Pandora turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. She watched quietly as Arista put a finger to her lips, gave Pandora a knowing smile and slipped into a nearby tent. Pandora was close enough to hear a rustling, followed by her sister's giggle and the throaty laugh of a young soldier. They would keep each other company tonight and Pandora was glad for them.
When Pandora awoke to the call of crows in the treetops, she was curled up by the remains of a smoldering fire. She'd fallen asleep with her thoughts before realizing she should be inside her pavilion, nestled deep in her bear fur. She was warm enough despite the sputtering coals and morning dew, but she ached. Oh, how she ached. Lying on the hard ground had frozen her limbs in painful positions. She forced herself to rise and grimaced when pain shot through her hips.
Apart from the squawking birds, the camp was quiet. Looking around, she brushed the hair from her eyes, and then she realized she was far from being the first awake. Several soldiers walked serenely from tent to tent, lighting fires, cooking food for the morning and cleaning their battle gear. An older man, carrying several quivers of arrows in need of new tips, waved at her. She flushed, embarrassed by her dishevelment, and waved her fingers in return.
She was still brushing pine needles from her cloak when two soldiers walked by, caught up in their own conversation. She looked up at the sound of their voices. They seemed to be in high spirits and talked of the men they'd captured, and were holding in a cave to the north of the camp. Pandora was immediately intrigued. She hadn't imagined they'd actually been able to take prisoners. Her father's men usually didn't leave survivors. She walked to her father's tent.
"Papa, are you awake yet?” she asked as she peered around the tent flap.
He stood, regal and powerful in his traveling clothes, packing for the continuing journey.
Pandora's curiosity piqued. Would the prisoner be traveling with them? This was a precedent setting situation.
"I am awake, daughter. What do you need?"
"Nothing, Papa. I hear of a prisoner held in a cave. Is it true?"
Her father let a sliver of a proud smile grace his aging face. “That it is. The Celtic bastard will lead his people no more."
"A leader?” Could it be him? “Are we taking him with us?"
Livicus looked his eldest daughter in the eyes. “It is absolutely no concern of yours, but yes, we are taking him with us. He is valuable and could one day mean a great deal more to us alive than dead. He is one of the Daoine Sidhe. Have you heard the stories around the campfires?” Her father turned his attention to his trunks, folding clothing and pressing them hard inside.
Pandora had heard the stories. The Daoine Sidhe were descendants of the once great and powerful Tuatha Dé Danaan, the faeries, the fey. She'd heard various names. Many were druids, people who the great Caesar deemed barbarians and cannibals. She shivered, despite her intense fascination with the prisoner. A real faerie. There was nothing more exciting.
Seeing her father was occupied with other thoughts, she slipped from his tent.
"Pandora?"
She stopped abruptly, leaning her ear toward her father's tent. “Yes?"
"See to it your sister is ready to leave camp within the hour. We continue further north. Within three days we will be in Caledonia."
"Yes, Father.” Pandora turned her head in the direction of her sister's tent. There was no movement, no sound. She wondered if Arista was still asleep beside her warm, young soldier.
Deciding they could use a few minutes more of sleep, Pandora turned north and walked slowly along the paths between the tents. Keeping her eyes on the men who were unaware of her thoughts anyway, Pandora followed the talk and found herself at the entrance to a dark cave. It was unguarded. Her gaze skirted the woods and the camp behind her. Where were the guards? She'd expected them, but hadn't really thought of why she was looking for the prisoner or what she would do when she found him. Curiosity merely pulled her in the right direction, toward a dark entrance into the hill at the edge of the forest. She found herself swallowing hard, as if her voluntary faculties had left her body. Bending low to see if she could see anything inside the cave, her hand grasped the rough lip of stone, as if it could prevent her from being pulled inside.
From within came a startled shuffling noise. An animal? A guard? She blinked her eyes as they adjusted to the dim light of the morning sun penetrating the darkness.
"That's twice you've been reckless with your life, woman,” said a voice she recognized immediately. It was low, smooth and sultry, bringing images to her head that had her fighting to keep her wits about her.
