyes watched him.

He grabbed his dagger and stabbed a piece of meat, pulled it off with his teeth and chewed. Grease dribbled down his beard and he shrugged. “When Titus is proved incompetent, Dulcitius will become Dux and I will be named Primus Centurion.” A dark chuckle rumbled through a mouth gorged with food. “I will control all forts along the wall.”

Elspeth cast her eyes downward and inclined her head toward his cache of weapons. If only she could dash across the room and arm herself. But she clenched her fist and forced herself to be patient, to wait for the right moment. When Josias let his guard down, she would pounce.

Dulcitius. Titus should have known that traitor was behind this
.

Josias pushed a chicken leg toward her with an evil glint to his eye. “Who knows you’re here?”

Elspeth considered her response as she reached for the leg. Honestly, no one knew. If she lied, he would increase his scouting activities. If she told the truth, he would undoubtedly kill her. But a man like Josias would kill her regardless, though he might toy with her first.
How long will it take Titus to find this place?

He slammed a fist on the table so hard that the mead splashed from his tankard. “I asked you a question, wench!”

Feigning a calm exterior, she took a bite and chewed slowly, watching him from her spot on the floor. Josias stabbed his dagger into the table in front of her. Elspeth swallowed. “No one kens where I am.”

“Where are the Picts now?”

“Gododdin. Me orders were to seek information and take it back to the king. I thought I would be rewarded if I found yer location before returning. They all believe I am still at Vindolanda.”
Make me death quick
.

Josias chuckled and drained his tankard of mead. He rubbed his hand across her cheek. “You will please me before I…”

She bristled. “Before you what?”

He poured himself another tankard. “I cannot allow you to return to the Picts, now can I?” He stared into his mead with a gut twisting laugh, then drained it and poured another. He offered it to Elspeth. “Drink?”

Her stomach roiled at the thought of sharing his cup, but her throat was parched. She took it and sipped.

Josias watched her and licked his lips. “If I had a woman as fine as you, I would not let her dress in a man’s clothes and ride through this savage country without an escort.” He took the tankard from her, cast it across the room then stood over her. He clamped his large hands around her arms and pulled her up. Elspeth twisted from his grasp and crossed her arms over her breasts. Reaching for the laces that tied his breeches, Josias stepped into her, his face dark, his scowl as evil as an executioner from hell.

She glanced to his crotch.
God no
.

He sniggered. “I will have my fun with you first.”

Elspeth backed until the cold stone wall stopped her. Josias reached out and pinned her there. Savagely, he forced his mouth over hers, his teeth cutting into her lip. His tongue savagely probed her lips, pushing its way inside. The bastard rubbed his sex across her. Elspeth twisted and pushed.

“No!” She slammed her fists into his shoulders and shook her head from side to side.

Josias pressed his immense weight atop her and pinned her to the wall. Elspeth strained to breathe. His hands groped at the laces on her trousers.

She couldn’t allow this. She slid her hand around his shoulder and down to his waist. He shoved himself against her with more force. Elspeth grunted with the whoosh of air that fled her lungs. Her fingers trembled, seeking the weapon. The cold iron of his sword’s pommel brushed her fingers. Grinding her teeth, she grasped the hilt firmly. Taking a deep breath, she roared and heaved against him with all her might.

Josias stumbled backward. Elspeth snatched his sword from its scabbard. His eyes bulged with his booming bellow. He yanked his dagger from the sheath on his calf, slashing it through the air like a madman.

Elspeth steadied the sword with both hands, focused on her target.
Blast Greum for not training me
.

She had one chance to save herself. Her eyes darted to the bow across the room. Elspeth would need to disarm Josias before she could make a dash for it. Steadying her nerves, she watched his rage redden his face.

Josias lunged forward. With all the power in her body, she thrust the sword under his knife-wielding arm. With a sickening squelch, her weapon plunged into the soft flesh at his flank. Bellowing, Josias recoiled. Elspeth lurched toward him and plunged the sword deeper.

Stunned, Josias dropped to his knees. Elspeth extracted her blade and skittered to the wall. Blood oozed from his trunk. The Roman moved his mouth, but only a garbled grunt rolled past his lips. Feebly, he brandished his knife, falling forward, impaling the weapon into his chest.

