‘We have cast off!’
‘Yes, we are underway. That should put paid to any further attempts to communicate with the other ship.’ He leaned towards her. ‘Tell my, my lady, do you usually ignore advice when it is offered? Or only when it suits you?’
‘Sir?’
He spoke through clenched teeth. ‘I am the Emperor’s right hand. His sword arm. When I command you, it is your Emperor who commands you. Is that clear?’
Katerina tried to look down her nose at him which, given his height, proved impossible. ‘Perfectly.’
‘Good. I am going to give you some more advice, and this time you are going to heed it.’
‘Oh?’
‘You are remain in this tent for the rest of the day. Sergeant Toki will be posted outside.’
She drew in a breath. ‘You would confine a princess?’
‘Until I know she will do as she is told, yes. As I said, this is no game. I have my orders. I shall send Lady Anna to join you, and you will both remain in here until all chances of bribing one of the sailors is past.’ He let the tent-flap fall back into place and the shadows closed in again, creating an illusion of intimacy. He sighed. ‘I am sorry if you consider that I have violated your privacy, my lady, but we could hardly have this conversation out on the deck. With the exception of the captain, the sailors of this ship believe you to be a Greek noblewoman returning to Constantinople. Only my men know the truth. My main concern, my only concern, is to ensure your safety. And to that end I am prepared to sacrifice anything.’ He tucked the parchment into his belt and made a sound of exasperation. ‘I thought you were intelligent, I thought you could be relied upon to understand the gravity of your situation. I seem to have misjudged you. Hairpins, indeed! I will not make that mistake again, I can assure you.’
So tall and assured. With every moment spent in his company, the conviction was growing that Ashfirth Saxon was a rarity in Katerina’s world, a dependable man. The Princess had insisted that such men existed and that Katerina was a fool if she let her experiences blind her to them.
He might confine me, but I really do not think he will hurt me.
Determination shone in those turquoise eyes. This man appeared to mean it when he said he was prepared to sacrifice anything for her. She was the Princess and he had been ordered to see to her safety. Many men would pay lip service to their orders, but if she could trust her instincts, this one was a rarity. He would carry out his orders with ruthless thoroughness, he would ensure her safety, he would die for her.
He thinks you are the Princess. If he knew your real identity, he would toss you overboard sooner than breathe.
Katerina thought quickly. Was Ashfirth Saxon dependable enough to be trusted with the truth? With matters as they stood, the real princess was in danger!
No, she could say nothing, it was not her truth to tell. She must remember her place—she was but a maidservant carrying out her mistress’s orders. It was not up to her to reveal Princess Theodora’s deception. I do not like lying to this man, but I have no choice. What an irony! The one time in her life she needed a man who was not dependable, and the Emperor sent this one! She could have done with someone like Commander Ashfirth years ago; God mocked her to send him now.
His eyes had darkened. He cleared his throat and shifted back a pace. ‘My lady, I will send Lady Anna to you.’
Katerina’s pulse quickened. Is he attracted to me? Yes, I think he is. He is watching my mouth, his fingers are digging into his palm, and…
The realisation that Ashfirth Saxon might be attracted to her sent panicky thoughts flying this way and that. Her stomach clenched; she could not cope with this!
Remain calm. Concentrate. This man is not driven by his baser instincts, he does not expect sexual favours from you, nor will he force compliance on you even if he desires you.
Indeed, there appeared to be a steadiness in his character that was at odds with what little Katerina knew of his comrades in the Varangian Guard. They were known to be wild, fierce fighters who fought to the death. Mercenary barbarians. If they had a fault, it was loyalty. No, they had another fault, Varangians had something of a reputation for drinking themselves insensible. It was hard to visualise this man doing such a thing, Commander Ashfirth was all control; anyone could see that.
Unfortunately, as far as she was concerned, this presented something of a challenge.
