‘Nonsense!’
There was a rustling of silk and she moved closer, bringing more of that tempting warmth with her. Her body nestled against him, soft and feminine. Confiding. Trusting. Desirable. Lady Anna was just as beautiful as Lady Felisa, maybe more so. It did not help that she was almost in his lap.
She was treating him as though he were a long-standing friend. She was confusing him with this Erling of hers. And there…more temptation…that tantalising fragrance. Jasmine. Spices. That hint of spring.
Before William could order the words to explain that his story really was unfit for gently bred ears, she leaned her head against him. A lock of her hair swung across his chest and belly, it felt like a caress.
Groin tightening, he sucked in a breath. It had been so small a movement, he was certain she had no idea how her hair was teasing him, yet his blood heated.
‘It is most odd, William, how I feel at ease with you…’
‘I am not Erling, my lady.’ And you should not feel at ease with me.
‘I know that.’ Her head moved against his arm and again that springlike scent reached him, he ached to have his arm about her again. ‘However, I shall not question my instincts, they proved right in any case…you saved me. Tell me how you came to be a slave.’
It was undoubtedly an order for all that it was uttered so softly.
Lord, she ought not to lean so trustingly against him, she ought not to let her hair drape over his belly. If she realised the effect her nearness was having on a certain part of him, if she knew her hair had broken free of its pins and was stroking his belly—but how could she? It was like midnight in here.
William prided himself on his self-control, but sitting in the Basilica Cistern with this woman was becoming something of a trial. He found a lock of hair and brought it surreptitiously to his nose. She could not know, she could not see him any more than he could see her…
Slowly, he inhaled. Spring flowers, a rich honey scent, Lady Anna… Lord, he was rampant, hard as rock. Abruptly, he dropped her hair, biting back a groan as it feathered sensuously down his chest. An image jumped into his head…of her kissing his stomach in exactly that spot. Her mouth was moving slowly down his skin, down, down…and he was a brute. This kind, innocent lady would not appreciate the road his mind was taking. He must talk to her, talking might keep his lust in check.
‘Very well, my lady. Like you, my mother served in the Great Palace.’
Her head moved, the cloak shifted. Hair tickled his stomach. ‘What is her name?’
‘I never knew her name, not her real name. I barely knew her.’
Slim fingers curled into his and his throat went dry. He felt another impulse to gather her into his arms and pushed it back. Each time the impulse returned, it was stronger and more insistent.
‘You never knew your mother? How sad.’
William wanted to bury his head in her neck, he wanted to taste her. Instead, he found some words and forced them out, words that might, given her conventional nature, make her pull back. ‘I knew her no more than I knew my father. My lady, I was born out of wedlock. Believe me, my story is not one for a lady’s ears.’
He kept his head firmly upright, bracing himself for the moment when she would surely pull away from him. When those small fingers remained where they were, his heart lifted in the most ridiculous manner.
‘I want to hear your story. Please go on.’ A smile entered her voice. ‘You cannot refuse me, William, if you do, I shall command you.’
‘If you insist.’ For once he would set aside his reticence. What harm? It was hardly as though they moved in the same circles. Within days he would be leaving Constantinople. Soon his time in the Empire would be but a memory.
Her head came back, a pleasing heaviness against his upper arm. Silken hair swirled over his chest and he was enveloped in a cloud of scent. He groaned.
‘William, I am sorry, did I hurt you?’
‘It would help if you would simply sit still.’ His voice was sharper than he intended, he felt her freeze.
‘I am sorry.’ Her voice was contrite.
I am a brute. William gritted his teeth. ‘I shall tell you what I know of my parents.’
‘Please.’
‘Like you, my mother served in the Great Palace. As I understand it, her father was an admiral in your navy, she was of good family.’ Realising that his head was leaning towards hers, he abruptly jerked it upright. ‘I cannot swear that any of this is gospel, my recollections are from what I was told in earliest childhood.’
‘Where were you born?’
‘In the Duchy of Apulia and Calabria—for most of my life I have lived in Apulia.’
‘Why did your mother leave Court?’
‘It’s unlikely I shall ever know for certain. I believe there was a border dispute between the Empire and Norman lords in the Duchy. A deputation of knights came to the Imperial Palace to negotiate terms. I assume that my father was among them.’ He paused for her response, but the only sound was water dripping nearby. ‘My lady, this is surmise, but I imagine that my father persuaded my mother to form an illicit relationship with him.’
‘Perhaps they fell in love.’
He had no response to that. The nobility did not marry for love. In Apulia they married for lands, for dynastic reasons. The marriage William had sought with Lady Felisa would have been just such a marriage. It was exactly the sort of marriage that Anna’s father had been trying to arrange for her.
‘I shall never know, my lady. What I do know is that when my father left the Imperial Court, my mother chose to go with him.’
‘They never married?’ Her voice held a note of disapproval.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
His lips twitched—William was coming to suspect that Lady Anna was a firm believer in the proprieties.