His body twitched as blood spread across the floorboards.

Elspeth grasped the sword tightly in her hands and pointed it at his blue face. She stepped toward him and poked his shoulder with the point. Josias did not move.

Sharp raps on the heavy oak door drew her from the shock. “Sir? Romans approach!”

Titus?

Two more heavy knocks echoed through the room. “Sir?”

“Battle stations,” Elspeth boomed in the deepest voice she could muster. She wanted to tell them all to go on holiday, but that would get her killed. She ran to the cache of weapons and grabbed the bow. She pulled on the string twice to test the tension—not as taut as she liked, but it would do.

Footsteps clamored beyond the door.
Ascending to the battlements
.

Elspeth dashed to Josias and removed his scabbard. She slid the sword inside and fastened it to her belt. Wielding a sword was not her strength, but she needed distance to shoot the arrows. If she met someone head on, she must stand her ground with the sword. She headed for the door, but stopped.

Turning back to Josias, she bit her lip. There was something about touching the dead that made her skin crawl—but she’d already removed his scabbard. Elspeth crept to the burly man’s side and tapped his shoulder with her foot. He hardly budged. Holding her breath, she bent down and heaved his shoulder with all her strength. Josias’s body rolled over, his face stunned and sickly. Blood still oozed from the dagger impaling his heart. She clasped her fingers around the hilt and yanked out the knife, wiped it on his tunic and slid it into the back of her breeches.

Elspeth crouched behind the door and listened until the footsteps ebbed. Her gut twisted. She could not allow these mercenaries to ambush Titus. A Roman trumpet sounded in the distance. Elspeth’s trembling hand slid back the bolt.

She cracked open the door and peered into the landing. A guard whipped around, his chest clad in armor. Elspeth snatched the dagger from her belt and threw it into his neck. The stunned guard dropped to his knees. She withdrew the knife and blood spurted into her face. She swiped her arm across her mouth and shoved the blade back in its place.

Snatching an arrow from her quiver, Elspeth made the decision to ascend. Though climbing the steps toward Josias’s soldiers meant certain death, she could not consider saving herself while Titus rode into a trap. If she could take out the guards on the tower, Titus and his men had a far better chance of success without a barrage of arrows from above.

The deep vibrating twang of a catapult resounded from above. They were firing stone missiles as well?

Her toes lightly tapped the stairs as she ascended. Her own breathing sounded like a gale blowing in her ears.

“Fire!” The roaring command came from above.

Elspeth tiptoed around the stairwell steps. A cool gust whipped down through the narrow passage. She was close to the top. Elspeth stopped at the opening and craned her neck to see across the tower roof. Two men hefted a stone into the catapult bucket while another held the restraining rope. Five archers waited with loaded bows, watching through crenel gaps. The leader raised his arm and shouted, “Fire!”

Elspeth focused on him and released her arrow. She didn’t wait for the leader to drop and threw her hand to the quiver. She snatched two at once, held the bow to her cheek and aimed. With her release, two archers fell.

Focused on their tasks, the soldiers had yet to realize the tower had been breached. Cries from their fallen comrades were absorbed into the roar of battle below. No one noticed her attack from behind. She shot arrow after arrow, crouching in the portal. A catapult soldier watched his comrade fall and drew his sword. Turning, he faced her. Elspeth didn’t hesitate and released an arrow into his heart. She reached back and her heart stopped.

Her quiver was empty.

The last remaining archer turned. Elspeth ducked into the stairwell and fled. She drew her sword and raced down the steps. The sound of heavy feet clomped after her. She had drawn the enemy away. The tower was clear. Victory was now up to Titus.

The footsteps behind closed in and Elspeth ducked into the shadows of a landing. She transferred the sword to her left hand and pulled the dagger with her right. The soldier rounded the corner. She threw the knife. The soldier ducked and it glanced off his helmet.

Baring his teeth, he dove forward, wielding his sword over his head. Elspeth gripped her weapon with both hands, rolled to the side and deflected his attack. The soldier rounded and challenged, swinging his blade in an arc.