"Are you looking for death, lady?” he prompted.
"You would not harm me,” she said as she slowly entered the cave. Samuel Dannon lay with this legs outstretched, his back against the solid wall at the back of the cave. Her eyes took in both his whimsical grin as well as the heavy shackles at his wrists and ankles. She followed the chains to the wall behind him where massive nails had been pounded into the rock to keep him secure.
"No, perhaps not,” he answered. “But you didn't really know it was I who was held here, did you? It could have been any manner of Celtic beast and you went ahead and stuck your pretty little head in the lion's den."
"Lion's den, indeed. You're shackled,” she bristled.
"Did your father not tell you who was held here? I am Daoine Sidhe. I am here for a purpose."
Pandora took a reflexive step backward. “You are here because you want to be?"
"You're very bright, which is what could get you into trouble. Yes, I am here to learn more about your father. I don't mind telling you this because I've learned what I needed already. He cannot kill me. He can only release me."
"You're arrogance is not attractive, sir.” She felt her face flush with the lie.
"Is that right?” he teased. She watched breathlessly, as he slipped his broad hands from his shackles in a movement so quick her eyes missed it. He pushed himself to standing and held out his hand to her.
Once again, Pandora felt no fear around this man. Samuel Dannon would not let her come to harm. A small thought, deep inside her mind told her she was safe. She stepped forward into the dark of the cave, her hand outstretched to take his. He clasped his fingers around her hand. They were warm, calloused and strong. Pandora took a quick breath at the intimate touch. Slowly, he pulled her closer, wrapping his free arm around her lithe waist. His scent enveloped her. Freshly cut wood, heather and a more animalistic scent mixed in, had her head muddled as she leaned against his chest. He released her hand and tilted her chin upward so she could see his eyes. Her lips parted but before she could think of anything to say, her mouth was covered by his. She was lost in the kiss she'd been imagining since the previous night. Her knees weakened and she fought to remain standing without help. His lips were soft, softer than the hands that told of rough days. His breath was warm, and when his tongue pushed warily into her mouth, she sighed. Her sigh had an immediate effect on Samuel. He crushed her tighter against him, one hand centered on her back, the other trailing down her throat to her chest. It stopped there momentarily before cupping her right breast. He caressed her there while her hands wound into his hair.
Their breathing grew harsh. Samuel's arousal was plain as it pushed against her hip. She reached down with one hand to gently press against him. He groaned into her mouth then took her wrist in his hand.
"You must stop, woman. This cannot happen here."
Pandora's eyes remained closed. “Why can't we? There is no one around."
"I must leave. There isn't time. If I remain here much longer there will not be time to warn my people of your father's plans, or to tell my brother of his weaknesses."
Pandora's eyes opened and she stared into Samuel's face. “What weaknesses?"
His face turned cold and hard. “His daughters.” There was no trace of emotion in his voice.
Pandora pulled away, her mouth still swollen from his kiss. She rubbed at it. “And what wo
uld your brother do with this information?"
"That is not for you to know, lady.” He touched her chin with his finger but she quickly turned away.
"I must leave now. I have freed my wrists but I need that key for my ankles.” He pointed to a key hanging from a rusty nail pounded into the wall of the cave.
Pandora said nothing as her fingers plucked the key hanging from the inside wall of the cave and removed the shackles that held his ankles. Samuel walked past her to the entrance of the cave and tentatively looked around the corner, ensuring no guards were nearby.
"I believe they think you well tied. They will likely not come until they think they should feed you,” she told him. She felt the guilt already. She could not name the reason she'd so easily agreed to Samuel's request to release him. Perhaps it was some faerie magic. It may even have been the fact that it was unnerving to see a man of his strength, his life force, shackled by her father's men. It seemed the only thing to do, so she'd done it. She couldn't bear to think of the consequences. Surely her father would disown her.
Samuel turned back to look at Pandora. “Perfect,” he said with a grin then broke into a run. He disappeared over the hill and into the forest before anyone could have caught a glimpse of him.