‘Who knows? My father may have had to make a political marriage. And if he was in love when he left Court, he may have fallen out of love when he reached Apulia. Lady Anna, there could be many reasons why my parents never married, but I am not privy to them.’
‘Your mother should have told you more—at the least you ought to know your father’s name.’
William gave a short laugh. ‘You think he should have been made to face his responsibilities?’
‘Yes! He had a son… Your mother should not have been left to bring you up on her own.’
Forgetting she could not see him, he made a swift negative gesture. ‘I am glad I was not foisted on him. Imagine how an unwanted brat would have been received.’
‘I also think that your mother could have given you the name of her family here in Constantinople. That is perhaps the strangest part.’
‘It is understandable if you hear the whole tale. Whatever happened between my mother and father, it caused my mother to leave Apulia and go to Calabria. Calabria is wilder and more isolated than Apulia. I have often wondered if it was in her mind to return to Constantinople, but when she discovered she was having a baby, she no longer felt that was possible.’
‘So she stayed in Calabria.’
‘She entered a convent there and, not long after, took the veil. Women are rechristened when they become nuns. A bride of Christ does not bear her family name, which is why I never learned about my mother’s family. In the convent my mother was known simply as Sister Martha.’
Water dripped, something splashed—another fish?—while she digested what he had told her.
‘You were born in this convent?’
‘Yes, until I was six, I was cared for by nuns.’
‘Were they good to you?’
‘They were kind, but I did not belong there. My mother—Sister Martha—treated me in exactly the same way as all the other nuns.’ He put a smile in his voice. ‘In a sense, I was blessed with several mothers.’
Lady Anna gave an unladylike snort. ‘Several mothers? It sounds as though you had none! Did your mother not tell you anything about herself?’
> ‘Sister Martha never spoke of her sinful past.’
‘She taught you Greek, though.’
‘I have often thought about that in the years since then. Teaching me to speak Greek must have been one way to remember her previous life.’
‘It is possible she wanted to give you a connection with your heritage, something that you might explore, should the chance arise.’
Something he could explore? Lady Anna seemed to be suggesting that his mother expected him to learn about the Greek side of his family. The idea was tempting, but the more he thought about it, the more difficulties he found. As far as William could judge, his mother’s relatives had never shown the slightest concern for her welfare—contact had been severed the moment she had left Constantinople. Her family would have had no idea what had happened to her. Certainly they would be unaware of his existence. Lady Anna didn’t know what she was talking about.
She sighed. ‘I expect you had many questions for her.’
‘In the convent I was too young to appreciate the…unusual nature of my upbringing. Afterwards, as a young man, I did have questions, but by then it was too late. My mother was dead, there was no one else I might ask.’
‘You said the nuns cared for you until you were six—what happened after that?’
‘A knight—Sir Bruno Senecal—came and took me from the convent. He had brought his sister to join my mother’s order, and whilst he was there, my mother persuaded him to take me into his household. Sir Bruno is steward of the castle at Melfi.’
‘That must have been something of an adjustment for a six-year-old boy brought up by nuns.’
‘It was the best thing that could have happened to me. Sir Bruno is an exceptional man—he trained me as his squire and, later, he saw that I was knighted.’
‘You are a cavalry officer!’ Small fingers pressed into his arm. ‘Why did you not tell me? I had no idea.’ The fingers relaxed. ‘If you are a Frankish knight, I ought not to be calling you “William”. Surely you are known as “Sir William”? Is that not so?’
‘My lady, I am content that you call me William.’ And that, William realised with a frown, was no less than the truth. He had fought long and hard to earn the right to be called ‘Sir William’, yet he liked the way she called him ‘William’.
‘So this Sir Bruno removed you from the convent and trained you as a cavalry officer?’
‘I owe everything to him.’
‘He was the father you never had.’ Her voice was thoughtful.
William leaned his head against the wall and stared into the blackness. ‘You are perceptive, my lady. I have never thought of him in those terms, but Sir Bruno has been like a father to me.’
‘But he could not answer your questions about your family?’
‘No. And when finally I returned to the convent in Calabria to ask them, my mother had died.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘So you see, my lady, the details of my parentage are likely to remain shrouded in mystery.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘While you are in Constantinople, I wonder if it might be possible to discover your mother’s relations? They may wish to meet you.’
‘I have decided against it.’ Being a slave for even a short time had taught William how he was likely to be seen by his Greek relatives. In Byzantium, Franks were considered barbarians. And even if his mother’s family were unusually tolerant, what reason would they have for welcoming a complete stranger into their midst?
‘William, what age are you?’
‘Twenty-two.’
‘William.’ The grip on his arm tightened, her voice rose. ‘William, I have an idea…if we can work out when your mother left the Palace…we might be able to discover—’
‘No.’
‘Don’t you wish to find your family?’
‘No!’ He bit out the response and at once her hair slid across his stomach as she pulled back. He felt hollow inside. ‘I am sorry, my lady, but I have no desire to meet them. Your people view mine as foreigners—barbarians. It’s more than likely that my mother’s family rejected her for taking up with a Frank, she probably left to escape their disapproval.’
