‘Nikolaos, will you swear the Empire shall not have Martina? She will not be given back to Rascia?’
‘I swear it. By Saint Giorgos and all the angels, she is our daughter.’
‘Thank you! Thank you!’ Impulsively, she caught his hand. ‘I could not bear it if she was sent back. There are many warring factions in Rascia—they would tear her apart.’
‘Her identity cannot remain hidden, however. Envoys will have to be sent to Rascia to negotiate with the Council. We will find a way to satisfy them.’
‘Don’t forget Djuradj. What if the Emperor needs Martina to forge an alliance?’
‘His Majesty must use someone else. I have promised that you may keep Martina. I shall not change my mind.’ His fingers curled round hers, he was looking at their joined hands, face unreadable.
‘What is it? Niko?’
His gaze slowly lifted, skimming up her body. He took his time, appearing to study her—waist, breasts, shoulders, neck. He touched her hair, winding a stray tendril round his finger. He smoothed an eyebrow and looked at her mouth.
Theodora’s skin burned. They were standing so close, she was sure he must feel her blood heating. That familiar masculine scent filled her nostrils, blended with a faint hint of rosemary—and for a moment she was back in the bathhouse, aching with need. Peter had never wrung such intense reactions from her. ‘Niko?’
His appraisal finished, Nikolaos cleared his throat. His eyes were dark with desire. ‘I want you.’ He shook his head as though to clear it and gave her a twisted smile. ‘It should not be, I do not trust you, but I want you. When you are in a room, you are all I see. Even when I am not with you, you fill my mind.’
Sensing her moment had come, that it was now or never, Theodora took a deep breath. ‘Niko, I want you to tell me everything that was said between you and your mother.’
Abruptly, he stepped back. ‘No.’ He released her hand.
‘That was very...definite.’
‘Yes.’
‘Please tell me.’
He tipped his head to one side. ‘I don’t see why I should.’
‘You know very well. You feel more for me than lust. There should be no secrets between us.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You have the gall to say that?’
‘I was wrong to deceive you, I freely admit it. You must understand that when I came back to Constantinople, I was accustomed to being self-reliant. For years I had been in the habit of relying on no one but myself.’
‘Not even Peter?’
Theodora shook her head. ‘Not even Peter. I thought perhaps I might come to put my complete trust in him, but—’
‘You loved him.’
‘I married Peter because I was fond of him. At the time I mistook that for love. It was affection, though, not love.’ Theodora swept on. ‘Nikolaos, my dearest wish is to find my way into your heart as well as your mind. I am praying that you love me. I should like you to tell my why you refuse to see your mother.’ Theodora put her hands together and sank on to her knees before him. ‘Please.’
‘For God’s sake, Theodora, there’s no need to debase yourself.’ Taking her elbow, he tried to raise her.
Shaking him off, she remained on her knees. ‘There is every need—I must know! Why won’t you speak to her?’
‘Get up, Theodora.’
‘I will when you tell me.’
‘My mother has nothing to do with us, I refuse to discuss her.’
‘Very well, you give me no choice.’ And then Theodora did what she never thought to do in her life—she prostrated herself before her husband. The tiles were cold against her nose and palms. Hard.
‘Lord.’ His voice came from somewhere above her. ‘Theodora, there’s no need for that.’
Large hands attempted to lift her, she shrugged them off and raised her nose off a cluster of blue mosaics. ‘There is every need. It’s the only way I can think of to show you how important this is. You have to tell me why you will not speak to your mother.’
When Nikolaos gripped her waist, she batted ineffectually at him. ‘Don’t touch me!’ If he touched her, he would bend her to his will and she was not going to be bent. Not until she had mended matters between them.
He sighed. She heard rustling and felt him settle cross-legged on the floor beside her.
‘Theodora, do get up. Someone might come in—what will they think?’
‘They are bound to think,’ she said acidly, ‘they are looking at a peasant.’
He shifted close, his knee nudged her ribs. ‘I should not have said that, I apologise. Theo, please get up, or we shall have to stay here for ever.’
His voice was warm, he had called her Theo. She looked up and caught the tail end of a smile, quickly repressed. Her heart lifted. ‘Only if you te—’
Without warning, he lunged. She squealed and he took no notice, manhandling her until she was firmly on his lap.
It was, Theodora thought, a very nice lap, warmer and softer than the mosaic floor. But since it wouldn’t do for him to know it, she huffed out a breath and folded her arms, just in case they were tempted to wind round his neck. She might love this man, but she knew instinctively that the barrier to do with his loving her was somehow tied up in his relationship with his mother. Until she had his agreement to listen to what Lady Verina had to say, she wasn’t going to give him an inch.
He didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t holding him. Leaning towards her, he kissed her neck. ‘You are a stubborn, wilful woman,’ he said softly and kissed her again.
Before she knew it, Theodora was angling her head to allow him better access. Since she wasn’t kissing him back, that was surely allowable. She closed her eyes, smiling and surrendering to the sensations. Those ripples of feeling, that delicious melting inside...