What if something happened to the Varangian galley while she was masquerading as her mistress? She would never forgive herself if the Princess and her baby came to harm…
What could she do? She was following the orders of her mistress. It would help if she knew more about Ashfirth Saxon’s background and nature. Perhaps he was not quite as honourable as she imagined. If she could only question him without raising his suspicions, she might discover another way to get word back to the Princess. But he was so angry with her! She must try to make amends…
He tipped his head, his attention caught by one of her earrings…that is, by one of the earrings Princess Theodora had given her. It was a gold filigree butterfly, Katerina had been told it came from somewhere in the East, somewhere beyond the land of the Turks.
‘Thank you, sir—’ she kept her expression carefully neutral ‘—I should enjoy Lady Anna’s company, but I do have some questions.’
His gaze shifted from the butterfly. ‘My lady?’
‘Will we make landfall this evening?’
‘No, tonight we will anchor offshore.’
‘Shall we be dining on board?’
‘Yes…but I should warn you, my lady, you will have to accustom yourself to simple fare. You and Lady Anna will be served here in the pavilion.’
‘I understand. It is Lent, I was not expecting a banquet.’ She smiled. ‘Sir, I have a favour to ask.’
A dark eyebrow lifted, his eyes were fixed on hers.
‘Since you have seen fit to deprive me of the company of my other ladies, and since you have confined me in here, I would be grateful if you would join us for the evening meal.’
His eyes were briefly lit by what looked like surprise. And was that a disarming hint of uncertainty? Yes, it was uncertainty; she had wrong-footed him with her invitation to dine. The tension lifted a little.
Then he bowed and shielded his eyes. ‘Thank you, my lady, I would be honoured.’
With a slight smile, he ducked out onto the deck, the parchment still in his belt.
Katerina stared at the swinging tent-flap.
Good, she would use tonight to learn as much as she could about Commander Ashfirth. She would test him. Subtly, of course. She would begin by seeing if he was one of the men who had helped the Varangians earn their hard-drinking reputation; she would try loosening his tongue with wine.
It was vital to find out exactly who she was dealing with, and not only for the Princess’s sake. If the unthinkable happened and the Princess did come to harm, the letter exonerating Katerina from blame might prove worthless, not to mention the promise of land and the gift of jewels. And as for that other precious document that was hidden in the jewel chest—the document of manumission that proved she was no longer a slave—that would become irrelevant. Would it weigh in her favour that Katerina had been obeying orders? She certainly hoped so, but she could not be sure…
Commander Ashfirth might appear to be able to control his temper, he might appear to be dependable, but he was a man. When he discovered how Katerina had deceived him, even he must be roused to anger. And men, as she had so painfully learned, became vicious when angry.
How confusing it was! She put her hand to her aching forehead. For years Katerina had longed to meet a reliable, temperate man, and now she thought she had found one, she felt as though she was stumbling about in a blindfold. But one thing she could see—their ship might be on its way to the capital, but that need not prevent her from helping the Princess.
The pretence must go on, she thought, as the ship’s bow lifted on a wind-blown wave.
Th
e sun had set some time ago. The huge red-and-white striped mainsail had been furled, and above the mast the heavens were velvet black and patterned with stars. They were anchored in a secluded bay off the coast of Epirus. No Normans had been sighted this far south, but even though it was known to be a safe area, Ash had taken the precaution of putting extra men on watch.
He made sure to present himself outside the Princess’s quarters in plenty of time. It wasn’t polite to keep a member of the Imperial family waiting. His lips twisted. Princess Theodora might not be entertaining him in the Great Palace, but he felt he owed her this courtesy. She had taken the loss of her ladies and his punishment for attempting to summon her body-servant far better than he had anticipated. Her invitation to dine had surprised him.
A horn lantern swung gently from a pole set outside the pavilion. The light from a lamp inside was filtering through the canvas, like a full moon shining through cloud.
He straightened his belt and shoved his hand through his hair. In honour of the occasion—dining alone with a princess was not something Ash had done before—he was wearing a blackberry-coloured silk tunic, one that up until this moment had seemed fine enough. By rights Ash should be wearing his dress uniform, but the necessity for secrecy had made that impossible. The crew had no idea who he was, any more than they knew that the lady they were returning to Constantinople was in truth a princess.
