Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 01] (21 page)

“When must you return?” He couldn’t believe he was asking such a thing. He didn’t want her to return to her people. And yet if she didn’t, he knew she would never fully be his.

“Very soon.” He gained little satisfaction from the fact she sounded reluctant. “Maximus, they’re sure to have heard I was taken by a centurion. I can’t allow them to worry unnecessarily.”

He knew what she was saying. She couldn’t be late. Did she think he intended to prevent her from leaving, after everything she’d told him?

He glared into her eyes. And saw the truth.

She knew he wouldn’t keep her against her will. Perhaps she’d always known that, even before he’d reached that conclusion himself.

The thought didn’t improve his temper.

“It’s not safe for you to walk around the settlement alone.”

Her fingers twitched around his hand, and he unclenched his fist, and cupped the weight of her breast.

“I know.” She sounded irritated, but her breath hitched as he tightened his hold around her luscious globe.

“I forbid you to stroll through the markets and streets unaccompanied.” Not until she accepted the mantle of his protection would she be safe from further molestation. And even when all knew she belonged to him, he would procure her a constant companion.

Her eyes flashed mutiny. She opened her mouth, and then shut it again, and he could
feel
her mind working furiously as her jaw clenched beneath his palm.

“Answer me, Carys.”

Her breath escaped in an indignant puff. “I won’t stroll through the markets and streets unaccompanied,
Maximus
.” She put exaggerated emphasis on his name. “But only because I have no desire to be manhandled by obnoxious Romans.”

He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, and even through the wool of her gown felt her nub harden. He wasn’t sure whom he was punishing by his actions. Her? Or himself?

“And you will meet with me at the spring in two nights.”

She shifted, so her breast pushed more insistently against his thumb. “
You
will meet
me
at the spring in two nights.”

His thumb stilled against her. Her eyes mesmerized him. And then he tweaked her erect nipple until an involuntary gasp spilled from her disobedient lips.

“Meet me in two nights.” He’d be damned if he would agree with her demand, when she refused to bow down to his. She was a woman,
his
woman, and as such shouldn’t even question him, let alone presume she could have the last word.

And then she lifted his hand from her breast and grazed her lips across his knuckles. Her breath was hot against his flesh, her lips soft. And her eyes never left his.

“Come to me in two nights.” Her whisper caressed his skin, soothed his injured pride. Although why that should be so, he couldn’t fathom. Yet again, she was determined to undermine his authority.

Long moments passed. She was so small, so fragile. What did it matter if he allowed her this one small concession?

He pulled her hand up. Kissed each finger in turn. “Yes. I’ll meet you at the spring in two nights, Carys.” And then he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t be late.”

Carys hurried toward the meeting place, knowing Maximus’s gaze followed her. She wouldn’t be surprised if he followed her physically at a distance, but she refused to confirm her suspicions.

Heart thumping, she ignored her good sense and glanced over her shoulder. Strolling nonchalantly through the outside market, within easy shouting distance, was Maximus.

She caught his eye and relayed the frigid message that she didn’t appreciate him following her. He merely raised one eyebrow and made as if to approach her.

Goddess, didn’t he realize what a precarious position he was placing her in? If Morwyn or Gawain guessed the centurion she’d been accosted by was now stalking her, how long would it take for them to deduce he was also her elusive lover?

She tugged the blanket more securely around her face, her mind feverishly concocting plausible scenarios. It was imperative she give her friends no reason to suspect she and the centurion had passed anything but the most cursory of exchanges.

And then she collided into a hard, solid body.

“Carys.” Gawain gripped her arms and peered at her, his face contorted with a mixture of alarm and relief. “Thanks the gods. We heard you’d been arrested.”

Morwyn pushed him aside and enveloped Carys in a bone-crushing hug. Over her shoulder Carys searched for Maximus’s telling presence, but he had vanished into the crowd.

“I wasn’t arrested,” she said as soon as Morwyn allowed her to draw breath. Before she could say any more, her friends flanked her and urged her forward, toward the boundary of the settlement town, horses in tow.

“We should never have brought you,” Gawain said, and Carys saw his sharp glances piercing through the throngs, as if searching for legionaries. Or centurions.

Once outside the town, Morwyn turned to her. “Sweet goddess, Carys.” Carys was horrified to see tears in her friend’s eyes, but before she could comfort her, Morwyn cupped her face. “For you to be so violated.” She sucked in a quick breath. “The Romans will pay for this with their blood. I promise you. And the one who touched you will have his entrails strung up for the crows.”

Blood flooded Carys’s face. Could Morwyn smell the lingering trace of arousal on her? “I wasn’t raped, Morwyn.”

Morwyn stroked her cheek, as Gawain slung his bulky pack over his horse, his face a deadly mask of fury.

“We heard how you were abused in public, dragged from the streets.” Morywn sucked in a ragged breath. “How dare they think they can behave in such a barbaric manner?”

Formless terror surged through her, a
knowing
that if she didn’t appease Morwyn’s sense of outrage, if she didn’t convince her friend that she hadn’t been violated, catastrophe would befall them all.

She grasped Morwyn’s shoulders, and the blanket slithered from her head and tumbled to the ground. “It’s true I was accosted by three Roman louts in the market. But the centurion drove them off.” And then she couldn’t help herself. “None of our people came to my aid, Morwyn. They all looked the other way.”

