Free The Lion and the Lark by Doreen Owens Malek Page B

dark beard was showing against his skin.  The clean shaven Romans often scraped their beards twice a day.
         “That means we live together in this house, share meals, sleep together in this room.  We must be chaste, no one must suspect that it is a performance, or offense may be taken on either side.  If you have a lover among your own people you must separate from him now.”
         “I have had no lovers,” Bronwen said, and saw the impact of that statement register on his face.  He stared at her, seemed about to speak, then bit his lip thoughtfully before saying, “Your father must have needed this truce very much.”
         He needed me to spy on you very much, Bronwen thought.  She looked down, unable to bear the scrutiny of his searching eyes, which were the color of the dark amber liquor the Hibernians drank. Ouisce .  His eyes were the color of whiskey.
         “I know you don’t want me, but you’re going to have me, in this house anyway,” he said tonelessly, rising.  “I’ll disturb you as little as possible, I’ll be away for most of the day anyway.  I assume you’ve brought your own servants with you?”
         Bronwen nodded.  “I asked to have Maeve come here with me from the general’s house, and also two of the Iceni girls who owe a tribal debt to my father.”
     “I’ll have a page from the barracks join the rest of the servants in the quarters at the back of the house,” he said.  “My personal effects have already been moved to the room next door.”
         They looked at one another.
         “Can you do this?” he asked her quietly.  “Do you understand that it will be difficult to keep up this...pretense?”
         “I understand that it will be difficult to pretend I have forgotten the long history of Roman oppression here and taken you into my bed,” she said tersely.  “But I can do what I must.”
         He looked at her for a long moment, then said,  “Very well.  I’ll leave you now and spend some time in the guest room off the triclinium, which I will use as my study.  I’ll return after you’re asleep.”
         Bronwen watched him go, his sword hilt flashing in the firelight as he went through the door.
         She noticed he had not left his weapons behind in the bedroom.
         Did he think she would run him through while he slept?  What was the point of this whole farcical wedding if the true Celtic plan was just to kill him?
         Bronwen got up and went to the chair where he had dropped his helmet and cloak.  She picked up the garment and ran it through her fingers.  It was triple weight wool, dyed deep red and trimmed with golden thread.  She wrapped it around herself and it dropped heavily to the floor, covering her bare feet.  She, like most of the Celtic women, was not short, but he topped her by several handsbreadths, which meant that for a Roman he was very tall indeed.
         Bronwen took off the cloak and replaced it where he had left it.
         The man was truly a puzzle.  He had behaved very well in a situation that would have allowed him to take full advantage of her if he had chosen to do so.  By contrast, she had conducted herself in a manner that it made her blush violently to recall. 
         Bronwen knew from the first moment she met the Roman that he desired her; the way he had looked at her outside Scipio’s house had left little doubt of that.  She had used that knowledge to taunt and humiliate him by standing naked before him and letting him feel the power her beauty exerted.
         Why had she done it?  They could have had the same conversation without her dramatic display of her body.
         She knew the answer and she didn’t like it.
     She was attracted to him.  She had taken the initiative to shock him and put him off so he wouldn’t come near her and test her resolve.
         Somehow Bronwen had known he would react as he did; there was