He straightened his tunic. Why the devil do I feel so ill at ease? The tunic had been an extravagance; it was banded with metallic embroidery at the neck and hem. Tonight it did not seem nearly fine enough. At his wrist there was a dull gleam of gold—his father’s arm-ring. The arm-ring was the only tangible reminder of his former life in England. Conscious that the Greeks must view Anglo-Saxon adornments as barbaric, Ash usually kept it out of sight beneath his sleeve. Tonight, on a rare impulse, he had left it showing.
He cleared his throat. ‘Ladies, it is I, Ashfirth Saxon.’
The flap lifted back, Lady Anna gestured him inside.
‘Come in, sir.’
In the past few years, Ash had made it his business to learn Court protocols. The Great Palace was ordered by rules, and soon after he had arrived he had realised that, if he were to succeed in his new life, he had best learn them.
However, this situation was unlike any he had encountered. He was dining with a princess who had but a single lady-in-waiting in attendance. He doubted there were protocols for a situation such as this.
‘Good evening, Lady Anna.’
Princess Theodora’s bed had been made up to resemble a couch and she was lying on her side, propped up on her elbow in the Roman style. Cushions with great silken tassels had appeared; she was surrounded by furs and richly coloured rugs. In a flowing green gown and diaphanous veil, she could have been an Empress of the old Empire. Her headband glittered with gemstones.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Lady Anna’s bed had been made up in the same way; there was a camping stool and…
An emerald ring flashed as a small hand was extended from the furs. Her doe’s eyes glowed in the lamplight. ‘Good evening, sir.’
Ash side-stepped a glass hanging lamp that had not been there earlier and bowed over her hand.
Scent. She is wearing scent. The tent was filled with a sensual blend of roses and musk and some other spicy ingredient Ash did not recognise. Cinnamon? She had not been wearing it earlier. Nor the ring with the emerald in it. It must be worth several kings’ ransoms. He must remind her not to dress so ostentatiously, it might attract unwanted attention. They did not want anyone asking questions about her.
He kissed her fingertips and made a point of eyeing the glass lamp swinging above them—the colours and swirls had a definite Venetian cast to them. His gaze took in the leather camping stool, the heap of cushions, yet more furs. ‘Where, may I ask, did all this come from?’
Her fingers slid from his and she waved him towards the stool. ‘Toki found them for me.’
‘He did what? He was ordered to guard you.’
‘To keep me confined, don’t you mean?’
Ash looked at her. Those dark-lashed eyes were so wide, her skin was so clear. The Princess was quite the loveliest woman he had seen in an age. She was so lovely, she had probably wound Toki round her little finger in a trice. In truth, it was very hard to chastise her when she looked up at a man in that way—that tentative smile with its fascinating suggestion of shyness was irrestistible…
‘Sir, I swear I did not leave this tent.’
Ash shook his head. ‘I shall have to have words with Toki. He must have breached the ship’s cargo, the merchant who owns them will be most displeased.’
‘Please, sir—’ her voice was husky ‘—do not chastise Toki. When he heard you were coming to dine, he offered to help.’
Ash gave her a sceptical look.
‘Wine, sir?’
Anna was proffering a goblet, absently, Ash took it. ‘My thanks.’
Princess Theodora’s face drew his gaze. As he sipped his wine and the Princess gestured for Anna to serve them their meal, he was able to observe her.
Pretty, very pretty. Princess Theodora had the dark delicate features that had always appealed to him. Fine, arched eyebrows, a clear brow. Those soft brown eyes, those thick black eyelashes. Her complexion was unblemished and a long and glossy strand of hair had slipped free of her veil—it was a rich brown in colour.
