Chained to the Barbarian. Carol Townend
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Instead, he closed his eyes and seemed to drop straight into sleep. And no wonder. When did he last have a proper night’s rest?
‘Here is the water, my lady,’ Juliana said, setting a large ewer down on a wall table. She had several linen cloths over her arm. ‘Will you wake him?’
A light snore reached her. How strange. I know that his request for me to shave him was made largely to goad me into some reaction, but I feel a distinct pang that I am unable to do so. How ridiculous! Surely I am not looking for an excuse to touch him? How unladylike. And how inappropriate, this man is a slave, a Frankish slave.
And yet, here I am, sitting at his side, unable to stop studying that strong, bristled jaw. Wondering what it might be like to touch him. I like his face, I like his form. And his mouth—how can so beautiful a mouth be so uncompromisingly male?
In truth, I wonder what it would be like to be married to such a man?
This is a wild idea. This is a burst of folly that does not belong in a sensible, practical mind. I know nothing about this man, nothing. There must be other solutions. When I see Father tomorrow—
‘My lady?’
Anna started. ‘My pardon, Juliana. What did you say?’
‘Do you wish me to wake him?’
‘Oh! N … no. It is likely he needs rest far more than he needs to shave.’
The look in Juliana’s eyes was knowing. She had observed Anna’s reaction to the Frank and had drawn her own conclusions. Anna’s face burned.
This will not do. I am lady-in-waiting to the Princess Theodora, I should not be entertaining feelings of any kind for this man. He is a stranger, a barbarian slave. It would be much better if I resolved matters with my father without him.
I wonder, was he born a slave? That cannot be, he has the look of a warrior about him, a warrior who, despite appalling maltreatment, has honour enough to care for two small children. And the way he addresses one, there is little subservience in his tone. Why is he a slave?
This man is no slave.
‘Let him sleep,’ Anna said.
Thankfully, the door to the Princess’s bedchamber opened and Juliana turned that knowing gaze on Katerina. Anna’s mouth twisted. In Juliana’s mind, the scandal of what Princess Theodora Doukaina had been doing in her chamber with Commander Ashfirth clearly outweighed Lady Anna’s paltry fascination with the Frank she had found in the slave market.
Rising, Anna shook out her skirts. ‘Princess Theodora has expressed a desire to visit the bathhouse,’ she said. ‘I shall be attending her.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Juliana, should the Frank waken while we are elsewhere, you may offer to shave him.’
When Juliana’s eyes went hard, Anna saw that she was in for an argument. Juliana was a servant, not a slave, and she thought the task beneath her.
‘Must I, Lady Anna?’
Anna gave her a straight look. ‘That was an order, Juliana, not a request.’
Juliana lowered her head. ‘Yes, my lady, my apologies.’
And when Katerina and I have finished in the bathhouse, I shall have decided what to do with him.
William woke to the smell of loaves, fresh from the oven. Bright slashes of light poured through the windows and lay on the marble floor tiles, like stripes on a shield. No sooner was he sitting up than a serving girl approached.
‘You would eat?’ she asked, offering him a basket filled to the brim with bread, cheese and dried figs.
‘My thanks.’ Balancing the basket on his lap, William picked up the bread. Warm. Since this might be the last food he was given for some time, he was going to make the most of it.
Across the chamber, it was heartening to see Daphne and Paula being cared for by Sylvia and Juliana. Lady Anna was near a brazier at the far end, breaking her fast at one of the side tables with the Princess. She had put away the dowdy brown gown. Today, Lady Anna was wearing blue silk and was every inch the noblewoman—the beautiful noblewoman.
Lady Anna and her princess looked abstracted—William received the impression that they were in a hurry. Lady Anna’s attention was certainly taken up with Princess Theodora, she didn’t glance his way though she must be aware he had woken.
William squashed a twinge of disappointment, it was best this way. He would be gone from the Palace this morning, at the first opportunity—there would be no regrets. During the night, he had come to a decision. The thought of staying in the Great Palace while he gleaned more about his mother’s past was tempting, but too much was at stake, he had to get back to Apulia. He had his future to consider and he wanted justice—the man who had wronged him must not go unpunished.
And once that had been accomplished … Lady Felisa might have rejected him, but perhaps some other lady might consider his suit. It was likely such a lady would be less well-endowed than Lady Felisa Venafro, he had been aiming too high with her. Yes, a less well-endowed lady might consider him. Or … an older one. Some older ladies took young knights to husband and William knew he was not considered ill-favoured. If his lack of lands worked against him, perhaps his looks might work for him.
William’s gaze had drifted back to Lady Anna, she was lifting a goblet to her lips, grace and elegance in her every movement. Her quiet beauty was most appealing. And far too distracting.
Reminding himself that an army marched on its stomach and that he must stay focused on his escape, he turned his attention back to his food. The cheese was soft and white and as fresh as the bread. He chewed thoughtfully.
He would make his escape at the first chance. Lady Anna had said that she would free him, but he could not wait on the pleasure of a titled lady. He would go today, while their guard was lowered. No one expected him to make a move—they believed him to be recovering. He would have to take care where the Varangians were concerned, though. He would need arms, clothing …
A draught lifted William from his plans in time for him to see a flash of blue silk and the shimmer of a blue veil shot through with silver threads. Lady Anna was gliding past him, the Princess at her side. They left the apartment. He stared after them, stirred by an uncomfortable emotion he was unable to interpret. It was as though that brief moment of shared amusement the evening before had never happened. With a grimace, he rubbed his chin. He was in even more of a need of a shave this morning than he had been when she had teased him about resembling a eunuch.
‘Excuse me?’ The maidservant Juliana cleared her throat. ‘Do you care for shaving water?’
William had opened his mouth to accept when it struck him that shaving might not be the best idea. If Lady Anna was to be believed, most men in the City wore beards, like Saxons. If he shaved, he would draw attention to himself and a runaway slave ought not to be drawing attention to himself.
‘I would appreciate water to wash in,’ he said, ‘but I shall wait until I am stronger before I shave.’
The maid clapped her hands. ‘Kari! Kari!’
The main doors of the apartment opened and a guard appeared. It was the Varangian he had noted earlier. Absently, William picked a dried fig and sank his teeth into it. The guard was a Varangian to be sure, but he looked very young.
How much experience can a boy like that have?
‘Kari,’ the maidservant said, ‘when this man has finished breaking his fast, would you be so good as to direct him to the bathhouse on the ground floor?’
The maid was asking the guard to show him to a bathhouse? William could hardly believe his ears. His heart thudded. His moment had come—freedom was within his grasp.
William gave