Roman Read Online Free PDF

into the tender flesh of the corners. Isra tried to turn away.
    Let me be , she tried to say. Just let me die . But all that came out was a pathetic whine.
    â€œStop that, I said,” the woman snipped. “I’m nae accustomed to playing nursemaid, so if you wish any care at all, you’ll be still.” The steely fingertips came back to the crown of her head as the rag was applied to her face more briskly.
    And then, as if the woman was indeed speaking to someone who had entered the room, “She’s only been awake for a few moments. I doona think she can speak verra well.”
    â€œEnglish or at all?” a man asked in a low, emotionless voice.
    â€œIt was nae language I’ve heard before.” The hands left Isra and she heard a splash, as if the rag had been tossed into the basin. “I’ve done all I’m willing for now. How is Roman?”
    Isra’s head swiveled at the mention of that name, and she strained to open her eyes, fought to raise the arm that wasn’t pinned to her side.
    â€œ Oh-man ,” she called out as the light again pierced the slivers allowed by her swollen lids. The attempt at his name was strangled and nasally, her nose was completely blocked, the syllables zinging in her bones.
    â€œThat enlivened her,” the man said. Isra heard the scrape of chair legs and fought to focus her eyes through the blinding light. “Can you hear me well enough?” he asked near her ear. She felt him take her hand in his, and the touch of his skin made her stomach roil again. “Squeeze my hand if you can understand me.”
    Isra squeezed.
    â€œVery well. Now try to tell me your name.”
    â€œRoh-man.”
    â€œNo. I need to know who you are. What is your name?” The man repeated the question in Arabic.
    She turned her head away from him in answer.
    The man sighed and seemed to speak over Isra’s body. “Could I trouble you for a cup of water?”
    â€œGreat gods. I may as well take off me shoes and don a cap while I’m about it.”
    A moment later, Isra’s head was raised and a cup pressed to her lips. The water just wet her tongue when it was withdrawn. She tried to open her mouth and follow the cup, but it was taken away. The man’s voice was very close to her face now.
    â€œWhat. Is. Your. Name?” he demanded.
    Isra tried to lick her cracked lips. “Roman.”
    He leaned so close now, Isra could feel his breath on her ear. If his proximity was not enough to set her insides to trembling, the dark sincerity of his next words nearly caused her to retreat once more into unconsciousness.
    â€œHear me now, woman: We have perhaps saved your life. But if you do not tell me now who you are and why you have come to this place with that name on your lips, come nightfall, I will carry your body to the river myself.” He paused, and the scant space between them was filled with only his breath in his nostrils. His whisper chilled her. “I will stand on the shore and watch you drown.”
    Isra’s heart trilled in her chest. She could tell by the lack of emotion in the man’s voice that he was confident in what he said, and that he would not hesitate to follow through with his threat. That they knew of Roman Berg was clear; perhaps he was at this place even now.
    But she could not determine if they knew him as trusted allies or as foes. Anything she told this stranger could put Roman in even greater danger.
    If she said nothing, they were going to kill her.
    Isra fought to open her eyes again, straining to focus until she could make out the shadowy image of a man’s face. He had leaned slightly back from her and was now studying her—not with pity for her condition, but with a wariness that made Isra’s skin crawl. She had no doubt that he would leave her to die; hadn’t she seen that very look of apathy, that hard-heartedness dulling the eyes of so many men before?
    She