Outcast

by Angie Arms

  Dark eyes came back at him with a look of calm patience written there as if he was some kind of simpleton she was dealing with. “If you do not ask politely you will receive no food and will not rise from that bed until I drag your cold body from it.”

  Anger exploded in him. Who did this witch think she was, denying him the comforts she so obviously had as she ate? He never asked politely for food. He worked for it as long as he could remember. In the stable he was given all the Master would allow, he did not ask for he was quick to punish such silly behavior. As a soldier he had conquered many and had sat at their table eating their food supplies as they looked on, never did he ask politely. Many times he could tell the food he ate was their only chance to fill their stomachs and as he and his men ate their supplies he knew they would likely starve for a while before they could replenish and never had he asked politely.

  Dark eyes left his and fell back onto the food before her. He wanted to rail at her, to put her in her place, make her feel like the lowliest of slaves. She should be quivering under his wrath.

  “Will you kindly share your food with me?”

  Not lifting her head she glanced up at him from beneath black lashes. “Say ‘please,’” she said challengingly.

  He scowled at her his fury driving him from the bed and the pain she had asked about earlier rushed in on him. A soft tinkling laugh reached his ears and settling back he watched her rise quickly from her seat and come toward him. “Small steps.”

  She leaned over him, helping him to adjust into a less prone position. When she straightened he was taken aback by the humor lurking on her face, as if she had no clue as to the misery he could bring to her.

  “Do I entertain you?” Evander tried to grab her wrists but his grip was not able to hold her as she easily slipped from his grasp.

  She moved away from him to collect a bowl and began to ladle the soup out before she replied. “Not up to this point.” With the full bowl in hand she moved back toward the bed, “We’ll see how it goes from here.”

  He was still scowling when the first spoon of food was placed in his mouth. He eagerly awaited each spoonful that came his way and he fought the urge to complain, feeling as if each show of impatience on his part only slowed her more. He was still hungry after two bowls and his demands for more just brought on a scowl and the requirement that next time after he ask politely then he thank her politely or there would not be a time after that.

  Jillian brought him water, the cup just touching his lips when the knock sounded on the door. She jumped, splashing him with the cool water but seemingly ignorant of this fact as her eyes darted fearfully toward the door. She sat the cup on the little table next to the bed but out of his reach then standing took hesitant steps toward the door. Her reaction told Evander she was defenseless here alone, wherever here was. Reaching the door she stopped and stared at it is if she did not know what to do. The next knock was louder and Jillian jumped again. Hesitating another moment she lifted the latch of the door.

  “Does the stranger live?” an old woman asked as she tried to push the door open. Jillian tried to bar it with her foot but the little gnarled woman was surprisingly strong and pushed it on open, the door banging against the wall.

  “Mirna, I have told you about barging in here.”

  The old lady cast Jillian a look that plainly said she was indulging her her ire. The woman moved closer to the bed and Jillian jumped between and braised herself.

  “What ails you child?”

  “I’m just looking out for the stranger.”

  The woman laughed but allowed Jillian to block her path. She looked directly at Evander and he read the amusement in her dancing brown eyes that contradicted her advanced age.

  “I see he is permanently scarred and his soul resents it. Perhaps it would be happy in a new body, a new start for his old soul.”

  “No!” Jillian said vehemently. “His soul stays where it’s at.”

  The old woman laughed and it was then the knowledge dawned on him. This was a druid priestess. Nero was determined to wipe their influence from the island which would give the Emperor a better hold over the land and people. One day he might be a part of that, he couldn’t stay in this little cottage forever. He wondered for the briefest of moments what that life would be like.

  “See his soul fights against the soldier. We should set him free.”

  Jillian gasped and the old woman cast a smirk toward him.

  “Do you think to sacrifice me old woman?” Evander asked clenching his jaws against the pain as he sat up straight.

  “No one is going to be sacrificed,” Jillian insisted, the last word ended in another gasp when she saw him sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

  Through the haze of pain he felt Jillian’s hands on him trying to push him back down. He fought against her finally pushing her hard enough to gain himself some room. Subduing the groan that tried to escape between his clenched teeth he stood on shaking legs towering over both Jillian and the old woman.

  Jillian darted in between them again, blocking Evander’s and the old woman’s approach to each other. “Go away old woman!” Jillian yelled facing off with her.

  “Rest easy soldier,” the old woman said. “I have better things to do than waste my skills on you.” The old woman drew herself up, cast a glance toward Jillian then turned and walked to the door, letting herself out she was gone.

  Suddenly the pain was too much and his strength was gone. He sagged against the woman who stood before him. Turning she found herself in his arms but it was her strength that got him back to the bed.

  “What were you thinking?” she chastised as she helped him reposition.

  “Clearly I wasn’t,” he said tiredly sitting back and closing his eyes.

  “What’s your name?” she asked covering him with a blanket.

  “Evander,” he barely managed to get out before he was lost in tired exhaustion.

