Page 7 of Ensnaring the Dove

In amongst the cumbersome supply carts was a wooden carpentum. Taller than the plaustrums, with four wheels, an arched roof, and small windows, the traveling cart was made of oak and had elegant lines. It was the type of cart the wealthy traveled in.

Rough laughter drifted toward Aedan as he approached.

Two Romans, one of them big and heavily muscled, lay sprawled on the ground in front of the cart, their blood pooling into the dust. Meanwhile, four outlaws, Lucon and Sego among them, prowled around the carpentum like circling wolves.

Lucon then knelt and made a grab for something under the cart.

A woman’s outraged squeal followed, and a foot, clad in a leather slipper, kicked out, catching the warrior in the chin.

Cursing, Lucon reeled back. The blow had made him bite his tongue, for he spat out blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You shall pay for that, Caesar slut.”

“You’re too slow,” Sego sneered at his friend. “Catch her by the ankle, and drag her out here.”

“You do it,” Lucon replied sourly. “I don’t want to lose my front teeth.”

“Coward,” Sego muttered, getting down on all fours. “I’ll show you how it’s done.” He moved under the cart, while the two remaining warriors encouraged him with coarse comments.

Sego was much wirier than Lucon, and quicker too. The woman screamed when he grabbed hold of her ankle, the panicked sound carrying down the line while he dragged her out from under the carpentum.

Aedan’s gait slowed as he approached.

None of the warriors had seen him. They were enjoying the view of the woman’s naked, shapely legs now, for the long tunic and stola she wore had both ridden up as she struggled. Her skin was pale, untouched by the sun.

“We’ve got a pretty one here,” the youngest of the outlaws noted, his voice tight with lust. “Can I have her first?”

Indeed, even from a few yards distant, Aedan could see the unfortunate woman was lovely. She was slender and long-limbed, with dark-flaxen hair—an unusual shade for one of the Romans.

“Wait your turn,” Sego growled. “I snared the bitch … and I’m humping her before any of you.”

Pinning the struggling woman to the ground with one hand, he started to undo the laces of his bracae with the other.

“Caenum!” the woman shrieked as she clawed at his arm. “Vah apage te a me!”

The warriors merely laughed at her insults. None of them understood her, yet Aedan did. His fluency in Latin was another skill that Maccus had found useful over the last year.

Filth.Get away from me!

“Don’t you know who I am?” the woman’s voice cracked. “You’re attacking the daughter of Commander Severus Juventus. He will have your guts for laying a finger on me!”

Aedan’s breathing caught, and he drew to a halt.

Severus Juventus.

The Reaper take her, the foolish woman shouldn’t be shouting that name here.

Luckily for her, the other outlaws hadn’t picked it out amongst the string of panicked words. Even so, they knew the name of the man who commanded Onnum fort—and if she continued to shriek it, they’d soon realize what a prize they’d stumbled upon.

A prize just as great, if not greater, than a pay wagon.

Catching Severus Juventus’s daughter would please Maccus greatly. The outlaw leader despised all Romans, yet he nursed a special hatred for the Second Legion.

Gods only knew what he’d do to her.

Gaze remaining upon the still struggling woman, Aedan slowly exhaled.

Curse it.