Rescued by the Celtic Warrior (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 1) (40 page)

“Come behind, Staggie boy,” Taran commanded as his eyes darted through the wood. “Where’s yer lady?”

****

Valeria had lost track of time early on when depression and hunger overwhelmed her. When the Carnex trumpeted, panic shot through her veins. She raced to the creek, splashed water on her face and ran damp fingers through her hair. Her heart thudded in her chest. Was it really time? How could she allow Taran to see her like this? Her hand flew up to the tender wound on her neck and she stooped over a pool to catch her reflection. The nasty gash was still swollen and raw.

Her temples pounded with every beat of her heart. With her hair butchered, her throat deformed, and her body clad in a patchwork of animal pelts, Taran would sooner run her through than take her back to Dunpelder.

His voice called her name. She crouched into a ball, fists under her chin. He couldn’t see her like this. She ran away from him as tears stung her eyes. She could never return. Not now. Not like this.

Batting branches away from her face, she plowed through the dense forest. Stag’s bark neared. She turned her head, and the toe of her pigskin foot-wrappings caught on a log and sent her tumbling into the dirt. Her knee scraped a severed branch. She ignored the sharp sting and struggled to rise.

Stag yipped behind her. “Go back.” She slapped his shoulder

But the dog rubbed up against her. Valeria set out again. “Valeria. Why are ye running from me?” The booming deep voice stopped her dead.

Her hands flew to her face, her back curved, hiding her embarrassment. “I cannot let you see me like this.”

In seconds, the earth fell from her feet. Taran cradled her in his arms and held her against his chest. “I see a woman who’s been to hell and survived. These past days have torn me heart out. Do not deny me, my love.”

Valeria buried her head in his shoulder, unable to breathe. Taran was everything she wanted and there he stood holding her, a wretched mess of a woman. “Do not say that. I am hideous.”

His lips caressed her forehead. “Ye’re beautiful.”

“My hair is gone and I’ve been mauled by wolves.”

“Aye, lass. Yer hair will grow and wounds will heal.”

He carried her back to the clearing and set her down. Valeria hugged herself as he inspected the bleeding gash in her knee. His eyes traveled up her body, his brows knit when his gaze stopped at the scar on her neck. Valeria threw her palms up to cover it.

Taran touched her hand. “Is that from the wolves? Let me see.”

Trembling, Valeria lowered her fingers. “I am ugly now, marked for life. I can no longer be your wife.”

Valeria sucked in a sharp breath as Taran bent down and kissed it. “ʼTis a sign of battle. Such a scar should be worn with pride, for ye received it fighting for yer right as a Pict woman.”

A burst of sunshine radiated through the foliage above. She tingled through to her toes. She allowed herself to meet Taran’s gaze. His eyes twinkled brilliant blue in the sunlight. He loved her. Even in her grotesque state, he still wanted her.

He pulled her into his embrace. “We need to take ye back to Dunpelder. The gathering is on the morrow and we shall be wed before all of Pictdom.”

“Ahem. I believe I am the one to make that call,” Engus said, leading the bishop into the clearing.

“Are you insane?” Elusius shook his finger under the elder’s nose. “Look at what this woman has endured to become one of you.”

“Aye. She’s not only survived, she’s prospered,” Greum said, holding up the cache of Valeria’s pelts.

Engus eyed the pelts and gaped at Taran, and then Valeria. “ʼTis unbelievable. We’ve taken a damsel and turned her into a right bonny Pict huntress.”

****

Alongside Taran, Valeria rode Mia through the gates of Dunpelder. Enduring gasps and whispers from the citizens, she sat erect in the saddle. Extremely conscious of her bedraggled state, she’d not allow herself to display the embarrassment twisting her insides.

Taran lifted her off her horse and carried her into the hall.

Pia gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. “Oh my heavens.”

“She needs hot water in the bath and yer healing hands,” Taran bellowed and marched toward the stairs.

He cradled her until the door closed behind them in her chamber, then gently set her down. “Are ye all right?”

Valeria nodded. “Yes, though I am afraid the people will taunt me.”