‘Stubborn.’ He eased aside her pearls. A soft kiss landed on her collarbone and her nipples tightened. ‘Wilful.’ Warm fingers slid inside the neck of her gown and he pressed his mouth to the top of her breast. Her hidden, secret muscles clenched. ‘But most of all rebellious.’
Her eyes snapped open. ‘Rebellious?’
Niko covered her cheek with his hand, steady brown eyes smiled into hers. He kissed her nose. ‘Your hasty marriage to Peter of Rascia was your way of rebelling.’ When Theodora made an impatient movement, a strong hand slid round her neck and held her in place. ‘It is all of a piece with your hatred of being manipulated and your resentment at being shipped hither and yon like so much merchandise. I’d wager a galley full of bezants that it was your idea to marry early. You were asserting yourself. Well?’
Theodora stared in amazement. He was right, of course—Peter had brought their marriage forward at her insistence. She had been concerned that the Emperor’s predecessor might change his mind about the alliance with Rascia and she had been determined to gain some control of her life. How had Nikolaos known? ‘Am I so transparent?’
With a smile, he smoothed his thumb over her cheek and jaw. ‘I am coming to know you, my love. You do not like being manipulated.’
‘I do not.’ Absently, she rubbed her cheek against his hand. His use of the endearment had not passed unnoticed. She caught herself raising her mouth for a kiss and pulled back. ‘Not in any way.’
‘Kiss me, Theo.’
‘I thought you wanted to send me to Larissa.’
‘Lord, no.’ He groaned. A warm hand was stroking her back, the other had loosened a long lock of hair and wound it about his wrist—he was using it as a rope, to keep her close. ‘You know what I want.’ Gently, he tugged at her hair. His eyes were dark, full of warmth and want.
Theodora felt her limbs weakening. ‘In a moment. Your mother...’
His nostrils flared, his expression hardened. ‘I have explained that my mother broke her marriage vows. She insulted the man who I believed was my father—I have no wish to reconcile with her.’
Theodora nodded, though she had yet to understand his total rejection of Lady Verina. ‘Niko, I can s
ee it must be hard to learn that the man you thought of as your father was no such thing. However, illegitimacy will not strip you of land or power. It is clear that Emperor Alexios holds you in the highest esteem.’
‘That is beside the point. Lord Gregorios was my idol. He taught me to ride, he gave me my first sword, he—’ Niko’s skin darkened ‘—saw that my first taste of a woman was good, he—’
‘You loved him.’
‘Yes.’
She put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Lord Gregorios was your father in every way that mattered. Nikolaos, you must forgive Lady Verina—Lord Gregorios clearly did.’
‘Did he? I wonder if he even knew.’ He turned his head, face shadowed. ‘I believed them happy and contented together and all the while he was not my father.’
Thoughtfully, sensing that they were coming to the heart of the problem, she looked at his profile, a profile that might have been taken from the side of a Corinthian vase. This is about deceit. Nikolaos thinks Lady Verina deceived his father and he cannot stomach it. ‘There was never any sign of constraint between them?’
‘Never.’ His eyebrows formed a dark line. ‘I should have known. For a woman to deceive her husband in such a way—it is unforgivable. A child has a right to know the identity of his real father. All she would tell me was that he was born outside the Empire.’
‘Niko, do you think it possible that Lord Gregorios knew you were not his son?’
He made a dismissive sound. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I don’t believe I am. Niko, there may be good reasons for a man to condone his wife’s affair.’
‘Good reasons?’ He looked at her, eyes wide. ‘Are you mad?’
She gripped his shoulders, thinking aloud. ‘I wonder...do you think your mother wanted a child and Lord
Gregorios could not give her one? What if they both wanted a child?’
‘You are mad.’
‘I don’t think so. Niko, do you have brothers and sisters?’
‘I am the only one.’ Niko was shaking his head, she could almost see his mind wrestling with her suggestion. ‘My father was married before,’ he said slowly.
‘Did he have children with his first wife?’
‘No.’
‘There you are, then!’ She looked expectantly at him. ‘Is it so far-fetched that your mother might long for a child and that Governor Gregorios might turn a blind eye whilst she found someone to give her one?’
‘My father—that is to say, Lord Gregorios—always seemed besotted with her, it was common knowledge he would have given her the world if he could. However, it’s something of a reach to suggest that he would accept another man’s by-blow as his own...’
‘I see it would rankle if you thought she had deceived him.’
Nikolaos stared at the floor, his focus was miles away. ‘I have to confess, the possibility of my father condoning my mother’s affair never occurred to me. When my mother told me my father was foreign, a barbarian, I was blind to everything except the idea that I had been a mistake. An unwanted child. It so shocked me, it overrode all else. But you are suggesting that my mother might have wanted a child...that she...that she and Lord Gregorios might have agreed...’ brown eyes lifted ‘...do you really think it might have happened that way?’
‘The only way to know is to allow your mother to speak to you. She is eager to see you. Niko, you must hear her out.’
