Page 12 of Taming the Eagle

Drawing in a deep breath, Fenella took a step toward Toutorix. This had to be a mistake. Even he couldn’t be so cruel.

But before she had the chance to question her husband, the general spoke. “You’re offering me your wife?” There was incredulity in his voice—and something else.

Fenella swiveled, her attention moving to the Eagle.

He was watching Toutorix. The general now wore an intense, focused expression that made Fenella’s heart kick like a wild pony against her breastbone.

The Mother save her, Aquila was actually considering her husband’s offer.

“Toutorix!” Her voice came out strangled. “Don’t do this!”

The Wolf’s gaze shifted to her. He wore a pained expression now. “I’m sorry, Fenella, but Aquila leaves me with no choice.”

“But we stood together on the shores of the loch and made oaths to the gods,” she gasped. “Will you risk their wrath?”

“The gods will understand, for my people need me. Rest assured, your sacrifice will never be forgotten.”

She stared at him, her pulse pounding in her ears now. “But I’m yourwife! What about loyalty?”

“He clearly has none,” the general cut in.

Fenella’s gaze flew to the Eagle then. His eyes glinted. Did this scene amuse him?

Her gut clenched, anger quickening in her veins.

This washisfault. Her husband was as sharp as a whetted blade. He’d marked Aquila’s interest in her and was seeking to exploit it.

Fenella glanced back at Toutorix. Aye, there was no mistaking the vindictive light in his eye. She’d been a disappointing wife, and after three years, still hadn’t provided him with a son. Her womb had quickened twice, but she’d lost both babes halfway through her pregnancies.

She and Toutorix had fought like dogs ever since she’d come to live at Loch Tatha. But she’d never thought him capable of such a betrayal.

Fenella took a slow step toward the hearth. “I’ll not go with you, Roman,” she growled. “I’ll take a knife to my own throat first.”

Aquila raised an eyebrow. “I’d prefer you didn’t.” He then gestured to a man behind him. “Centurion … take the woman outside so Toutorix and I can talk.”

Ice washed over Fenella.

I’m not going anywhere.

And with that, she leaped for the iron poker by the fire. Her fingers clenched around it, and then she swung for Aquila. But the man was fast. He ducked before stepping under her guard. An instant later, his hard grip fastened around her wrist, stilling her.

Ripping the poker from her hands, he flung it into the fire, sending an explosion of sparks belching into the air.

“Enough of that,” the general muttered. He then shoved her at the waiting centurion. “Take her out now … and keep a close eye on her,” he ordered.

Tightness constricted Fenella’s throat and lungs, threatening to choke her. She couldn’t believe this was happening—and that her husband was permitting it.

But Toutorix remained traitorously silent.

Desperate now, Fenella writhed in the centurion’s grip, gasping curses. But the man was a boulder. He merely twisted her arms behind her and marched her out of the roundhouse.

The door closed, muffling the sounds of the woman’s rage.

Justin listened to her a moment, aware that Toutorix was watching him attentively, awaiting his answer. The chieftain’s expression had veiled now, the glow of the fire pit reflecting off his bald head and the golden torc he wore about his neck.

Fenella.

He’d wondered at the name of the lone huntress he and his patrol had stumbled upon in that pinewood near Ardoch. He’d never forgotten her.