“Why? Ye have proved stronger than most, my love.”

She swiped a hand across her head. “Look at my hair if not my scars. I’m repugnant to the eye.”

“Have ye seen yer tresses? ʼTis darling the way the curls frame yer face. Ye still look like a woman. Only…”

Valeria tensed. “What?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Ye’re a bit on the nose.”

Heat burned her cheeks, but she flung her hand back and wacked him on the shoulder. “What did you expect after twenty-eight days? Have you forgotten about your stench from your stay in the gaol?”

“I ken. I’ve got no recourse, and ye’re as beautiful to me now as ye were the first day I laid eyes on ye.”

Taran laced his fingers behind her neck and drew her lips toward his. Valeria melted into him, savoring the taste of his tongue as it swirled around hers. His ragged groan rumbled through her entire body. He pulled her flush against his hard, masculine chest. She wound her fingers around the collar of his tunic and yanked the laces open.

She jumped near a foot when the door swung open. “Taran, I’ll need you to leave, sire,” Pia said.

A line of maids bearing pots of hot water paraded into the room.

Taran gave her a crooked smile. Valeria squeezed him tighter. She rose up on her toes for a final kiss. “I don’t want to let you go.”

“Nor I you.”

“When will I see you next?”

“Ye will sit beside me at the feast tonight. Kin started arriving for the gathering yesterday. The hall will be overflowing with Picts.”

Pia tugged on Valeria’s shoulders. “You’ll have time enough for that after you clean up. In the bath with you.”

She didn’t argue. When Taran left, she shrugged out of her ill-fitting, cavewoman skins and stepped into the steaming water infused with lavender.

“This is heaven.”

****

At dinner, Taran watched as Valeria descended the staircase. Her long slender neck was accentuated by her shorter hair. It surprised him how beautiful she looked with it cut. In the middle of a conversation with a northern chieftain, he excused himself and hastened to her side. Bowing, he offered his hand. “Ye grow more beautiful every time I see ye, m’lady.”

“Thank you, sire.” She curtsied with a shy smile. “I hope I am a fair bit improved over my appearance from earlier this day.”

“Ye were a vision in the forest.”

She waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you blind, sir? I checked the looking glass, I was quite frightful.”

Taran leaned in and inhaled deeply. “Lavender. ʼTis beautiful.”

Everyone stood and watched him lead Valeria to the high table. Holding her hand, he turned and addressed the crowd. “The elders have declared Lady Valeria to be a Pict in mind, body and soul. On the morrow we will be wed before noon upon the foregrounds of Dunpelder. I invite you all to witness our vows and to honor your new queen.”

With a flutter in his belly, he led her to the expectant eyes of his parents. She looked up at him with a questioning smile. “Valeria, meet me father and me mother. They arrived from Fife today along with Leda and Drust.”

Valeria’s eyes popped wide as she graciously held out her hand to his father. “Your lordship and your ladyship, ʼtis truly a pleasure to meet you.”

Brude stood with a gallant bow. “I can understand why me son was so intent on winning yer hand, m’lady.”

“And I can see where Taran comes by his auburn locks and imposing height.”

Taran’s mother nodded appreciatively. “He’s a fine lad, and there’s none better to lead the Picts.”

“Yes, my lady,” Valeria agreed. “And I see he inherited his handsome looks from his mother’s side.”

Taran led Valeria past Drust and Leda to the chair on his right. Betha still occupied the queen’s chair. Valeria glanced at her questioningly. He bent down to her ear and whispered, “This is Betha’s last night as queen. Tomorrow you will sit to me left and Betha will take the right.”

“I see. ʼTis right for her to sit in her place of honor until our Pict wedding.”

Contentment filled his breast as he took his seat. Valeria finally at his side, he gazed out across the faces of his kin. The hall amassed with bodies all stuffing their faces with greasy meat. Greum gnawed on a lamb chop bone while he animatedly spoke with a lovely lass, whom Taran didn’t recognize. “ʼTis a fine gathering we have here.”

