Page 14 of Taming the Eagle
Aquila spun around, his gaze sweeping back to the meeting roundhouse—and then to the walkways around it.
Fenella’s breathing caught.
Warriors—Toutorix, among them—were descending the ladders to a landing where two large rowboats awaited. The first of the craft was already pushing away from the landing.
Toutorix stepped onto the second boat. But instead of lowering himself down into it, he turned—his ice-blue gaze spearing the Eagle. Then, raising his hand, the chieftain flipped an obscene gesture. “There will never be any peace between us, Eagle,” he shouted, his voice carrying across the water. “I’ll not rest until I see your kind wiped from this land.” Even at this distance, Fenella could see his sneer. “Do what you want with my wife, I’ve been looking for an excuse to rid myself of the barren bitch anyway.”
And with that, Toutorix settled himself down into the boat and shouted to his warriors. A moment later, they dug their oars in, and the craft moved away from the landing.
The general roared an order, and men rushed past him, their mailed sandals thundering on the wooden walkway. However, they were too late. By the time the first of them reached the landing, Toutorix’s boat was moving out onto the loch, gaining speed as his warriors fell into a rhythm. The splash of their oars mocked those they’d left behind.
Aquila barked another command. Soldiers stepped smartly out of the ranks, raising their bows. Arrows peppered the water, clattering off the shields Toutorix’s men raised. Soon they were out of range.
The general spun back to his men, his shout splintering the air once more.
Soldiers plucked flaming pitch torches from where they burned in braces at the entrance to the crannog. They then advanced down the walkway, the creak of their heavy tread rippling through the still afternoon air, their plate armor catching the lowering sun.
Moments later, shouts and screams rang out. Villagers rushed up the walkways, while others jumped into the water and swam to shore.
Fenella’s breathing choked off when the thatched roofs of the dwellings nearest burst into flames. Toutorix was rowing to safety, but he’d abandoned his crannog to the enemy—as he had her.
“Please!” Fenella gasped, trying in vain to wrench herself free of the centurion’s hold. She hated to plead with Aquila, but she was desperate. She couldn’t bear to see the crannog-dwellers slaughtered. “These are innocent people … fishermen and farmers. Don’t punish them!”
Aquila cast her an irritated look. “My men won’t kill anyone,” he muttered. “Unless they try to stop them.” He moved away from her then, bellowing another set of orders.
A group of his men suddenly broke off from the orderly rows and began marching east, armor and weapons rattling in their haste.
Watching them go, Fenella realized they’d been sent after Toutorix.
Her mouth thinned. They wouldn’t catch him. Loch Tatha was long and narrow. By the time Aquila’s soldiers forded the river farther east, the Wolf and his men would have long reached the far shore.
Fenella’s gaze shifted back to the crannog. Indeed, the soldiers were intent on torching the roundhouses and huts, not slaughtering the villagers. Nonetheless, the folk of Loch Tatha tried to stop them. Men rushed forward to defend their homes. Angry shouts and curses, and the clang of iron, now rang through the air.
Nausea rolled over Fenella, bile stinging the back of her throat. General Aquila might not be planning to butcher the folk of Loch Tatha, but blood would be spilled here all the same.
She whipped around to face her captor once more. “You’re no better than Toutorix,” she choked. “Your word meansnothing.”
“If your people wish to throw themselves upon our swords then so be it,” the general replied, his voice hard. “I’ve shown the Wolves enough mercy.”
V. OVERSTEPPING
“TOUTORIX MADE AN ass out of you.”
Drawing his horse up in the shallow valley where they’d make camp for the night, Justin scowled down at the woman. Toutorix’s wife had also halted. He’d bound her wrists behind her and tied a rope around her waist, leading her behind him. Like his infantry, she’d traveled on foot.
But now her gaze bored into his.
Justin clenched his jaw. There were times he wished he hadn’t made the effort to learn the native tongue. This was one of them. All the way from the shore of Lake Taus, Fenella had insulted him. Toutorix hadn’t been wrong—she was fiery all right. Even defeated, she stood with a defiant tilt to her chin. The walk hadn’t cooled her temper, but had merely stoked it.
Inhaling deeply, to settle his own simmering anger, Justin deliberately raked his gaze over Fenella. He did so knowing it would enrage her, while at the same time giving in to the temptation to stare at the woman he now owned.
He took in her sleek body, encased in a sleeveless leather vest that revealed a deep cleavage, and her knee-length leather skirt with slits at the thighs for ease of movement. Like most Picti women, the chieftain’s wife dressed in clothing that showed a lot of skin and went barefoot. Thick, silky brown hair hung in a braid over one shoulder. A swirling design of blue woad—a wolf’s head—had been tattooed onto her right bicep.
“I hope I was worth it.” Her voice, brittle with rage now, intruded. Justin raised his gaze back to Fenella’s face to find her glaring at him. Her face was twisted in disgust. “One woman in exchange for your balls.”
“That’s enough,” Justin growled. “One more insult, and I’ll gag you.”
He didn’t need reminding of how easily Toutorix had deceived him back at Lake Taus. Even now, the pit of his gut burned at the memory.