Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) (34 page)

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have suggested it. It will take those men two days to reach Vindolanda—even if they ride hard. And Dulcitius will not show leniency toward their failure.”

“Do you think he’ll attack us?”

“Most likely he will—but not in the next sennight.” Titus dipped his chin and lightly kissed her lips. He tugged her hand. “Come. Help me gather the horses.”

“Ye want to take a dip with the beasties?”

He chuckled. “You never fail to make me laugh.” He pulled her toward a bay gelding. “Riding to Dunpelder with a few warhorses in tow will give me a modicum of bargaining power.”

They made quick work of gathering the fallen legionaries’ horses. Once Elspeth had reclaimed her arrows, they set out. The midsummer’s sun radiated with warmth. It was the nicest day since Titus had arrived in Britannia. After their battle with the Romans, a dip in a chilly Pictish pool wasn’t the only thing he needed.

****

During their journey, Titus had time to think. Though he’d never met the legionaries he had fought this day, their deaths still weighed on his conscience. The men were trained soldiers taught not to ask questions but to carry out the edicts of Rome regardless of their personal beliefs—just like he had once been.

But he knew it couldn’t have been avoided. Not only had his life been in danger, his first duty now was to protect Elspeth, the child she was carrying, and her people. Blast it, the Picts had lost one of their own coming to
his
aid. He owed them his life.

Riding Tessie in the lead, Elspeth turned to him and smiled. “We’ve arrived.”

With a blink, Titus snapped to the present. He wanted this moment to be perfect.

The leaves around the pool had darkened with a deeper shade of green, and the woodsy smell of the forest cast a sultry blanket over them. Above, birds sang as if welcoming them back to their sheltered oasis.

Once they’d hobbled the horses, he led her to the pool’s edge. With no breeze, the calm water looked smooth like glass. He knelt down and swirled his hand, sending ripples to the center of the pond. “’Tis warmer now—so much different than before.”

She slipped off her shoes and waded in to her knees. “Aye, these are the most glorious months in the year.” She looked at him and her eyes turned smoky—alluring—a look that could bring him undone without so much as a touch. Elspeth didn’t utter a word while she pulled the tunic over her head and cast it to the shore. “Now you.”

Titus needed no coaxing. He was her soldier to command. Within the blink of an eye, he stripped naked and waded beside her. He reached out his hand, but Elspeth twirled away and giggled. “What will we name the bairn?”

As she spun in circles, his gaze slid to her abdomen, still flat and lean. When she stopped, he stepped behind her and slid his hands around her shapely hips. He stood so close, her heat radiated from her back. “That is something we must think about.” A tickle of regret gripped his gut—not for what he’d done, but for all the years he’d spent supporting Rome and everything the country stood for—the tyranny he’d blindly accepted. “I’m an exiled man, never to return to my lands.”

She smoothed her palms over his hands and leaned against his chest. “I will petition for you to become a Pict.”

“A Pict?” He grinned. Everything he’d seen of the Picts mirrored his own sense of duty and honor. “Is that possible?”

“It will not be easy. Even King Taran fears a former soldier of Rome cannot pass the Elders’ test. But we must try.”

“You have my word that I will pledge my fealty to your king.”

“’Tis settled then.” She sighed. “I want our child to have a Pictish name.” Elspeth frowned. “I am certainly not fond of any of yer Roman names.”

He nuzzled into her auburn locks, alive with the sun’s reflection. “Not even a name as great as Constantine?” God, she smelled of sweet honeyed mead. How could she think of names?

“I suppose
that
isn’t so bad,” she said as if she might consider it.

His manhood pressed between her buttocks and he lengthened. “What if you birth a girl?”

She arched her back and increased the pressure. “A lassie with red tresses like her ma?”

“Yes,” he hoarsely whispered in her ear.

“I’ve always liked the name Akira.”

The name slid off her tongue with a heavenly lilt and in that moment, Titus knew the babe in her belly would be
Akira
. “She’ll be as fierce and tenacious as her mother.”

“A true Pictish princess.”

Titus grasped Elspeth’s shoulders and turned her to face him. He scooped handfuls of water and watched them run over her breasts. Her nipples hardened to taut pearls and gooseflesh sprung across her skin. The sunlight made the water sparkle on her skin—perhaps they should wade in deeper for their bath.

