Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) (7 page)

Elspeth chewed on her bottom lip. “It’ll make me look like some sort of bleating fairy.”

“I think not.” He shook his head. “The centurion’s instructions were that you must not look like a local woman. He made it clear he wanted me to design a gown to show the men you are no common wench.”

She scrunched her nose and took a step back. “I’m no’ convinced that ye’ve captured his wishes with all that extravagant silk.”

“’Tis quite Roman—in the style of the goddess Athena.” He held out the dress. “Try it on. I shall close the door so only I will see. I do not want all my hard work discarded before ’tis even sampled.”

Elspeth snatched the mass of sheer cloth from his grasp and headed for the privacy of the curtain. “Very well, but if ye laugh, I’ll beat ye with me bare hands.”

“Oh no, mistress.” Jonas rubbed his hands and emitted a nervous chuckle. “I would be the last person to laugh at one of my own creations.”

Behind the screen, she stood in her smock and held out the dress, wondering exactly how she to put it on. After holding it up and turning it a half-dozen ways, she finally realized all the drapes of matching length must be part of the skirt. Pulling the garment over her shoulders, she flexed her arms.
Unbelievable
. The absurd gown had no sleeves, which was unconscionable given the cold spring nights—goodness, nights were chilly even in summer.

With a huff, Elspeth examined the bronze collar, hinged at the side. She placed it upon her shoulders and fastened it at her left with a large swiveling hook and eye. The helmet was a work of art, bearing an owl on each side of the crown, crested by a plume of bright red-dyed horsehair.

She pulled it over her locks and poked her head out from behind the screen. Jonas skittered toward her excitedly. “Come out and let me see.”

His jaw dropped. “Athena be damned. That has got to be the most beautiful creation I have ever made.” He lifted up one of the drapes from her skirt and ran it between his fingers. “Working for the army, I never get to indulge in designing finer clothing.”

Elspeth batted the material from his hand and smoothed her skirts. “I feel like I’m going to a Beltane gathering all done up in white silk. How am I supposed to keep this clean when I’m out chasing down a deer on the back of me mare?”

“What?” Jonas clasped his hands under his chin with a look of pure terror. “I would expect no woman to be engaged in such unladylike behavior.”

“A Roman woman, possibly, but I’m a barbaric warrior woman, ye ken.” She still couldn’t admit she was a Pict, and the Romans didn’t seem to discern between tribes.
Barbaric
was the most nondescript word she could think of.

Jonas waived a dismissive hand through the air. “I have no idea what the centurion has planned for you, but this is the gown he described, and if you want to remain his servant, this is what you will wear.” He scooped up her blue dress and bounded toward the brazier. “And these filthy rags shall be burned.”

Elspeth lunged forward, grabbed his arm and spun him around. She latched onto her Pict dress and pulled. “I shall keep me old dress with me things.”

Jonas tugged back. “To the fire they’ll go.”

“Not likely.” Elspeth yanked the dress out of his arms, drew back her fist and planted him square on the jaw.

Jonas careened backward and fell against the table. Shaking himself off, he rubbed his face. “You hit me, you heathen. There was no need to for violence—”

“Ye’re not burning me things.” Elspeth rolled her dress into a ball.

“Ungrateful wretch. Be gone with you.” He motioned toward the door, still rubbing his jaw. “’Tis clear to me now why Rome believes the barbarians will never be tamed.”

Clutching her gown like it was pure gold, Elspeth stomped back to her chamber.
I will nay be wearing these white drapes for long
. It wasn’t enough that she had to camp with the Romans, now they insisted on dressing her in a ridiculous frock of silk? She held out her leg and the fabric parted, revealing skin half way up her thigh.
My kin will think me a harlot.

****

Titus stood beside Bacchus while they watched the four newfound gladiators spar with wooden practice swords. Dressed in filthy rags, each man was a hulk of impressive proportions, though none showed much skill. Watching their heavy direct thrusts, Titus figured they survived purely by brute strength. “Where did you say you found these men?”

“We rode to the local villages and announced a handsome purse for the victors.”

“They stepped forward and volunteered?”

“It only took a little coercing.” Bacchus smirked. “No self-respecting barbarian will stand idly by while an arrogant Roman questions his manhood.”

