Page 25 of Enslaved
Diana shrank back as Marcus Magnus strode through the archway. A young woman appeared from nowhere carrying an armful of towels. Though she was a tall, well-made female, Magnus dwarfed her when she reached his side. When Kell approached him, the woman stepped back with deference.
“Will you deal with the captive before or after your bath, General?”
Diana saw the look of annoyance cross the general’s face. Once again he had momentarily forgotten her. Without wasting further time he addressed her directly in a tone of total authority. His black eyes swept over her with an insulting air of superiority. “Who are you?” His words and manner brooked no hesitation.
“I am Lady Diana Davenport.”
He gave a sharp bark of laughter that contained little amusement. “Ha! Diana. You think yourself a goddess?”
“No. Diana is my name. I am not a goddess, but I am a lady.” Her chin went up, “Who are you?”
He was taken aback at her high-handed tone.
“I am the man who decides if you live or die. You are my prisoner, my property. I want answers and I want themnow!”
Diana jumped in spite of her resolution to stand up to him. She swallowed hard. “You are a brute and a bully,” she said quietly.
“Two of my better qualities. What nationality are you?”
“I am English—British.”
“Another lie, by Jupiter! The tribes of Britannia are primitive headhunters, so wild and uncivilized they still paint their bodies with woad to frighten their enemies.”
Diana was speechless for a moment. She could not deny that ancient Britons were indeedashe described.
“Where did you come from?” he demanded.
“I came from London. I live in London.”
“You mean Londinium? Even your speech is strange. And that’s another damned lie—Londinium was destroyed by fire a few months ago. What are you doing in Aquae Sulis?”
“Aquae Sulis, of course! That’s the Roman name for Bath,” Diana murmured to herself.
“You were spying! You are a filthy Druid spy. Is Aquae Sulis the next city to be burned by the wild Britons whom you Druids have under your control?”
Diana’s thoughts spun wildly. She had pored over enough history books to know that aroundA.D. 60–61 Queen Boadicea of Britain had led an uprising of the native tribes against the Romans and had burned London. “I am no Druid,” she said truthfully.
“Then what are you, apart from a filthy bundle of rags?”
The uncivilized brute had the ability to maul her pride. She had no answer that would appease him.
“In those mummers’ rags I can neither determine its sex nor its age. Disrobe it!” he ordered the women.
The females who had brought the food tried to remove her gown. When she struggled, the tall woman set down her towels and came to their assistance. Diana fled across the tile floor to the far wall.
Kell took the whip from his belt and advanced toward her with clear intent.
Diana’s eyes blazed and her lips drew back from her teeth like a wildcat spitting fury. “You cowardly Romans! Is whipping the only way you know how to deal with a Briton?”
Her words amused Marcus Magnus. He smiled a wolf’s smile. “Kell isn’t a Roman, he’s a Briton. In my experience there is no better slave master in the world than another slave.”
Diana was aghast. They had her cornered now and began disrobing her. She was left with only her corset and her filthy wig. Everyone in the room stared in disbelief at the sausage-like garment that encased her. Humiliation stained her cheeks.
Magnus looked at Kell and shrugged. “It must be some misbegotten contraption a Druid priestess wears. Get it off.”
After much struggling, pushing, and pulling of strings, as well as cursing and scratching by Diana, the corset came off. In the struggle, so did her dusty powdered wig.
Magnus saw a transformation take place that was as startling as it was pleasing. When the false white hair came off her head, a silken mass of pale gold curls tumbled down her back; a back that was a delicious curve of ivory alabaster. Freed from the distorting garment that encased her, she was indeed a female—all delicate curves and mounds. Her sweet round breasts thrust upward and were tipped by what looked for all the world like pink rosebuds. Her waist was so narrow he could nearly span it with one powerful hand. Her bottom swelled gently before tapering to long silken thighs and slim legs.
