Bound to the Barbarian. Carol Townend
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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.
The 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 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