‘My lord,’ Theodora heard herself objecting, as he dealt courteously with yards of purple silk. ‘How will Sophia get back to the Palace?’
‘She has legs.’ He grinned. ‘Your other ladies walked, it is not far. My officers will escort her.’ Leaning out, he gestured the bearers forward and took his place at her side. The palanquin rocked. Sprays of leaves and flowers showered through the windows. Theodora could scarcely see the floor for myrtle, bay and lilies. It smelled like spring.
‘My lord—’
‘Nikolaos.’ Strong fingers squeezed hers. ‘We are husband and wife and I would prefer that you call me Nikolaos, particularly when we are on our own. Further, with your permission, I should like to address you as Theodora. Do I have your permission, my lady?’
‘If that is your wish.’ She was trying not to scour the faces of the throng lining the route. The palanquin had almost crossed the square in front of the church and she hadn’t seen Boda. Perhaps, having delivered his message, he would leave her alone for a while.
‘A kiss! A kiss!’ a woman cried, waving a scarf to attract their attention.
Others took up the refrain. ‘Kiss her, General! Kiss the Princess!’
Nikolaos looked at her, dark eyes dropping briefly to her mouth. ‘With your permission, Princess?’
Theodora gave a jerky nod. ‘I thought you were going to call me Theodora.’ Her voice sounded croaky.
He smiled and wound an arm round her shoulder as he gently tipped up her chin. ‘Relax, Theodora,’ he whispered, ‘this won’t take a moment.’
Nikolaos touched his lips lightly to hers. He had been burning to kiss Theodora ever since he had realised that she had not been frowning at him. She was heart-wrenchingly lovely, he wanted her with every bone in his body, but the kiss must be brief. His wife was a Princess with impeccable bloodlines and this was a public kiss—he must show respect.
A soft moan caught him off-guard and Nikolaos let his mouth linger on hers for an instant or two longer. Her scent was womanly and exotic; he breathed it in, allowing it to penetrate deep into his memory. Theodora. My wife.
The roar of the onlookers became an irrelevance. By some sorcery the crowd was suddenly a thousand miles away. Her lips were warm and sweet and hard to draw away from. The air was rich with scents—the lilies her well-wishers had strewn on the floor of the palanquin, the light scent of violets, bay. He forced himself to raise his head. It would be folly to make the citizens of Constantinople think he was treating an Imperial princess with disrespect. Reluctantly, he released her.
Theodora’s eyes were closed, her lips were slightly parted—the look of expectancy was irresistible. Nikolaos kissed her again, taking hold of her shoulders. When he felt her hand sliding round his waist, his stomach rocked. He wanted more, much more. And he did not want to wait eight days for it either. Those eight days of chastity were beginning to look like torment.
The second time Nikolaos raised his head, the crowd’s roar surely reached the heavens. The palanquin swayed. It wasn’t enough, his blood was heating fast. It didn’t help when his wife reached for his shoulder and leaned into him. He felt a light kiss on his neck and gathered her close.
‘With your permission, Princess,’ he muttered, sliding his hand firmly round the back of her head. Then, heedless of her marriage crown, or his, heedless of her elaborately styled hair, he kissed her in the way that he desired.
Properly. To hell with the crowd.
She shifted nearer.
Deeply. Devil take their expectations.
Her mouth opened under his.
Thoroughly. This was his wife.
Her tongue met his. She pressed her breasts against his chest. When he groaned, he could swear she answered him in kind, but he could not be certain because the hoots and applause from the crowd was deafening.
‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ they screamed.
‘Another! Give us another!’
Nikolaos was only too happy to oblige. And so, it seemed, was his bride.
Silk rustled. The palanquin was full of sighs, the scent of crushed violets and of femininity. His wife.
‘Theodora.’ There wasn’t enough air in the palanquin—his pulse throbbed, he ached with want. Her crown was definitely an impediment. If he didn’t push it aside and unpin that shining brown hair, he would surely go up in flames. He itched to tear off the purple robes and...
