Betrothed to the Barbarian

by Carol Townend

  Nikolaos regretted his doubts, he was strongly drawn to her. Of course, if any action of hers put the state at risk, Nikolaos would have to denounce her, even if they were married. The Duke of Larissa, General of the Athanatoi Cavalry, Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army, was, first and foremost, loyal to Emperor Alexios.

  ‘Why the rush?’ He hoped he was imagining her anxiety. She was an Imperial princess and it was unthinkable she was embroiled in some plot against the Empire. And yet there had been that moment in the gardens when the Princess had lost colour; there had been that incident outside Cleo’s house; and—lord, how could he have forgotten?—before he met her, there had been that broken saddle girth on the polo field...

  Nikolaos wanted to be imagining her anxiety. He wanted maidenly modesty to be the cause of her nervousness. It was possible. She is shy and innocent.

  Dark eyes held his, they were flecked with tiny green lights. Her chin lifted. It was a determined chin—Nikolaos recognised steel beneath the nervousness.

  ‘Why? Because I have realised how well you will...suit me, my lord.’

  Her cheeks brightened, and when she lowered her lashes, Nikolaos realised that she had been looking at his mouth. On her mouth that subtle, enticing smile was back. In truth, he did not know what to think about her—she had his thoughts in knots.

  Nikolaos knew a moment’s confusion when he was unable to decide whether she genuinely wanted his kiss or whether she was merely using the appearance of wanting his kiss as a distraction. Either way, what did it matter? He knew what he wanted. Shifting his hand to her chin, he lowered his lips to hers.

  He kept it light and easy, as a first kiss should be.

  Her lips were warm and soft. Nikolaos was at once lost in a cloud of scent, in a complex blend of violets and musk. She didn’t open her mouth and he didn’t press her. An unmarried princess such as she, a modest virgin, would need careful handling.

  No one will have touched her. He must not alienate her by rushing her. When Nikolaos drew back he was aching and more than a little dazed for wanting more. Startled brown eyes met his, her cheeks were rosy. She had felt it, too, that visceral jolt of connection. Good.

  He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and reminded himself that he must remain on his guard, all the more so because it seemed that every moment he spent in her company made him less inclined to interrogate and more inclined to seduce. He began walking with her down one side of the colonnaded cloister. Long blue skirts trailed behind them, hushing over the granite stones. Through the arches, the rain was slanting down in the central courtyard.

  ‘Why the change of heart, despoina?’ When her hand trembled, he covered it with his. ‘I will have it out of you. If I am to become your husband, it would be best if you learned to trust me.’

  That subtle smile appeared, it was utterly disarming.

  ‘Already I trust you far more than I expected, my lord.’ The smile vanished, her voice tightened. ‘Have you given any thought as to where we shall live after our wedding? Shall we return to Larissa?’

  That was a change of subject if ever there was one. His princess was determined to give nothing away.

  ‘Princess Theodora.’ Nikolaos kept his tone gentle. If she was to become his wife, she must learn that he was equally determined. Some secret was weighing on her soul and sooner or later he would prise it out of her. ‘Princess, something unexpected happened last night. I was in two minds as to whether to tell you. I do not wish to alarm you, but since we are to be married I shall tell you.’

  She smiled politely up at him, but her eyes were intent and, once again, those slight fingers clenched on his arm. ‘Unexpected?’

  One colonnade came to an end and they turned to process slowly down the next. In the shallow bowl in the centre, spray from the three fountains was mixing with the rain, spotting the entire surface of the water. With a flurry of white, a dove landed and began washing itself.

  ‘Yesterday evening,’ Nikolaos said, ‘I was walking in the City when I was accosted by two men I had never seen before.’

  Slowly, she unclenched her fingers on his sleeve. He sensed it took effort and noted how she had creased the white fabric. ‘Yet they knew you? Who were they?’

  ‘I thought you might tell me—they delivered their message at sword point.’

  Her gasp, though quickly smothered, was audible over the hiss of the rain and the splashing of the dove. ‘Two men, you say? They did not attack you?’ She gripped his arm; the delicacy of those ringed fingers was deceptive. She had strength.

