Defy the Eagle (49 page)

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The Iceni march to Londinium was far different for Jilana than the previous leg of the journey. Free of her chains, she would have gladly walked the distance, but Caddaric would not allow it. Instead, she rode in the wagon beside Heall, jumping out occasionally when she needed to relieve herself or when her muscles became cramped from the enforced inactivity. Caddaric was in the vanguard of warriors, but he rode back during the day to see how they fared. Of Clywd there was little sign during the day, although he always managed to turn up beside the wagon when they were about to make camp. Clywd, Jilana later learned, roamed about the war band, treating the sick and injured, and making his presence known. A few days later, when Ede had had her fill of driving the second wagon, Clywd took up the reins. Children descended upon the Druid's wagon and he kept them enthralled with stories and songs.

Two days into the march, Heall taught Jilana to drive the team. By the time they made camp that night, her hands were swollen and blistered and her arms ached, but nothing could erase the grin from her face as she helped unhitch and tether the team. Caddaric said nothing about her accomplishment, but that night he carried the water to the fire for her and later, when they were alone in their tent, he applied balm to the palms of her hands. They were back to sharing a pallet, Caddaric having said, rightly, that there were not enough furs for two. Still, Jilana was uneasy with the enforced intimacy, but the look on Caddaric's face had stilled any protest she might have made. Now, Jilana sat nervously on the edge of the pallet while Caddaric knelt on one knee in front of her.

"You will have calluses," Caddaric stated as he wrapped her hands.

Jilana studied the top of his bent head. "It does not matter."

Caddaric stroked his fingers down one bandaged palm. "Your hands were beautiful at Venta Icenorum," he said thoughtfully, almost to himself. "So soft and lovely."

The touch of his hand sent a flood of warmth up her arm and Jilana snatched her hand away. "But now I can drive a wagon," she reminded him briskly. "Tis much more useful than having pretty hands."

Caddaric stared at her for a long moment, his eyes clouded, and then he nodded curtly. "As you say."

He blew out the lamp and Jilana hurriedly crawled to her side of the pallet so that Caddaric could get under the blanket. Earlier, she had changed into the tunic Caddaric had given her as a nightdress and now she turned onto her side, away from Caddaric, and listened to the sounds he made as he prepared for bed. She felt his weight on the pallet, the movement of the blanket as he tugged it around his shoulders, the warmth of his body. The nights were still cool and his heat was a temptation to Jilana. She burrowed into the furs, waited, and heard his breathing change into the rhythm of sleep. Cautiously, she rolled onto her back and then her side. Her nose grazed his shoulder. Catching her lip between her teeth, Jilana eased herself closer, until she was pressed comfortably along his warm length. Exhaling a soft sigh, Jilana closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

Beside her, Caddaric smiled into the dark and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

Jilana awoke the following morning to the feeling of something heavy across her stomach. She stirred, seeking to dislodge the weight, but when it refused to move she opened her eyes. She was laying on her right side with the back of the tent directly in front of her. She bent her head to look down at her stomach and came fully awake. A hard, brown arm was draped around her waist, as if anchoring her to the pallet, and against her back was an equally firm cushion. And not only her back, she realized with a hot blush, but against her buttocks and legs as well. Caddaric. She was curled into him and he around her and she could feel...

'"Tis dawn." The soft pronouncement stirred against her ear and Jilana shut her eyes on a wave of embarrassment. Caddaric watched the color fade from her cheeks and surge back a moment later when he moved against her. "Have you no greeting for me, wicca?"

Jilana swallowed hard and found her voice. "Greetings, Caddaric." No sooner had the words left her lips than she was being turned onto her back.

"Open your eyes," Caddaric ordered gently. He waited patiently until she obeyed, and when she looked at him, his expression softened. "Greetings, Jilana." He touched his lips to hers, lingered a moment, and then withdrew. Jilana's eyes widened at the contact and one hand crept up to touch his cheek. Encouraged, Caddaric dipped his head and found her mouth again. This time her lips softened under the pressure of his and when his tongue traced the line where her lips met, they parted for him. With a low growl he plunged into her mouth and sought her tongue.

