Bound to the Barbarian. Carol Townend
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Название: Bound to the Barbarian
Автор: Carol Townend
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9781408923139
isbn:
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 armring. 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?’
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