May the Lord have mercy. Startled at the rush of desire...at the need she evoked in him, a need so powerful it hurt, Nikolaos tore his lips from Theodora’s. He was astonished to realise how hard he was breathing. If he were not careful, he would be consummating their marriage in full sight of the entire City.
She, too, was breathless. Her crown had slipped, it was tilted slightly to one side. His heart clenched. On her the wretched thing looked almost endearing. Some of her hair had come undone, a sinuous curl coiled seductively over her shoulder. Violets were scattered everywhere, and the lily she had been holding was bent and squashed.
Theodora stared at her new husband, swallowing hard. She hoped the people could not see the effect he had on her. She was meant to be innocent, a pampered princess who had known protection every day of her life. This man made her forget all that.
‘Your crown has slipped,’ he said, reaching to straighten it. His eyes—the dancing eyes—were hot and wicked.
Face on fire, Theodora attempted to slide away from him, but there was little room. ‘My lo—Nikolaos, we ought to take care, we are in public.’
‘As you wish.’
Apparently complaisant, he sank back against the thick upholstery. He gave her another grin. It was not in the least complaisant, it seemed to promise nights filled with endless delight. Retrieving one of her hands, he lifted it to his lips in the acceptable courtly manner. As far as the delighted crowd was concerned, their princess had chastened her passionate husband, he had obeyed her and she was being given a polite, apologetic kiss.
Except she knew it wasn’t an apologetic kiss. He nibbled her fingertips, once, twice...making her limbs turn to water, trying to charm her. She snatched her hand away.
He gave a soft laugh. ‘Until later, Theodora.’
Dangerous—that charm made him dangerous. Theodora hadn’t anticipated charm. She must take care not to allow him through her defences. She hadn’t believed it would be possible, not after Peter. It must not be possible—she couldn’t grant any man that power. I am an Imperial princess, I am marrying him for Martina’s sake. I am marrying him so that once again I may call the Empire my home.
Jerking her head, Theodora stared resolutely out of the window.
‘Smile, my Princess, you’re forgetting to smile.’
His voice was full of warmth and laughter, and something clenched deep within her. Charm. I have underestimated this man.
The palanquin left the square and passed through the Palace Gates. Guards snapped to attention. Theodora’s breathing and heartbeat returned to normal. Her cheeks cooled.
The way Nikolaos had kissed her...it was as though he had been branding her! Peter hadn’t dared to handle her in such a way. Not once. Surreptitiously, Theodora ran her tongue round her lips—she felt almost...bruised.
They were approaching the Boukoleon Palace where a row of maidservants was lined up to greet them. Theodora gave them the obligatory smile. It startled her that this time, the smile felt genuine.
* * *
Their wedding day was almost over. In the banqueting hall, under the Imperial standard, Theodora sat very straight in her high-backed, cushioned chair. If she moved, even an inch, she was afraid she might crumble. She had played her part to the point of exhaustion and her most
exacting scene was yet to come. Was Nikolaos expecting to sleep with her?
Her husband sat next to her in an identical chair and they looked out over a table crowded with silver candlesticks, gold platters and sparkling Venetian glassware. Theodora was too tired to focus on the faces around the board. Nikolaos had been most supportive as on
e ritual had been succeeded by another, she could not have wished for a more attentive bridegroom. He had smiled as he waved for her glass to be filled. He had served her himself with the choicest cuts—offering her sturgeon, quail, and stuffed peacock’s eggs. He had called for ginger and cinnamon pastries when she mentioned how she relished them. In truth, she ate frugally. It seemed churlish to wish for this, their wedding feast, to be over, but Theodora had had enough. She wanted to know whether Nikolaos was expecting to sleep with her.
‘Lord Basil is in his element,’ she said, sighing, as one lengthy and particularly boring speech segued seamlessly into the next.
Nikolaos sent her one of his wicked grins. ‘I thought he would take exception when we brought the wedding date forward, but he relished the challenge.’
Her husband’s tunic was dazzling in the blaze of the candles. With his silver and gold braiding and his jewelled wedding crown, Nikolaos might be taken for a king. Despite her fatigue, his dark face kept drawing her attention. The lines of that strongly-formed nose fascinated her, as did those chiselled cheekbones, the finely shaped mouth, the tiny scar beneath his eye...