She shivered. “Are ye planning to ravish me?”

He grinned. “How did you know?”

She glanced down at his swollen member. “By the way ye’re standing at attention.”

The bath could wait. He cupped her buttocks with his palms and rubbed himself against her. Heaven help him, he was on the verge of coming undone. “Do you want me?”

The light twinkled in her eyes. “Aye.”

Bracing his feet, he lifted her. “Wrap your legs around me.”

Her slender thighs encased him as she covered his mouth with her dainty lips. She tasted like fresh dew on a spring morn. His cock was so hard, all he needed do was slide her womanhood atop it and she’d send him over the edge. “Are you ready?”

“Mm hmm.” She circled her hips and took him inside. “I think I like doing it this way the best.”

Titus groaned while she moved down his entire length. “Me as well.” His voice sounded ragged, filled with want.

“Am I too heavy?”

“You’re but a feather compared to my full kit.”

She swirled her hips and sighed.

Titus claimed her mouth and used his thighs to help her move up and down, the friction making his need spike quickly. He clenched his muscles and groaned. “The way your hips are moving, I’ll not last long.”

She let out a gusty breath, her eyes dark. With sharp little gasps, she milked him faster.

“Oh, Elspeth!”

Riding him, she threw her head back and cried with panting mewls. As she quivered with pleasure, Titus thrust, erupting over the final edge of release. His thighs shuddered with exhilarating potency. “My God, woman. You’ll be the death of me.”

“I think not.” She nibbled at his earlobe. “I’d wager it will be the other way around.”

“Never.” With their bodies still joined, Titus carried her to the deeper water.

She clung to him tighter. “’Tis cold.”

“After a quick bath, we’ll set a snare and eat.”

“And make love again?”

He chuckled. “As often as you’d like.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

The following morning, Titus didn’t want to wake. If only he and Elspeth could remain at their oasis forever. They’d made love until they both were so exhausted sleep claimed them in each other’s arms. Titus had never come close to experiencing such powerful love for a woman. Elspeth pleased him in every imaginable way.

But he was no man of ideology. Titus had much to atone for. Doubtless, Greum would be upset.

They had a full day’s ride ahead. Along the way, Elspeth chatted, describing Dunpelder in detail. Titus watched her and grinned. He could listen to the lilt of her voice endlessly.

When the forest opened to a wide-open lea, Titus’s jaw dropped. Ahead, an enormous butte dominated the grassy landscape.
Dunpelder
. Atop, a mighty fortress rose above, reigning over Goddodin with all the splendor of Vindolanda.

When Elspeth spoke of the stronghold, he had imagined a single turret setting atop a butte, looming over a vast untamed wilderness. Titus had only been as far as the ruins of the Antonine Wall. The rugged countryside to that point had helped him understand why his predecessors thought the northern tribes as barbarians. In addition, he and Elspeth had traveled on little more than game trails. At times he wondered how she could possibly have picked her way through the thick undergrowth in the forests.

He’d expected to see something like Josias’s tower—a crude but functional fortress. He’d underestimated the Picts in every way.
How so very Roman of me
.

Elspeth spurred Tessie to a canter. “Hurry!”

Grasping the leads of his warhorses, Titus followed her to the north side of the butte. Salty sea air filled his nostrils and he cast his gaze northward. In the distance, whitecaps rolled into the shore. “Is that the North Sea?”

“Aye—flowing into the Firth of Forth.”

Titus reined his horse to a stop and filled his gaze with wonder. This place was magical.

“Come,” Elspeth called over her shoulder.

She led him up a steep trail. Cresting the top, an enormous battlement surrounded the fortress. Titus had to crane his neck to see the top of the tower behind the gatehouse.

“Ye look surprised,” Elspeth said as she led him across a bridge over a defensive ditch and in through the three-foot-wide double gates.

“’Tis impressive.”

She grinned at him. “Picts are impressive.”

The clang of the blacksmith’s shop echoed above the hum of merchant’s activity and shod horse hooves clomping over the cobblestones. Greum raced toward them on the narrow road, cursing in his Celtic tongue. Titus knew only a few words, but immediately realized he would be at a disadvantage.

