Page 11 of Ensnaring the Dove
He’d come to her rescue back there, and had sworn he meant her no harm, but what if his kindness was a ruse? He’d been one of the mob that had attacked the convoy. He was anoutlaw.
Their pursuers were closing in, and Aedan was eager to put some distance between them. But what would happen when they were safe?
Colombia clasped her fingers together on her lap as trembling assailed her again.
Her gaze flicked to the bow and quiver he carried on his back, the sword sheathed at his hip, and the wickedly sharp, long-bladed dagger strapped to one thigh.
If he meant her harm, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself against him.
Wrapping her arms about herself, Colombia tried to calm her shaking—but memories of the attack rushed in then.
Her maid’s frozen face. The arrow embedded in Flavia’s eye. The blood-chilling howls of the warriors encircling her as she crouched under the carpentum. The iron grip of the man who’d grabbed her by the ankle and yanked her out from under the wagon.
She’d fought him yet had known she was done for—until Aedan intervened.
“Have we outrun them?” she asked finally.
The warrior shook his head. “Not yet … that’s why I’m building us a raft. They’ll be here shortly. We can’t relax until we put some real distance between us.”
Pulse quickening, Colombia glanced over her shoulder at the shadowy woodland behind them. A moment later, she heard the faint rumble of men’s voices echoing up the hillside. They were still distant, but the sound frightened her, nonetheless.
Jumping to her feet, she edged toward the river. “You’re doing an impressive job of weaving those branches together,” she muttered, “but can you work faster?”
“No,” he grunted, shooting her an irritated look. “Don’t worry though … it’ll be ready soon.”
He turned back to his work, and Colombia watched him jam the lengths of wood together to form a mat. Moments later, she asked, “Why did you save me?”
“I agreed to attack Roman supply lines … to take their riches for our people,” he said gruffly, not looking up from his weaving. “But I’m not a defiler of women.”
“I don’t understand,” she replied, cursing the wobble in her voice. “Why would you attack us?”
Aedan arched an eyebrow. “We’re Brigante … and you’re Roman. Isn’t that enough?”
She frowned, now genuinely confused. “But we brought you civilization … aren’t you grateful?”
Aedan shot her a startled look before he started to laugh.
Chagrined, Colombia drew herself up. “What’s so funny?”
Aedan shook his head, turning back to his work. “Gods, I thought you were serious for a moment there.”
Colombia’s frown deepened as heat ignited in the pit of her belly. “I am,” she ground out.
Aedan didn’t look her way, for he was focused on his task. However, his expression sobered, his own gaze narrowing with incredulity. “You believe we’regratefulto you?”
Heat rose to Colombia’s chest. “Yes … my father told me so. He said the Britons welcomed our ways, our knowledge and culture.”
“Ah yes, your father. Severus Juventus.”
Colombia stiffened. She didn’t like the inflection in his voice. “You know him?”
“I knowofhim … as do most Brigante this close to the Wall. I wondered why you foolishly told those outlaws you were his daughter … but now I understand. You thought we were your allies.” He cast her another, quick, glance. “Fortunately for you, only I grasped your words … but your father lied to you. The Romans and the Britons aren’t friends. We’veneverbeen friends, and while the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, we won’t be.”
The warmth in Colombia’s chest spread up her throat to her cheeks. Humiliation roasted her, and she fell silent.
Surely, pater didn’t lie to me?
If he had, then Linus had also misled her. Not once in all the missives he’d sent her from the frontier had he mentioned strife between her people and the Britons.