Theodora reached blindly for a wine glass, she sipped and tasted nothing, she was too tired.
‘Not long now,’ Nikolaos said.
Their wedding feast was unusual in that both men and women were present. In the Palace it was more common for the sexes to eat separately. There had been no sign of the Emperor and Empress. With several days of their penitential fasting left to go, their Imperial Majesties would not be taking part in state banquets for some while.
Thank goodness. Theodora was only too relieved not to be seeing the Emperor. The longer her meeting with His Majesty was delayed, the better. She wanted to make sure of Nikolaos before speaking to the Emperor.
Theodora’s aunt was present, further down the board. Theodora smiled at her over the rim of her Venetian glass.
‘I was hoping to meet your mother, my lord,’ she said. ‘Is Lady Verina not here?’
Her husband’s expression froze. ‘No, my lady, she is not.’
‘That is a shame.’ She laid her fingers on the back of his hand. ‘Is it because we brought the marriage forward? Was there no time to send her a message?’
His hand lay unresponsive under hers. Theodora’s spirits sank. She had married a man she had only spoken to a handful of times, but she had believed she could warm to him. The wicked light in his eyes had hinted at pleasures that might be shared; his unexpected charm had touched her heart. That light was gone, so had the charm—he was looking at her with cold, cold eyes. How had she thought she could warm to him? He was a complete stranger. What had happened?
‘I sent no message.’
Theodora stared. ‘You will send her one, surely?’
Broad shoulders lifted. ‘I wasn’t planning to.’ He paused. ‘My lady, even if I had sent a message, Larissa is too far away for my mother to have reached the City in time for the ceremony. I didn’t see the point.’
She leaned towards him. ‘Your mother will want to know that the marriage has taken place. You will send her a message.’
He drew his head back, studying her. ‘Is that a command, Princess?’
Theodora reached for a honey pastry she did not want, hoping he had not noted how his shift of mood had upset her. It would not do to give this man power over her. ‘Your mother should be told our wedding has taken place. My lord, you are fortunate to have a mother.’
His lips twisted. ‘I am?’
His apparent callousness took her breath away—something was very wrong here. Biting into the pastry, Theodora resolved to discover what lay at the root of his anger against Lady Verina. Their wedding feast, while they were under the eye of half the Palace, was not the place for her to be making intimate enquiries, nor was it any place for an argument.
She swallowed down her pastry. ‘Indeed, you are most fortunate,’ she said mildly. ‘My mother died years ago and I still miss her. The same goes for my father. They died shortly after I was sent to Rascia.’
His mouth softened and the harshness left his expression. ‘That must have been hard for a young girl far away from home.’
‘Yes.’
‘How did it happen? I knew your parents were dead, but I cannot remember being told how they died.’
She stared at a knife on the table. ‘My parents were coming to visit me in Rascia. There was a storm off the coast of Corfu and their ship went down. They drowned.’
Shifting his hand under hers, he linked their fingers. ‘I am sorry. That is a terrible thing for a young girl to accept. Particularly one sent to live so far from home.’
Theodora nodded and smiled, and turned the subject. The rest of the feast passed without upset. Theodora’s husband was once again the attentive bridegroom and Theodora took care to avoid mention of his mother.
Finally, after a succession of toasts presided over by Lord Basil, they made their escape, slipping from the banqueting hall shortly after a lute-player from Apulia began singing.
* * *
On the arm of her husband, Theodora was led to the door of an apartment a few floors below the one she had occupied as an unmarried woman. She nodded at the guards in passing, so occupied with the challenge ahead of her—convincing her husband she was an untouched princess—that she barely noticed the Varangians had been replaced with men from the Athanatoi.
‘Goodness,’ she said, brightly, as they crossed the threshold. Wall lamps flickered with yellow light. ‘This apartment is the twin of my old one.’ The reception chamber here had the same tiled floor, the same tall windows overlooking the Sea of Marmara, the same diaphanous purple curtains billowed in the on-shore breeze.
‘His Majesty has been most kind,’ Nikolaos said. ‘This is a world away from my quarters at the barracks.’
