Betrothed to the Barbarian. Carol Townend
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‘With your permission, Princess?’
Theodora allowed Nikolaos to push her back into the mulberry-coloured pillows and sent up a swift, if muddled prayer. Tonight she must give the performance of her life. She must pretend that she was a virgin and that this was the first time she had lain with a man. She must also—God help her—please him.
Were these aims compatible?
She breathed in her new husband’s scent. It was dark and spicy—like him, it was utterly male. She pressed her lips against a satisfyingly wide shoulder and covered it with kisses. She took the tang of salt onto her tongue. Delicious … this man even tastes delicious. And she was melting with desire. Theodora didn’t delude herself that it was love that was making her feel this way but, Lord, she had never felt like this before …
About the Author
CAROL TOWNEND has been making up stories since she was a child. Whenever she comes across a tumbledown building, be it castle or cottage, she can’t help conjuring up the lives of the people who once lived there. Her Yorkshire forebears were friendly with the Brontë sisters. Perhaps their influence lingers …
Carol’s love of ancient and medieval history took her to London University, where she read History, and her first novel (published by Mills & Boon®) won the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writers’ Award. Currently she lives near Kew Gardens, with her husband and daughter. Visit her website at www.caroltownend.co.uk
Previous novels by the same author:
THE NOVICE BRIDE
AN HONOURABLE ROGUE
HIS CAPTIVE LADY
RUNAWAY LADY, CONQUERING LORD
HER BANISHED LORD
BOUND TO THE BARBARIAN*
CHAINED TO THE BARBARIAN*
*Part of Palace Brides trilogy
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
AUTHOR NOTE
For me, the word Byzantium conjures images of an exotic medieval empire. It carries with it an aura of magic. Byzantium … I loved learning about it at university, and enthusiastic teachers ensured that for me Byzantium lost none of its shimmer.
These books bring Byzantium alive:
Byzantium, the Surprising Life of a Medieval Empire by Judith Herrin (Penguin, 2008)
Byzantium by Robin Cormack and Maria Vassilaki (Royal Academy of Arts, 2008)
Fourteen Byzantine Rulers by Michael Psellus (Penguin, 1966)
The Alexiad of Anna Komnene translated by E.R.A. Sewter (Penguin, 1969)
Names can be tricky. Without being too rigid, I have used Greek versions of names where possible, and in a couple of cases I have shortened the names of real people.
Betrothed to the Barbarian
Carol Townend
MILLS & BOON
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Chapter One
‘Constantinople,’ Princess Theodora Doukaina murmured, staring into the dark over the ship’s guardrail. ‘At last we are home.’ She clutched her baby to her chest, angling her so that she might have her first glance of the city at the heart of the Empire. Martina was busy sucking a corner of her blanket, her gaze caught by the glow of a lamp nailed to the mast amidships. As Theodora shifted her, easing the blanket from her mouth, Martina’s eyes tracked the lamp, not the City. Theodora sighed.
‘My lady, with your permission?’ Sophia was hovering at her elbow and, as the galley rose on a gentle swell, she slipped a steadying arm under Theodora’s cloak and wound it round her waist. The warmth of her lady-in-waiting’s body was welcome. It was not yet Easter and out on the Sea of Marmara the wind had bite. ‘Perhaps I should take the baby below?’
‘No. The sea is calm and I would like Martina to see the city.’
Above them, the night sky glistened with stars. Moonlight from a full moon washed over the deck, playing with the shadows of sailors preparing to lower the sail, stretching and shrinking them with the rise and fall of each wave. Over Constantinople itself, there was not a star to be seen, likely a bank of cloud lay over the City and was blotting them out.
The helmsman’s voice rose sharply over the creak of timbers. ‘Captain Brand!’
‘My pardon, ladies.’
The captain pushed past them, heading for the stern. Theodora barely noticed, she was staring hungrily across the water, throat tight. We are home. Home. Her mind was in turmoil. Fear, guilt, hope—she felt them all.
To the north, several lights were spaced out at intervals along a dark, indistinct skyline. That must be the palace wall, it was hard to see tonight. There were domed silhouettes—churches—glowing with an eerie radiance. Puzzled, Theodora stared at the domes; something was out of place, something was missing. She knotted her brow—why could she not get her bearings? She knew the City like the back of her hand. Was that the Palace? She ought to know. Holy Mother, she should be able to see the Boukoleon Palace; the entrance to the Imperial harbour should be lit by the braziers on top of the towers, and a little to the right of that the dome of Hagia Sophia …
A gust of wind wrenched a strand of brown hair from her cloak hood. A chill went through her, a chill that had nothing to do with salt-laden sea breezes. There was something else in the air … something that chilled more effectively than the wind, something other than salt. Theodora’s skin prickled. Danger, danger.
‘Sophia, can you smell something?’
Like Theodora, Sophia was looking landwards, towards the Imperial Palace. Her grip tightened, her nostrils flared as she inhaled. Wide eyes met Theodora’s. ‘Smoke! My lady, I can smell smoke!’
‘The City is burning. Look at that dome, the gilding never glows like that, not even at sunrise. Parts of the city have been fired.’ Even as Theodora watched, the dome winked out of sight. A pall of smoke was drifting over Constantinople. That was why no stars were visible in the north.
‘My lady …’ Sophia flung a worried glance at the stern ‘… perhaps we should get below.’
Behind them, a sailor swore. Captain Brand snapped an order; there was a sudden flurry of activity, and beneath their feet the galley altered course. Ropes groaned, wind filled the sail. It was then that Theodora heard the screams.