‘This is pure surmise. Will—’
He curled his fingers into a fist. ‘I have neither the time nor the desire to meet them. Lady Anna, it is as you pointed out—Sir Bruno is the closest thing to a family that I shall ever have. I have no need for any other.’
‘You sound very certain.’
‘I am.’ He had to get away. Someone in the Duchy wanted him dead, and the longer he remained here, the less chance he had of learning who they were and why they saw him as their enemy. The longer he remained here, the less chance he had of claiming justice.
A soft sigh whispered out over the black water. ‘I cannot help thinking that you are missing an opportunity. William, since you find yourself in Constantinople, I am sure it would be possible. We are great keepers of records.’
‘I don’t even know my mother’s name. Leave it.’
‘Very well.’
An uneasy quiet settled over the platform. The dripping seemed louder, the splashing more frequent. Behind him, the wall grew harder, icier—the cold bit deep in the Palace Cistern. Leaning forwards, he rolled his shoulders. The damp was getting to him. He adjusted the cloak more tightly about them.
‘Your arm is paining you.’
Lady Anna’s voice was small. It occurred to William that his rebuttal had hurt her feelings, which had not been his intention. He wasn’t going to change his mind, though. Whatever she had planned for him, he had to return to the Duchy. ‘No, the pain is almost gone.’
‘William, what’s that noise?’
Somewhere above them he heard a dull thudding. ‘Sounds like battle drums. Your friend the Commander must be rousing his men.’
He felt her shudder. ‘The Varangian Guard…yes, of course. I wonder what is happening up there?’
A draught feathered down the side of his neck. Tipping his head to one side, William craned his neck to peer up the stairway. No light was leaking from the top—the shield was holding. They would certainly hear it if it fell, but perhaps they were not as safe here as he hoped…
‘My lady, are you certain there is no other entrance?’
‘Not as far as I am aware.’
‘The water must come in somewhere,’ he said. ‘Is it piped in?’
He felt her shrug. ‘I do not know…probably.’
William’s stomach chose that moment to growl.
‘You are hungry,’ she said. ‘I think that you did not eat well for some time before we found you.’
‘I admit I could do with more food. When the drums stop, I shall see if the coast is clear.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘I fear we must be patient awhile longer, there is no point looking while they are sounding. The
Varangian Guard have obviously dug in beside that monument. It didn’t look as though the Commander was expecting a speedy resolution.’
He paused, hoping to learn something about the turmoil in the City, but all she said was, ‘The Milion—that monument is known as the Milion. It measures the miles to cities and ports in every corner of the Empire.’ Her fingers twined with his. ‘Since we have time, you can finish your tale. Tell me how you came to be enslaved.’
William shoved his hand through his hair. ‘I would rather not.’
‘Sir William, you are yet my slave.’ Her voice was light, teasing. ‘In theory you have to obey me until the document of manumission is in your hands.’
‘My lady, it is not wise to taunt me. I am illegitimate, that I cannot deny, but I was born a free man. No one has the right to steal my freedom.’
‘William, my apologies, I should not have said that.’ She spoke quietly. ‘It is just that I feel so at ease with you, I think it must be your resemblance to Erling—we spent much of the time teasing one another. I assure you I meant no harm.’
Inordinately pleased that she felt at ease with him, William recalled a previous teasing comme
nt of hers. ‘In the Palace you called me a eunuch.’
‘That was only because of your Frankish love of shaving.’
A light touch on his cheek had him almost leaping out of his skin. Careful fingertips were exploring his face, running over his chin and jaw. His blood heated.
‘Careful, my lady, I am far from a eunuch.’
A soft laugh ruffled his hair. Her fingers wandered over his cheekbones. ‘William, you speak our tongue so well, I confess it is increasingly hard to think of you as a Frank.’
Her voice was husky, as though she wanted…as though…
‘You never did shave.’
‘I visited the bathhouse, but, no, my lady, I did not take time to shave.’
‘Too busy planning your escape, I expect.’
One did need light, William was learning, to judge whether a lady was interested in kissing him. His body seemed to know it. The blood was rushing to his chausses, his mind was fixed on one thing, he wanted to pull her—gently, gently—into his embrace.
In the eternal darkness of the cistern, he only had his instincts to go by. As a knight, William had learned to trust his instincts, they did not often let him down…
A peculiar hunger had him reaching for her. She met him halfway and the shock of delight stole his breath for a moment. Those delicate fingers were burrowing into the hair over his ears, light fingers that were little more than a whisper of summer wind. Warily, mindful that in her mind he was a barbarian, William found her arm and stroked his way to her waist. In the dark, their lips found each other and clung.
Warm. All the warmth of the world was there in her mouth. Soft. That feminine fragrance filled the air. She had perfumed her hair, the scent of spring clung to it. Holding himself firmly in check, for he found himself wrestling with a powerful surge of desire, he kissed her cheek. He must not lose control, he was a trained knight, not an ill-disciplined page boy. He found her earlobe…the side of her neck. Pressing kisses
Chained to the Barbarian Page 8