  Chapter 10

  Jillian had been watching him for hours. His puny show of strength had cost him a great deal of energy and several stitches. Although he had not awakened for the ordeal he had, as usual, fought her as she stitched his wounds again.

  She wondered for the hundredth time what she had gotten herself into. But how could she have just let him die, for surely that’s what would have become of him? Even now if Mirna walked back into her cottage she would stand before her again and argue for his life. However, she feared the day he would have his strength back. What would he do to her then? In a man that seemed to have anger as a constant companion she felt as if she should flee now. But how could she flee when this was the only home she had? No one would welcome her. She was surprised Mirna was so accepting of her. Although she had feared sacrifice after first moving onto the Isle of Mona she knew after all this time she need not fear this. Perhaps it was the close friendship the priestess had had with Mara. Or perhaps it was the demons that lived within her and the priestess feared her as much as everyone else. Perhaps as soon as Evander awakened again she should apprise him of why she was here and then he at least would be like the others and would not wish to kill her for that would release them all. He could still beat her, torture her.

  Jumping up from the seat she occupied she grabbed her woven basket and left the cabin before she went crazy thinking of what ifs. She made a quick stop by the makeshift corral and fed Evander’s horse some apples and made sure the little creak running along the edge still flowed with water. At first she had been afraid of the beast but despite his size he was as gentle as a lamb. Perhaps Evander would let her ride the beautiful creature when he was well enough.

  Her fear of Evander was lost in the thought of the man teaching her to ride as she turned away and walked slowly toward the garden in back of the cottage humming. She gathered a few carrots and dug potatoes to make another soup. A big man like Evander probably ate a lot of meat. She hadn’t had the luxury since Mara had died, having no stomach for the kill and even less f
or the dressing of it. She probably needed to go fishing soon, that was better than no meat. Perhaps Evander could bring food to her table when he was well.

  “Hello,” the familiar voice of Teague came to her as he came out of the woods.

  “Hi Teague, how are you today?” she asked brightly of the young man. He was a far cry from the man Evander was. He was short and he still had the narrowness of chest as that of an adolescent. His brain had not progressed beyond that of a young child, Mirna had told her once. As a result the young man held a young crush on Jillian to the point of adoration. His mind was equally occupied by those things only a child’s would be. But if anyone were to ever have a heart of gold it was Teague.

  Mirna had raised him from a small child. From the point his parents had found out he wasn’t like the other children. She had felt a great sympathy for the boy, now man. She could understand why society would cast her aside, but not a boy as pure of heart as Teague who could not understand that there was a world outside the one he lived in. His world held none other than Jillian, Mirna and the other Druids. Perhaps it was best, Jillian thought as she looked at the red haired man, his hair various lengths for he insisted he do his own cutting. His green eyes full of innocence no human beyond five should possess. How could he survive the world Evander had? He held a small basket out to her.

  “Mirna told me to bring this to you since I was going to catch some crawfish. At least try. Mirna says I don’t ever bring any home but I do try. She might not think that I do but I really do. The last time…”

  Teague droned on as if he was unaware of Jillian’s gasp of delight when she took the basket and found the soap inside. Not just any soap but the same fragrant soap Mirna had made.

  “Teague,” she said holding up her hand and repeating his name several times before he wound his topic of crawfish to a stop. “Tell Mirna I am very grateful to her. How did she know I needed soap?”

  “I saw you lose yours that day in the river. I tried to help you but you told me to go away before they got me. You scared me but I listened to what you said. I left you alone but I told Mirna you said the little piece you held in your hand was all you had. I helped her make it. You sure do smell pretty when you use that soap. That’s what I told Mirna when I was telling her about it. She said she thought your sweetheart would like you smelling pretty. Do you have a sweetheart? I sure would like to meet him. He is lucky to have a sweetheart like you. I better go, Mirna said not to talk your head off. Though I don’t think I would talk your head off. I can listen too. Mirna said she likes to hear me talk so I talk a lot to her. But if you want me to listen I can do that too. See you later,” he said turning and running off in a jaunty run before disappearing back into the forest.

  Finished gathering the vegetables she hummed her way to the river to wash them then back inside the cottage. Her tune died as she cast a glance at the man in her bed. Her eyes traveling down his body, despite his illness he was still big. Down to the feet that were dangerously close to the end of the bed. Was he the beast he looked? He had to be, look how he acted. No, she chastised herself, she had no business judging anyone. He had fought her when she caused him pain, wouldn’t anyone? Was it his fault his strength was infinite? He fought in wars, wouldn’t that turn a man dark inside? That didn’t mean he could never see the light again.

  Her eyes traveled back up to meet gray-green eyes staring back at her. She blushed to her roots under his scrutiny. “You are awake,” she said embarrassed she had stated the obvious.

  “Where is the old woman?” he croaked out between dry lips.

  She turned to the table, a small smile on her face, why she found the question amusing she did not know. “She is gone,” she replied as she busied herself laying the vegetables out on the table.

