Read Online Celtic Maid (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 2) by Amy Jarecki - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amy Jarecki
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she wasn’t so sure. Aye, she’d wanted to serve her king, but never had she thought it would be so difficult. If only Titus were fat and ugly and brutish —and his kiss didn’t make her head swoon like she was floating in the clouds with the fairies.
Elspeth closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, but her mind raced. Giving an archery demonstration for the count? What questions would that bring? When would the Romans realize she was a Pict? Would they care? Her new gown all but revealed the Pictish tattoos on her thighs. This new legion from Rome seemed to put all the tribes in one class, considering the lot barbarians. But Queen Valeria had mentioned that both her father and the bishop who had traveled with her had been able to recognize Pict men by their tattoos. Worse, they had considered her kin particularly untamable. Did Titus know about their distinguishable blue woad too? Would it make a difference to him?
She rolled to her side and squeezed her eyes closed. Titus’s square jaw and chiseled features invaded her mind. She could clearly see his tightly cropped chestnut hair, receding a bit at the temple, and his tanned face, with fiercely etched lines that could express his every desire. She could feel his full lips framed by the day’s dark stubble bending toward hers, and even now, her lips parted as they had a few moments ago. His deliciously spicy scent still consumed her nostrils. His tongue had flicked out and touched hers, swirled around hers. She had given in as his arms clamped around her, the heat of his body sizzling against hers.
Elspeth again groaned. It was a wonder her mind had been lucid enough to demand he stop. One more second in his embrace and she would have been lost to Titus forever.
Her hand brushed her lips once more. She must never allow him in such close proximity again.
****
Early afternoon the following week, Roman trumpets announced the arrival of Count Theodosius and the century with which he traveled. Titus jumped up from his chair and tugged the leather doublet beneath his chainmail. He reached for his helmet as Bacchus entered.
“Theodosius approaches the gates, sir.”
Titus cringed. “Thus begins our charade. Planning games so soon after we took the wall from the barbarians is like tempting fate.”
“True, but skirmishes have been few.”
“Yes, though the enemies would have needed time to lick their wounds. They’ll be back for vengeance, and we must be ready and equipped to defend our position.” He shook his head. “I’ve spent the past week finding gladiators and constructing a makeshift arena for the count’s fool-born games, when I should have been….”
“It will be a nice diversion for the men and will be over soon enough. Afterward, I shall ensure they repay the favor with renewed reconstruction efforts.”
Titus patted Bacchus on the shoulder. “I knew there was a reason why I appointed you my optio .”
They strode out to the portico of the principia and watched the official parade through the gates. Theodosius stood in a chariot embellished with a bronze relief depicting a legion in battle. He wore a broad purple sash across his shoulder indicating his royal stature, and it fluttered behind him in the breeze. Clearly, Theodosius’s ambitions were many, since he had discarded a general’s uniform to reflect his elevated status of count, granted him by Emperor Valentinian after his successful campaign in Hispania and appointment to quash the Barbaric Conspiracy in Britannia.
Dulcitius stood beside Theodosius and expertly handled a pair of pristine white stallions. His skin tanned, the centurion reminded Titus of the male courtesans that flexed their muscles outside the House of Fornicum in Rome.
Titus clenched his teeth. Dulcitius’s vanity was foolish, but Theodosius’s elitist displays of Romanism disappointed Titus the most. Not that he wasn’t a faithful servant of the empire. On the contrary. But he believed, as an officer of
Elspeth closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, but her mind raced. Giving an archery demonstration for the count? What questions would that bring? When would the Romans realize she was a Pict? Would they care? Her new gown all but revealed the Pictish tattoos on her thighs. This new legion from Rome seemed to put all the tribes in one class, considering the lot barbarians. But Queen Valeria had mentioned that both her father and the bishop who had traveled with her had been able to recognize Pict men by their tattoos. Worse, they had considered her kin particularly untamable. Did Titus know about their distinguishable blue woad too? Would it make a difference to him?
She rolled to her side and squeezed her eyes closed. Titus’s square jaw and chiseled features invaded her mind. She could clearly see his tightly cropped chestnut hair, receding a bit at the temple, and his tanned face, with fiercely etched lines that could express his every desire. She could feel his full lips framed by the day’s dark stubble bending toward hers, and even now, her lips parted as they had a few moments ago. His deliciously spicy scent still consumed her nostrils. His tongue had flicked out and touched hers, swirled around hers. She had given in as his arms clamped around her, the heat of his body sizzling against hers.
Elspeth again groaned. It was a wonder her mind had been lucid enough to demand he stop. One more second in his embrace and she would have been lost to Titus forever.
Her hand brushed her lips once more. She must never allow him in such close proximity again.
****
Early afternoon the following week, Roman trumpets announced the arrival of Count Theodosius and the century with which he traveled. Titus jumped up from his chair and tugged the leather doublet beneath his chainmail. He reached for his helmet as Bacchus entered.
“Theodosius approaches the gates, sir.”
Titus cringed. “Thus begins our charade. Planning games so soon after we took the wall from the barbarians is like tempting fate.”
“True, but skirmishes have been few.”
“Yes, though the enemies would have needed time to lick their wounds. They’ll be back for vengeance, and we must be ready and equipped to defend our position.” He shook his head. “I’ve spent the past week finding gladiators and constructing a makeshift arena for the count’s fool-born games, when I should have been….”
“It will be a nice diversion for the men and will be over soon enough. Afterward, I shall ensure they repay the favor with renewed reconstruction efforts.”
Titus patted Bacchus on the shoulder. “I knew there was a reason why I appointed you my optio .”
They strode out to the portico of the principia and watched the official parade through the gates. Theodosius stood in a chariot embellished with a bronze relief depicting a legion in battle. He wore a broad purple sash across his shoulder indicating his royal stature, and it fluttered behind him in the breeze. Clearly, Theodosius’s ambitions were many, since he had discarded a general’s uniform to reflect his elevated status of count, granted him by Emperor Valentinian after his successful campaign in Hispania and appointment to quash the Barbaric Conspiracy in Britannia.
Dulcitius stood beside Theodosius and expertly handled a pair of pristine white stallions. His skin tanned, the centurion reminded Titus of the male courtesans that flexed their muscles outside the House of Fornicum in Rome.
Titus clenched his teeth. Dulcitius’s vanity was foolish, but Theodosius’s elitist displays of Romanism disappointed Titus the most. Not that he wasn’t a faithful servant of the empire. On the contrary. But he believed, as an officer of
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