Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 01] by Forbidden Page A

willingly fraternized with the enemy?”
    Startled by his question, she blinked at him in momentary confusion. Why would he care?
    And yet he had asked the question, the one question she’d avoided thinking herself. Because she knew how violently her kin would react to such betrayal.
    “They’ll never discover it.” She wouldn’t ask Cerridwen to make this Roman hers, but she would ask her goddess to help conceal the illicit liaison. Because that wasn’t being selfish. It was putting her people’s safety first.
    Scorn whispered through her mind, but she turned from it. Her logic was sound. Her goddess would understand.
    The Roman’s blue eyes incinerated her, scorching the breath from her lungs. “But what,” he said in a deceptively calm way, “if they do?”

Chapter Five

    Carys tried to block his question from her mind, but in a cascading flood, the images poured through.
    Cold terror gripped her, ice shivering through her veins, as she recalled the fate of a Druid who had been caught spying for one of the savage Briton kings.
    Nine years ago, the eleven-year-old Carys had only recently entered the sacred fold, but that didn’t prevent her from bearing witness to the traitor’s doom.
    Spiritual isolation from the immortals would have been punishment enough for any Druid, but an example had to be made. As the sun sank behind the hills at the end of that blood-soaked day, the severed head of the ritualistically mutilated Druid was sent to her worthless lover.
    But Carys wasn’t a spy . Such a fate could never be hers. And yet the fear of being denied communion with her beloved Cerridwen twisted her soul.
    “Answer me.” His command was low. When had he stepped toward her? Carys struggled to keep her emotions contained, the terror of that long-ago day and the turmoil she always felt whenever the Roman was near.
    She dragged in a deep breath, but instead of clearing her head with the fresh scents of the sacred glade, her lungs filled with the masculine essence of raw sexuality.
    “What they might do to me is nothing to what they would do if they believed I was your captive.” It was true. A captive Druid was inconceivable. If rescue failed, the Druids would go to war and blood would drench the valleys. And her blood would be first.
    “Do you think I fear a few barbarous Celts?” His tone was faintly mocking, but the hint of a smile touched his lips.
    “No.” Carys wondered if her Roman feared anything. “ I fear.”
    His smile faded. A wood warbler’s haunting song shivered on the warm breeze. She saw his jaw tighten, his eyes narrow. “It would never be my intention to harm your kin, lady.”
    She understood what he was telling her. “I know.” If attacked, he would protect himself. She couldn’t blame him for that.
    But he didn’t know her kin were the spiritual core of this land and its people, the ones who had eluded his soldiers since their invasion of Cymru. If he knew that, his intention would be far more deadly toward her.
    The roughened pad of his forefinger grazed across the top of her breast, halting her thoughts, stalling her breath. His finger delved into her cleavage, and all the while his eyes remained locked with hers.
    “I accept your terms, my lady.” His finger slowly slid from her warm embrace, leaving her strangely chilled and bereft. And then his words settled in her mind, illuminating the darkness, eradicating the lingering tendrils of terror.
    Speech was beyond her capabilities. Instead she extended her right hand, and with only the merest hesitation, her Roman took it in his large, firm grasp. He raised her hand to his lips, without bowing his head toward her, and brushed a kiss across her fingers.
    “You will meet me here later?” It was more demand than request, but she nodded her acceptance. How could she do otherwise? Her mighty Roman warrior had agreed to her terms.
    Over her captured hand, his eyes smoldered. “There’s one question you haven’t asked of me,