Titus glowered at his
optio
. The huntsmen wore mismatched and ill-fitting practice gear. He pointed. “I do believe that man is wearing a Roman breastplate, though I’d hardly recognize it for the tarnish.” He turned to Bacchus. “Ensure they wear no pieces of Roman uniform. I’ll not have the army disrespected.”

“Yes, sir.” Bacchus scratched his chin. “What about the chariot drivers?”

“That is a different matter. They’re enlisted soldiers. Have them wear their uniforms with honor.”

Bacchus bowed his head. “Very well, sir.”

Titus looked up at the wisps of clouds sailing through the sky. “Our gladiators may fall, but I have every confidence in the skill of our charioteers. Dulcitius will have a difficult time finding challengers equal to the task.”

“That he will, sir.” Bacchus returned his gaze to the sparing brutes. “And the lady’s archery demonstration will impress.”

Titus arched his eyebrows—possibly his
optio
was beginning to accept Elspeth. “I hope Theodosius finds her skill diverting. One never knows what will strike that man’s fancy.”

It was late when Titus retired to his chamber. Surprised Elspeth was not sitting beside the hearth waiting to tend his chainmail, he unclasped his sword and turned full circle. Was she ill? He crossed to her door and tapped. “Elspeth? Are you well?”

“Go away.”

Titus puzzled. His hand slipped to the door handle. “I’m coming in.”

“No,” she shouted. “Stay out!”

He hesitated, but mental images of Elspeth sick or bleeding to death spurred him forward. He barreled through the door and stopped short. Elspeth spun around. Pure white silken skirts billowed.
She is radiant
. Titus’s heart skipped more than one beat. “Ah.” He took a step forward. “Jonas finished it.”

Elspeth backed away. “Please do not expect me to be seen in this toggery.”

Had she no idea how beautiful she looked? “Whatever do you mean? You are the vision of goddess Athena herself.”

Elspeth crossed her arms low as if covering herself. “It reveals me legs when I walk.”

“Hmm.” Titus beckoned with his palm. “Show me.”

Shaking her head, she scooted away until her heels hit her pallet. “No. Ye cannot expect me to flaunt meself in front of ye.”

Titus took in the fetching gown from neck to hem. The flowing drapes made her inordinately feminine. If only she could see it. He flicked his wrist impatiently. “How am I to make a judgment if all I see is exactly the gown I ordered?”

Elspeth pursed her lips and stomped across the floor, glared at him, then whipped around and stomped back. “Ye see. I look like a tart.”

From the fire ablaze in her eyes, she most definitely resembled Goddess Athena. And when her long, pure white legs escaped from the folds, the endless fire that plagued Titus’s groin made him lengthen with agonizing pain. He strode toward her and grasped a piece of flowing silk. “’Tis exactly what I wanted. How could you think it ill appropriate?”

“As I said, it shows me legs and me arms are bare. ’Tis not practical for our chilly weather, even in summer.”

Titus glanced down at his own bare thighs. “My legs are uncovered.”

She slapped her hands to her hips. “I do not understand what’s wrong with me woolen dress. ’Tis practical
and
it covers me legs as well as me arms.” Oh, how her spirit could inflame him. Ever since the day she’d saved his life, he’d longed to see that fire behind her blue eyes again. Being this feisty, she either needed a firm hand on her buttocks or his cock buried inside her. But Titus could give her neither one. He had sworn he wouldn’t harm her in any way, and beside that vow he would stand if it killed him.

Titus released the silken material from his grasp. “Count Theodosius will be here on the morrow.” He looked into her eyes, pulling upon every ounce of restraint to keep from claiming her mouth for his own. “It would please me if you would wear the
chiton
in his presence. I believe your archery demonstration will be the height of the games.”

She hesitated with a glint of resistance in her eyes. “Why do ye have to look at me like that?” He ignored her question, unable to pull his gaze away from her defiant stare. A
tsk
escaped from her tongue as she glanced away. She touched the silk, looking defeated. “If it pleases ye,” she said with a groan.

He grasped her shoulders, leaned forward and kissed her forehead as he would a dear one. The feral jasmine scent of her hair dragged him to the ragged edge. Before he could think, Titus encased her in his arms. Gasping, Elspeth raised her chin. “I….”

