by Tarah Scott
“It is I who am sorry, my lord.” Valeria’s shoulders slumped. “’Tis best I return to Rome, for I cannot bear to see you with another.”
He hated himself for being unable to control his desires. “My selfish yearnings have brought about this untenable situation.”
She hid her face in her hands. “The world seems like it is spinning out of control.”
He grasped a lock of her hair and held it to his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled. “But when ye’re in me arms, time stops.”
Valeria scooted off his lap. “Will this…this kissing damage your character even after I am gone?”
Focusing on her tresses, he entwined the lock around his finger. If only he could tug her back into his arms. “I care not what others think. But we should leave soon. ’Tis impossible for me to hide me feelings for ye, lass.”
Valeria caressed Taran’s neck. Her soft fingers stirred the raging fire in his groin.
Powerless to resist, he leaned forward, slowly this time. As his mouth met hers, his errant hands slipped around her tiny waist and drew her into his body. Soft breasts plied his chest. The yearning under his surcoat ached for her. There, hidden behind the fallen pine, mixed with the pleasant aroma of grass and clover, he knew one day he must have her. No other woman could stand in Valeria’s place.
Chapter Seventeen
The people of Dunpelder lined the cobblestone lane to see them off. Wearing a helmet and breastplate, Taran rode at the head of the party with Greum by his side. Valeria, Pia and Manas rode behind him, with Fionn and Seumas bringing up the rear. This time, each rider commanded their own horse, with a bed roll, a waterskin and a parcel of food tied to each saddle.
Of course Stag trotted alongside them, his eyes wide and his tail wagging, excited at the prospect of a new adventure. Taran glanced over his shoulder. He’d never seen Manas as proud or excited. Mayhap Valeria was right, a trip outside Dunpelder would do the lad some good.
Taran stopped when the procession reached Drust, who stood alongside Leda. Bending down, he shook his cousin’s hand. “I leave the care of the stronghold in yer hands. I expect to see the ramparts rebuilt upon me return.”
“Aye, sire, we’ll have it done.”
“We look forward to yer homecoming, m’lord,” Leda said with a smile, handing him a blue kerchief.
Taran leaned forward and grasped it, holding the cloth to his nose and inhaling. His gaze strayed back to Valeria and met with her frown.
The newly constructed gates creaked against their immense weight on cast-iron hinges, giving way to the open lea. Taran tapped his heels against Blackie’s sides, requesting an easy trot.
Greum hummed beside him. Taran chuckled at his friend’s character. Greum chose to look at the world optimistically, always smiling, humming a chipper tune. The man could seek out the good in every situation.
“Are ye really going to leave her with the holy man?” Greum asked.
Taran swallowed. “I’m not even sure if we’ll find him. Reports are the Picts and Gales have driven the Romans into southern Britannia. Och, Elusius could be back in Rome for all I know.”
“But what will ye do if ye find him?”
Taran shifted in his saddle and ground his teeth. He would’ve preferred a discussion on the weather.
Greum persisted. “If ye cannot express yer deepest thoughts to me, ye’ll be holding it inside and ye’ll be an obnoxious bear to travel with.”
“I know not.” Taran’s voice sounded clipped. He glanced at Greum and furrowed his brow. “I cannot marry Leda while Valeria lives.”
“So ye’re taking her to an altar and sacrifice the lass?”
“Greum—ye have a way of making me laugh.” Taran shook his head. “It will be her decision once she sees the holy man.”
“What if she goes?”
“I’ll throw meself into the Firth of Forth and let the sea slam me body against the stony cliffs.”
“Aye, now there’s a plan if I ever heard one.”
Taran spurred Blackie to a canter and his tiny band followed until the shadow of Dunpelder disappeared behind the forest’s cloak. He called over his shoulder. “Should be an easy ride in five days. That will give the horses plenty of time to rest.”
“Aye. It should keep the beasties from coming up lame as well,” Fionn agreed, his ankle now completely healed.
