Rescued by the Celtic Warrior (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 1) (20 page)

“ʼTis never safe, no matter how secure ye feel.”

Valeria mounted her horse. “I wanted to pick some wildflowers for Pia, but now they have scattered with the wind.”

“Ye’re fond of flowers?”

She gave him a cheeky grin. “What woman is not?”

“Ride with me a bit. I need to talk with you.” Valeria’s scent drifted on the breeze when she reined her horse beside him. Of course she’d be drawn to flowers. She smelled sweeter than an entire meadow of blooms. A tingle shuddered along Taran’s skin. “I wish ye were riding in front of me again.”

“Why? So you can fondle me?” Valeria teased, but her eyes remained downcast. “We both know it is no use.”

Taran bit his bottom lip. Of course he wanted to caress her, he wanted more than that, but she was right. “I believe it is time to take ye back to the Romans.”

“Will the king be able to provide a personal escort?”

“I would trust no one else.”

Valeria nodded, taking a sudden interest in her reins, running her fingers along each one. “There are two things I must request.”

“Aye?”

“I want to visit Vindolanda to see if anything remains of my possessions and if my horse, Mia, is still there.”

“And the second?”

“I would like Manas to come with us. No one has paid a mind to the boy, and I believe Bishop Elusius would be a good teacher for him.”

“Manas is a Pict. He should remain at Dunpelder.”

“Manas is an orphan. He can return to Dunpelder once he has earned an education.”

Taran shook his head. “The lad has no skill with a sword, he’ll be a burden in a fight.”

“He needs to learn.” Valeria spurred her mare to a canter and sped away.

Taran took up the challenge and tapped Blackie in the ribs. “Come on, boy, we cannot let the lassies run away from us.”

Valeria laughed and pressed her mare to a full-out gallop with Taran close on her heels. They came to a fallen tree and Valeria leaned forward in the saddle, ready for the jump. The mare sailed over the log, but a wayward branch caught her back hoof, sending her stumbling to the other side. Valeria’s tiny body catapulted from the saddle. With a high-pitched wail, she somersaulted into the clover.

Taran leapt off Blackie and raced beside her. “Valeria!”

She rolled over holding her arm with a grunt.

He dropped to his knees. “Are ye hurt?”

She straightened it, rubbing. “I think ʼtis only bruised.”

He gathered her into his arms and rocked back on his haunches. “Why do ye frighten me so?” The allure of her piercing black eyes gazing directly into his rendered him helpless. God help him, with a single look, she could cast her spell over him like a potion of nightshade. He was powerless to resist her. In that moment, the only person who existed in his world was Valeria. He savored his eyes on her finely chiseled features, perfectly arched eyebrows. She blinked slowly, her long eyelashes shuttering her gaze, her parted lips—her entire being captivated his heart. He was entirely at her mercy.

Her tongue flicked across her upper lip. Unable to withhold his longing, he bent his head and caressed her luscious mouth with his. Soft, succulent flesh kissing him ignited his passion and he hungrily covered her lips.

Her hands slipped around his waist and pulled him closer. Her fingers kneading his back sent shivers up his spine. If only she weren’t a virgin, he could raise her skirts and give in to his ravenous desire.

Taking a deep breath, he kissed her forehead. Her breath against his skin tingled. Her lips tickled his neck. Taran showered her face with kisses. Finding her mouth, he plunged his tongue inside for another moment of pure heaven where their lips joined and their tongues swirled in erotic harmony. But nothing could satiate the lengthening need beneath his tunic.

With a ragged breath, she tried to pull away. “Taran, we must not. I am too weak to resist you.”

Taran froze for a moment, staring into her hypnotic eyes, trying to regain his sanity. Slowly, he sat back and brushed his hand along her cheek. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he swallowed his words. Uttering them would bring them both more pain. “Forgive me. I do not know what comes over me when we’re together.”

