Defy the Eagle (21 page)

"'Tis a matter of some importance to me," Caddaric said in a low tone. His hand began a soothing motion. "I should have taken more care with you, little wicca. I did not mean to take you on a marble floor."

Jilana's eyes flew open and she looked at Caddaric. "You regret it then? You wish you had not..." She choked, unable to finish the question.

"I only regret the manner, wicca, not the deed," Caddaric assured her. " Do you?''

A trembling smile touched Jilana's mouth and she shook her head. Immediately she was enfolded in Caddaric's arms and crushed against his chest.

"You are mine." Caddaric's voice held a fiercely possessive note and his arms tightened, as if daring her to disagree. When she did not, he released her and stepped away. "Henceforth you will share my bed."

"If you so order."

Caddaric started, some of his confidence waning. "You said you did not regret—"

"And I do not." Jilana interrupted. She drew the towel tightly around her breasts and started once more for the door. "Has it never occurred to you to ask rather than command?"

Caddaric's anger flared. Did she think to control him simply because he had bedded her? "You are impertinent," he bellowed as Jilana opened the door. "Aye."

The door closed behind Jilana before he could respond and Caddaric swore loudly, summoning a few particularly colorful curses he had learned during his time in the legion. He grabbed the offending vial of rose oil and scowled at it. So Jilana thought he could be manipulated, did she? Caddaric snorted in disgust. A typical Roman woman's ploy—allow a man the use of her body and then exact payment afterward, when the man was sated and in an expansive mood. Oh, aye, he knew the Roman wicca's game, but she would find him less maneuverable than she had doubtless found the besotted Lucius. Caddaric had not forgotten that scene in the garden, when Jilana had deliberately teased Lucius; he had seen the rigid discipline the Roman had had to exercise and now Caddaric vowed that he would not allow Jilana that kind of power over him. It did not occur to him, as he strode from the caldarium, silently damning Jilana for the loss of his earlier contentment, that his oath was already broken.

Jilana was waiting for him when he emerged from the changing room, looking as if there was nothing amiss. While dressing, he had fanned his anger and now, seeing her standing so calmly, Caddaric's temper flamed out of control. He thrust the vial into her hands with a snarl. "I will not beg you to share my bed, Roman. You will do so, or not, at my whim, not yours. Fool I was to think you had truly changed, but I will play the fool no longer!"

Jilana's violet eyes widened in astonishment at the tirade, her faint smile vanishing. His voice was an angry roar, emanating from the very depths of his chest, and she automatically retreated a step. "Caddaric, wha—"

"I am no fawning Roman nobleman to be brought to my knees by the promise of your favors. You are, remember, mine for the taking."

"Oh, aye, I remember," Jilana hissed, her eyes shooting purple sparks. Her fear was gone, supplanted by her own anger. Furious, she hurled the stola she carried at Caddaric and derived a momentary satisfaction from the way the material wrapped itself around his head. "You remind me often enough, you clumsy, oafish barbarian"

"Barbarian!" Caddaric extricated himself from the folds of the garment just in time for the vial Jilana threw to hit him squarely in his eye. He gave a brief grunt of pain and brought one large hand up to cover the injured area while he reached for Jilana with the other.

"You have broken it!" Oblivious to all else, Jilana stared in dismay at the remains of the precious Egyptian glass vial where it had shattered upon the floor. The scent drifted upward and the oil spread into a pool, surrounding them both with the fragrance of roses. There was the sound of glass crunching underfoot as Caddaric stepped toward her and her arm was seized in a vise-like grip.

"Forgive me," Caddaric apologized acidly. "Next time I will strive to catch your missiles. Unless you throw a dagger, in which case you may be sure that I will duck." He gave Jilana a one-handed shake that threatened to snap her neck. "Mayhap in the future you will refrain from telling me how to behave."

"I—did—no—such—thing," Jilana ground out. Her head spun and she saw two of everything, including Caddaric. And one Caddaric, particularly in his present mood, was more than sufficient.

"You did," Caddaric stated flatly. He released Jilana and tossed the stola back at her when she fell backward against the wall. "Consider yourself fortunate if the worst I ever do to you is give an order!"

