Page 93 of Taming the Eagle

Snorts drifted down from the ramparts.

“What do you want with him?”

“It’s private.”

Coarse male laughter followed. “I’m sure it is.”

“Lupa,” someone else called out.Slut.

Fenella ground her teeth, her temper flaring.

“Enough!” Another voice cut through the jeering. “The next man who hurls an insult at this woman will get a beating!”

Silence fell upon the walls. Even the masons who’d been busy laying stones nearby halted, their gazes sweeping down to the north gate.

A dark-haired man stepped up next to the ramparts—and even at a distance, Fenella recognized him.

“Marcus!” she cried out. “You’re alive!”

“It’s Centurion Camillus to you, woman,” one of the soldiers muttered.

Marcus cut the legionary a warning glance. He then leaned forward, gripping the edge of the stone battlement, a smile stretching his face. “Fenella … this is a surprise.”

She gazed up at him. “Is Aquila here?”

“He is.”

Silence fell then. Fenella could feel the weight of many stares bearing down upon her, yet she didn’t look away from Marcus. She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve ridden a long way … please, can I see him?”

They didn’t make her wait long. However, to Fenella, it seemed like an eternity.

Marcus disappeared from the ramparts, no doubt going down to inform Justin he had a visitor. While he was gone, Fenella expected the insults from the guards still on the wall to resume—yet they didn’t.

Instead, the men merely watched her.

Anxiety churned in her gut, but she remained where she was, seated astride her pony. Unconcerned by the wait, the beast flicked its tail to dislodge flies.

Nerves stretched tight, Fenella jumped when the grind and thud of locks releasing echoed toward her.

Her breathing quickened as she watched the gate draw open.

Fenella gathered her reins, preparing to ride in. However, she stilled when her gaze alighted upon a tall figure who strode through the swirling dust.

Justin Aquila was walking out to meet her.

Fenella forgot to breathe. All the words she’d rehearsed on the way here fled. Her mind turned blank. All she could do was stare at the man she’d ridden days to find. She hadn’t expected to discover Ardoch abandoned, but that hadn’t stopped her.

Nothing would.

If she had to travel the length of Britannia, she’d track him down.

But now that he was actually before her, her courage momentarily fled and her wits scattered.

The Mother save her, he was a sight. His head was bare, and he hadn’t donned his lorica this morning, although he wore the leather harness and pleated leather skirt over his tunic. Her gaze traveled from his sandaled feet, up his muscular legs and arms—tanned from the warm spring—to his face.

His chiseled features were set in stern lines, his golden gaze narrowed.

Heart galloping, Fenella swung down from her pony and looped the reins over the pommel of the saddle. Her legs wobbled under her as fear momentarily threatened to overtake her. Yet she mastered it, her gaze never leaving Justin.