Page 3 of Taming the Eagle

Fenella’s heart bucked against her ribs.

The Hag curse her, she should have heard their approach.

Despite the cooling wind, sweat beaded upon her skin. All the same, she stared down the approaching soldiers, even as her palms itched to unsling her bow from across her back and notch an arrow.

Such an aggressive act could only send things in one direction though. Instinct told her to remain as she was, her hands hanging loosely at her sides, ready for action.

The horses slowed as they approached, while Fenella found her gaze drawn to the leader.

He was someone important—she could tell by the proud charcoal-colored fan upon his helmet. Cheek and nose guards shielded parts of his face, yet she marked a strong jaw, dark-tanned skin, and a pair of golden-brown eyes that reminded her of a goshawk. The man sat tall and proud in the saddle. The iron breastplate and shoulder guards—black and gold like his crested helmet—he wore made his chest and shoulders seem impossibly broad, as did his deep-purple cloak.

And despite her brave stance, fear curled up in Fenella’s belly. He was the biggest man she’d ever seen, and his penetrating golden eyes made a chill slither down her spine.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, and then the soldier shocked Fenella by greeting her in her own tongue, “You stray close to Ardoch, woman.” His voice was a low, deep rumble. “What is your business?”

Fenella wet her lips. She’d never thought to hear one of these Roman bastards utter a word of the Cruthini language, although some of them had lived here long enough to learn it, she supposed. Clearing her throat, she jerked her chin in the direction of the bow that hung over her shoulder. “Hunting … there are plenty of deer in these woods.”

His gaze narrowed. “The deer scare easily this close to the fort. This is no place for a woman.”

Fenella’s spine stiffened. Ardoch was a male domain. It was reputed that few women lived there.

“I know how to look after myself,” she replied coldly.

“Do you?” His voice lowered. “And what would you do, if we tried to take you right now?” The man’s mouth curved then, although there was no humor in the expression. “Would you put an arrow through each of our hearts?”

Fenella tensed, outrage shivering through her.Arrogant goat.He knew he had the upper hand and was playing with her.

One of the soldiers behind the man said something in their language then—a strange, clanging tongue, so different to her own. And although Fenella couldn’t understand what was said, the harsh tone made her skin prickle.

Danger—her instincts screamed. And yet she didn’t move. She wouldn’t flee from these soldiers. She wouldn’t back down.

The leader of the company replied, his voice hardening, and when his attention shifted back to Fenella, his golden gaze was narrowed. “I suggest you hunt elsewhere in future.” There was no missing the warning edge to his voice. “Only a fool would travel unescorted so close to Ardoch.”

Fenella sucked in a sharp breath.A fool?

This land, Cruithentúath, belonged to her people, not the likes of him and his foul sort. Aye, these men of the Caesars had lived amongst them for nearly sixty years now, according to her father—bringing their orderly ways and stamping their authority upon the Cruthini—but that was merely a blink of an eye in the sands of time.

Indeed, she longed to fire one of her arrows straight into his heart.

“Go now,” the soldier ordered then, “before my merciful mood passes.”

An insult clawed its way up her throat, fighting to be unleashed—yet good sense checked her.

This was her first day of freedom, and she wouldn’t waste it. Lorcan awaited her, and if she defied this man and his rabble, she risked never seeing her lover again.

Swallowing her ire, she clenched her jaw and took a wary step back, and then another. She hadn’t expected him to just let her go, but his command was clear, and she’d take her opportunity while she could. Her attention flicked then to the faces of the men who’d drawn up their horses behind him.

Some of them were looking at her with hungry expressions, their gazes predatory.

Fear spiked through Fenella, turning her bowels to water. She knew then that if their leader hadn’t kept them in check, these men would have tried to rape her.

They’ll have to get their hands on me first.

Fenella turned and darted away, running for the trees. Her speed increased with each stride until she was sprinting. A smile of triumph stretched across her face as she flew through the pines, as fleet as a hind.

Now, only the wind could catch her.

II. PROMISED TO THE WOLF