Page 13 of Taming the Eagle

However, he hadn’t expected to see her here, at the Wolf’s side.

“Well?” Toutorix broke the silence between them. “Do you want her?”

Warmth kindled in the pit of Justin’s belly.I do.

When he’d stridden into this roundhouse, he was focused on one thing: slitting the Wolf’s throat. But from the moment he locked gazes with the chieftain’s wife, everything had shifted. It was hard to concentrate with her standing next to him—that was why he’d sent her outside.

“Perhaps,” he replied.

A few feet away, one of the injured Wolf warriors groaned. Toutorix ignored him. “She’s fiery,” the chieftain murmured. “But you like a woman with a spine, don’t you?”

Justin snorted. It was a good guess, although the Wolf wouldn’t know where his tastes lay.

“I can assure you, she’s a fine field to plow,” Toutorix continued, his mouth curving. “Hot and tight enough between her thighs to make a man lose his wits.”

Frowning, Justin sheathed his pugio and folded his arms across his chest. “If you like her so much, why are you giving her up?”

Toutorix’s expression sobered, and he dropped his gaze. “I don’t wish to,” he replied, his voice lowering. “But it’s necessary.”

Justin fought a lip curl.To save your own neck.The man was a worm.

Of course, he could have killed Toutorix and taken Fenella anyway—yet the chieftain’s warning about the wrath this would incur had checked him.

Curse him, the Wolf was right.

The loss of the Ninth had stirred things up, had made the Picti bolder than before. Justin didn’t have the men to withstand the might of the united northern tribes.

And Toutorix knew it.

Standing at the end of the walkway, Fenella watched General Aquila emerge from the roundhouse.

Fenella drew herself up, fists clenching at her sides.

The crisp late afternoon air caught in her lungs. Usually, she liked the scent of wood smoke this time of year, blended with the rich smell of the loch—water, mud, and reeds—but now it choked her.

Behind her, the general’s army, a glittering red and silver wall, fanned out on the shore of the loch. There were so many of them—far too great a number for her husband’s warriors to best.

Toutorix had indeed poked the hornet’s nest when he’d razed Ardunie.

Aquila strode toward her along the walkway, four of his men following at his heel. They passed the entrances to a number of smaller walkways, all leading to the dwellings of those who resided upon the water. Fenella’s kin lived in a tiny home on the western edge of the crannog, but despite that the fight in the meeting roundhouse had drawn a crowd, she couldn’t see any of her family amongst those gathered.

Where are they?

Surely, neither her father nor her brother would stand by and let the Romans carry her off? Not like Toutorix had.

Too late, she recalled that the pair of them had joined a stag-hunting party three days earlier—one that would take them deep into the Cairngorms to the north—and had not yet returned. Bricius and Eogan wouldn’t come to her aid.

Fenella’s heart started to pound as the general drew near. “Gods, please tell me you didn’t agree to this?” Her voice was high, panicked, yet she didn’t care. “Tell me you didn’t believe his lies?”

The Eagle halted before her. “It’s done.”

Fenella’s mouth twisted. “Idiot,” she snarled. “He’s played you like a harp, hasn’t he? You make a bargain with Toutorix the Wolf at your own peril. A man who treats his wife like a goat to barter at market has no honor.”

The general snorted. “In that case, I’ve done you a favor.”

“No, you haven’t,” Fenella shouted, fury sweeping over her in a crimson haze. “Clodhead, don’t you realize he—”

“General!” The centurion still holding Fenella cut her off. “Look!”