Free Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 02] by Captive Page A

calls for compromise.” As he’d compromised for the last few years, inveigling himself with the enemy to learn their weaknesses, exploit their arrogant pride.
    “No.” Morwyn’s tone was firm as she settled herself against the pillows on the bed, her plate piled surprisingly high considering her opinion of the feast. “I’d never go against my principles, simply to survive under the yoke of Rome.”
    “And yet you have no compunction in eating their imported food.” He poured the wine and sat beside her, and shot her a sardonic glance as she ate the guinea fowl with apparent relish. Would she enjoy the Roman wine as much? He hadn’t thought to ask if she’d prefer the locally brewed ale.
    She wiped her chin with the back of her hand. “Nothing else is available.” Then her brow creased as if she realized she’d just inadvertently agreed with him. “This is different. It’s not what I meant at all.”
    “It’s still a compromise.” He shoveled in a mouthful of vegetables so she wouldn’t see the grin threatening to crack his lips. He didn’t know why he found contradicting her enjoyable. Gods, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d enjoyed a conversation to this degree.
    Except he could. More than six years ago . For a moment the memories seared through his brain, recollections of laughter and love and careless words that could be uttered without first analyzing their possible intent.
    And tonight, with Morwyn, he once again spoke without thought of how his words might be interpreted. With a woman who believed him her worst enemy, a woman who would betray him given the slightest opportunity.
    “I don’t agree.” There was an edge in her voice, as if she didn’t appreciate having her remarks twisted. “In fact, what could be better than nourishing myself on the enemy’s food in order to—” She snapped her jaw together as if she belatedly recalled to whom she was speaking, before once again biting into the enemy’s food.
    “Stab him in the back?” It was ironically amusing they both believed in that. Because that was exactly the plan he’d been following for the last three years.
    She swallowed the guinea fowl and looked as if she were about to choke, but after a moment she composed herself. “Not literally.” She didn’t meet his eyes. This conversation might be stimulating but it also served as a reminder. He couldn’t trust her. No matter how he wished otherwise.
    “What, then?”
    An oddly vulnerable look flashed across her face, as if she were recalling painful memories. Of whom did she think? Her lover? Had he died at the hands of the enemy? Was that the reason Morwyn was so vocal in her condemnation?
    If so, they had another bond in common. Another he could never share with her.
    “I’d never betray my people.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper, as if once again she forgot whom she was talking to. As if the words came from her soul, and weren’t uttered with the primary objective of insulting his honor. “Not for the enemy. And not for the gods.”
    The gods? That, he hadn’t expected. Under what circumstances did she imagine their gods would want them to betray their people?
    He might not think that much of the gods anymore. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d worshipped them or offered them sacrifice. But no matter how he despised them for ignoring his agonized entreaties so many years ago, deep in his heart he knew they’d never willingly submit to the Roman invaders.
    Slowly she turned to look at him, her dark eyes unfocused as if she were no longer in this room with him, but reliving her past. Silently he offered her a goblet and she blinked, as if emerging from a trance, and took the wine without protest.
    She gulped down the golden liquid as if it were water, despite the way her nose crinkled as if the taste didn’t best please her. But he wasn’t about to risk drinking the water provided by the innkeeper. Even now, he preferred to fill his waterskins