Within moments, the exploratores had claimed their spoils and were leading the riderless horses away, back to the garrison. With little effort he rolled the woman onto her back, holding her wrists above her head. It would be easy to break a bone, give her no choice but to abandon her dagger. How much more satisfying, though, should she decide to discard it of her own free will . . .

“Drop your weapon, and I give you my word you’ll remain unharmed.”

Her lips parted. Full, luscious. Inviting. Without warning, his cock pulsed, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since he’d taken a woman, how long it had been since he’d even enjoyed solitary relief.

“Roman coward.” Her voice was breathless, her Latin accented but clearly educated. Enticing tendrils of luxuriant black hair escaped her braid and framed her dirt- and blood-smeared face. “Your word means nothing to me.”

“I’m no Roman.” He answered her in the same language and kneed her thighs apart, bracing his weight on forearms and knees, trying yet failing to smother his unwelcome arousal. Gods, he wanted her. The contemptible need pounded through his arteries, vibrated against his temples. “I’m from Gaul.”

Her lips curled back, exposing white, unbroken teeth. “Then you’re worse. A spineless mercenary for their gutless Emperor.”

For a moment Morwyn thought she’d pushed him too far. His eyes, an extraordinary shade that reminded her of new leaves unfurling, glinted with danger and his fingers tightened around her tender wrists.

But she wanted to push him too far. Wanted him to lose control, just for an instant, so she could plunge her dagger into his heart and escape this ignoble fate.

Instead, his odious erection brushed against her and she tensed, waiting for the inevitable attack, waiting for a scalding surge of revulsion to flood her captured flesh. But he made no further move to mortify her, his gaze roaming over her face as if he were memorizing every tiny detail.

Liquid heat bloomed deep within, so shocking, so unwanted, the pleasure mutated into pain. A dark, dangerous pain that speared through her womb and trembled through her damp channel. She clenched her teeth, clenched her muscles, but still, tremors of despicable desire vibrated with tempting promise through her long-abandoned clit. How could her body be capable of such brutal a betrayal?

This was her sworn enemy. A man intent on rape and humiliation.

And she wanted him.

“Be wary.” His breath singed her lips but it wasn’t foul, wasn’t repulsive. “Such careless words can be mistaken for treason.”

Once again his rigid cock brushed against her womanhood and she wanted to spread her thighs, pull him into her. Feel the hardness of male strength thrust deep inside as he took her violently, mindlessly, so she could forget, for a few fleeting moments, everything but exquisite physical pleasure.

His green eyes scorched her. His muscular body pinned her helplessly against the undergrowth of the forest floor. 

How easy it would be to succumb to the lust blazing through her blood, the lust reflected in every hard, unyielding angle of her captor’s face.

But she had sworn never to take another man again. Never again worship the goddess who had manipulated her loyalty, betrayed her trust and scorned her love.

The Morrigan could suffer her abstinence. Morwyn would honor her vow of celibacy, the vow she’d made the night her entire world had shattered.

“I would never betray my people. Your Emperor doesn’t have my loyalty.”

He closed the small distance between them, broad chest flattening her sensitive breasts and aching nipples, his chain mail serving only to accentuate every ragged breath he took.

“Who are you, Celt?” There was command in the question, despite the desire, and through the heavy thud of arousal a spark of warning pierced her lust-drenched brain.

She would succumb to no man. Would never bow before the invaders of her land. But if this Gallic bastard, a mercenary for Rome, didn’t mean to kill her outright, there was chance for escape.

A chance that would vanish instantly should he discover her true origins.

The Emperor hated Druids, afraid of the spiritual power they held over their people. Since that night, a full turn of the wheel ago, when the great goddess, the Morrigan and Arawn, lord of the Otherworld—when all their gods—had deserted them and they had fled to the Isle of Mon, his hatred had grown. Fractured reports had reached them of the merciless slayings. That was why when she and the others left Mon they hid their Druidry, disguised themselves as traders.

Such subterfuge hadn’t saved the lives of Einion, Drustan or Morcant. But it might possibly extend hers.

“You know what I am.” It was hard to keep her voice level, hard to hide the erratic flutter of her treacherous heart. So cursed hard to keep her thighs utterly still when they ached to wrap around this barbarian’s hips and crush him into her hungering embrace.

Silence, as if he contemplated her words. “Traders.” He paused, raked his eyes over her face, and she held her breath, willing her pulses to slow, but if anything, they hammered more rapidly than before. Then he glanced above her head, at the exquisitely crafted gold bracelets that adorned her wrists. She hoped he had no idea of their true value. No trader could afford to wear such riches. Why had she insisted on wearing them? “From where?”

She flexed numb fingers around her dagger, then gripped it more securely when she felt his hold upon her wrist momentarily lighten. Her limbs were deadening but if he gave her the slenderest of opportunities, she wouldn’t hesitate to slash open his throat.

“Why? So you can send your band of Gallic mercenaries to slaughter more innocents?”

“No. So I can verify your words.”

If she directed him to a nearby village, would he truly spend time discovering if she spoke the truth or not? She doubted it. He was delivering dispatches for the military. He’d told the filthy dogs who’d ambushed her he intended to use her to warm his bed during the journey.

And he was alone. No, he wouldn’t waste time verifying her word when her word was of no account, when all he saw when he looked at her was a woman he could use for sexual satisfaction.

“Two days’ ride west. I’ll tell you no more than that.”

His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t believe her. “And where were you heading?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “To the new Roman fortification. The civilian settlement is always hungry for our goods.”

From somewhere deeper in the forest a wood warbler’s shivering song shattered the taut silence. Before she realized his intention his forearm pinned hers securely to the ground, bringing the length of his body against hers. Heavy, masculine. How long had it been since she’d been crushed beneath a man, since she’d been held, touched, wanted?