Page 16 of Taming the Eagle

Her pulse quickened, a cold sweat prickling her skin.

She’d put on a brave face since her capture, and had flung insults at her captor all the way from Loch Tatha—but on the inside, she was quaking.

She wasn’t an innocent. She knew what motivated men—and there had been no mistaking the heat in Aquila’s gaze when he raked it down her body earlier.

There was a reason Toutorix had been able to deceive the Eagle so easily.

He wanted her.

A few feet away, the two men finished their clipped discussion. They then departed the tent without a backward glance, leaving her alone.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Fenella let her eyes flutter shut. She then sank down onto the soft fur beneath her haunches.

How could Toutorix do this to me?

They hadn’t been happily wedded, but she couldn’t believe he’d traded her.

Her life for his.

Fenella swallowed hard as tears burned her eyelids.Da will slay him for this.

But would he? Bricius stood up to all men—except his chieftain. She’d seen her father’s eyes when he interacted with Toutorix.

He feared him.

No, her father wouldn’t take revenge on her behalf.

She was alone—as she’d always been.

Tears slid down Fenella’s cheeks, a sob rising inside her chest. She choked it back. The Eagle would no doubt return soon, and she didn’t want him to see her weep. Humiliation churned within her as it was; she wouldn’t make it even worse.

Her shredded pride was all she had left.

Eyes opening, she drew in deep gulps of air until the panic subsided. However, it wasn’t long before she started to shiver.

She was in shock, although the air inside the large tent had a chill to it. The brazier that sat a few feet from her wasn’t yet lit. A single lantern hung from the roof, the cresset of oil burning within casting a golden light over the interior of the tent. Sheepskins lay across the ground, and stuffed cushions and colorful blankets covered a nearby sleeping pallet.

Fenella’s throat closed as her gaze lingered on the pallet.

Would the Eagle release her shackles and drag her into his bed, or would he just take her here, against the pole?

At that moment, a tall, broad-shouldered figure ducked inside the space.

Aquila had removed his fancy helmet, carrying it under one arm. Without it, he seemed far less intimidating.

Fenella studied him, her mouth twisting.

Aye, she’d noted his looks—any woman would have—but that didn’t matter. A beautiful exterior often hid a rotten core. General Aquila’s chiseled bone structure, bronzed skin, and golden eyes made him exotic indeed. His black hair was cut close against his scalp, a harsh style that gave his attractiveness an edge.

A young, lanky soldier followed the general into the tent then. Judging from the man’s plainer attire, he was of a much lower rank than the general. The soldier glanced Fenella’s way, naked interest flaring in his gaze, before a terse word from the general made him hurriedly look away.

The attendant moved behind Aquila and removed his cloak and armor, hanging the items up on the iron stand behind them. The general was now clad in nothing more than a plum-colored tunic, belted at the waist, and heavy mailed sandals.

His task completed, the soldier nodded to Aquila, careful not to steal another look in Fenella’s direction, before leaving the tent.

Fenella’s heart started to thump against her ribs. She didn’t want to be alone with the Eagle.

She’d imagined without his armor the man would appear diminished. But he didn’t. The tunic merely showed off the lines of his powerful body even more clearly. Now that armor wasn’t covering his limbs, she spied a number of scars—some silvered with age, others pink. The marks of a warrior.