Page 68 of Taming the Eagle

But no sooner had she spoken, when shouts and the clang of clashing blades drifted into the courtyard from the atrium. The guards Justin had left to defend his residence were fighting for their lives.

Fenella froze, her belly twisting. Curse them all, it was too late. The battle had come to them.

Swallowing, she glanced back at Aedan. “Maybe we can talk our way out of this.”

He nodded before glancing at Kahina. “Best you hide at the back of the portico.”

Kahina stared back at them, anger smoldering in her dark eyes. She looked as if she wanted to curse them both. However, instead, she did as bid, stalking over toward the far end of the portico. Kahina had just hidden behind the trailing veil of honeysuckle near the bathhouse when the crash of doors splintering echoed through the atrium.

“Here we go,” Fenella whispered, taking off her shawl and tossing it away. Such a garment would only hinder her if she had to fight.

“You should speak first,” Aedan murmured, his gaze trained upon the archway. “They’ll notice my accent … and wonder what a Brigante warrior is doing here.”

It was a valid point, although Fenella didn’t have time to answer, for an instant later, four blue-painted warriors, all of them male, barreled onto the portico.

One look at them, and Fenella’s heart sank.

They had the crazed look of men in the thrall of battle fever. Blood-splattered, and dressed in nothing more than leather and plaid trews, the warriors came to an abrupt halt on the colonnaded walkway at the sight of Aedan and Fenella.

A heartbeat passed as their gazes raked over them—and Fenella chilled.

Of course, although their tribal markings were evident, and their look was clearly native, both she and Aedan were clad in sleeveless, knee-length slave tunics.

One of the warriors, a huge man with black hair and a blood-streaked face, took a step forward, his green eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”

Fenella moved toward him, careful to keep her boning knife low and relaxed at her side. “I’m of the Wolf,” she replied, aware that the man was now staring at the tattoo upon her right arm. “This is my man.”

One of the warriors behind the leader spat on the ground. “And what are you doing in here? We just smashed our way through the only entrance.”

Fenella stared back at him, her mind suddenly going blank. She hadn’t had the time to think any of this through.

“We got in through a tunnel under the floor,” Aedan replied.

The raven-haired warrior scowled. “You’re not one of the Cruthini.”

Aedan raised his chin, his own gaze narrowing. “No, I’m a Brigante.”

“We’re wasting time here,” another of the warriors growled. “Where are the servants?” The gleam in the man’s eyes needed no explanation. He was hoping for a prize, a woman to rape.

“They’re all gone,” Fenella replied, surprised at just how steady her voice was. “We’ve already checked.”

All four warriors scowled at this news, their faces hardening.

“You’re dressed like one of them,” the black-haired warrior noted. “Why is that?”

“We’ve been hiding in the village outside the walls,” Fenella answered. “It’s easier to blend in this way.”

“She’s lying,” the one who’d spat earlier, growled. “I can smell it on her.”

“Aye.” The big warrior eyed her, hunger glinting in his mossy eyes. “She’s mine, lads.”

He then lunged.

Fenella danced out of his way, swiping low with her boning knife. The blade scored a deep cut across his arm, and the warrior snarled a curse.

Meanwhile, the other three closed in on Aedan.

The Brigante held his ground, his gaze narrowed. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Aedan murmured. “I’ve no wish to kill you.”