Roman by Heather Grothaus

Author:Heather Grothaus [Grothaus, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-06-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Isra was racked with nerves so that she trembled as she donned the white flax gown in the back of her and Roman’s cart, him keeping watch beyond the bed. The interior of the cart beneath the canvas was shadowy dark, only filtered light from the torches outside allowing her to tell up from down as she struggled to dress.

She thought for a moment how nice it would be to have a wooden shelter like the one Asa van Groen boasted of in his own wagon, and the distraction helped calm her. Asa’s conveyance was much like a tiny cottage on wheels, with a copper brazier and rimmed shelves and baskets attached to the wooden walls. He had a shaded lantern hanging from a pulley in the ceiling, and a tabletop that could be folded away into the wall. A plush bunk piled with coverlets nestled against the front wall, and Isra couldn’t help but think how comfortable it would be to sleep there rather than on the hard cart bed that was currently her pallet.

Likely, though, her bed was much more comfortable than the ground Roman slept upon nightly.

Her fingers fumbled in the darkness, attaching the cape to the gown by feel alone. They would require a larger cart bed—one with two axles. And a wooden shelter would add so much weight that they would need another donkey, or a pair of horses like Asa’s, to pull it. It would all cost a goodly amount of coin, but perhaps she could eventually afford it with her proceeds from working with Kahn. A place in a corner for a perch for Lou; trunks for the clothing and belongings they would acquire. Two bunks of course, one of them unusually long to accommodate Roman’s height.

Or perhaps one very large bed . . . ?

Isra slipped the curved headband of her pretend crown behind her ears and pulled the two thin plaits she’d fashioned on either side of her face in front of her ears. Once her costume was complete, she paused with a frown.

You are dreaming as if you will spend the rest of your life as part of this caravan, with Roman at your side. You foolishly plan a future? Wake up, girl! You are en route to the land of your enslavement to achieve your revenge and assist Roman and his friends in freeing themselves to return to their old lives. Lives that do not include a Damascene whore.

What if she returned to Asa after her and Roman’s mission was complete? Would the caravan have her? She tried to imagine herself living in Asa’s wagon, but the image was blurry, watery, and popped like a soap bubble.

Must she become Asa’s woman to stay on? Must she become anyone’s woman? Why could she not keep her own cart—this cart—and drive it herself? The blonde artist, Fran, did as much. Isra could purchase the conveyance from Roman with her own money—the donkey, too.

Her own home . . .

“Are you all right?” Roman’s voice cut through the reverie of possibility.

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