Forgetting her previous embarrassment, Jilana gave herself up to the kiss. Her arms wrapped themselves around Caddaric's neck, pulling him down, and her tongue measured the length of his. She wanted his heaviness, welcomed it, and tried to tell him so. All that she managed was a choked little moan, but it was enough. The kiss went wild and Caddaric's hands were beneath her shoulder blades, lifting her, crushing her breasts into the hard wall of his chest while his mouth worked feverishly on hers. When Jilana sensed some of Caddaric's control returning, she dug her fingers into his neck and teased his mouth with the tip of her tongue. The kiss exploded again and this time Jilana explored the damp interior of Caddaric's mouth until she was drunk with the taste of him.

Their lips parted gradually and the tent was filled with the sound of their labored breathing. Caddaric laid his head beside Jilana's and waited for the ache in his loins to abate. His body was on fire and the rise and fall of her breasts beneath his chest was both pleasure and torment.

He opened his eyes and saw the tear that trailed forlornly down Jilana's cheek. Wonderingly, Caddaric caught it on his forefinger and then raised himself up on one elbow to look into her face. "Did I hurt you, wicca?" When she shook her head, he ran his finger along her jaw until she opened her eyes. "Then why are you crying?"

How could she explain? Jilana wondered miserably. In a cracked voice, she asked, "What am I to you, Caddaric?"

Caddaric's brows came together in a frown and he sat up. "What do you mean?"

"What am I?" Jilana insisted.

"You are mine," Caddaric growled, uncomfortable with the question and his own unsatisfied body. "Have I not said it often enough?"

"Exactly," Jilana replied. "I am yours—your slave, to do with as you will. I will not be a convenient body for you."

"Convenient?" Caddaric echoed, and though he tried not to allow it, his temper flared. "Convenient, by the gods! Woman, you are many things, but I would not call you convenient! He sprang from the bed and began dressing, jerking on his clothes with such violence that Jilana was certain the seams would rip. "If I wanted a body upon which to slake my desire, there are many in camp that would serve the purpose. And gladly! They would not cry after a simple kiss!"

"I was not crying about the kiss!" Jilana raged.

"Then why?" Caddaric bellowed. "Have I not made amends for the way I treated you? Do you want for anything?"

"Aye, you have made amends, but that does not change the fact that I am still a slave," Jilana exclaimed. When Caddaric flipped back the tent flap she cried, "I have no control over my own life."

Caddaric hesitated and then, slowly turned back to her. "I have told you before, I cannot free you," he said ominously.

"I know."

"Then what are you seeking?"

The knowledge that I am more than a slave to you, she answered silently, but she could not say the words aloud.

"My touch does not displease you," Caddaric stated with absolute certainty, "so you must be shamed by the fact that I am no Roman patrician, but a barbarian. A barbarian who can set fire to your passion."

Jilana shook her head but said nothing, and a moment later Caddaric left the tent. Jilana rose and dressed, her heart aching. If Caddaric had said that he cared for her, she would have thrown herself into his arms and never let go. His kindness to her over the last few days was no comfort; indeed, the care Caddaric took with her only made the pain worse, because she knew his heart was not involved.

During the next two days barely a word passed between Caddaric and Jilana. Jilana was proficient enough with the team that Heall took to his horse to ride with the vanguard, and now Caddaric did not check on her progress during the day. Only when he had found a campsite did Caddaric return to the wagon. At night, they slept as far away from each other as the pallet allowed.

The next morning they packed the camp and, after laying out the harness, Jilana led the horses to the wagon. The space to the back of their camp had been occupied by Heall and Clywd, but the older men were already gone. Caddaric doused the fire while Jilana harnessed the team. When he was finished, he came around to the team and checked the buckles.

