She could not hold back now. His words had touched the raw wound inside her. Shoving him away with all her might, she shouted at him. “Aye, then I would not be soiled in your eyes—a contemptible slave girl! Although I have told you otherwise, I know you think my master bedded me, that I am a whore in truth! That’s why you shy away from me and avoid my gaze! You’re like all the others!”
He looked at her as if she had struck him. She swallowed, wondering if she had gone too far, if he would erupt with anger to match her own. But his voice when he spoke was tense and sorrowful. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I want nothing more than for you to be safe. From me and from every man.” He took a ravaged breath, then reached out. His big fingers grasped one of her braids and stroked it, softly, lovingly. “I see the pain inside you and it troubles me. But it does not diminish... what I feel for you. If only you were not my hostage and kin of my enemy, I would love you in a heartbeat. I would make you mine... forever.”
Gazing at his intent, rapt face, she felt her anger dissolve and fall away. This man was different than the others. When he looked at her, he did not see a slave; he saw into her soul. She gave a little cry and reached out for him. He gathered her into his arms; his mouth came down on hers. It was far beyond tenderness. It was exquisite shimmering need. Liquid fire. Their bodies and souls as one. Rapture.
His fingers were tangled in her hair. His mouth bonded to hers. He offered her everything—his warmth, his strength, his potent masculinity. She was drowning in it, her senses awash with wonder. She had always known it would be like this... always known...
He threw her away from him so rapidly she fell. Dizzy, confused she struggled to her feet. By then, the men were upon them. The flash of a sword. Rhun, a whirling mass of fury and power. She saw him cut one man down. Then another. Still they came at him—slowly, warily, trying to avoid the lightning strike of his blade.
But he was invincible. The last man gave a cry and fled. Another lying on the ground gave a rattling groan. Rhun grabbed her and pulled her away, his sword in his other hand.
He dragged her back to the market and the crowd closed around them. She heard him panting and the rapid thud of her own pulse in her ears. Confused, disoriented she finally looked at him. A stranger—a berserker warrior from the old legends, his blue eyes bright as flames, his dark gold hair wild around his face, his jaw clenched in a grim, vicious mask.
“Sweet Jesu,” he breathed. “That was close.” He shook his head, as if shaking off a terrifying dream. Then his grip relaxed and he looked around. “Walk ahead of me,” he said. “I don’t think anyone would attack us here, but I can’t be sure.”
Chapter 7
They retraced their steps through the market. It was very crowded and few people took note of them. Those who did quickly backed away at seeing a grim-faced warrior with his bloodied sword. As Rhun gently but firmly guided her along, his left hand on her waist, Eastra’s mind whirled. In the space of a few heartbeats, she’d seen two very different sides of this man—the tender lover who’d made her half swoon, and the ferocious warrior who’d fought off six men by himself. It was hard for her to reconcile the two beings into one.
But as her shock faded, it was replaced by a kind of elation. For a brief moment, she’d experienced his desire and longing. He did care for her, she was certain. She licked her lips, remembering the taste of him. And if they had not been interrupted, there would have been more. Much more. She could imagine him touching her body, those callused warrior’s hands moving over her skin with keen finesse. Her nipples peaked at the thought. She’d never wanted a man like this, with her whole, throbbing being. But now he was tense with caution. She wondered when she would ever have a chance to be alone with him again, to experience that magic when they had looked into each other’s eyes and everything else vanished. She suppressed a sigh.
* * *
Rhun glanced around for the dozenth time, wondering if they were being watched. Someone had seen them leave the market to snatch a moment alone. In that moment, they had struck.
The attack had been well planned. They had converged on them when he was most vulnerable, his every sense and faculty consumed by the woman in his arms. It was terrifying to consider what might have happened if they had waited a few moments longer to attack. In another second his hands would have been cupping Eastra’s breasts, and he would not have been able to move so quickly. In another second the throbbing heat in his loins would have erased all rational thought from his mind. But his enemy had been impatient, and so he had survived. When he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye, instinct had taken over.
