Page 44 of Ensnaring the Dove
“The time for blending into the shadows is coming to an end,” the outlaw leader continued. “For years, we have raided our enemy … and we have earned ourselves a fearsome reputation.” He paused, motioning to the line of carts parked under the trees behind him. “This is our richest plunder yet … for we now have sacks of Roman coin at our disposal.” His mouth curved into a slow smile. “Summer is ending … but before Mid-Winter Fire arrives, we will strike the Wall. We shall burn one of their great forts to embers. The Hag will dance upon Roman corpses.”
A shocked silence fell. A heartbeat followed, and then Maccus’s men responded.
A great roar rippled over the glade and across the narrow burn that cut its way through the peaty ground to the north of their camp.
“This is a fine spot to grow roots,” Maccus continued, his skin prickling as the shadowy plans that had been gathering in his mind for a while now started to take real shape. “No longer shall we rove from place to place … instead, we shall call warriors to us.” Maccus’s attention rested upon Lucon then. “Instead of hunting Aedan … you’ll be traveling the north, telling our people that Maccus, son of Ferix, and leader of the ‘Scourge of the North’, calls them to his side.”
Lucon’s eyes burned bright in reply. He then silently nodded.
Still smiling, Maccus swept his gaze around the gathered warriors. He saw the savage pride upon their faces. This was what they’d been waiting for, what he’d been building toward, over the past years.
And this successful raid had provided an opportunity he wouldn’t squander.
“Which fort on the Wall shall we attack first, Maccus?” One of the warriors asked, a squat, bald man who was grinning widely.
Maccus met his eye and pretended to consider the question.
There was no doubt in his mind which of the forts he’d strike. The Roman soldiers who’d attacked his wife, who’d raped her and left her to die, were from the Second Legion. They’d been under the command of Severus Valerian Juventus.
“Onnum.”
Colombia settled herself down on the bench inside the bathhouse and poured oil on her palm. The scent of rose filled her nostrils. With a sigh, she rubbed the oil over her naked skin before scraping off the grime of the past few days with a strigil, a curved metal implement.
Alone in the bathhouse, she relaxed into the ritual. Meanwhile, steam rose from the waiting bath just a few feet away.
A fort commander was fortunate indeed, for he had a private bathhouse attached to his praetorium. The others in this fort had to share the public bathhouses—of which there were two, one inside the compound for the soldiers, and one in the vicus beyond.
Yet Colombia got to bathe alone.
Moira, her father’s house slave—a red-headed Brigante woman—had offered to aid her, yet Colombia declined. As such,Moira had placed a soft, folded drying cloth next to the tiled pool and left Colombia to it.
The scrape of the strigil caused the tension to slowly ebb from her, and when Colombia finally cast the implement aside and rose to her feet, her belly no longer felt tied in knots.
Later, she’d be reunited with Linus again—but first, she had to make herself presentable. Before returning to his meeting she’d interrupted in the principia, her father had raked a critical gaze over his daughter. “Get yourself cleaned up, daughter,” he’d muttered. “You can’t greet Linus dressed like a Briton.”
The comment had been offhand, yet the superiority of it vexed her. No wonder Aedan resented men like Severus Juventus.
Lowering herself into the pool, Colombia sighed. The water was warm and silky, and she sank up to her chin in it.
Gods, how she’d missed her baths over the past days.
Leaning up against the tiled edge of the pool, she let her eyes flutter closed. Her thoughts should have shifted to her impending meeting with her betrothed, but it wasn’t his face that drifted into her mind.
It was Aedan’s.
Colombia’s eyes opened. The heat of the water, which soaked into her muscles like a balm, reminded her of the languor that had enveloped her after they’d lain together. She’d never felt so at peace.
Inhaling slowly, she allowed herself to think of Aedan for a few moments. That was a mistake, for longing, and worry, wreathed up.
Where will he go now?
It was best she didn’t know, and yet the ache that had pulsed in her chest when she’d said goodbye to him rose once more. Reaching up, Colombia rubbed her breastbone with her knuckles.
Jupiter, she missed him already.
“Foolish woman,” she muttered. “Let him go.”
With a sigh, she closed her eyes once more and slid under the water.