Christina Phillips - [Forbidden 02] Read Online Free PDF Page A

vow. Because to willingly embrace the oppressor of Cymru would infuriate Aeron’s evil soul, not touch Gawain’s uneasy rest and most of all incense the Morrigan beyond endurance.

Chapter Three

    Trogus was still battling a black rage and an unrelenting erection as he and the other four exploratores entered the garrison, leading the traders’ horses. He wasn’t due any leave for days, so visiting a local whore was out. And unless he managed to drag a passing slave girl into a dark corner and slake his lust, all he had to look forward to was self-gratification.
    Again.
    Fucking Dunmacos. Shoving his nose where it wasn’t wanted. Trogus couldn’t even report him, since that would result in the bastard informing the praefectus that they’d attacked a group of traders.
    Fucking stupid law. Who gave a shit if a few more Cambrians perished? As far as he was concerned they were all fair game. Being posted to this barbaric province after the exotic splendors of the East was intolerable. Why shouldn’t they avail themselves of a few luxuries when opportunity arose?
    The horses they’d have to give up to the Legion, but the enameled bridles, jewel-encrusted daggers and other various goods would fetch a good price on the black market.
    But he’d coveted the dark-haired woman. The bitch who’d murdered his fellow tribesman. If Dunmacos didn’t kill or sell her before returning, then by the gods Trogus would find a way to have her.
    And make her pay.
    So intent on the many and varied ways he intended to make the Cambrian whore pay for depriving him of both quenching his lust and the company of a man he’d considered a friend, he scarcely acknowledged the greeting of an approaching auxiliary.
    Until the other man stopped in front of him and gripped hold of the metal bridle, blocking his path.
    “Trogus. You serve with Dunmacos, don’t you?”
    Trogus shifted on the saddle, trying to ease the frustration pounding through his cock. “What of it?”
    The auxiliary jerked his head toward his silent companion. “Gervas is blood kin. He arrived with the new contingent from Carthage this morn.”
    Trogus hid his disgust. Dunmacos was bad enough, but another of his kin in the same garrison was pushing sanity.
    “Dunmacos is on dispatches.” He wondered if that was common knowledge. “I believe.”
    Gervas stepped forward. Despite the advantage of still being mounted, a chill slithered along Trogus’s spine. Bastard looked even meaner than Dunmacos.
    “It’ll be good to see my cousin again.” Gervas’s pale blue eyes bored into Trogus’s and he resisted the urge to look away, despite the understated aura of menace that radiated from the other man. “I weary of following his progress through reputation alone.”
    Trogus grunted in grudging assent. Dunmacos’s reputation was certainly admirable and the reason why Trogus took his shit. He had no desire to be facing the wrong end of the other Gaul’s sword.
    “If my sources are true and he’s on dispatches, you’ll see him again before the week ends.”
    Gervas’s fingers idly stroked the handle of his sword. “I look forward to it.”

Chapter Four

    Although he wasn’t holding shield or sword, through sheer habit Bren used leg control to guide his horse along the wide Roman highway. It had nothing to do with being unwilling to move his hands from Morwyn’s firm thighs.
    He glanced down at her head. Her hair was tousled, matted with dried earth and crushed grasses, and he resisted the impulse to unbraid her plait and use his fingers to unsnarl her tangles.
    Gods. Briefly he closed his eyes. What had he been thinking to drag her with him? But what else could he have done—left her there, alone and defenseless?
    If Trogus had returned, her life would be forfeit. And even if she’d escaped the other auxiliary’s wrath, the forests and mountains were swarming with legionaries far from home who wouldn’t think twice about using a lone Cambrian woman for their own