He wondered what the men would have done if he had not pulled himself together in time. Would they have killed him where he stood and then grabbed Eastra? She had not been touched, but that might be because he had pushed her behind him and they would have had to kill him to get to her. If they had succeeded, would she have been killed also, or captured? Was it possible she was the reason for the attack?
The questions gnawed at him. He needed to know what enemy he faced. Had Saxon spies discovered Eastra was in Londinium and sought to rescue her? Or did some other unknown enemy seek to kill him? Was Eastra merely a hapless bystander, or the goal of the attack?
They reached their escort. The men were sprawled over a grassy open area playing knucklebones, the horses nearby, still saddled and bridled, their tails swishing at flies. The men got to their feet as they saw him, and Amlawdd saluted. Abruptly, his gaze went to Rhun’s drawn sword. “Trouble?” he asked.
Rhun nodded. “We were attacked on the other side of the market. I fought them off, but I have no desire to linger here.”
Amlawdd nodded, then gestured toward the market. “Didn’t you buy anything?”
“Oh, I near forgot,” Rhun said. “Send Bryn and Merddin to fetch our purchases. Tell them to go to the second draper’s stall. Also to the cobbler’s on the far end and to the man selling basketwork nearby. Have them take a pack-horse.”
Amlawdd nodded. He gave the two men their orders, while the others fetched the other horses. Rhun wiped his sword on the grass and sheathed it. He motioned to his stallion, Cadal, now stamping and pacing. “You will ride with me, Eastra. If we are bothered further, I will be better able to protect you that way.” As he grasped her slender waist to help her up, a lingering wave of regret swept through him. Although part of him shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if they had been left alone a few moments longer, another part of him still throbbed with yearning at the loss of that instant when they were entwined in each other’s arms. If a man had to die, why not in the midst of the most enthralling embrace he had ever experienced?
They rode quickly through the city streets. When they reached Aurelius’s house, Rhun slid off Cadal and quickly helped Eastra down. “I’m going to take you to the bedchamber where you slept last night. I want you to gather up your things quickly. We’re leaving Londinium tonight.”
Her eyes were wide. “Do you expect another attack?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not going stay here. Once we are on the road with our escort arrayed around us, I’ll feel much more comfortable.”
He spoke to the porter at the gate. The man let them in; then Rhun led Eastra through the garden toward the guest wing. When they reached the door of her bedchamber, he paused. “I’m sorry the day ended like this. I warned Bridei before we even arrived in Londinium that this was not a pleasure trip. Then I forgot my own warning.”
She smiled suddenly. “But for a while it was wonderful, was it not?”
His breath caught in his throat. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her in his arms once again. But he dared not. If he gave in to that intense, agonizing urge, they would be inside the room and sprawled on the bed in no time. He must remember his duty. And he must remember he had very nearly been killed a short while ago. “I must go,” he answered thickly. He opened the door for her. She nodded and went in.
Rhun imme
diately went to the bedchamber where he had spent the night. If he had expected to find Bridei still sleeping it off, he was disappointed. There was no sign of his brother. Rhun quickly packed up his things in his saddle pack, then did the same with Bridei’s belongings. Dumping the packs outside the door, he set out to find his brother.
“There you are.”
Bridei looked up as Rhun entered Aurelius’s atrium. He raised his dark brows. “What do you need me for, brother? I thought you would be content with Eastra’s company for the rest of the day.”
“She and I were just attacked,” Rhun said bluntly. “Outside the market. Six men. I barely fought them off.”
“By the Light!” Aurelius exclaimed, sitting up rapidly. “Where was your escort?”
“Not with them at the time, apparently.” A hint of a smile curled Bridei’s mouth.
Rhun glared at him. “We could hardly go tramping through the market with a full complement of warriors.”
“Were the attackers Saxon or Briton?” Aurelius asked.