His words penetrated her shifting world and Jilana blinked rapidly to clear her vision. The two Caddarics merged into one who was turning away and rubbing his eye. "Juno, is that what made you so angry," Jilana murmured in disbelief.

"I am not angry," Caddaric argued perversely. He probed the flesh around his eye and glared at Jilana over his shoulder. "Your aim is improving."

Laughter welled inside Jilana and bubbled forth before she could control herself. Caddaric's glare increased in ferocity and she shook her head. "I meant only to tease you, Caddaric." He made a rude sound of disbelief and Jilana straightened, her expression serious. "'Twas a jest, Caddaric, truly. I thought you would see the humor in my words and retort in kind."

Caddaric was silent, considering her statement. At last he nodded and the sharpness anger had lent his features abated. He reached out with one hand and cupped the side of Jilana's face. "Did I hurt you?"

There was genuine concern in his voice and Jilana smiled reassuringly as she rested her cheek against the palm of his hand. "Nay, Caddaric. What of your eye?" Caddaric uncovered his eye and Jilana stepped closer to examine the damage. The skin surrounding the eye was red and beginning to swell and an involuntary rush of tears bathed both eye and flesh. Using the hem of the stola she had thrown at Caddaric, Jilana gently dabbed away this final evidence of her assault. "I am sorry," she apologized. And she was, but the humor of having injured Caddaric with a vial of perfumed oil when she had once had a dagger at her disposal and failed, caused her mouth to quirk irrepressibly. "But, in truth, you did anger me and bring this upon yourself."

"You are impertinent."

The repetition of his earlier statement sent a shaft of unease down Jilana's spine, but when she looked directly into Caddaric's eyes she relaxed. He was, in turn, teasing her, and Jilana was vastly relieved that the famed Celtic temper was once more in abeyance. "Aye."

Caddaric mused aloud, brushing her still-damp hair off her face, "I think you will be a trial for me, little wicca."

"The names I called you," Jilana said quietly, "I did not mean them, Caddaric."

"I am glad." He placed a kiss on her brow and, with one arm draped around her shoulders, led Jilana outside.

Their peace was re-established and Jilana had to be content with that, although she wished that her apology had not gone unrequited. Still, she reminded herself, she had learned a great deal about Caddaric. He could be gentle or rough, at times heedless of his own physical

strength, but he had not hurt her even when his anger reached its zenith. After the diffused lighting of the bath, the afternoon sun seemed particularly bright and Jilana shielded her eyes with one hand while she pushed at her damp hair with the other. Her hair was badly tangled, Jilana realized. It would take time to work out the snarls to her satisfaction.

"My comb." Jilana halted and half-turned back to the bath. "I left it in the changing room."

"Stay here; I will find it." Caddaric was gone before Jilana thought to protest.

Alone, Jilana wandered into the courtyard and sat down on one of the sun-warmed benches there. The breeze lifted her hair and she ran her fingers through it in an attempt to comb out the worst of the snarls before they could dry. Voices carried from the kitchen, but the words were indistinct so Jilana ignored them. The fact that her fellow countrymen, those who held her in such contempt, occupied the kitchen did not dampen her mood. She was enjoying this relative freedom, her first since the rebellion.

She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun, relishing its warmth, and allowed her thoughts to drift. Thus it was that Jilana did not notice the tall, emaciated man in white cross the courtyard with a contingent of six warriors and enter the kitchen. Nor did she pay attention when the voices in the kitchen rose and became shrill, took on a pleading note, then fell silent. She thought of Caddaric, wondering if now he might allow her to visit the stable and see her mare. Mayhap, if she asked, he might also allow her to ride. Not far, to be sure, but perhaps to the forest. Or would he think she was trying to manipulate him again? Jilana frowned at that thought but brushed it aside. She would wait a few days before making her request; by then he would have forgotten the accusations he had made today.

