by Tarah Scott
Sia – Aunt
Santa pazienza! - God give me patience!
smoroxéto – lady’s man
sorèla carasorèlina cara– dear sisterdear little sister
Sò falimènta – I'm a failure
un demònio – a devil, demon
un farabùto – a scoundrel
Vindictam – Revenge.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Like many of us on this planet, Carmen Caine/Madison Adler is from another world. She spends every moment she can scribbling stories on sticky notes that her kids find posted all over the car, house, and barn.
When she is not working as a software engineer, she is busy ferrying her kids to various appointments, writing lyrics for her husband's songs, raising her new puppy Ajax, attempting to tame her three insane cats, scratching her three Nigerian Dwarf Goats behind the horns or coddling her flock of thirty bizarre chickens from around the world.
And although I am terrible at tweeting and posting on Facebook (though I do strive to improve), please follow me on Twitter - twitter.com/CarmenRomances or visit my Facebook page: facebook.com/Carmen.Caine or CarmenCaine.com
The "Glass Wall" is the first book of her new quirky paranormal series about ancient beings, Tulpas and different dimensions:
"The Glass Wall" ( Now Available )
"The Brotherhood of the Snake" ( Now Available )
"The Inner Circle" ( 2013 )
"The Egg" ( 2014 )
Her Scottish Medieval series, "The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series" covers the span of years ranging from 1478-1488:
"The Kindling Heart"( Now Available )
"The Bedeviled Heart" ( Now Available )
"The Daring Heart" (Now Available)
"The Bold Heart" ( 2014 )
And her new series about the Vindictam, beginning with the book:
“Revenge” (after the above …)
Rescued by the Celtic Warrior
Honor~Loyalty~Duty~Freedom
A Roman ~ Pict Love Story
by
Amy Jarecki
Historical Romance
Copyright © 2014, Amy Jarecki
Jarecki, Amy
Rescued by the Celtic Warrior
Media > Books > Fiction > Romance Novels
Digital ISBN:
Digital release:
Revised Edition
Editing by Gabriela Lessa
Cover Design by Amy Jarecki
Photo by Period Images
All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.
To my editor, Gabriela Lessa. She is always a pleasure to work with.
Chapter One
In the year of our Lord 367, the Picts were the ruling force in Scotland. Untamable they were, and Emperor Hadrian shut them out by building a wall across the northern frontier of Britannia. For two-hundred years the Romans were successful in keeping the savages at bay, until the entire border fell in the Barbarian Conspiracy.
Britannia, 367 A.D.
Unable to wait a moment longer, Valeria slid aside the wooden shutter and popped her head out the Roman carriage window. At last, the stone battlements of Fort Vindolanda loomed ahead. She laughed aloud and pointed, encouraging both Pia and Bishop Elusius to join in her excitement. “Can you see the immense fortress walls? I cannot believe we shall see Father after so many years.”
Joyful anticipation leapt across her skin. As the carriage continued further, Valeria clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped. The scene before the heavy gates quashed her delight.
Twenty paces away, four legionaries savagely wielded whips against a man in shackles, hunched over, arms wrapped around his head.
“And we call our soldiers civilized?” Though she desperately wanted to enter Vindolanda and be reunited with her father, no Christian noblewoman would allow such demonstration of untoward brutality to pass. “Stop the carriage.” Valeria shoved aside her cloak and jerked down the latch before her companions could say a word. Unassisted, she leapt to the cobblestones.
“Valeria,” Pia and the bishop chorused from the carriage, but she paid them no mind.
She marched up to the soldiers, fists clenched. “In the name of Emperor Valentinian, stop.”
The red horsehair crest on the soldier’s helmet shuddered when he whipped around and faced her, eyes fierce as a hawk. “And who the blazes are you?”
“I—”
He lunged forward and seized her wrist. Valeria fought to pull away but his fingers bore into her flesh.