“Briton. But that doesn’t mean anything here in Londinium, where everyone’s loyalties are uncertain.” Rhun grimaced. “They might well be working for the Saxons. They looked like the sort of base wretches who would hire themselves out to anyone who paid them well.”
Aurelius frowned. “It seems like a lot of trouble to go to in order to kill one of Arthur’s spies.”
Rhun nodded. He thought the same thing, but he could hardly discuss his concern that the attackers were trying to abduct Eastra. Aurelius thought she was nothing more than his concubine. “Whatever their purpose,” Rhun said, “I want to leave the city tonight.”
“Now? But I have not visited my other contacts,” Bridei responded.
“Well, you certainly had time enough. If you were not so busy flirting with the women and enjoying your wine.” He motioned with his head toward the jeweled cup in Bridei’s hand. “I doubt you’ll learn anything more anyway, and I’m eager to leave this place before something else happens. Londinium makes me uneasy. With Saxon and Briton living side by side, it makes it difficult to know who is your enemy and who is not.”
Aurelius rose. “I think your brother is right,” he said to Bridei. “Someone obviously knows of your mission here. It might be dangerous to stay longer.”
Bridei rose and set his wine cup on the table near the couch. “All right. Let me go pack my things.”
“Already done,” Rhun said. “And I met a servant in the hall and asked him to take our packs out to the stables. Now all I need to do is fetch Eastra and we can go.”
Aurelius bowed to them. “Give my greetings to Artorius. And tell him that I’m sorry that his envoy met with trouble while visiting me. Assure him that I and many of the merchants of Londinium are cheering on his attempts to rout the Saxon seawolves from this land.”
Rhun bowed back. “Thank you for your hospitality, Aurelius. I will give your regards to our commander.”
Bridei also said his farewells. Then the two men left the atrium. “So what do you really think?” Bridei asked as soon as they were alone. “Do you think those men who attacked you were trying to free Eastra, or possibly take her for a hostage themselves to use as a bargaining tool against Arthur?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Rhun said. “Did you not feel that perhaps Aurelius was a little eager to get us out of his house?”
“Probably. The man wants no trouble intruding on his comfortable life, and once you told him your tale, it was clear we represented exactly the sort of complication he wishes to avoid.”
“Do you think he could have sent the attackers?” Rhun asked.
Bridei shrugged. “If he meant to be rid of us, why not have us murdered in our beds? Or feed us poisoned wine as we supped with him?”
“Because that sort of thing would gain him dangerous attention. Having me attacked when I am far away from his house and in a public area is much more subtle and clever.”
“But if you were killed, he would still have to be rid of me, or else I would go and make my report to Arthur anyway. For that matter, if he had wanted to kill me, he had plenty of opportunities last night. I went out with no escort into the darkened streets and to a part of the city that is not very savory. No, I think Eastra is the key. I think if she had not been with you, nothing would have happened.”
“You think Cerdic seeks to free her so he will have the advantage over Arthur?”
“It might not be that simple. Cerdic’s niece presents a tempting target for any number of reasons. If nothing else, she could be ransomed for a great deal of wealth.”
“But no one here in Londinium knows who she is,” Rhun pointed out. Then he turned to face his brother. “Unless you have been too loose with your tongue!”
Bridei met his gaze easily. “Or unless the woman herself has given away her identity. You seem to think Eastra sees things the same way you do. But she is still a Saxon, for all that she clearly cares for you.”
“That’s just it!” Rhun exclaimed. “Whatever else she might do, I don’t believe Eastra would plot to have me killed. Today I held her in my arms, and I know no woman could pretend what passed between us!”
“Did you now?” Bridei’s mouth quirked, and Rhun wished desperately he had held his tongue. “I don’t believe Eastra would plot your murder, either,” Bridei continued. “But she might not have realized it would mean that. She might have accidently let slip to someone who she was—no treachery intended—and the information found its way to one of our enemies.”