  ‘They did not attack me.’

  ‘Where were you when this happened?’

  Nikolaos felt himself flush. ‘That is irrelevant.’

  ‘Is it?’ Her fingers dug into his sleeve, her gaze was

  needle-sharp, her voice imperious. ‘My lord, I must know...were you in the Palace when this happened?’

  Slowly, he shook his head. ‘It happened in one of the streets behind the Hippodrome.’

  Dark eyes bored into his and he saw the instant she made the connection. Lord, she had heard him in the stables, she knew about Cleo and she realised whom he had been visiting. Her jaw set and she broke away to frown at the dove in the water. ‘I also want the truth, my lord. Were you visiting your mistress? I heard you had one.’

  Guilt twisted in his gut, even though he told himself that there was no need for guilt. ‘I did have a mistress,’ he spoke firmly. ‘I have one no longer. I have ended our...association.’

  She looked coolly at him. ‘At any rate, I am glad you were unhurt.’

  ‘Those men were not intent on a fight. And had they been...’ he shrugged ‘...frankly, they were not much of threat. They were nervous, which argues for no great skill at swordplay.’ He moved closer and lowered his voice. ‘They were almost as jumpy as you. What are you hiding, my lady?’

  She drew her head back, her gaze did not waver. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘Their master wanted to let me know I would be ill-advised to marry you.’

  Her lips worked. ‘Their master?’

  She appeared calm, but she was twisting her fingers together so tightly Nikolaos could see her bones. Taking her hand, he stilled the movement. ‘They refused to give his name. But you know who he is, don’t you? You know who sent that message.’

  When she tried to pull free, he was ready for her. He tightened his hold.

  ‘Who sent that message, Princess?’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘Unhand me, my lord.’

  ‘I will, as soon as you have told me the name of their master. You know it, I am sure.’

  She shrugged. It struck him the gesture was hunted rather than casual and his heart twisted in sympathy, he had to steel himself to remain detached.

  ‘It might be anyone,’ she said. ‘A princess of the Imperial House has many suitors, my lord.’ She looked pointedly at the hand constraining her. ‘And most of them know that this is not the way to court her. Unhand me.’

  Theodora’s stomach had sunk to the ground. Boda! It had to have been Boda who had accosted the Duke. And Boda was not alone. Her mind raced as she tried to pull free. ‘My lord, I am not prepared to accept rough handling. Release me.’

  Nikolaos shook his head and a lock of dark hair fell across his forehead.

  What could she say? Theodora had been quick to discover a liking for this man who was to be her husband; however, liking was not complete trust. Not yet. Martina might suffer if she trusted him too soon.

  ‘I...I, my lord, please!’

  Where were Sophia and Thetis? Could they not see she was in need of rescuing? Theodora craned her neck, but her ladies were out of sight, they had taken her at her word and withdrawn down the statue-lined passageway into the Boukoleon. They were trying to be tactful. They had divined that she liked the Duke and were giving her a chance to build on that. Irrationally, she felt a flash of anger against them. Why weren’t they watching her more closely?

  Instead, it was Duke Nikolaos w
ho was watching her. Those long-lashed dark eyes were shrewd. They were not unkind, but they were not dancing. They were disturbing. So watchful. He gave her an encouraging smile and it reached deep into her belly. The Duke was, curse the man, far too handsome and Theodora suspected he knew it. That kiss...the heavy-lidded, knowing way he looked at her...the way he gentled his voice...

  He was using every weapon in his armoury to encourage her to open her heart to him. And he was, she realised, far more determined than Peter had ever been. Complete silence on her part was not possible, he was too intelligent to settle for that. Without mentioning Martina, she would have to give him something.

  ‘My lord, it...in Rascia, Prince Peter had enemies.’

  As soon as she began speaking, he relaxed his grip and allowed her to pull free. Pausing, she made a play of rubbing her hand, even though he had not hurt her. ‘What do you know about Prince Peter, my lord?’

  ‘I know he died unexpectedly. My lady, a moment ago you mentioned that you had many suitors? What suitors? I was unaware of any suitors...’