“Yes, so many people. Where will they all sleep?”

“Wherever they can find a place to lay their heads. We’ve erected tents upon the stronghold foregrounds.”

Valeria leaned in. “Leda and Drust look happy.”

Taran glanced at the newlyweds who were gazing into each other’s eyes. “Aye. ʼTwas the right thing to do, sending them to Fife.”

Valeria squeezed his arm. “I’m happy for them.”

Taran pressed his lips against her temple. “And are ye happy for us, lass?”

“Indeed. The morrow will be the most blessed day of my life.”

Valeria stood beside the narrow slit that served as her window. A crisp breeze caressed her skin. This would be her last night in this chamber—her last night sleeping alone. She ran her fingers along her arms, inhaling deeply. Pia had prepared her dress, but it would be a surprise until morning. She giggled in anticipation of the entourage of lassies Pia would bring with her to tend her short curls. At last her dreams had come true.

When her door creaked open, she looked up abruptly.

“Valeria.” It was the deep rumble she’d come to adore.

She lifted her skirts and swept across the chamber. “Taran, what are you doing here?”

Carefully closing the door without a sound, Taran turned and wrapped her in his arms. “I couldn’t rest my head without holding my wife in me arms.”

She placed her palm on his cheek. “Ah, Taran. You are so fine to me, but what if someone sees you?”

“What would they do about it? I’m the king. We’re to be wed on the morrow. You’ve become a Pict woman.” He lowered his voice. “My woman.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Taran’s lips crushed over hers, muffling any objection. Heat radiated from the depths of her belly, igniting her entire body. Taran walked her to the straw mattress. Casting aside his surcoat, he stood back and untied the laces on his tunic. With a grin, he pulled it over his head. He stood completely naked in the candlelight, and his dark gaze studied her. “I need ye this night.”

Trembling, Valeria fumbled with her dress. Taran stepped in and swept her fingers aside. Gently, he pulled the gown over her head. Watching her eyes, he unwrapped the mamillare from her breasts and with a flick of his fingers, released her subligar. He pulled her nude body into him, brushing her nipples against the tufts of copper hair on his chest.

She gasped when his hard manhood tapped her belly. The fire of her own desires smoldered for him. She took charge and dropped to her knees, brushing her tongue along the rigid shaft she’d espied at the pond so long ago. Taran threw his head back and groaned, his hips rocking with pleasure.

Valeria took him into her mouth and suckled him until his hands reached for her shoulders and pulled her up. “I do not want to spill me seed so quickly, wife.”

Valeria couldn’t bring herself to speak. She tugged his hand and lay back. Pulling Taran over her, she guided him between her legs. “I need you so badly, I can wait no longer, husband.”

He entered her slowly. Digging her fingers into his flesh, she showed him what she wanted, pulling him in and pushing out. He moaned in ecstasy. Every nerve ablaze, Valeria urged him deeper and faster, until together they released in a frenzy of shuddering euphoria.

Three times they repeated their insatiable lovemaking. Before dawn, Taran kissed her forehead. “I must ask ye what is to be done with Mistress Morag.”

Valeria sighed. “The woman reveled in my humiliation.”

“I ken. I’ve paid her no mind since ye left for the wild.”

“I’d be happy never to see her again.”

“We could send her to Fife to serve Drust and Leda.”

Valeria rose up on her elbow. “I think that would be best for all. Pia could take her place as the Dunpelder hall mistress—Morag would see it as lowering her status.”

“I’ve had the same thoughts. Pia is good with herbs and knows the kitchen as well as Morag.”

“Better in my opinion.”

“Then it shall be done.”

****

Valeria awoke with a start when Pia burst into her chamber. “ʼTis your wedding day, my lady. Rise, for we have much to prepare.”

Valeria stiffened. She slid her hand over the spot alongside her. Taran must have slipped out after she’d fallen asleep. She grinned and wrapped herself in a blanket, the fog in her brain clearing at once. “I do hope you have something marvelous planned to make my tresses presentable. I can hardly believe Taran isn’t waiting until it grows.”