“It is I who am sorry, my lord.” Valeria’s shoulders slumped. “ʼTis best I return to Rome, for I cannot bear to see you with another.”

He hated himself for being unable to control his desires. “My selfish yearnings have brought about this untenable situation.”

She hid her face in her hands. “The world seems like it is spinning out of control.”

He grasped a lock of her hair and held it to his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled. “But when ye’re in me arms, time stops.”

Valeria scooted off his lap. “Will this…this kissing damage your character even after I am gone?”

Focusing on her tresses, he entwined the lock around his finger. If only he could tug her back into his arms. “I care not what others think. But we should leave soon. ʼTis impossible for me to hide me feelings for ye, lass.”

Valeria caressed Taran’s neck. Her soft fingers stirred the raging fire in his groin.

Powerless to resist, he leaned forward, slowly this time. As his mouth met hers, his errant hands slipped around her tiny waist and drew her into his body. Soft breasts plied his chest. The yearning under his surcoat ached for her. There, hidden behind the fallen pine, mixed with the pleasant aroma of grass and clover, he knew one day he must have her. No other woman could stand in Valeria’s place.

The people of Dunpelder lined the cobblestone lane to see them off. Wearing a helmet and breastplate, Taran rode at the head of the party with Greum by his side. Valeria, Pia and Manas rode behind him, with Fionn and Seumas bringing up the rear. This time, each rider commanded their own horse, with a bedroll, a waterskin and a parcel of food tied to each saddle.

Of course Stag trotted alongside them, his eyes wide and his tail wagging, excited at the prospect of a new adventure. Taran glanced over his shoulder. He’d never seen Manas as proud or excited. Mayhap Valeria was right, a trip outside Dunpelder would do the lad some good.

Taran stopped when the procession reached Drust, who stood alongside Leda. Bending down, he shook his cousin’s hand. “I leave the care of the stronghold in yer hands. I expect to see the ramparts rebuilt upon me return.”

“Aye, sire, we’ll have it done.”

“We look forward to yer homecoming, m’lord,” Leda said with a smile, handing him a blue kerchief.

Taran leaned forward and grasped it, holding the cloth to his nose and inhaling. His gaze strayed back to Valeria and met with her frown.

The newly constructed gates creaked against their immense weight on cast-iron hinges, giving way to the open lea. Taran tapped his heels against Blackie’s sides, requesting an easy trot.

Greum hummed beside him. Taran chuckled at his friend’s character. Greum chose to look at the world optimistically, always smiling, humming a chipper tune. The man could seek out the good in every situation.

“Are ye really going to leave her with the holy man?” Greum asked.

Taran swallowed. “I’m not even sure if we’ll find him. Reports are the Picts and Gaels have driven the Romans into southern Britannia. Och, Elusius could be back in Rome for all I know.”

“But what will ye do if ye find him?”

Taran shifted in his saddle and ground his teeth. He would’ve preferred a discussion on the weather.

Greum persisted. “If ye cannot express yer deepest thoughts to me, ye’ll be holding it inside and ye’ll be an obnoxious bear to travel with.”

“I know not.” Taran’s voice sounded clipped. He glanced at Greum and furrowed his brow. “I cannot marry Leda while Valeria lives.”

“So ye’re taking her to an altar and sacrifice the lass?”

“Greum—ye have a way of making me laugh.” Taran shook his head. “It will be her decision once she sees the holy man.”

“What if she goes?”

“I’ll throw meself into the Firth of Forth and let the sea slam me body against the stony cliffs.”

“Aye, now there’s a plan if I ever heard one.”

Taran spurred Blackie to a canter and his tiny band followed until the shadow of Dunpelder disappeared behind the forest’s cloak. He called over his shoulder. “Should be an easy ride in five days. That will give the horses plenty of time to rest.”

“Aye. It should keep the beasties from coming up lame as well,” Fionn agreed, his ankle now completely healed.