  Once that was done she poured him a cup of water and took it and the pitcher to the table. Standing at his bedside his hands met hers halfway as she moved cup to his mouth. Big hands wrapped around hers and his fingers caressed hers as he pulled the cup gently from her hand, taking an extra moment to look at her small one. With the cup to his full lips, even they looked strong, she mused staring down at him. He looked up into her face before taking a long swallow draining it. He reached the cup out but did not forget to say, “Thank you.”

  She refilled it then pulled the little table within his reach and sat the pitcher on it. Turning away she moved back to the table and the vegetables there. She scraped the carrots, disappointed in the size, she never did grow them right. Perhaps Evander could show her a better way when he was able to get up and about. The potatoes were much the same. They were plentiful but small in a mound. Mara always grew big vegetables, vegetables to be proud of. What use did a man have of a woman who couldn’t grow vegetables or sew a simple tunic? As she began to skin the potatoes she thought of the man who watched her. What kind of wife did he have, or would have if he didn’t already?

  “Do you have a family?” she asked

  He cleared his throat before answering, making her glance his way. “No,” he said, his eyes not flitting away for even the briefest of moments. An awkward silence followed broken when he continued, “But I must have children spread throughout Rome.”

  “Why would you not know?”

  A slight flair of his brows made her wonder if she had asked a stupid question. “Do you?” he asked.

  “I am alone.”

  There was the flare again accompanied by a working in his jaw but his gaze was yet to falter. “You have no family and no man to protect you. What is wrong with you?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her temper rising that he would not let this play out any longer. If he got out of her that she was possessed by demons he would leave as soon as he was possibly able. Could he not just let it be and stay for a little longer? Not be like everyone else and rush from her life, cast her away like one would a plague.

  She turned away to skin the potatoes again, her efforts not nearly producing as appetizing a result as before the conversation had begun.

  “You are beautiful. How is it no one has planted his seed upon you. You are of an age to have many children.”

  Jillian felt the heat rushing up her neck to flood her cheeks. “Even if you are a shrew I would take you to bed for a night so something must be dreadfully wrong with you.”

  “Nothing is wrong with me you imbecile,” she snapped at him.

  He fell quiet long enough for her to think the subject matter had thankfully been dropped but his voice shattered the peaceful abode she was used to. “You are barren,” he stated as if he had figured her out.

  She rolled her eyes ready to defend herself when it occurred to her being barren was far better than having demons ready to escape and possess him. Her silence was enough of a response for him to draw his own conclusion and he fell silent long enough for her to cut the potatoes and put them into the pot. She added the carrots along with a little of this and that she could not remember the names of but she recognized as the ones Mara had taught her to use. There were so many things she had paid little heed to as Mara was teaching her.

  She rested her knees on the stones of the hearth bending forward to place it on the rod that held it over the fire. “So you have felt the touch of a man?” he asked making her jerk up right and bang her head against the stone lining the top. “How could you not have with a backside as enticing as yours?”

  Trying to retain as much dignity as possible Jillian straightened and with quick long purposeful strides she went to the bucket by the door. “I can well imagine how lustful your long legs wrapped around my waist would be.”

  She turned to stare at him. Lustful. Was that the name for the feeling his words conjured up in the pit of her stomach as he talked about her legs wrapped about his waist? His hands touching her body. Had she already picked up the bucket she would have dropped it the feeling coming upon her was so overwhelming.

  His eyes had darkened as he stared at her and she suddenly had the crazy notion she was standi
ng before him naked. She turned, knowing full well he was staring at the curve of her bottom as she fumbled with the latch before pulling it open. Rain came down in torrents, when did that start she wondered. Might as well be, the bucket was still sitting behind the door. At least it was still more than half full. She was only going to get more to escape Evander’s presence. Squaring her shoulders she closed the door, latching it behind her before she turned to face Evander again. Whatever fire she had seen burning inside him was banked now as she moved back across the room.

  “Where is Amicus?” Evander asked.

  Her eyes darted back to him. His held a hint of trepidation if she wasn’t reading it wrong. “Who?” she asked taking another step toward him.

  “My horse,” he replied.

  The man might have a saving grace after all for she read a myriad of emotions flicker in his eyes as he waited for her response. “He is well. Came away from whatever you were involved in unharmed. He is in a pen outback.”

  “Are you feeding him?”

  “Of course,” she snapped his assumption that she would neglect the animal stung.

  “Thank you, I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  Jillian stared at this man who was suddenly merely human in his concern for his animal. She felt like smiling, she felt like dancing, but her brain told her it would be inappropriate to do so.

  “When I am well I will pay my debt by granting your request. I repay all my debts,” he said proudly but at the same time she heard a hint of sadness.

  Jillian nodded any other response lost on her. Did no one in his world do kind things for each other? Why would he offer his gratitude for saving his horse but not himself?

  “How long before I eat?” he asked and she was encouraged further because he did not demand.

  “It will be a while for the soup to cook.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. “Then I will sleep,” he said and he seemed to instantly do just that.