Strangely, Jilana found that she was not concerned with her future. She was Caddaric's; he could do with her as he pleased. Caddaric's hints to the contrary, she was certain the Iceni rebellion would burn out within a few weeks, certainly within a few months. Once informed, the legions would descend on Venta and the Iceni would retreat and she would be rescued. There was an odd pang in her heart at the possibility of rescue, but, Jilana told herself bracingly, that was what she wanted; and in order to see that day, she had to compromise with Caddaric. 'Twas all her surrender today had been, a compromise; she offered the free use of her body in exchange for his protection.

The thought left a bitter taste in Jilana's mouth and, without knowing it, her mind took the same path Caddaric's had earlier. How different things might have been without the rebellion, if she and Caddaric had met as equals. He might truly have courted her then, even won her father's approval. Mayhap they would have married and Caddaric would have taken her to his village to live. Jilana wrenched herself away from that treacherous daydream with a mute cry. Juno, she must not allow herself to think of such things, to allow her heart to be vulnerable to Caddaric in this way. She must remember that beneath all the compromises there lay one unchangeable truth: they were enemies. And hard on that thought came another shattering truth: if the situation had been different, Caddaric was the kind of man Jilana could have loved. That was why she had given herself to Caddaric, because her heart had willed it thus, not through any justification of compromise. Unfair, Jilana thought as her throat constricted with unshed tears. Unfair, unfair, unfair.

"Slave."

The voice which spoke that epithet was deep and melodious, and very close. Jilana's eyes flew open and came to rest upon a white-robed man standing in front of her. He was painfully thin, the flesh stretched so tautly across his face that it seemed the angular cheekbones must pierce the skin. His blond hair fell straight to his shoulders and glinted in the sunlight. A scrap of memory nagged at Jilana. This man was a stranger and yet she felt she had met him before; his face was vaguely familiar. He was young, no lines or furrows yet marred the lightly tanned flesh, and his features were sculpted in such perfect detail that he might have been Apollo come once more to walk among mortals. Until Jilana saw his eyes. Bright green, his eyes glowed with an inner fire that terrified her and held her motionless. He was consumed by that fire, driven by forces Jilana could sense but not comprehend. The day seemed suddenly chill.

"Up, slave; come with us." He gestured behind him.

Jilana tore her eyes away from the man and saw, for the first time, the Iceni warriors guarding the other Roman prisoners. Her own terror was reflected in the faces of her countrymen. Shaking, not wanting to obey but afraid to defy this strange man, Jilana rose, her stola clutched in her hands. "Wh-where are you taking us?" Jilana's question was haltingly asked, and her voice died completely when the malevolent glitter in the man's eyes increased.

The malevolence, however, did not extend to his voice. When he answered, his tone was as sonorous as before. "To make peace with the goddess," came his reply, and there was a gleam of grim satisfaction in his green eyes.

Something deep within Jilana cried out that his answer was not what it seemed, but she was helpless to resist his strange power. As if in a dream she felt herself take one step forward, then another. And then Jilana heard Caddaric' s voice; it was faint, as though it traveled a long distance, but it was enough to make her pause.

"Nay, Lhwyd, not this one. She was given to me with the Queen's blessing.''

The green eyes left Jilana, swung to the intruder, and narrowed viciously. "Greetings, Caddaric." Even though Lhwyd was visibly annoyed, his voice never varied in its sweetness. "How fares your honored father?"

"Well enough." Caddaric moved so that he insinuated himself between Jilana and Lhwyd.

The instant she was lost to Lhwyd's sight, Jilana felt the loss of his power over her. Her leg muscles trembled in reaction and Jilana fought to stay on her feet. Never had Caddaric's harsh voice been so welcome! She cast a fleeting glance at her countrymen; they remained terrified and thoroughly cowed. But why? What was so frightening about going to the temple to worship their gods? Jilana forced herself to concentrate on the two men.

"Your father is a Druid," Lhwyd was saying. "You, better than most, must understand the importance of what we are about to do."

Caddaric laughed coldly, a laugh Jilana had heard so often before. "I understand nothing, Lhwyd; not your gods, not your ways, and least of all your rites." He gestured toward the group of Romans. "I care not what you do with these, but the red-haired one is for me, not your stone altars."