Rhun thought about Eastra talking to the slave girl in the garden. He had not overheard what they were speaking of, but it was possible Eastra had revealed her identity. And although the slave was not a Saxon, that did not mean she did not have connections with the enemy.
Rhun took a deep breath. He had to avoid being alone with Eastra. Not because he thought she would betray him, but because her mere presence was enough to addle his wits and throw him off his guard.
* * *
They left Londinium from the same direction they had arrived. As they passed the towering ruins of the city gate, Eastra experienced a pang of bitterness. She’d had her chance to be alone with Rhun, but the moment had been destroyed by violence. Cursed wretched war! Would she ever be free of its malignant poison? This conflict between Briton and Saxon had cost her everything she held dear. Would it also cost her a chance with Rhun? But he had assured her the journey to his father’s fortress in Gwynedd would take some days. Surely during that time they would be alone again. And then, maybe, that potent fire would leap between them once more, and he would not be able to deny he cared for her.
They followed the Roman road west. As the sky turned the deep blue of summer twilight, Rhun and Bridei pulled to a halt. They spoke briefly. Then Rhun turned in the saddle and motioned to a distant stand of trees. “We’ll camp there tonight. If we set a guard, we should be safe enough.”
When they reached the grove of oaks, the men set about making preparations for the night. Eastra watched with interest. Rhun and the others were obviously experienced at living on the land. They set up tents, built a fire, and brought out provisions. Sitting around the now crackling fire, they passed around the food—dried meat, rolled-up chewy bannocks, and earthenware cups of a brewed drink much tangier than the ale Eastra was used to.
“It’s made from heather,” Bridei told her when she commented on it. “You have to acquire a taste for it, but believe me, where we are from, there is much more heather than barley.”
He was sitting to her right; Rhun to her left. Rhun had spoken few words since giving the order to camp for the night. Now he ate silently and stared broodingly into the fire. She wondered what he was thinking about. The attack, most likely. It still made her skin prickle to think of the danger they’d been in. “Who do you think sent those men?” she asked as she wiped the crumbs of the bannock from her hands.
Rhun turned to look at her, his face harshly illuminated in the firelight. “I
don’t know. Do you have any ideas?”
Surprised by the wary tone of his voice, she said, “You made it clear Arthur has enemies in Londinium. I assumed someone had recognized you as his man.”
“But I’m not really Arthur’s spy. Bridei is. And he was not attacked.”
“What are you saying?”
It was Bridei who answered. “He’s saying you were the reason for attack, that the men were trying to get to you.”
“But why?” Eastra asked. “What use am I to anyone?”
“You could be ransomed,” Rhun said. “I think Cerdic would pay a great deal to have his niece returned to him safely. Not to mention that for you to be abducted while you are our hostage would make us look like utter fools.”
“But no one in Londinium knew I am Cerdic’s niece,” Eastra said, baffled. “You told everyone, even your friend Aurelius, that I was your concubine.”
“That’s true,” Bridei said matter-of-factly. “She’s likely right, brother. It very well could have been one of Arthur’s enemies. As for why they attacked you and left me alone—I make an effort to cultivate the image of a man engaged in careless debauchery. Few men take me seriously, as a spy or otherwise.”
Rhun gave a noncommittal grunt. Eastra sensed he didn’t believe his brother’s explanation and still thought she was the reason for the attack. She opened her mouth to argue against this reasoning, but even as she did so, she suddenly remembered Skena. She had told the slavegirl she was Cerdic’s niece. It had been done in innocence, as a means of giving Skena hope that her own circumstances might someday improve. But what if Skena had shared the information with someone, someone who was an enemy of Arthur’s?
Eastra’s body went rigid. It was possible she had nearly cost Rhun his life. One slip of the tongue, and she had set his enemies upon him like flies on a carcass. If he were not such a superb warrior, if he had reacted an instant slower... her blood went cold at the thought.
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