Page 62 of Taming the Eagle
She couldn’t stop thinking about the raven she’d seen that afternoon—or that the full moon was fast approaching.
One for sorrow.
The bird was also a reminder that she didn’t belong among these people. Whatever this was between her and Aquila, it couldn’t last.
“You seem preoccupied,” she observed after a pause.
He shrugged, raising his calix to his lips and draining it. “You will have noticed the change within the fort. Now the weather is warming, we must be vigilant.”
Fenella tensed, her pulse quickening. “I hear your men have spied Cruthini warriors on the move,” she said, forcing her tone to remain light. “Do you think Toutorix is behind it?”
Aquila held her gaze, his jaw tightening. “Most likely. You remember the last words he shouted to me at Lake Taus … he won’t rest till he’s had his revenge.” He paused then. “And perhaps he wants his wife back.”
Fenella snorted. “Believe me, he won’t.”
Aquila frowned. “How can you be sure? I wouldn’t let another man claim you.”
Heat prickled across Fenella’s chest. “You and Toutorix are different breeds of men,” she murmured.
His brow smoothed, warmth igniting in his eyes. “How so?”
Fenella’s spine straightened, her lips pursing. “Justinian Aquila … I do believe you are trawling for a compliment.”
He grinned, the last of his shadowed mood lifting. “What if I am?”
Shifting uncomfortably on her stool, Fenella was aware she’d started to sweat. She preferred his playful mood to brooding—and yet she didn’t like the turn their conversation had taken.
“Is it that hard to think of one redeeming feature I possess?” he asked, his tone teasing now.
Fenella snorted. “Gods, the arrogance of you.”
His gaze locked with hers. “Well?”
Drawing a slow breath, she considered the character of the man seated opposite. In the beginning, she’d viewed him as her captor, nothing more. She’d deliberately refused to see anything likable about him. But now, as she cast her mind back, she recalled the things he’d said and done.
He’d shown her many kindnesses over the past moons. He might have thrown her in the pit, yet he’d brought her a blanket so she wouldn’t die of cold. When she’d complained of feeling trapped within the praetorium, he’d taken her up onto the walls. And despite that she’d railed at him over his treatment of Eogan, he’d still set her brother free.
“You are a man of your word,” she murmured after a long pause. “A rare quality indeed.”
His golden gaze darkened to amber. “You trust me then?”
Fenella cleared her throat, her discomfort intensifying. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
A charged silence settled between them, stretching out, before Aquila broke it. “Come here, carissima.” His voice was low, gentle, yet a command all the same.
Carissima—my darling.
Fenella’s palms grew damp. The Mother, he was using endearments with her now.
And the gods curse her for eternity, she obeyed, rising from her stool and going to him.
He pulled her astride him, settling her down upon his lap. And then his hand lifted, caressing her cheek as their gazes fused once more. “I wish you would trust me,” he murmured.
Fenella’s breathing caught in her chest before an ache rose under her breastbone. Suddenly, she wished she did. But this connection between them was as fragile as a cobweb. Soon, she would be gone from his life. “I don’t give my trust easily,” she whispered back.
His gaze softened, turning as warm as molten honey. “Then I will have to work harder to earn it.”
Fenella couldn’t help it; she leaned down, her lips slanting over his for a kiss. They’d only lain together the night before, yet she was already missing his taste. She took her fill now, and Aquila responded in kind, his hands sliding down her back to cup her backside. He pulled her against him as the kiss deepened, turning wet and wild. His arousal, hard and hot, pressed against her core.