****

Once they were beyond the view of the stronghold, the formality of their procession relaxed and Valeria spurred her mare beside Taran. She hadn’t spoken to him in the week that passed since they shared the blessed moment in the lea. There had been plenty to do at the castle and she and Pia tended to the wounded with little rest whilst Taran met with a constant barrage of subjects who queued in the great hall to bemoan their lot in life.

There were a few times when Valeria needed a release from the trudging work and she found solace upon a mare with the breeze in her face. To her dismay, she did not have another chance encounter with the man who filled her dreams, whose scent she remembered with each breath. The man she could never have.

Valeria’s palms moistened when she pulled alongside him. He sat tall in his armor, his face shielded by an iron nose guard. She desperately wanted to think of something witty to say. The perspiration on her hands made the leather reins slip. She wiped them on her gown and settled for the standard discussion about the weather. “You couldn’t have chosen a finer day to set out on our journey, my lord.”

“Aye. ʼTis at that, though in this land, the weather can turn before ye have a chance to blink.” His head creaked her way and she wondered what it felt like to ride for days under heavy armor.

“Are you uncomfortable in your helmet and breastplate?”

“A bit.”

“Do you think it is necessary, given the Picts have taken the wall?”

“Definitely, yes. One never knows what evil lurks. We’re probably safe within the boundaries of Gododdin, but I cannot trust anything beyond our borders.”

“Aside from the Attacotti and the Romans, do the Picts have any other enemies?”

“Certainly. The bleating Gaels are coming in droves from Éire, the Saxons have raided Dunpelder. I’ve had reports of skirmishes with the Picts to the north. If an ill-breeding bastard sees something of yours he wants, he organizes a raid and fights ye for it.” Taran gave her a scowl. “Dunpelder has grown wealthy over the centuries, and the stronger we grow the tastier we look to those less fortunate.”

“ʼTis awful. Tribes should want to join the Votadini, not fight you.”

“Aye. But everyone wants to be a king and acquire more land. The Romans are the same.”

Valeria shook her head. “Before I arrived I never would have agreed, but now I’ve seen things from your side, I understand the folly of Rome’s conquering ways.”

“Every man desires freedom.”

“Is that what your subjects have, freedom?”

“ʼTis one of the pillars of the Pict Creed, honor, loyalty, duty and
freedom
. Picts are free to come and go, work for a living, raise their families.”

“But they fight for you.”

“I’ve never asked a man to go into battle against his will. What use would that be? He’d be more likely to bury his dirk in me back than to watch it.”

Valeria chuckled. “You have a good point.” She puzzled about the Gaels though. “I would think the Picts would be better allied with the Gaels, given the royal female line. You have Éire blood just as they do.”

Taran reached under his helmet and scratched his head. “If I had to pick an ally, it would be the Gaels—as long as they kept their thieving hands off me land.”

“I agree. If people would be respectful of each other’s property, we would probably avoid all wars.” Valeria glanced down at Stag. The dog kept up the pace with his perpetual grin fixed in place, his tongue lolled to one side. “Hey, Staggie boy, you have Taran’s back, have you not?”

The dog yipped at the sound of his name. Valeria could have sworn he winked.

After near three months, it was exhilarating to be traveling again. But the trepidation of what could lay ahead needled at the back of her mind. She continued to push her miserable thoughts away. She wanted to enjoy the time that remained with Taran. What would she do when they found Elusius? She could join a nunnery, live a life of solitude, holding on to memories of what it felt like to be in Taran’s arms, to feel his lips caress hers. Her hand pressed on her stomach to calm the giddy fluttering within.

“Are ye feeling ill?”

“Lovesick, perhaps,” she whispered under her breath.

“Pardon?” Taran leaned toward her.

“I feel wonderful.” She desperately wanted to discuss her feelings. If only she could ask him to run away with her, or merely to hold her in his arms and kiss her one more time, but it would not be proper. Their conversation went everywhere, except to the topic that seized her heart. She must be content to ride beside Taran and savor every moment in his presence.