Elspeth defended his advance. His blade hissed through the air. Cringing against certain death, she reeled away from the sharp point. The blade swiped past her midsection. With a cry of pain, she skittered back. Her foot twisted on the stairs, the sword flew from her grasp. Out of control, her body hurled downward and pummeled against the stairs.

The soldier clamored after her, growling and pointing his sword at her throat. Her head throbbing, her vision barely able to focus, she swallowed and fixated upon his eyes. His brows knit as he realized she was a woman. Elspeth spoke. “Please,” she pleaded. “Do not kill me.”

With a toothy sneer, he drew back his sword for the deathly blow.

A savage roar echoed from behind. Elspeth scurried against the wall and crouched. As a man barreled past, her heart leapt. She’d recognize the sideways crest on Titus’s helmet anywhere. With two thrusts of his sword, he cut the soldier down.

Titus whipped around and faced her. “Anymore up there?”

“None alive.”

His gaze fell to her midriff and dashed to her side. “You’re bleeding.”

Blood soaked her shirt. Hissing, she pulled it up. A slit as long as her forearm seeped across her belly. “’Tis only a flesh wound.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Titus ripped a swatch from the dead man’s shirt and held it against her wound. Elspeth shuddered at the stinging pain.

“Where is Josias?”

Elspeth motioned down the steps with an incline of her head. “Dead. Second landing.”

“Dead?” Titus held the cloth firm. “I needed to question him.”

“I already did.” She cringed at his furrowed brow. Titus opened his mouth to protest, but Elspeth held up her hand. “The milk-livered bastard untied his breeches. I was not about to allow him to violate me even if ye did want him alive.”

A flush of red rushed up from Titus’s neck and made his eyes bulge. He grasped Elspeth’s shoulders and shook. “He placed his hands on you?”

“He tried but he did not succeed.” Elspeth met his worried stare. “Ye must ken, Dulcitius is behind the raids. He was paying Josias in silver and promised him the rank of Primus Centurion after Dulcitius makes ye look a fool and becomes
Dux Britanniarum
.”

Titus sat back as if this news disarmed him. The veins in his neck bulged with his clenched jaw. “I should have known Dulcitius would stop at nothing.”

Chapter Seventeen

Titus shoved Elspeth’s hair back into her hood and yanked the brim over her forehead. His anger in seeing her had turned quickly to horror when he’d seen that monster about to run her through. Now that the battle was won and she was not severely injured, his ire ignited a fire through his belly. “I told you to stay at the roundhouse.”

She hung her head. “I ken.”

“Why did you disobey me?”

“I could not sit and let you walk into the lair of a madman.” Her blue eyes filled with pain. “You could have been killed.”

He couldn’t believe this lovely, fine-boned woman worried more about his safety than her own. He pulled her into his chest. “My God, Elspeth.
You
were in more danger than I ever could have been. Though none can surpass you with a bow, sword fighting must be left to me and my men.”

She shuddered in his arms. “I ken. I was dull-witted.” Elspeth sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye. “I’ll not blame ye if ye never forgive me.”

He brushed a kiss over her forehead. “There now, Sprite. I cannot have a crying squire on my hands. The men will guess you are female for certain.”

Elspeth nodded and tried to pull away, but he couldn’t bring himself to release her. Overcome by an overwhelming urge to protect the woman in his arms, he hugged her tighter.

The
decanus
rounded the stairs. “The building is secure, sir.” His eyes shot to Elspeth.

“This peasant is injured,” Titus grumbled as he stood while lifting Elspeth in his arms. “But I’ll say, this young man single-handedly took out Josias and the archers atop the wall. I will attend his wounds myself.”

Titus carried her outside where Bacchus stood over one of Josias’s men. The
optio
turned. A familiar frown expressed his disapproval.

Titus looked up to the sky and shook his head. “’Tis a surprise to me too.” Titus hefted Elspeth onto her horse, regarding Bacchus over his shoulder. “Climb the tower and take a gander at her work.”

The corners of Bacchus’s mouth turned up. “I was wondering why the barrage of arrows stopped.”

“And the catapult,” Elspeth added.

Titus grimaced. “Shush.” He reached for Petronius’s reins and snatched an officer’s writing kit from his saddlebags. “I must send a missive to Theodosius at once. It appears our friend Dulcitius is behind the raids.”