Losing control, he covered her bow-shaped lips with his. Tasting the ambrosia of her yielding mouth, he gave in to the passion consuming him. Closing his eyes, he ravished her with his lips, his tongue swirling, unable to taste enough of her. Elspeth melted into his arms, moaning into his mouth, her sensuous voice reverberating through his chest. He hugged her body tighter, his skin sizzling where the soft swells of her breasts pressed against him. Titus could think of nothing but his need to taste her more deeply.

With a gasp, Elspeth jerked her head back. “I cannot.”

His lust shattering, Titus pulled away. “Why? Are you promised?”

She clutched her fists beneath her chin, as if she were suddenly afraid of him. “No, m’lord.”

“Forgive me.” The fear reflected in her eyes made his heart squeeze. “I shouldn’t have….”

She took a step back. “There ye stand in yer highborn finery. Though I am a simple maid, I aim to keep me virtue intact.”

Ashamed, Titus dropped his hands to his sides. At one-and-thirty, he had enjoyed pleasuring many women in his lifetime, but he would never force himself upon one who was unwilling. He sighed, well aware that any relationship with Elspeth could not become serious, nor could he make her empty promises. As his servant, he must respect her virtue and cast his ardent feelings aside.

He backed toward his chamber. “Apologies.” He grasped the door handle and jutted out his chest. “I will see you in that gown on the morrow,” he said with more conviction than he felt. If she couldn’t be his, he must treat her like he would any other servant. It would be best for them both.

As the door slammed, the last thing Titus saw was raging fury spread across Elspeth’s face. For a moment, he thought she hated him. His heart twisted. Had he misread her? He had given the girl work, food, a safe place to sleep. Was that indeed all she wanted from him and nothing more?
But she kissed me back
. He touched his hand to his lips, Elspeth’s taste lingering.

A loud clank pummeled the door.
Her helmet?
Titus raked his fingers through his hair. What internal battle warred inside the woman? He knew she was attracted to him—he sensed it every time their gazes collided from across the room. But perhaps their current situation was beyond repair.

Chapter Five

Elspeth yanked off her helmet and threw it at the door. The resounding clatter gave her no satisfaction. The helm was the only useful item of the entire ensemble, but she left it where it lay. It had been hewn by
Roman
hands. She unclasped the heavy collar and dropped it on the floor, yanking the frilly drapes from her shoulders.

She spun to the pallet and pulled the grey woolen blanket over her shoulders.
How dare he entice me with his fiercely handsome looks?
Elspeth swiped her hand across her lips. They still tingled from the sensation of his mouth pressing against hers. How could she erase his kiss from her mind? Never before had a man made such advances.

Her body had completely betrayed her. Her legs had turned to boneless limbs, she could think of nothing but how much she wanted his hands upon her. It had taken every bit of willpower she could muster to pull away. She could not allow herself to be affected by such frivolous emotions. Soon she would return to Dunpelder, and when Titus realized she had infiltrated his headquarters as a spy, he would detest her very memory.

He’d hate her. The thought made her insides twist into a sickly knot, but she had to stand firm on her convictions. If she allowed her feelings to take over and her kin discovered her betrayal, her brother would kill Titus, and then he’d lock her away in Dunpelder’s tower, never to be released. She groaned. All the time she’d spent polishing and cleaning, she’d imagined what it would be like if the lines that made Romans enemies with Picts disappeared. Then she wouldn’t feel guilty about holding Titus in her arms and kissing him—about how much she wanted
him
. What it would be like if she could strip away the uniform and gaze upon the man—the powerful arms, the well-muscled chest—a man who could protect her with one swing of his sword? A man who could make her soar to the heavens with a single kiss.

Elspeth slammed her fist into her pillow. However colorful her dreams, it was hopeless. This infatuation wasn’t real. It could never be real.

Blast King Taran for sending me on this mission and blast Queen Valeria for training me in the ways of the Roman army
. She thought of the first of many lies she had told Titus in such a short amount of time. Her father hadn’t taught her to care for Roman weapons. Queen Valeria had. Before becoming a Pict, the queen had been the daughter of the former
Dux Britanniarum
, Argus Fullofaudes himself. At the time, it had seemed like such a grand idea. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Aye, she’d wanted to serve her king, but never had she thought it would be so difficult. If only Titus were fat and ugly and
brutish
—and his kiss didn’t make her head swoon like she was floating in the clouds with the fairies.