Theodora walked the length of the room, past lamp after lamp. She hoped her husband could not read her. She had done it, she was married, but marriage had not eliminated all of her problems. With Prince Djuradj’s men in the City, it had become even more important to bind Nikolaos to her. She did not think that conversation alone would win him. Nikolaos was unashamedly physical...so virile...he responded to her lightest touch. Before she met him, it had been easy to imagine she could hold him at bay for a while. She was no longer so certain.
She paused by the brazier at the far end of the reception chamber. The coals glowed red, the heat ran up her arm. As in her previous apartment, the brazier stood outside the door of a room that looked identical to the one Martina had occupied. Thankfully the door was shut, she could hear muffled singing behind it. A lullaby. Dear Heaven, Jelena was singing to Martina. Nikolaos would hear.
She whirled round and found him half a pace behind her.
Oh, no! What if Martina cries?
‘Our apartment meets with your approval, my lady?’
Our apartment. Sweet Mother.
‘It is lovely, very much like my old one.’ Theodora began to babble, anything to cover up the sound of Jelena’s lullaby. ‘The servants have been working hard, they have moved everything so quickly, my lord. Even the curtains.’
‘Nikolaos,’ he murmured. ‘Call me Nikolaos.’
She snatched at his hand, his lips formed a slow smile. My touch did that. Ignoring his smile, she towed him away from the nursery and prayed Martina did not cry until she had found a way to tell him there was a child in her entourage.
Days, Martina will have to be quiet for days.
Theodora came to an abrupt halt outside the bedchamber and dropped his hand as abruptly as she had taken it. ‘Good night, my lord.’
He made a sound of regret. ‘Pity. You got my hopes up there.’
‘My lord!’ She gave him a shocked look. ‘You cannot have forgotten the eight days of chastity enjoined on us by the Church?’
Dark eyes stared into hers, his mouth lifted into a smile. ‘You believe in that nonsense?’
‘I...I...yes!’
‘Hmm.
We shall see.’ He looked at her mouth, before slowly running his gaze up and down her body.
She felt it like a caress. A caress that left her feeling...extremely unsettled. It left her wanting. Dear Heaven, what is this man doing to me?
‘I shall give you some time with your ladies, Princess, but I shall be back later. We will share a bed tonight.’
Bowing, he strode from the apartment.
We will share a bed tonight...tonight...
The doors shut behind him. With her husband’s words echoing in her ears, Theodora flew down the length of the reception chamber and into the small room at the end. Jelena was nursing Martina, smiling as she stroked the soft baby hair. A tiny starfish-shaped hand was splayed out across Jelena’s breast. Squashing down a pang of what she was horribly afraid was jealousy, Theodora looked at the wet-nurse.
‘I can see Martina is well, Jelena. You have everything you need?’
‘Thank you, despoina, we have everything.’
‘I will see her in the morning,’ Theodora said, softly. She stared longingly at her daughter for a few precious seconds, then quietly closed the door.
Tonight...tonight...
In the bedchamber, Sophia had lit more lamps and was waiting to attend her. The great mulberry-coloured bed was waiting, too, with its swags of drapery and tasselled cushions. Theodora felt her pulse jump, it was all over the place.
‘The servants have been busy. I was not sure they would manage to shift the bed downstairs,’ Theodora said, lifting a foot for her slipper to be removed. A brazier stood to one side of the bed. She frowned. ‘Sophia, I did not ask for a brazier.’
‘The chamber was chilled.’
‘Please have it removed.’
‘My lady?’
‘It gives off too much light. I don’t want light, not tonight. And put out the lamps, will you? Save for the one by the bed.’
‘Very well, my lady.’
Theodora was so consumed with her thoughts that she did not see Sophia calling for servants, she did not see them carefully removing the brazier, nor did she see Sophia turning down the lamps. I have married a man who believes me to be a virgin and I am anything but virginal. I want there to be truth between us, but if I tell him about Martina tonight, the moment he learns I am no virgin, he will suspect she is my daughter. He may force me to give her up.
Betrothed to the Barbarian Page 14