  ‘I shall come to that in a moment. Prince Peter was killed, my lord. Murdered. He had violent enemies, enemies whose one thought since then has been to punish me for my relationship with him.’

  The Duke tipped his head to one side. ‘You are saying Prince Peter’s murderers followed you here?’

  ‘My lord, I have no proof as to their guilt, only suspicions, but, yes, I believe Prince Peter’s murderers have followed me here. I thought I saw one of them in the Palace gardens yesterday—I believe you observed my reaction. In light of what happened to you last night, I am convinced it was he. He is called Boda, and he is Djuradj’s creature.’

  ‘Djuradj? The Prince—the Župan—of Zeta?’

  ‘The same.’ Theodora took a steadying breath. ‘Prince Djuradj is not cast in the same mould as Prince Peter—’

  ‘Prince Djuradj is ungovernable,’ the Duke broke in, frowning. ‘The man is impossible to deal with.’

  ‘He is certainly ambitious and hostile to Byzantine interests. My lord, I believe Prince Djuradj has sent men to Constantinople because he wants to marry me.’

  Nikolaos went still. ‘The Prince of Zeta dared approach you with an offer?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘He arrived at the Rascian Court shortly after Peter’s death. In fact, he arrived so swiftly that I came to suspect...’

  ‘You are saying that Prince Peter was killed because he stood in the way of Prince Djuradj’s ambitions?’

  Theodora nodded. ‘That is my belief. I have no proof.’

  ‘Jesu.’ Lightly, the Duke touched her hand. ‘You must have been terrified.’

  Theodora’s eyes stung. ‘I was, yes.’ She felt a most inappropriate longing to confess exactly how terrified she had been, but sin sat heavily on her conscience. Duke Nikolaos was such a stickler for honour, he might reject her if he knew the truth. I need him.

  ‘Princess, you are home now, you are safe. It beggars belief that Prince Djuradj approached you in your hour of grief with an offer of marriage. And he must be aware that Byzantine princesses usually marry within the Empire, your betrothal to Prince Peter was exceptional.’

  ‘Yes, it is rare for a princess to marry outside the Empire,’ Theodora said quietly. ‘When I was originally told of my betrothal to the Župan of Rascia I...I was surprised, I admit it.’ Theodora had been more than surprised—she had been devastated. It had been such a shock to have been sent away from everything she had known, she had cried for a week. I felt like a piece of merchandise being shipped from one side of the Empire to another. Her first weeks in Rascia had felt like exile.

  The Duke was shaking his head. ‘The effrontery of the man! Even Župan Djuradj must realise that the only reason you were betrothed to Prince Peter was because of Rascia’s long and friendly association with the Empire. There is no such association with Zeta. And to think that Župan

  Djuradj approached you directly—’ he made a sound of disbelief ‘—his proposal should have come via the Emperor. The gall of the man!’

  ‘I expect he thought to gain the advantage by securing my agreement first. My refusal infuriated him. My lord, Prince Djuradj was so insistent I went into hiding.’

  ‘That is why you took so long to return home? You were fleeing Prince Djuradj?’

  Theodora nodded. Tension was tight inside her, it was uncomfortable giving this honourable man half-truths. I have no choice. For Martina’s sake, the Duke must only have half-truths. I can hardly tell him I went into hiding because I was pregnant.

  ‘My lord, Župan Djuradj is violent—violent and vindictive. He was jealous of Rascian ties with the Empire and I believe he wants to punish me for refusing him and agreeing to marry you.’ She found herself moving closer, looking earnestly up into his dark, dark eyes. She found herself speaking the truth. ‘My lord, I am glad to be home again and glad that I am marrying you. It is such a relief to know that the Emperor trusts my husband. I am tired of hiding.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘You want a protector.’

  ‘With Boda in the Palace, I need one.’

  ‘Princess, I shall make enquiries as to why the man has been allowed in.’

  ‘It is likely Boda will be here on the pretext of establishing some kind of rapport with the Empire. There have been many border disputes.’