***
Once they were beyond the view of the stronghold, the formality of their procession relaxed and Valeria spurred her mare beside Taran. She hadn’t spoken to him in the week that passed since they shared the blessed moment in the lea. There had been plenty to do at the castle and she and Pia tended to the wounded with little rest whilst Taran met with a constant barrage of subjects who queued in the great hall to bemoan their lot in life.
There were a few times when Valeria needed a release from the trudging work and she found solace upon a mare with the breeze in her face. To her dismay, she did not have another chance encounter with the man who filled her dreams, whose scent she remembered with each breath. The man she could never have.
Valeria’s palms moistened when she pulled alongside him. He sat tall in his armor, his face shielded by an iron nose guard. She desperately wanted to think of something witty to say. The perspiration on her hands made the leather reins slip. She wiped them on her gown and settled for the standard discussion about the weather. “You couldn’t have chosen a finer day to set out on our journey, my lord.”
“Aye. ’Tis at that, though in this land, the weather can turn before ye have a chance to blink.” His head creaked her way and she wondered what it felt like to ride for days under heavy armor.
“Are you uncomfortable in your helmet and breastplate?”
“A bit.”
“Do you think it is necessary, given the Picts have taken the wall?”
“Definitely, yes. One never knows what evil lurks. We’re probably safe within the boundaries of Gododdin, but I cannot trust anything beyond our borders.”
“Aside from the Attacotti and the Romans, do the Picts have any other enemies?”
“Certainly. The bleating Gales are coming in droves from Éire, the Saxons have raided Dunpelder. I’ve had reports of skirmishes with the Picts to the north. If an ill-breeding bastard sees something of yours he wants, he organizes a raid and fights ye for it.” Taran gave her a scowl. “Dunpelder has grown wealthy over the centuries, and the stronger we grow the tastier we look to those less fortunate.”
“’Tis awful. Tribes should want to join the Votadini, not fight you.”
“Aye. But everyone wants to be a king and acquire more land. The Romans are the same.”
Valeria shook her head. “Before I arrived I never would have agreed, but now I’ve seen things from your side, I understand the folly of Rome’s conquering ways.”
“Every man desires freedom.”
“Is that what your subjects have, freedom?”
“’Tis one of the pillars of the Pict Creed, honor, loyalty, duty and freedom. Picts are free to come and go, work for a living, raise their families.”
“But they fight for you.”
“I’ve never asked a man to go into battle against his will. What use would that be? He’d be more likely to bury his dirk in me back than to watch it.”
Valeria chuckled. “You have a good point.” She puzzled about the Gales though. “I would think the Picts would be better allied with the Gales, given the royal female line. You have Éire blood just as they do.”
Taran reached under his helmet and scratched his head. “If I had to pick an ally, it would be the Gales—as long as they kept their thieving hands off me land.”
“I agree. If people would be respectful of each other’s property, we would probably avoid all wars.” Valeria glanced down at Stag. The dog kept up the pace with his perpetual grin fixed in place, his tongue lolled to one side. “Hey, Staggie boy, you have Taran’s back, have you not?”
The dog yipped at the sound of his name.
Valeria could have sworn he winked.
After near three months, it was exhilarating to be traveling again. But the trepidation of what could lay ahead needled at the back of her mind. She continued to push her miserable thoughts away. She wanted to enjoy the time that remained with Taran. What would she do when they found Elusius? She could join a nunnery, live a life of solitude, holding on to memories of what it felt like to be in Taran’s arms, to feel his lips caress hers. Her hand pressed on her stomach to calm the giddy fluttering within.
“Are ye feeling ill?”
“Lovesick, perhaps,” she whispered under her breath.
“Pardon?” Taran leaned toward her.
“I feel wonderful.” She desperately wanted to discuss her feelings. If only she could ask him to run away with her, or merely to hold her in his arms and kiss her one more time, but it would not be proper. Their conversation went everywhere, except to the topic that seized her heart. She must be content to ride beside Taran and savor every moment in his presence.