"Can you get the wagon onto the road by yourself, or would you like me to do it?" Caddaric asked. It was, to him, an olive branch. He did not like the coldness that lay between them.

"I can manage," Jilana answered steadily. They drew the reins back to the wagon and Jilana climbed onto the seat. "We are running low on water and Clywd said his barrels are nearly empty as well."

Caddaric hid his disappointment in her answer by handing the reins to Jilana. "I will look for a well or stream today." He met her eyes and momentarily lost himself in the violet depths. "Wicca, about the other morning—"

"You should go," Jilana interrupted. She looked into the distance where she knew Boadicea had her camp. "The vanguard will be forming."

A muscle worked in Caddaric's cheek and he swung onto his horse without another word. Jilana watched him go with tears burning the back of her eyes. Could he not see what it cost her to keep the wall of indifference between them? If he would utter only one loving word, give her some sign that he saw her only as a woman, not as a possession bought and paid for.

"Greetings, Roman."

The melodious voice scattered her thoughts and Jilana looked down to find Lhwyd standing beside one of the horses. Jilana's hands tightened around the reins, but she managed a polite nod for the Druid. "Caddaric is not here," Jilana informed him, and immediately wished she had not.

Lhwyd smiled, but his eyes remained cold and hard, like polished gems. "I came to see Clywd." He glanced toward the remains of Clywd's fire. "But I see I am too late."

Knowing of the animosity between the two priests, Jilana doubted Lhwyd's words. "I will tell Clywd you were looking for him."

Lhwyd nodded, his cold gaze surveying her. "I see Caddaric removed your chains." His lips pursed thoughtfully. "I had heard rumors that he had done so, but I did not believe them." His hands moved to stroke the horse nearest him.

Jilana was snared by his gaze. She had only to snap the reins and the horses would move and take her to safety, but her hands lay unmoving in her lap.

"What did you promise Caddaric, I wonder? That you would not run again? Or that you would share his pallet?" Lhwyd smiled and something twisted deep inside Jilana at the sight. "But then, you have shared his bed since the beginning, have you not?"

The answer to Lhwyd's taunt trembled on the tip of Jilana's tongue, but before she could give voice to it, the Druid looked away and the spell was broken. Jilana was left weak and trembling when Lhwyd bade her farewell and walked away. Around her, wagons moved out, but it took Jilana some time before she felt strong enough to handle the team. As the day progressed, Jilana put Lhwyd out of her mind and concentrated on driving the team and the countryside.

The land flanking the road had been cleared of trees, but a mile away the forest loomed again. It was a welcome sight, reminding her of home, and banishing the memory of the open lands just south of Camulodunum. At noon, Jilana took a piece of dried beef for her meal and wondered if Caddaric had remembered to take food with him for his own meal. Of course he had, she chided herself. Caddaric was a soldier first, with a soldier's eye toward what was necessary to sustain a body during a march. She took a sip of water from the skin and held it in her mouth, savoring it. Had Caddaric found a source of water for them? How pleasant it would be if there were a stream close by when they made camp for the night. Despite the chill in the night air, she would dearly love to submerge herself in a stream and wash away the grime of the march.

Shortly after noon Caddaric and Heall were successful in their search for a stream and rode back along the column to tell the others their news. They found Clywd's wagon first and spent a few minutes talking with him. They decided to leave the war band now to replenish their water rather than backtrack once they had made camp. Accordingly, Clywd pulled his wagon out of the column and eased it down the grade of the road while Heall followed. Caddaric swung back down the column to find Jilana.

Jilana saw Caddaric before he caught sight of her, and she felt free to gaze at him. Seated upon his golden stallion, he presented an imposing figure. He rode easily, with the air of control that was second nature to the Iceni, and even without the weapons that hung from his belt there would be no mistaking the fact that he was a warrior. Nor was he the handsomest of men, Jilana thought as he rode in her direction, but the hard planes of his face were dearer to her than any other. He was strong and proud; he could be fierce or gentle, and in that moment, Jilana knew she would give her life to hear him say he loved her.