“Unhand her,” Bishop Elusius roared from behind.
The soldier scowled. “This woman is meddling where she has no business.”
The bishop’s white toga billowed in the wind as he strode toward them. “The lady is Valeria Fullofaudes, niece of Emperor Valentinian, daughter of our leader, the Dux Britanniarum himself.”
The soldier’s grip immediately released. His stunned expression revealed his horror. “A-apologies, my lady.”
Valeria glared. “One should think before striking out.” She rubbed her arm and smoothed her peplos gown. Pushing away her long black tresses, she turned to assess the prisoner.
Her breath caught, followed by a stuttering of her heart.
The man was enormous. He stood at least a head, possibly two taller than his captors. His hair flickered with highlights of fire, and she feared her fingers might sear if she touched it. Valeria leaned forward to better inspect him. Catching the hint of spice as wild as the forest made something stir deep inside. Her eyes narrowed. On his right cheek, an intricate swirling Celtic tattoo of blue extended down his neck and under the laces of his quilted surcoat. Valeria’s fingers itched to touch it.
Her stomach squeezed when his gaze met hers. Crystal clear, blue as the Mediterranean at its shallowest point, his eyes pierced through her heart like an arrow. He held her stare until a savage strike with a lash sent him stumbling forward.
Valeria jumped in front of the soldier, shielding the prisoner from another blow. “Stop, I said.”
“He’s headed for the gallows, this one.”
Her gaze strayed to the auburn-haired man. He locked eyes with her again. For an instant, the soldiers, Elusius, everyone faded into oblivion. The prisoner bowed, his aqua pools of blue unwavering in unspoken thanks. Two soldiers latched onto his elbows and pulled him away. Helpless, she watched them lead him toward the gates.
The bishop placed his hand on Valeria’s shoulder. “Your carriage awaits, my lady.”
She shot him a look. Her heart still thundered in her ears, but the tension eased at the holy man’s gentle expression.
“We only need to ride through the gates and our journey will be complete at last,” he said.
She blinked. Of course. Butterflies of excitement tickled her insides. “I cannot wait to see Father.” She looped her arm through his and allowed Bishop Elusius to assist her into the carriage. She took her seat beside Pia, her trusted slave.
The bishop sat across from them. “’Tis probably not the most ladylike thing to leap from a carriage and rush to a Pict’s rescue.”
Valeria glanced through the window, but the soldiers had moved the prisoner out of sight. “That man is a Pict? A barbarian from beyond the realm?”
“Yes, he bears the blue mark of his heritage. Our soldiers report that of all the barbarian tribes, they are the fiercest warriors in battle—worse than the Gales. They’re the reason Emperor Hadrian chose to build the wall here. Picts reside to the north. Untamable, they are.” The bishop rested his palm atop Valeria’s hand. “You need to suppress the fire blazing behind your lovely raven eye
s. Please sit back, my lady.”
Valeria slipped her hand away and rubbed it. “How can people impart their convictions with no fire behind their motivation?” Knitting her brows, she reclined beside Pia’s matronly frame, clad in a slave’s veil and grey tunic. Valeria wondered what crime the savage Pict had committed. It had been over two-hundred years since Hadrian had erected the wall across the northern frontier of Britannia and they were still “untamable,” unable to recognize the culture and sophistication of Rome?
Moments later, the heavy gates of the fort creaked open. After having endured three months of travel from Rome to Northumberland, she would finally enter her father’s garrison, Vindolanda.
She inched to the edge of her seat when the carriage rattled over the cobblestones. Craning her neck, she pointed at the principia, headquarters of Roman Britannia. “See, Pia? We will be with Father momentarily.”
The slave patted Valeria’s arm. “Yes, child. I can hardly believe our adventure is nearly at an end.”
“An end? Whatever do you mean? It has only begun.” Valeria grinned at the careworn face of the beloved woman who doted on her every need since the day of her birth, eight and ten years ago.