Pandora rushed from the cave, ignoring the comments from passing guards that quickly became yells. “Stay away from there, girl! What are you doing?"
She ran. Throwing her cloak from her shoulders, she leapt over logs and rocks to follow Samuel. “Wait! Take me with you!"
She caught sight of him leaping over a small stream. “Samuel?"
He turned, a look of confusion on his face. “What are you doing? Go back to your camp."
Panting, she reached him and grabbed his arm. “Take me with you, Samuel. There will be punishment for what I've done. It's paramount to treason. Let me come with you. I want to learn the ways of the Celts. You're not the barbarians my father thinks you are."
Samuel lowered his voice, hearing the voices of the Roman men nearing. “Our life is not what you're used to. It's much harder. We rely much more on nature and her ways."
"Don't leave me here, Samuel. I beg of you. I'll follow you anyway.” Pandora let a brief thought of her sister pass through her mind. To never see her again would be unbearable. She quickly made up her mind that it would be easy enough to keep track of her father's journey if she were traveling with Samuel and his men.
Samuel caught hold of her hand. Giving one last glance behind them, he turned and lifted Pandora over the stream. The density of the woods provided cover, and the light sound of the trees rustling in the breeze drowned their footfalls. It wasn't long before the voices of the soldiers could no longer be heard. They slowed to a walk. Pandora's heart thumped wildly in her chest. Physical exercise was not among her recreational pursuits. She could ride a sturdy horse for many miles but running on her feet was another matter altogether. Despite her discomfort, she dared not ask Samuel for a rest. She knew he'd shortened his long strides for her benefit and she was determined to show him he hadn't made a mistake.
They walked in silence for quite some time before stopping. Samuel raked a hand through his hair in frustration. What on earth had possessed him to take the daughter of Gaius Livicus with him? Now he'd be wanted for kidnapping on top of escaping and simply being a Celt. The enemy had Livicus’ eldest daughter. On the other hand, he'd been hard since he first laid eyes on her a day earlier. There was no way he had it in him to deny her going with him. Of course he wanted to take her ... in more ways than one. Who wouldn't?
He had trouble keeping his eyes off her round breasts and luscious hips. He owed her. She assisted him in escaping for some unknown reason. Why she thought it safe to be with a Celt, let alone a male, was beyond him. Did the Romans not think his kind savages? They certainly treated the Celts as such, what with the raids, the merciless killings that had taken place in the past several years. Why would she give herself to the hands of a barbarian?
When she noticed him glance her way, she blushed and smiled before looking away. The daughter of a Roman commander—what the hell was he doing?
"I'll take you to the camp, but rest assured you'll be treated as a spy. You will not be able to leave. My brother will not trust you, nor will our men. Do as I say and you'll come to no harm."
He heard Pandora take a quiet breath before she responded. She was obviously nervous and unsure how to act. Perhaps even unsure of the path she'd chosen. A daughter of Rome among Celts by choice? Samuel could not accept her decision. As he watched her, her gaze scanned the forest floor, her feet stepping lightly over the fallen leaves and needles of the pines. Her feet were small and delicately encased in soft shoes, despite her travels through the wilds of his island. He longed to hold them in his hands, to lay kisses on those feet as he caressed her calves. He could picture them so vividly. They would be smooth and white, having never seen the light of day. Samuel felt his cock come alive at the thought. His thoughts led him to imagine her unclothed, and his loins ached with the pressure of intense arousal.
His men would draw and quarter him for bringing a Roman woman to camp, but he felt sure they would understand when they saw her. Then it came to him. She would have to act as his prisoner to be safe. His own brother, Elijah, was no threat to a woman. Their mother had raised them to treasure women. However, his men could possibly treat her as nothing more than a whore. He had to keep her safe.
With the camp in sight just over the rise of a small mound, he laid a hand on Pandora's upper arm to stop her.
"My lady, you must listen to me now."