‘If my father knew all along, why not tell me years ago?’ Reaching up, he absently stroked her neck, sliding his fingers into her hair.
‘They may have decided that the fewer people knew about it, the better. Perhaps it simply was not important—they both wanted a child.’ Theodora pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘That is my belief, at any rate.’
Nikolaos fell silent again and Theodora leaned against him, giving him time to think, time to work out for himself that for Governor Gregorios to have invested so much love in him, he must have wanted him, too.
‘I believe both Lady Verina and Governor Gregorios wanted you,’ she murmured. ‘From the little you have told me, I am sure your father was proud of you. As is your mother. Speak to her, Niko, let her tell her story—you are breaking her heart.’
‘Yes, I do believe I will.’
A sigh left her. It was going to be all right, they were going to be all right.
‘Theo?’
‘Mmm?’
‘I love you.’
A flash of joy ran through her. Curling her fingers into his hair, she covered his face with kisses. ‘And I love you, Niko. So much.’
Still on her husband’s lap, Theodora’s breasts were pressed against his chest. Her skirts had ridden up about her knees and, at some point during their conversation, Nikolaos had found the skin beneath. Long fingers were caressing her calf, though from the distant expression in his eyes, Theodora doubted he was conscious of what he was doing. His mind was running over their conversation; he was thinking about Lady Verina and Governor Gregorios.
‘Niko?’ She kissed his neck.
‘Mmm?’
‘You are not going to send me to Larissa, are you?’
His eyes focused on her mouth, his lips curved, ‘Not this week. Not unless that rebellious streak shows signs of re-emerging.’
‘Then with your permission, my lord...’ She fitted her lips to his.
He twisted his head and gave a throaty groan and his lips moved against hers. ‘I love you, Theo.’
Theodora wriggled shamelessly against him and opened her mouth and a warm hand cupped her breast. When he drew back in order to run a fingertip with delicate precision over the point where her nipple lay beneath the green fabric of her gown, she moaned.
‘We are a little hampered in here, my love,’ he murmured. ‘I do believe a visit to the bathhouse is in order.’
Theodora glanced about them, at the glittering mosaics, at the throne with its purple canopy, at the gold-fringed Imperial standard...her eyes fastened on the throne. It was very large, and most inviting with all those cushions...
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Suddenly out of breath, she dragged his tunic clear of his belt, desperate to explore the warm male skin beneath it. ‘I think we are in the perfect place.’
His fingers went on teasing her nipple through the silk of her gown. She shifted and her skirts crept up over her thighs. His other hand was sliding over her leg, higher, higher...
She could feel how much he desired her. He was pressed hard against her belly. She was reaching for him when his hand abruptly covered hers.
‘No.’
‘No?’
He flinched and shifted beneath her. ‘Theo, love, have mercy. These mosaics...it’s like lying on a bed of nails.’
Theodora caught his chin and turned his head in the direction of the throne.
‘I wasn’t thinking of the floor,’ she said, lifting an eyebrow.
A reluctant grin appeared. ‘Theodora, that’s the suggestion of a peasant, not a princess.’
‘You like the idea. Admit it.’
His grin widened. ‘What do you expect? Barbarian blood runs in my veins.’
Shifting her to the side, he rose lithely to his feet. And then she was in his arms, and he was striding to the throne and setting her down among the purple cushions. ‘It would seem we are well-matched then, the peasant and the barbarian. With your permission, Princess, I shall put a guard on the door. We don’t want interruptions.’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of My Fair Concubine by Jeannie Lin!
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Chapter One
China, Tang Dynasty—AD 824
Fei Long faced the last room at the end of the narrow hallway, unsheathed his sword and kicked the door open.
A feminine shriek pierced the air along with the frantic shuffle of feet as he strode through the entrance. The boarding room was a small one set above the teahouse below. The inhabitants, a man and a woman, flung themselves into the corner with nowhere to hide.
His gaze fixed on to the woman first. His sister’s hair was unbound and her eyes wide with fear. Pearl had their mother’s thoughtful features: the high forehead and the sharp angles that had softened since the last time he’d seen her. She was dressed only in pale linen underclothes. The man who was with her had enough daring to step in between them.
Fei Long glanced once to the single wooden bed against one wall, the covers strewn wide, and his vision blurred with anger. He gripped the sword until his knuckles nearly cracked with the strain.
‘Bastard,’ he gritted out through his teeth.
He knew this man he’d come to kill. This boy. At least Han had been a boy when Fei Long had last seen him. And Pearl had been a mere girl. Now she was a grown woman, staring at him as if he were a demon risen from the underworld.
‘Fei Long.’ Pearl’s fingers curled tight over her lover’s arm. ‘So now you’ve come.’
The soft bitterness of the accusation cut through him. Pearl had begged for him to come back a year earlier when her marriage had first been arranged, but he’d dismissed her letters as childish ramblings. If he had listened, she might not have thrown herself into ruin and their father’s spirit wouldn’t be floating restlessly between heaven and earth.
Betrothed to the Barbarian Page 25