Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) (6 page)

She jumped off her horse and painted on her most innocent wide-eyed smile. “Me da gave me a bow when I was but a wee lass. Seemed I took to it a bit better than cooking.”

“My oath, woman. What else did your
da
teach you?”

Her ears burned when she pulled an arrow from one of her victims. The heat crawling up her cheeks could give her away. She couldn’t tell him she was a Pict. Her cover would be blown. “He taught me Saxons are back-stabbing beasties who cannot be trusted.”

He looked at the trouser-clad dead. “These are Saxons?”

“Aye. Their land runs from here to Wallsend and they’re no’ fond of trespassers. They’re more likely to run a man down and cut out his heart than ask him his purpose.”

“It seems these Saxons are unaccustomed to Roman rule.”

“Aye, m’lord. They’re none too accepting of it at least.”

He gestured at her with his Roman short sword. “And you? You disobeyed my orders. Why were you following us?”

I just saved his Roman arse, and all he cares about is his blasted orders? He must realize I should be riding with him, not back at Vindolanda polishing the silver.
Elspeth spread her palms to her sides. “What was I to do when ye left? I’m yer servant. I had to watch yer back, lest it end up with a Saxon battleax embedded in it.”

Elspeth glanced over her shoulder. The legionaries had surrounded them in a circle. A large soldier on a bay gelding snorted. “You’ve enlisted a woman as your servant? Since when are women allowed in the army?”

“Hold your tongue, soldier. She is not in the army—I have merely employed her to look after my kit.”

“I’ll bet she’s mighty good at that, too.”

With a strike of lightning, Titus snatched his discipline stick from his belt and knocked the overstuffed legionary off his horse. The stunned soldier struggled to stand. Elspeth clapped a hand over her mouth, making an effort not to smile.
I was right to save the centurion. I could have ended up serving a Roman tyrant like that miserable sop. Titus will have no cause to doubt me now.
Her chest filled with alarming warmth.
’Tis only
pride. And why shouldn’t I be proud? I just proved me worth. And saved meself from having to gain the trust of a less polite replacement. ’Twas a practical decision to save the centurion, that is all.

Titus stood over the mouthy soldier and growled. “The lady saved your hides, and I’ll not tolerate your degradation of her virtue.” He pointed his stick east toward Fort Rudchester. “Onward.”

Elspeth held Tessie back as she watched Titus canter off with the horsehair crest of his helmet shimmering in the breeze. She studied his muscular shoulders and the way they tapered to a sturdy waist. He handled his white stallion as if he were born on the back of a horse. Her heart fluttered when he glanced back and beckoned her to come.

The palpitations in her chest were so strong it scared her. She shook her head.
Bloody hell, now what have I done? Will Greum take the strap to me for not letting the Saxons kill them?
She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand
. If I had, I’d be headed back to Dunpelder, not gawking after a man who might respect me now, but would certainly kill me if he knew I’m his enemy. I must be daft.

Then Titus turned and beckoned her again. That silly fluttering escalated in her stomach. Elspeth slung the bow over her shoulder and urged her horse to a canter.
Now I know
I’m daft
.

Chapter Four

Titus allowed Elspeth into the fort under the condition that she tended the horses while he met with the
decanus
, Artorius, the sergeant in charge of the milecastle. Noting quizzical glares from the legionaries, he assessed Elspeth’s blue gown. It had long sleeves that ended in a point beyond her fingers and was encrusted with mud at the hem. The bodice clung to the curves of her body, a fact that had not gone unnoticed in his chamber at Vindolanda. However, the gown was not practical garb for a servant of Rome. “If you will be riding in my company, we shall need to find clothing that identifies you as my attendant.”

Elspeth’s jaw dropped. “And what is wrong with me fine dress? Me ma stitched it for me.”

This was not the time or the place for another confrontation with the woman. Nor did he want to argue with the archer who’d just saved his cohort heavy losses. “’Tis very nice, but you need a uniform,” Titus tried to keep his voice low. “We shall find a gown that makes you look like the goddess Athena, perhaps. She was a warrior of lore. The count will be amused with such a rendering.”