Her veil was less all-enveloping this evening, less like a nun’s. She shifted and the furs fell away to reveal a green gown that fitted more closely than the one she had travelled in. As Ash had suspected, she was tiny. A gem-studded belt accentuated a slender waist. Her breasts were clearly visible under the green silk; they were small and finely shaped, like the rest of her.
Ash felt a stirring in his groin. I want her. Heaven help me, I want the Princess!
She was watching Anna as she bustled in and out with plates and serving dishes. Vaguely Ash was conscious of Hrodric assisting; he too must have volunteered to help. Covers were lifted off dishes. Chicken—he could smell the chicken and herb sauce he had ordered. It had been cooked in the port that morning; someone on board had managed to heat it for them.
The Princess turned towards him, one elegant brow lifted. ‘Chicken, sir, in Lent?’
Ash shrugged, somewhat dazed by the power of what was a most unexpected and extremely inconvenient flash of desire. ‘I thought you might like it.’
‘Thank you, I do. The convent fare was somewhat…spartan.’
‘We will not eat so well every day,’ he warned.
‘So it will be soldiers’ rations tomorrow?’ She smiled and for a brief moment, she was not the Emperor’s niece, but simply a pretty girl who had caught his interest.
His heart squeezed. Such entanglements were not for him. Even if she were not the Princess, it was a point of honour for Ashfirth that he never allowed himself to become fond of a woman. That way, he would never again have to endure the pain of losing someone he loved. It had taken him years to recover from the blows that the Norman invaders had dealt him when they had stolen his family and his life in England. The experience had taught him a harsh lesson. Guard your emotions, always.
Why the hell had she asked him to dine with her? He was no courtier. What did he have to say that could possibly interest this woman?
My men are happier on the battlefield, my lady. They see this commission as something of an insult. Or—and this was perhaps even worse—my men serve your uncle honourably, but they look to the day when a better man occupies his throne.
Lord, I had best eat quickly and leave.
His leg throbbed. Surreptitiously, he eased it.
The wine slid down easily; Lady Anna refilled his goblet.
The chicken was fragrant with thyme and bay; Lady Anna ladled it into wooden bowls. There was dark rye bread to mop up the sauce.
Hrodric set dishes of honey pastries flecked with almonds on one of the travelling chests; bowls of dried
fruits were set next to them—apricots, figs, plums. He bowed himself out.
The food appeared to be exactly as Ashfirth had ordered. Not knowing what she was used to, he had warned her it would be simple fare, but he had done his best to see that the supplies taken on board were fine enough to suit the palate of a princess. He bent over his bowl, the chicken was cooked to perfection, thank God.
Ash was conscious of those dark eyes resting on him from time to time. Him—entertain Princess Theodora? Impossible. But he was hungry. And the wine was easing the ache in his leg. Absently, Ash rubbed it.
‘Your leg pains you, sir? Were you hurt in the service of the…my uncle?’
‘No, it was a stupid accident.’
‘Oh?’
Those eyes were so sympathetic, Ash found himself adding, ‘Happened in the Hippodrome.’
Her eyes were blank. ‘Sir?’
‘My lady, you remember the Hippodrome? The arena outside the Palace?’
She nodded awkwardly. ‘Naturally—but I was just a child. Please continue.’
‘My horse threw me in a race and I broke my leg. It is healing, but more slowly than I would wish.’
‘Your horse threw you?’ She grimaced. ‘I am not surprised you were hurt, if you fell off that monster. He is huge.’
‘Huge? Caesar?’ Ash laughed, shaking his head. ‘You call Caesar huge?’
The doe eyes watched him. He was struck by a ridiculous longing to find the green flecks in them, but he was not close enough to see them.
‘He seems huge to me, sir.’
‘He is not a destrier such as a Norman knight would have. He is too fine-boned. Caesar was created for speed, he loves polo.’
‘Polo? Oh, yes.’
She smiled as though she knew exactly what he was talking about, but something was definitely wrong here. Ash was struck by a ridiculous thought. That mention of polo has disconcerted her and she does not want me to know it.
Bound to the Barbarian Page 6