“Things have changed, Carys.” Gawain shot her a hard look before taking the pack lashed to Morwyn’s back and securing it to the second horse. “Do you think the centurion swine would have thought twice about running anyone through who attempted to cross him?”

“I’m not talking about the centurion,” Carys said without thinking. “He didn’t abuse me. It was the legionaries who attacked me.”

They both stared at her as if they couldn’t understand her distinction. Suddenly realizing she was defending Maximus and not being subtle about it, she bent to pick up the blanket, to snatch a few vital moments to compose herself.

“What did the centurion want with you, Carys?” Gawain’s voice was low. Even. She shot him a probing glance but his face was impassive.

She decided to go for the truth. Partially. “He wanted to ensure I was unharmed.”

Morwyn gave a disbelieving snarl. “Unharmed? When they march into our lands, murder our people, rape our women—”

“Did he interrogate you?”

Her heart pounded against her ribs, yet it was slow, drawn out, and echoed eerily in her mind as if she was separated from her body and connected only by each amplified beat.

“He asked my name.”

Gawain’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all? He didn’t ask you anything of where you come from? Who you are?”

Sweat trickled along the length of her spine. Sweet Cerridwen, how could she answer? She had no wish to lie to Gawain. But how could she explain what had occurred in Maximus’s quarters?

It was impossible. She couldn’t confide in her friends, yet she owed them more than this.

She took Gawain’s hand, maintained eye contact. “He asked after my kin. I told him the truth, yet told him nothing. He didn’t hurt me, Gawain. He’s—I feel he is an honorable man.”

He was silent for a moment. “The Romans have no honor, Carys.” He sounded resigned. “The gods saved you today. We must give thanks for that. And give sacrifice to Arawn that Aeron never discovers what happened to you today.”

Carys didn’t care if Aeron discovered she had been into the settlement or not. Lately, whenever she thought of Aeron, a hard knot formed in her chest, and, since meeting Maximus, her years of buried resentment toward the older man had finally sparked into life.

“Perhaps he should know.” Morwyn swung herself onto the horse and Carys followed, since Gawain’s horse was more burdened with goods from the town than theirs. Morwyn glanced over her shoulder at Carys, then across at Gawain. “If he thinks the Romans have violated his beloved Carys, then perhaps he’ll be more inclined to share when, precisely, he plans to attack.”

Carys sighed inwardly. She knew her friend was sore that Aeron still, for unfathomable reasons, wanted Carys in his bed. But she couldn’t understand why Morwyn obsessed on wanting to fuck Aeron when it was clear to all how much Gawain adored her.

Aeron, Carys believed, adored no one but himself. And despite his declarations of undying devotion for her while they’d been together, she’d never
felt
the emotion from him.

But then, she had never felt anything with Aeron. It was as if he was an abyss. Her relief after finishing their relationship had been so profound, she felt as if she’d been reborn into a more vibrant, tactile world.

“
If
he plans such an attack.” Gawain’s expression was stony.

Morwyn jerked, shot Carys a disbelieving glance. “If?” she repeated, once again focusing on Gawain. “How can you doubt, Gawain?”

Carys chewed her lip and stared resolutely ahead. Until recently she’d been eager to fight the enemy, help drive them across their borders.

But now she was torn. She wanted freedom for her people. But she also wanted Maximus.

An impossible dilemma. One she couldn’t imagine ever reconciling.

Gawain gave a mirthless laugh. “How can you
not
doubt, Morwyn?” His voice was harsh. “How many moons have we hidden away like rats on a ship, waiting until the time was right? What time? When will it be right?”

“But—”

“The
right
time,” Gawain persisted, “was the moment the barbarians invaded our lands. We should have stood firm, as our kin did at the border.”

“Our kin all
died
at the border,” Carys said. “Aeron saved us from that at least, Gawain.”

“At least they died a noble death, defending their people and land.”

Morwyn twisted round and frowned at Carys in clear confusion. “But Aeron received visions from the gods,” she said, glancing back at Gawain. “Only when all the planets are in alignment will we be able to drive the enemy from the valleys.”

Gawain turned to stare at them. His eyes were hard, his expression grim. “I have the greatest reverence for Aeron’s visions. He foresaw the slaughter. Ensured we escaped unscathed from the following onslaught.” His lips thinned. “But this retreat was supposed to be temporary, while we gathered our powers and united the spiritual forces. Now we’ve waited so long the very people we’re pledged to protect are bowing voluntarily to Roman rule.”

Shivers raced across Carys’s arms, despite the warmth of the day. All she could see in her mind’s eye were those maps on the walls of Maximus’s quarters.

She’d studied them during the few brief moments he’d left her alone. And been transfixed by how meticulously the landscape was captured.

And yet not captured. The entire section protected by the spiral had not been mapped. Because, as far as any casual observer could see, there was nothing there
to
be mapped.

But no matter what her fellow Druids believed, the Romans weren’t stupid. And Maximus most certainly wasn’t stupid. How long would it be before he realized there was something very wrong with the geographical markers beyond her spring? And how long before someone, somehow, stumbled across the one and only entrance to their sacred retreat?