Bound To The Barbarian. Carol Townend
princess was bound to have been seen as a rare treasure. Her every whim would have been granted. It had probably been years since she had been denied anything.
And Ash did not like the tone in which she had asked if she must travel alone with him—as though he were some kind of monster.
‘I am not saying that your ladies may not travel to Constantinople, despoina. All I am saying is that they may not travel on your ship. I would suggest that they follow us in the Varangian galley in a couple of days’ time. My captain, Brand, will accompany them. You need not concern yourself about their safety—Brand is my best man.’
Her chin inched up and her veil slipped to reveal a pretty mouth; it was set in a very determined line. ‘It is not their safety that concerns me.’
In the face of such arrogance, Ash could only stare. ‘My lady—’
‘I do not travel alone.’
The veil slipped a little further, and she drew it back over her face. It was then that he noticed her hand was trembling.
The Princess was nervous? When she glanced sideways at his men, Ash realised he was right—Princess Theodora was nervous.
He looked down at her dispassionately. Did his men frighten her? The Varangian Guard were famed the world over for being ruthless warriors, but she must know they would never harm her.
Hell, we came for her in full battle regalia. He had had no choice. To do otherwise, when Normans were hanging around the nearby port, would have been foolhardy in the extreme.
Ash became conscious of an unsettled feeling in his core and realised he was weakening towards her. It was likely that this woman never took a step without her ladies. Was he asking too much?
It was also becoming painfully clear that he was not as well equipped for executing this commission as he had hoped. His experience in dealing with princesses was non-existent. This was the first time he had addressed one face-to-face—if face-to-face was the right way to describe a conversation with someone so heavily veiled that most of her features were hidden. Be that as it may, he clearly could not expect her to travel alone with him. ‘You may choose one lady-in-waiting to come with you on the merchantman, ‘ he said.
Relief sprang into her eyes, the darkened lashes lowered. There was a pause, then.
‘Thank you.’
Then her lashes lifted and Ash felt a distinct jolt. He was taken by a most inappropriate urge to examine that pretty, determined mouth; it was a struggle to keep his eyes politely on hers.
‘And you say you plan to accompany me in the merchantman, Commander?’
‘Yes.’
‘As for my other ladies—can you assure me that they will follow in the Varangian galley?’
‘Indeed.’ Ash smiled, and offered her his arm. It was a relief when she laid her fingers on his sleeve. ‘From now on, we shall have to be careful how we address you.’
‘Oh?’
‘It is important that no one realises who you are.’
For some reason her eyes widened and she bit her lip. ‘I see.’
‘So with your permission, my lady, from this moment I shall refer to you simply as Lady Theodora. Will that be agreeable?’
‘I…yes.’
‘Which of your ladies will you choose to take with you?’
‘Lady Anna, I should like Lady Anna to accompany me.’
Ashfirth nodded and looked her up and down. ‘My lady, there is another matter I feel we should discuss before we leave. Your clothing.’
‘My clothing?’ A small hand stroked down her silken skirt. ‘What is wrong with my clothing?’
‘Can you ride in that gown? In that veil? Are they not too fine?’
Her doe eyes went wide. ‘Ride?’ She swallowed. ‘Commander, I. I do not ride.’
Ashfirth went stock-still. Behind that veil she had definitely lost colour. She cannot ride? Whoever heard of a princess who could not ride? Was she afraid of horses? And why the devil had no one thought fit to inform him of that fact? ‘You don’t ride?’
She glanced briefly towards her ladies, as though searching for help. Her chin inched up. ‘No, Commander, I do not.’
Swallowing a curse, Ash fought to keep his expression neutral and his tone polite. ‘I see. And what about Lady Anna—does Lady Anna ride?’
‘Yes, she has her own horse.’
‘But you do not.’
‘No.’
‘My lady, I do not wish to cause you undue alarm, but we ought to set out as soon as possible. And since the path down to the bridge is too precipitate to accommodate a cart or wagon, you will have to ride with me.’
She lifted her fingers from his arm, gold bracelets flashed. ‘You brought no litter?’
‘No. My lady, I do apologise, but you will have to ride with me.’
Chapter Three
The beginning of the ride to the port was a nightmare. She was practically in his lap, shaking from head to toe. Has he noticed?
Commander Ashfirth had said the path to the bridge was steep and he had not lied—on one side the land fell sharply to the sea. Spiky rocks were poking up through the water like the claws of some titanic monster fighting free of Poseidon’s net. And Katerina was sitting precariously on a horse. A horse. Her pulse raced.
Horses terrified her and from the outset her mind only had room for fear. Ever since Katerina had been a child, horses had worried her, and her fear had been compounded by her experiences on the slave-ship. For much of that most terrible of voyages she had been chained close to the slavers’ horses. There had been a storm and.
She did not like to remember. For years she had kept her memories locked away. But now, for the first time in her life, here she was on a horse herself.
On a horse in the arms of Commander Ashfirth, to be precise. The horse was black, like his hair. A stallion. She had heard him call it Caesar. It was huge. Unfortunately, being forced to ride this great black beast had brought back memories she would rather forget.
Darkness. Flashes of lightning. Waves crashing down on her. Thunder. The taste of salt on her tongue. The thirst. Men screaming; ropes straining, cracking like whips. Flailing hoofs. Blood…a dead slave …
Katerina forced herself to take slow, calming breaths.
Forget about Caesar. Commander Ashfirth knows how to handle him. This horse will not get out of control like those on the slave-ship. Caesar will not kick out, or rear up, or…
Forget about being on a horse.
It wasn’t easy. The path was narrow, little more than a goat-run. On the one side there were those jagged rocks in the water, and on the other the scree-covered hill that sloped up to St Mary’s. If Katerina shifted, ever so slightly, she could see the last of the convent walls, the trees in the orchard, the goats.
Even though she had scarcely moved, the Commander’s grip on her tightened. He had one arm round her waist, the other held the reins. Casually. As though it were nothing to him to have her up before him while he controlled the great stallion.
Behind them Lady Anna was on her grey mare, Zephyr. Lady Anna was a competent rider; like the Commander, she was entirely at ease, smiling, tossing back the odd remark to Commander Ashfirth’s manservant. The thin track was forcing them to ride in single file, and Hrodric—the Commander’s manservant—was immediately behind Lady Anna. He had one of the pack animals