“Athena?” She crossed her arms and jutted out that fine-boned chin. “I thought all Romans had embraced the god of the Christians.”

He arched an eyebrow. Indeed, Elspeth was far more informed than he expected from any barbarian woman. “You are correct, but the folklore of the Greeks is still a part of our culture.”

“Aye? Why should I have to play along with your travesty?”

He leaned in so that only she could hear. “It will also show the men you are no ordinary wench. I fear your beauty has not gone unnoticed amidst the ranks.”

Though he caught that now familiar spark of defiance in her eyes, she nodded and took charge of his stallion’s reins. She seemed to be adapting to her role as his servant after all. However, the inability to follow orders that had seemed so unnerving the night before had saved his life today. Elspeth could be a brave warrior one moment and an obedient maid the next, but now he knew the fire beneath her skin was there at all times. He was just no longer so certain it should be subdued.

Trying to clear all thoughts of Elspeth from his mind, Titus slapped his discipline stick in his hand and strode into the courtyard to greet Artorius. “How goes the rebuilding effort?”

“The men are up for the task, sir. The barracks have already been repaired. We need a bit of roof work and we’ll be on our way to restoring the fort to her original state.”

They strolled up the
principia
steps and Titus surveyed the fort’s century of men in action, hauling lumber, pounding nails and setting posts. “Have you seen any skirmishes from the locals?”

“None, sir.”

Titus clasped his stick behind his back and held it with both hands. “We were attacked by a band of Saxons half-a-mile back. It would not surprise me if they lick their wounds and mount an attack on the fort.”

“We’ll be ready, sir.”

“Alert your sentries. We may have taken the wall, but the indigenous will be wanting blood. Never let your guard down.”

“Yes, sir.”

Entering the fortress headquarters, Titus inspected the interior with a frown. “This needs some attention. The
principia
should be pristine. When the count visits, I want him to see the pride you take in your fort, and that starts right here.”

Artorius removed his helmet. “Yes, sir. I’ll make that a priority straight away.”

“Good.” Titus took a seat across from a table sporting a map of Hadrian’s Wall.

Artorius pulled out a chair across from him and sat. “What of the woman who rode in with you?”

Titus clenched his jaw. “What of her?”

“’Tis odd.”

“Elspeth is skilled with weapons.” He’d quickly quash any raised brows. “I have employed her as an auxiliary servant.”

Artorius scratched his chin. “A woman?”

Titus shifted in his seat. “Yes, ’tis quite surprising, but I’ve found no better squire.”

“’Tis unusual, though I can see the dual purpose.”

Titus folded his arms. “I beg your pardon?”

Artorius sat back in his chair. “A woman servant would not only tend to your weapons, she would be a fine morsel to keep your bed warm at night.”

Titus slammed his fist on the table, and Artorius jumped. “You forget your station,
decanus
. You will not degrade the lady with your inappropriate discourse.”

“Apologies, sir. I assumed….”

“You were thinking with your cock, and I’ll not stand for that with one of my men, especially a
decanus
, a milecastle leader.”

Artorius pursed his lips and gave a quick nod. “Yes, sir.”

A sentry marched into the
principia
, breathing heavily. “I have a missive for the
Primus Pilus Centurion
.”

Titus reached for the velum and unrolled the scroll. He recognized the flowing scrawl of his leader. Count Theodosius was to arrive within the week and had commissioned games to be held at Vindolanda. In his company would be
Centurion Primus Ordo
Dulcitius, the next in line for the
Primus Pilus
position. He was in charge of the forts south of Hadrian’s Wall. Dulcitius would bring his greatest chariot drivers and no doubt had already recruited gladiators from the local huntsmen.

Titus crumpled the missive between his fists. Dulcitius would stop at nothing to make Titus look bad in the eyes of the count. They were both being considered for the coveted
Dux Britanniarum
position left vacant by the murdered Argus Fullofaudes. Dulcitius thirsted for power and vengeance as if he were the son of Hades.

Titus tossed the scroll onto the table. With a host of milecastles to rebuild and eighty miles of barbarians to fend off, identifying game champions was the last thing on his mind. This circus would eat into his precious time.