He scarcely had time to dismount when a boy greeted him and pulled the horses from his grasp. By the hay clinging to his plaid, Titus assumed him to be a stable hand, and let him take the reins.

Greum glared at him and asked a question in his foreign tongue.

“Pardon? I’m afraid my Celtic is not good.”

The man looked skyward. “Bloody right—ye do not belong here, Roman. Come, we’ll meet with the king to determine what is to be done with ye.” He turned to Elspeth. “What took ye so long? We were about to send out a search party.”

She crossed her arms. “We stopped to kill the Roman scouts.”

Greum gave her shoulder a nudge. “Ye get them all?”

“Nay. I only had three arrows, and before Titus could finish them, two turned tail back to Hadrian’s Wall.”

Manas and Alerio approached. Titus nodded at his
optio
. “How long have you been here?”

“A day and a bit.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Did you capture those horses?”

“Yes.” Titus winked. “I thought they might come in handy if we need to barter.”

Greum stepped between them. “The king is waiting in his chamber.”

Titus threw his shoulders back and eyed Elspeth’s brother. He didn’t want to pose a challenge to the Pict but nonetheless needed to be assertive. “Good. Dulcitius will come after us, mark my words.”

Greum’s face grew dark. “’Tis as we feared, ye’ve brought a whole Roman legion upon us.” He led the way into the great hall, while onlookers stopped and stared. The boy, Manas, clung to Elspeth, yammering excitedly in his foreign tongue. Greum led them through a great hall lined with benches and tables then turned into a passage. About halfway down, he knocked on a door.

“Come,” said a deep bass voice from inside.

King Taran sat at a rough-hewn table with a silver pitcher and five matching tankards. Greum bowed. Titus and Alerio followed suit as Elspeth curtseyed. Taran gestured toward the wooden chairs surrounding the table. “Sit.” The sweet hint of honey from the mead laced the air as he poured it into the five tankards. “Drink with me, for there is much to discuss.”

Titus reached for the tankard the king offered and took a refreshing swig. “Thank you for using Latin. I must have Elspeth help me with Celtic.”

The king nodded. “Not many Romans have taken the time to learn our language like the queen has done.” He looked toward Greum and then back to Titus. “I am afraid with your rescue we’ve brought great danger upon ourselves.”

“My apologies.” Titus swallowed. “I have no doubt Dulcitius will attack.”

“Ye must leave at once.”

Titus scratched his chin and forced himself to calm the churning of his gut. “Of course I will do whatever you think best, but would you not rather I stay and help you fight the Romans?”

“Do you think they will raid Dunpelder if you are not here?”

“Yes. I know Dulcitius. He will wreak havoc until he is killed or he captures me. Even with my arrest he may not stop. The man is insane with hate.”

“Then ye will remain, but when the battle is won, ye must leave.”

Elspeth leaned forward. “If ye banish him, ye banish me.”

Greum sliced his hands through the air. “Nay. Ye are me responsibility. I will no’ allow ye to go with a Roman.”

Elspeth opened her mouth to object, but Titus placed his hand over hers and shook his head. This was not the time to argue—not yet. He glanced between Greum and Taran. “May I speak with you in private?”

Elspeth shot him a questioning look, but Titus held up his hand. “I will see you in the hall.” He squeezed her fingers, and she left with Alerio. When the door closed behind them, Titus knit his brows. He hadn’t thought about the words he would choose, only the feelings behind them. He stared Greum in the eye. “I am in love with your sister.”

“I knew it.” Greum slammed his fist on the table. “When Elspeth told me she loved ye, I forbade her to ride to yer rescue.”

“Little good that did, I see,” Titus said.

“Do not provoke me. But aye, Elspeth will follow her own mind and pay little heed to anyone else.”

Titus nodded, calculating what he’d say next. Telling the Pict he’d married Greum’s sister might see him hanged. He sucked in a deep breath. “I want to marry her.”

Greum shoved his chair back and drew his sword. “Ye will no’ be marrying me sister or any other Pict.”

Titus wrapped his fingers around his hilt—ready for anything.

“Sheathe your weapon, Greum.” Taran held up his hand and glared at Titus. “Elspeth is the daughter of King Ewan. She follows the royal female line. Her first male offspring will be considered heir to the throne or chieftain of a province.”