  Nikolaos gave a burst of contemptuous laughter. ‘Border disputes? That I can well believe. From what I hear,

  Djuradj has an extremely flexible view of where his principality ends and the borders of our Empire begin.’

  ‘One does not reason with Djuradj,’ Theodora said fiercely. ‘He is a lying, murderous swi—’

  Warm fingers lightly touched hers. ‘He shall not harm you—I shall not let him. Rest assured, my lady, his men will not touch my bride.’

  The sincerity in his voice went some way to reassure her—thinking about Prince Djuradj invariably panicked her. It was hate. It was fear.

  ‘Prince Djuradj has a long reach,’ she murmured.

  ‘You are safe, Princess.’

  Theodora tipped her head back to look up at him. Duke Nikolaos of Larissa was tall, much taller than Peter. And darkly handsome where Peter had been fair. In truth, Duke Nikolaos couldn’t be less like Peter if he tried. The two men were different in more ways than their looks, though. This man is strong, he is a survivor. The thought came out of nowhere and caught her by surprise. It had not been Peter’s fault that he had been murdered. Nevertheless...this man would protect her—Martina would be safe.

  ‘I trust you, Duke Nikolaos,’ she said, and hoped he could read the sincerity in her voice. ‘I am thankful that we are to marry.’

  He smiled and lifted her hand. As Theodora looked at the unfamiliar head bowing over it, she was struck by the most unsettling thought. His hair was so dark, so thick—what would it feel like? Curling her other hand into her skirt, suddenly afraid that Duke Nikolaos might divine what she was thinking, Theodora tore her eyes away. When he straightened and looked at her, she was studying the acanthus leaves on an elaborately carved capital.

  ‘I am thankful, too,’ he murmured. Tucking her arm in his, in a possessive way that was already becoming familiar to her, he resumed his slow perambulation round the Fountain Court.

  Theodora allowed herself to relax, giving him half-truths seemed to have allayed his suspicions. It had been surprisingly easy to tell him about the proposal of marriage she had received from Župan Djuradj. Thankfully he didn’t seem inclined to probe further. Martina, for the time, was safe.

  She cleared her throat. ‘So. How soon may we marry, my lord?’

  ‘We could try for next week. With your permission, Princess, I shall seek His Majesty’s agreement to the change of plan.’

  ‘Next week would be most satisfactory,’ she said. She had kept Martina safe for several months, she must be able to manage another week...

  He caught her eyes and li
fted a dark eyebrow. ‘Provided you can wait that long, my lady.’

  His comment caught her off-guard. She was hesitating, wondering how best to respond, when she saw the flash of his teeth, the teasing grin. ‘You are very sure of yourself, my lord,’ she said. ‘My lord?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  Strong, warrior’s fingers were exploring hers, straightening them. He ran his thumb along their length, playing with her rings. His actions, simple though they were, set off a slow curl of nervousness, low in her belly. She frowned and willed it away. ‘Duke Nikolaos? You never did say where we shall make our home. Will we be joining your mother in Larissa?’

  His fingers stilled. ‘No, my lady, we will not.’

  The curt response set alarm bells ringing. There was anger there, definite anger. What had she said? ‘If we marry next week...’ she said slowly, trying to work it out ‘...there will not be sufficient time to notify Lady Verina of the change of date. She may not be able to reach the City in time and might miss our wedding. This upsets you?’

  He did not answer for a moment. And though he smiled, his eyes were carefully blank. ‘If our marriage takes place next week, my mother will accept it.’ He gave another pause. ‘Lady Verina wishes for this marriage, she will be glad. And now, if you would excuse me, my lady, I shall go and find a scribe and compose our letter to His Majesty. We shall need his blessing on the altered timing.’

  He gave her a brief bow and strode off in the direction of the gardens, boots clicking on the paving.

  Thoughtfully, Theodora watched him go. Something...there was something in his voice when he spoke of his mother, if only she could put her finger on it. Duke Nikolaos had the reputation of being a dutiful son, a reputation that had been borne out during Lady Verina’s recent illness—he had rushed back to Larissa to be at his mother’s bedside.

  There is some difficulty with his mother, I know it. Where does the anger come from? What has caused it?