Titus stood and reached for his helmet. “I must leave at once.” He strode out of the
principia
and toward the stables where his men were chatting with Elspeth. “Mount up. We must make haste back to Vindolanda.”

****

In the week that had passed, Elspeth saw little of Titus—he would return to his chamber late and rise before the sun. Clearly, he was so absorbed with preparations for the games he had no imminent plans to invade the north.

On her next meeting with Greum at the cave—the fourth day of this dreaded week, she’d pleaded with him to allow her return to Dunpelder. Serving Titus was driving her insane. She was supposed to hate him, yet he continued to gaze upon her like a man would a
woman
, not a servant. It made her fear for her mission. How was she supposed to betray his every confidence when he turned her insides to molten honeyed mead? Besides, with the approaching games, there had been nothing of interest to report. She wasn’t gathering any useful information—and every time she saw him, no matter for how quick a moment, their eyes met and the heat between them intensified. And when they were apart, she felt more like a silly maid than a fierce warrior, and she feared she was more likely to do something stupid and disappoint her kin than become the hero she’d dreamed of being.

But of course, she couldn’t say any of that to Greum. She’d simply told him she was wasting her time, but her brother had laughed it off and called her impatient, saying a few days without news were not enough to declare the mission a failure. After sharing a never-ending stream of stories about his and King Taran’s patience on their many missions, he’d insisted she remain at Vindolanda and continue with her charade—one that would eventually ensure Titus would hate her for an eternity.

She’d come back from the cave dejected, not knowing her situation was about to grow worse. The next day, the centurion, her
lord and master
, had sent her to Jonas, the legionary tailor who appeared more female than male. He doted over Elspeth like a mother hen while measuring her for some untoward
masterpiece
.

This morning, she ventured down the cobblestone path to Jonas’s workshop, a small room where tanned skins of leather and orange cloth for tunics piled high on a wooden table. Elspeth looked at the shelves that stored everything a soldier could need for his kit. Her gaze darted around the shop, trying to glimpse the garment Jonas had designed for her uniform. After all, she was a woman, scarcely human to a Roman soldier, and could not be enlisted into the army.

Jonas greeted her with a broad smile and clasped both her hands while he kissed her on each cheek. “My dear, you will simply adore my creation for you.”

Elspeth tried to pull her hands away, but he held tight. “I’m curious to see this masterpiece. You’ve toiled for two days, is it?”

He pulled her into the center of the room. “You will be stunning. The centurion will not be able to take his eyes off you.”

“I do not think he looks at me that way.”

“Pardon me, but are you daft? I’ve traveled with Titus Augustus Romulus for nearly a decade, and never have I seen him gaze upon another woman so fondly. You are as pretty as a rose in full bloom. You have found favor with the centurion; he keeps you near him lest you be taken by another.”

Elspeth grimaced. She certainly hoped that Jonas was wrong. Ardent advances from Titus would complicate her assignment even more—not that she’d encourage or react to him in any way. “Ye’re touched in the head. I tend his weapons and armor. Nothing else.”

“Do you honestly believe he cannot tend those things for himself?”

Elspeth rolled her eyes. “Focus yer mind on yer business and show me this
creation
.”

Jonas dashed behind a screen and held up a mass of white silk that looked more like the silk curtains that shrouded Titus’s bed rather than a gown. The tailor turned in a circle, making the skirts billow. “You shall wear this
chiton
with a bronze collar and helmet.” He draped the
chiton
over the table and held up a wide metal collar that had the body of a snake inlaid around its outer edge.

Elspeth sucked in a deep breath. “Ye expect me to wear that?”

“Yes, of course. ’Tis just lacking the shield and spear.”

She rubbed a piece of the thin white silk between her fingers. “I fail to see the practicality in wearing a bundle of sheer drapes. How am I supposed to ride me horse?”

“I thought of that, too.” Jonas snatched up the gown and held out the skirt. “You see, the cloth is not sewn together. ’Tis designed to hang from the waist in six separate pieces.”