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Felix, his feet planted firmly on either side of the downed man, held his sword in both hands aloft, ready to slice his foe in half.
“The girl is mine,” he growled softly. “Put her down now.”
Her captor cursed under his breath and shifted Bethan off the back of his horse. She slithered onto the ground and onto her knees. She couldn’t stand or walk with her legs bound. Rufus charged forward and bent low, scooped her up as if she weighed nothing, and once again, she found herself flung over the shoulders of a horse.
Felix leapt onto the back of his horse. “Come close again, and you might lose a hand or two.”
Rufus drew his dagger and sliced through ropes binding her. “Sit up,” he urged and swung her body around behind him so that she was shielded. Panting, she hugged his waist and clung on.
“You’re Briganti, like us,” the spiky-haired man said to Felix, sheathing his sword. The other rider had dismounted to care for his fallen comrade.
“What of it,” Felix snapped. “Why did you steal my girl?”
Bethan tensed. Did Felix think she’d been abducted from the camp?
“We do not rob from our clan. We thought she was free to take. She was running away from you.”
“Running away?”
“She hid over there.” He waved his arm. “Asked us questions. We took her because she is obviously Carvetii. We trade their girls to the Romans.”
“She…” Felix stared at Bethan and she ducked her head below Rufus’s shoulder. As for Rufus, he growled softly in his throat and tightened his grip on the reins.
“Bethan,” he said quietly. “What have you done?”
“I… I… can explain,” she said hurriedly.
“You shall, girl, over my knee,” he whispered back. “Once Felix has finished with you. He will punish your bottom harder than ever if proved you ran off.”
“I didn’t run off,” she simpered. “I merely went for a walk and—”
“Don’t lie.” Rufus twisted his head. She glimpsed his fiery eyes.
There was nothing to say, not there on the back of his horse with strangers watching. She understood—she was in trouble.
The man on the ground moaned and sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He shaded his eyes and looked up at Felix. “Gods, you are the likeness of Cedric.”
“Cedric?” Felix queried. While Bethan remained nervous, Felix appeared more relaxed. These men just might be from his own tribe.
“A chief of our clan. He was killed years ago by the Romans. They took his son as prisoner. A boy with your likeness.”
Felix straightened his back. “My father is called Cedric. I was taken as a boy, sold in slavery, and fought as a gladiator until the emperor freed me.” He brought out his Rudius and held it out. “This is my Roman name engraved into the wood—Felix Gaius Hercules. The name my mother gave me I carved on the other side.” He turned it over. “Edsel.”
“I am Uther. Cedric was my wife’s uncle. We are kin!” The man leapt to his feet.
“Uther,” repeated Felix. “Yes, I remember you. You were much younger and I followed you around.”
Uther grinned. “You did. This is Thrane and his brother, Kurt. They are accompanying me as I travel to visit a potential husband for my daughter.”
Thrane, the man with the spiky hair, grinned. “So we are not enemies. I, too, remember your father. He fought bravely and died a warrior’s death.”
Felix pointed to the brow of the hill. “We are camped over there. Join us by the fire. I would like to know more about my father.”
Rufus rode his horse ahead, taking the stunned Bethan with him. He helped her dismount and before the others caught up, he enveloped her in his arms. For a brief moment, she melted in his embrace.
His heartbeats still pounded and she wished she was not the cause of his anxieties. “I thought we’d lost you,” he murmured. “My heart nearly broke when I saw you slumped across that horse.”
She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “These men would have sold me back to the Romans. But now, they are our friends?”