"What is it?” Her eyes were bright, taking in her surroundings with an intense curiosity. For a moment, he was lost in those eyes, forgetting what he meant to say.
"Is something wrong? That's your camp just over there, isn't it?” she inquired, pointing in the direction of the tower of campfire smoke.
"You aren't safe here, Pandora. You're Roman. They won't take kindly to you."
A glimmer of panic lit her eyes.
"There's only one way I can think of to keep you safe until they trust you,” he continued. “That is, if you intend to stay here. Is that your intention?"
Pandora gave in to her fatigue at the question. She lowered herself to the soft earth, absently picking a daisy. The forest was thinning, making way for a vast field, dotted with small tents and men going about their daily business.
She looked up at the strong, quiet man looming over her. “I've been listening to the stories of the Celts since I was a child. I can recite verses telling of banshees, berserkers and the faeries, but I've never had the opportunity to immerse myself in that world. It's called to me for such a long time. I've never thought of the Celts as barbarians as my fellow Romans have. When I first saw you, Samuel, I knew my thoughts were true. You're no savage. You're a man."
He raised his eyebrows at her.
"All right, you're more than a man,” she conceded. “You're a Daoine Sidhe and that makes you even more intriguing and ... well ... sexy."
Under the cover of the brush and trees, he took hold of her, forceful enough to make her gasp. Her eyes were suddenly fearful, but that spark melted into desire when he pulled her against his body. His eyes changed like the mists. They seemed to swirl, as the emotions he felt grew more intense. Pandora's gaze flicked from his lips to his eyes and back again. She wanted him to kiss her, but he held back. He needed his wits about him when they reached the camp. A kiss from her would send him over the edge and he'd need more.
Samuel knew his brother as well as his brother knew him. Elijah Dannon would know if he'd just been inside a woman. He always did, just as Samuel knew when Elijah had been carousing in the villages. If he intended for Pandora to act as a prisoner, then he could not allow himself to kiss her. Not now. Elijah also knew he would never take a woman without consent. Would a Roman woman consent to lying with a Celtic warrior? Never.
Pandora moistened her lips and Samuel thought about giving in. Certainl
y he could make up a story about how he'd convinced the woman he wasn't a barbarian.
Samuel leaned down as he tilted Pandora's chin toward his own lips. He tasted her, marveling at the sweetness. Just the scent of her set off warnings he decided to ignore. Yes, he'd take her now. Damn what his brother thought.
Samuel felt his breathing become shallow, his face flush at the rush of blood and the ache of his cock as it strained against its confines. He pressed Pandora to him, trying to assuage the need to be touched.
She did not hesitate. She reached behind her to tug at the laces of her skirt and the hem of her tunic. With Samuel's help, the skirt puddled around her ankles, leaving her in a thin, cotton shift used to protect her from the itch of the woolen skirt. Slowly, she pulled that down around her shoulders. Samuel accepted her open invitation. His hands touched her smooth round shoulders, luxuriating in the warmth of her skin.
Her hands reached for the hem of his own roughly made tunic, sliding it up over his torso. He reached behind his head, grabbing the collar and slid it off the rest of the way. Pandora was much too small to reach that far, but as he rid himself of his shirt, she started on the ties of his tight-fitting trousers. She stopped, unsure what to do with the hardness that stood out so proudly, twitching at her attention. Gently, she tugged at the tight linen fabric until it came free. She slid her palms down his backside, enthralled by the tightness of his behind, taking the trousers with them. They slid to his ankles where he kicked them off.
Pandora slipped off her remaining clothes as Samuel arranged her skirt and tunic in a small pile for them to lie on. With one hand on her lower back and the other on the nape of her neck, he lowered her to the ground, following until she lay on her back with him hovering above her. She was perfect. Her skin was smooth and white, untouched by the roughness of manual labor. Only her cheeks held any evidence of sunlight. She seemed almost ethereal, as if he wasn't the only one in the woods that morning who was of the fey. Surely, she had the blood in her as well. No human could possibly be as beautiful as she.
Celtic Love Knots Volume 5 Page 2