When the carriage rolled to a stop, Bishop Elusius lumbered down the stairs and offered Valeria his hand. She alighted from the uncomfortable wooden cart that had entrapped her like a tomb for the past three months. She giggled at the battle-weary face of her father, beaming as he raced down the steps, his impeccable leather and bronze uniform accenting his robust physique. General Argus Maximus Fullofaudes, Dux Britanniarum, spread his arms wide. Falling into his embrace, Valeria noted his curly locks had greyed in the three years of his absence.
“How could this be my darling child? You have grown into a beautiful woman.”
“Yes, Papa.” Valeria bit her bottom lip. It unnerved her how her father could make heat inflame her cheeks.
“Let me have a good look at you.” He grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “You are as beautiful as your mother and still have her fathomless eyes, I see.”
Valeria’s heart squeezed at the mention of Mama. “I miss her.”
His pointer finger lifted her chin. “As do I, and now you are all I have left.”
With strong arms, he drew her in. She closed her eyes and inhaled—leather and masculine sweat. Papa. Valeria was hit by a flood of memories of her father before he’d been called away and assigned to the far reaches of the Roman frontier. She hadn’t expected her tears to well. She cleared her throat and buried her face in his shoulder to hide them.
“Bishop,” Argus said, pulling from Valeria’s grasp. “How was your journey?”
“Long and arduous.” The holy man rubbed his backside. “These old bones will do well with a soft bed this night.”
Valeria stepped forward. “We could all benefit from a week of nights upon a real bed.”
“Ah yes, you must be exhausted. I’ll have Bacchus show you to your quarters. You can rest before supper.”
Valeria nodded, but the scene from the courtyard needled at the back of her mind. “Papa, we saw a Pict bound in shackles. His hair was the color of fire.”
The Dux frowned. “Ah yes, the oarsman.”
“What crime did he commit to require an escort of four Roman soldiers bearing whips?”
He pressed his hand to the small of her back and led her inside the immense oak double doors. “Desertion.”
“Oh? He didn’t look like a soldier to me.”
“He was assigned to the Navy. When his warship arrived in port, he broke his leg shackles and fled.”
“Shackled to a ship?” She stopped mid stride. “He’s a slave?”
Father waved his hand dismissively. “Why worry yourself with this nonsense? Once he appears before the magistrate the man will hang. ’Tis a pity indeed. Rome can always use a back as strong as his, but a deserter has no place in the Empire.”
***
Perched upon a vanity stool, Valeria stared dreamily into the looking-glass. “Did you see his eyes?”
“No. The only thing I saw was a roustabout receiving what he deserved.”
Valeria knit her brows. She’d thought her servant, born into slavery, might have been a tad more sympathetic toward another slave. But Pia was fiercely loyal to the Fullofaudes family. Like a second mother, she had supported Valeria through the miserable death of her mother and the trudging journey to Vindolanda.
“It bothers me. Those eyes were so young, but the pain in them reflected endless agony.” Since settling into her chamber, every time she blinked, Valeria saw the Pict. Her mind’s eye had noticed everything about him. His size combined with his tattoos made him appear dangerous, rugged. Yet his eyes stopped her breath. They told a tale of pain and something else she couldn’t quite put a finger on—something proud, almost regal.
“How could you ascertain anything in the fleeting moment you saw him?” Pia yanked a comb through Valeria’s unruly hair. “Sit still or you won’t be ready for supper and you’ll spend the night with nothing in your belly.”
“I don’t think Papa would be that heartless, at least not on my first day.” Valeria sighed while she watched Pia twist her black tresses into a work of art. I will stop thinking about the Pict this instant.
Using the hand mirror, she inspected the chamber behind her. She’d napped on a large bed shrouded by rose-colored silk curtains. Imported from the East, they would have cost her father a small fortune. The orange shutters on her window were parted and a sliver of light illuminated her wooden trunk fastened with brass buckles. The chest contained her worldly possessions, keepsakes that had mostly belonged to her mother. Even the looking glass she held in her hand had been her mother’s.