She glanced back at Pia who chatted with Seumas. The man appeared middle aged and conversed quite animatedly.
“Is Seumas married?”
“He was. His wife passed away near three year’ ago.”
“Hmm.”
Taran regarded them over his shoulder. “Seems they’re getting along nicely.”
“Yes,” Valeria agreed. She bit the inside of her cheek. What must life be like for her nursemaid? She’d never really thought about it before. I’ve been so completely sheltered and spoiled. Pia deserved love like any other human being. Alas, she’d realized another fault with her beloved Roman ways. Slaves had no rights. They were not even entitled to live with their families. If a slave woman bore a babe, she would care for the child until he or she was able to work, and then the youth would be sold. A slave woman considered herself lucky if her owner chose to keep the child in his employ.
Who are the true barbarians?
Deep in thought, Valeria nearly jumped out of her saddle when a herd of deer bounded into the path only twenty feet ahead of them. Her mare reared. Holding on, she thrust her heels down to maintain her seat. Her heart hammered while she yanked on her left reign and pulled the mare’s head around into a circle to regain control.
Fionn charged ahead. Shoving the reins in his teeth, he armed his slingshot. He stood in his stirrups and whipped it over his head. With a flick of his wrist, the deadly projectile shot through the air. The stone hit its mark right in the back of a young buck’s head. The deer careened across the ground, dirt and debris flying in his wake. With a growl, Stag bolted forward and stood over the kill, teeth bared.
Taran laughed. “Aye, Staggie, boy, ye’re a viscous killer ye are. No one in all of Gododdin would dare steal our quarry with ye guarding it.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Stag’s ire,” Pia said. “I know he’s a pussycat, but his snarl would make anyone quake.”
Fionn jumped down and checked to ensure the deer was dead, then quickly worked to remove its innards. He grinned at Valeria with blood splattered across his face. “We’ll be eating like kings tonight, m’lady.”
She gave him an approving nod. “Well done, Fionn. You are quite skilled with your strap of leather.”
A red blush lit up his cheeks. “Ta, m’lady.”
Valeria tried not to smile at his reaction. She hadn’t expected him to be embarrassed. “Would you be willing to show Manas how to throw the slingshot? It appears to be an effective weapon.”
“Aye, but it takes a skilled hand,” Greum agreed.
Valeria looked over at the wide-eyed boy. “What do you say, Manas?”
“Looks like fun, m’lady.”
With the season, the sun stayed out later. They made camp well before sunset. Stretching from a day cramped in their saddles, the men removed their armor. Fionn and Pia prepared the meat while Greum fashioned a makeshift spit for roasting.
Valeria assigned Manas to the gathering of firewood and turned to Taran. “Would you like to help me search for mushrooms?”
The lopsided grin spreading across his face made her weak at the knees. “’Tis a fine idea.”
Valeria tied the four ends of a kerchief together to use as a basket and they set out into the woods. She stooped and lifted a fern, finding a clump of delicacies. “Do you know the difference between the good ones and the bad?”
“Aye. There’s not a Pict in Gododdin who doesn’t know his mushrooms.”
“That is good. With such an ample supply I’d think they are an important part of your diet.”
“Ye saw it yerself at Dunpelder. Not many meals are served without them.”
Valeria hummed as she worked. She relished Taran’s proximity, out from under the scrutiny of Pia and the others. Too soon, her kerchief filled. She stood erect and turned toward Taran—at least she thought he was behind her, but he’d vanished. Valeria turned in a circle. Her skin prickled. Was she alone, possibly lost? “Taran?”
A rustling approached. Squeezing her mushrooms against her body, she faced the sound. “Stag. Where is your man?”
Another rustle came from her right. Stag wagged his tail. “I’m here, lass.” Taran held out a bouquet of yellow ragwort and violet foxglove. “Ye told me ye like flowers.”
With a sigh, Valeria’s angst melted. He’d been gathering flowers—for her? She smiled and accepted his gift. “They’re lovely. Thank you.”