Pia pulled a braid woven with a blue silk ribbon around her crown, allowing the hair in the back to cascade down past her waist. Valeria nodded approvingly. “I have no idea how you do it. Every time you turn my wild mop of locks into a masterpiece.”
Pia chuckled. “I did the same for your mother.” She stood back and appraised Valeria’s hair. “I do believe you are even more beautiful, my dear.”
“You must be touched in the head if you think so. I remember watching Mama dress and admiring her beauty. I could never hope to be half as pretty.” Valeria placed the looking-glass on the dressing table and stood. “Now please tie my sandals. I’m starving.”
Pia bent down as requested. Valeria preferred Pia above all others and only Pia had accompanied her on the journey from Rome.
A sharp rap at the door made Valeria’s gaze snap up. “Yes?”
“Your father sent me to fetch you for supper, my lady,” a voice resounded.
Valeria nodded and Pia opened the heavy oak door. A legate—a lieutenant, holding his helmet under his arm, stood with a serious frown stretched across sneering lips. “I am Quintus, protector of Rome and the Dux Britanniarum.” He held out his arm. “May I escort you to the dining hall?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Valeria glanced up at him as they walked through the cloisters. With narrow dun eyes, he wore his brown hair cropped short, which accented his inordinately large nose. He was not tall, but the short tunic of his uniform emphasized thick legs. “Do the officers follow the same fitness routines as the soldiers?”
He smirked, looking down the length of that nose. “Officers are required to practice swordsmanship daily. I believe I am more fit than any common soldier. I’ve always maintained the same fitness regimen whether Gaul, Egypt or Britannia.”
“Have you traveled widely, then?” Valeria wondered if his arrogance reflected indifference toward her. Since she didn’t find him pleasing to the eye, it might be best if he was indifferent.
“Some. I was born in Gaul where I received my training. I’ve been in the province of Britannia since Valentinian rose to power and my entire legion was dispatched to patrol the frontier.”
“Three years, is it?” Valeria asked, fully aware of the length of time her
mother’s brother had been Emperor.
“Yes, my lady.”
Guards opened the double doors. Valeria gasped when they stepped into the great chamber filled with Roman officers. There was not a single woman. “My, it appears I am outnumbered.”
Quintus led her along the wall. Conversations lowered to whispers and heads turned in their direction. “I trust the men will enjoy your presence. Few officers have the pleasure of the company of a woman, especially one as pleasing to the eye as you.”
Valeria smiled and pulled her hand away. “Thank you for the escort, Lieutenant.”
The volume of conversation in the hall escalated again.
“My pleasure. It would be nice…ah.” Quintus shifted his weight between his feet.
“Yes?”
“Would I be able to escort you again?”
“If you wish.” Valeria found it odd he showed no emotion, not even a smile. He bowed his head and took his place with the others.
“Papa.” Valeria kissed her father’s temple and nodded a greeting toward Bishop Elusius.
“Ah, my dear. Sit, sit.” Father stood and pulled out her chair and Valeria gratefully slid into it. “You must tell me of your journey.”
“The best part is it’s over.” She leaned forward giving Elusius a wink. “The bishop lulled me to sleep with his lessons of piety and faithful living.”
“Is that so?” Argus turned to Elusius. “I hope you chided her for any inattentiveness.”
“She listened well. I only had to rap her across the knuckles a time or two.”
The doors from the kitchen opened with a waft of rosemary roasted lamb. Servants poured into the hall with trays piled with meat, bread and vegetables.
Valeria sipped her grape juice as a proper Roman woman would, noticing the many sets of eyes that strayed in her direction. Her gaze darted across the hall as her insides roiled, wondering if someone in this room could be her intended. Father’s message had been clear it was time for her to wed.