He stood in place without saying a word. His gaze focused on her—it wasn’t a friendly guise, but one that expressed the same desire burning deep within her heart.
Taran stepped forward.
Before she could gasp, the mushrooms dropped to the ground. Taran gathered her in his arms.
She lifted her chin and opened her mouth to speak, but his mouth covered hers. Her deep-seated longing ignited and spread fire between her hips. He crushed her breasts against his chest and thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth. Trembling with passion, Valeria languished in his smoldering kiss. If only it would never end. Her heart raced as she melted into him. She rubbed the full length of his hardened body against her, and he strengthened his grasp. Valeria clung to him, desperate to return every ounce of passion he gave. So overwhelmed, she swooned and gasped for air.
Taran’s eyes flashed open, his arms eased. “I’m sorry. Me feelings are so strong. Did I crush ye?”
Valeria pulled him close, her breasts aching to feel his powerful body brush them again. “I’m all right now. I don’t want you to stop.”
His lashes shuttered his sparkling blue eyes. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. “I must remember to be gentle with ye. Ye’re as fragile as a newborn fawn, m’lady.”
“I wouldn’t say that. But you’re more powerful than Hercules himself.”
Taran sealed his mouth over hers and kissed her, this time, slowly, deliberately, seductively. Her body shivered and her hips moved by their own volition, rubbing his hardened manhood. “Is there not a flaccid spot on your entire body?”
A husky chuckle came from deep inside his chest. “I’m afraid no. But ye have nothing to fear, yer virtue’s safe with me.”
Valeria kissed him again, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of being completely on fire. Everything about him made her breathe faster—the feel of his powerful back beneath her fingertips, the woodsy scent of a potent man. She never wanted to forget the thrill of being in Taran’s arms.
Pulling away, she heaved a sigh, her eyes downcast. “This is unbelievably difficult, but I would not trade this time with you for anything.”
“I too will treasure each moment.” He kissed her forehead, then stooped to retrieve the mushrooms strewn across the forest floor. “We’d best go back.”
Chapter Eighteen
Valeria couldn’t sleep with the spicy scent of Taran’s masculine body resting beside her. The scene in the woods played out in her mind over and over, every outcome more sinful than the last. She glanced at Pi
a, whose familiar light snores announced her slumber. Seumas slept on Pia’s other side. Valeria wondered if there might be a fondness growing between the two.
She rolled to her side and rose up on her elbow to study Taran’s face in the moonlight. The tattoo on his cheek now seemed a natural part of him as it swirled under his square jaw.
She memorized the outline of his profile, his broad forehead giving way to an angular nose. In every way he was a ruggedly fierce warrior. Valeria’s inner yearnings churned. She liked his nose and the full lips beneath it. His hands were lightly freckled, as were his arms, sporting the same coppery hair that flowed in waves to his shoulders. If only this were another time and place, our love might flourish.
As if he could hear her thoughts he reached across and grasped her hand. She leaned in to see if his eyes might have opened, but he clearly slept. She lay back and closed her eyes. With her hand in his, sleep’s peaceful blanket rested upon her.
Rest was short lived, however. Thunder clapped and the skies opened to an unwelcome downpour.
Taran sprang up, shouting orders while he rushed to pack and mount Blackie. The peaceful camp erupted in a flurry of activity as shivering bodies gathered up their weapons and food.
Valeria tightened the girth on her mare’s saddle and pulled her cloak tight around her neck. Little good it did, she was already soaked clear through.
“Manas,” she called over her shoulder. “Are you ready to ride?”
“Aye, m’lady.” Already saddled, he walked his mount beside her. Droplets of water streamed down his grinning face.
Valeria chuckled. “Well, I didn’t tell you the adventure was going to be a fairy tale. If God…or Atar decides ’tis time to water the forest, then so be it.” She glanced over her horse’s back. Taran caught her gaze, his eyes dark and intense. Time paused for a moment. Smiling, he offered a quick nod and mounted Blackie. The moment fled, but she couldn’t help but realize her mention of Atar had pleased him.
