‘I shall take full responsibility.’
‘Yes, my lady, I’ll see what I can do.’ Kari hesitated. ‘I may need to pay for some of those things…’
She nodded. ‘One moment.’
Anna hurried into the bedchamber, hair in a glossy tangle that hung down her back and swayed with her every step. William realised that in her concern to find clothes for him, she had forgotten that she had lost her veil and her hair was unpinned and…
She is beautiful! William’s chest constricted in an uncomfortable muddle of confusion and desire. Anna emerged from the bedchamber and quietly pressed something into Kari’s hand. William’s gaze sharpened, it looked like a gold bangle.
‘My thanks, Kari,’ she said.
Kari bowed. ‘I may not need it, the sergeant may supply me without question.’
‘Just do your best, Kari.’
‘My lady?’ The guard threw a wary glance at William’s sword. ‘Ought Sir William to be bearing arms in the Palace?’
Wide grey eyes met William’s, she gave him an apologetic shrug. ‘Kari is in the right, William. In view of the as yet…unresolved nature of your status here, it would be best if you surrendered that sword.’
William’s fingers clenched convulsively on the sword hilt. Give up the sword? He would feel naked without it. William’s own sword had been taken from him after the ambush in Apulia and the lack of a weapon in the days of his slavery had added to his feeling of helplessness. Surely she would understand? A moment ago William had thought her concern for him touching…but had it really been concern? Or had she been biding her time, waiting for the right moment to disarm him?
‘Give up the sword, my lady?’
Holding out her hand, Anna gave him one of her quiet smiles, William had no way of knowing whether he might trust it. He wanted, he ached to trust it, but…
‘That would be best,’ she said. ‘While you are a guest in the Palace, I would not want you to risk arrest. You might not know this, Sir William, but the right to bear arms here is not universal…for example, if a slave were found carrying such a weapon, he might be executed.’
William called to mind the guards posted at the doors of the Boukoleon, the guards in the barracks on the lower level, the guards on the stairways and outside the apartment. The Palace was crawling with them and Lady Anna of Heraklea probably only had to lift a little finger for an entire regiment to come running.
Was she threatening him?
‘Of course, that does not apply in your case,’ she added quickly. ‘Nevertheless…’
Nevertheless you would be wise to surrender that sword, because if you do not you are outmanned. Is that what she is saying?
William wanted to trust her, it was galling to discover the extent to which he wanted to trust her.
She had given the guard something—one of her bracelets?—to buy him clothes and had asked Kari to ensure they were of good quality. Surely she would not do that if she thought of him as her slave? Slaves here wore stuff that was little better than homespun.
Guts in as great a tangle as his thoughts, William slowly held out the sword.
‘My thanks, William.’ She passed it to Kari.
As the guard’s footsteps faded, William caught her gaze. ‘Earlier, I saw you give him something—what was it?’
‘Nothing of any note.’
‘It looked like a gold bangle.’
She shrugged. ‘It was just a trifle.’
A gold bangle was a trifle? Lord, he would be in her debt for that gold bracelet—however was he to repay her? His hands clenched. ‘My lady, I am overwhelmed by your generosity. Already I owe you much and you must know that I do not have the means to repay you.’
‘Please do not mention it, it really is of no account. Now, about that bruising…’
She steered him to a chair and William held himself still while she unwound the bandage and examined him. He watched her face and prayed that he had not misjudged her as she went to fetch a basket of pots and clean bandages. Lady Anna treated him with every consideration. She had gone out of her way not to demean him, pointedly calling him ‘Sir William’ in front of her maid and the guard. She cared for his physical well-being. He had not misjudged her. She must know he didn’t like being beholden to her, though, because she wouldn’t look at him.
She clapped her hands and called for water and sponges. A painted screen that was alive with birds and flowers appeared out of nowhere and before he knew it, William found himself hustled behind it. While he washed, he was aware of her slipping into one of the bedchambers.
When he came out from behind the screen, she was waiting for him. She had tidied her hair a little and put on another pair of shoes, but the gown was still the blue one with the tear in the skirt. Gesturing him back to the chair, she selected a clay pot from the basket and handed it to him.
‘I shall give you this salve, you should use it when you next bathe, William.’ She deliberately averted her eyes from his.
‘Yes, my lady.’ William tried to catch her gaze, but those long lashes swept down. Her fingers were as shapely as her body, her touch as she gently probed his bruises set off tiny shivers in his belly. Pleasant shivers. Shivers that Sir William Bradfer should not be feeling for Lady Anna of Heraklea.
She had a lady’s hands, unmarked by hard labour. The skin was smooth, the nails unbroken. And there…William breathed in carefully…yes, he caught a hint of the fragrance he had noticed in the cistern…
‘Good, there is no swelling,’ she murmured, again managing to avoid his gaze.
‘What scent is that?’ he asked, saying the first thing that came into his head, hoping that a direct question would lure those smoky eyes into meeting his.
She kept her gaze firmly averted. ‘Scent?’
It was damned odd how much William ached for her to look into his eyes. The more she refused to do it, the more he wanted it. A chilling thought occurred to him. Was she ashamed of what had passed between them? Was she afraid of him? When he left, he did not want her to think badly of him. Suddenly it was most important that he found a way of repaying the money he owed her.
He kept his voice light, perhaps teasing might help. ‘I see you have been visiting those…establishments near the Palace gates, my lady. I can smell flowers.’
Cheeks flaring crimson, she took the pot from him.
There was a slight crease in her forehead. ‘They are perfumiers, William, I told you.’
‘As you say, my lady.’ He inhaled loudly. ‘You smell delicious, I noticed it before. What scent is it?’
She wrenched the cork from the pot. ‘It…it is jasmine, a blend of jasmine and spices and—’
‘Musk.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘Turn around, please. Show me your back.’
Meekly, William did as she asked and, moments later, cool ointment was smoothed into his skin.
‘How does it feel?’
It felt wonderful, her delicate touch made his blood run hotter than Claire’s ever had. ‘Much better, I thank you. How does it look?’
‘Colourful,’ came the curt reply. ‘However, I expect you will live.’
William shut his eyes, the better to enjoy the stroking as she rubbed the ointment into his back. ‘That stuff doesn’t smell half as sweet as you.’
She made a small huffing sound. ‘Its purpose is to heal.’
Her fingers lingered. Her strokes, tentative at first, became bolder. Up over one shoulder, across to the other, and down, following the length of his spine. Were there bruises that low? No matter, Lady Anna could rub that stuff all over him if she had a mind to.
Provocative images leapt into William’s head—images of Lady Anna leaning over him, of a long tress of hair spilling free of its knot, of her leaning so close she could cover him with kisses…
William shifted, he must stop thinking of her in this way. It was making him burn for her and she was not for him. ‘Do you think you will meet your father today?’ he asked, trying t
o distract himself.
What must Lord Romanos Angelos be like for her to have taken such a violent dislike to him? He could not be that bad. Her father must see some good in the man, he would not have picked him out unless he came from a good family and could offer her wealth and security.
The stroking paused. ‘My father? I am uncertain, I shall have to send him a message. I expect so.’ Her hand resumed its slow, sensuous path across his back. Was she enjoying the contact as much as he was? If only he could see into her eyes. But no, however much he twisted round to look into her face, she would not meet his gaze.
The scent of jasmine mingled with the medicinal tang of the ointment and for some extraordinary reason the combination was stronger than any love potion. Hot blood was racing to his chausses. Resting his arms on his knees, William gripped his hands together. Lord, he was pulsing and throbbing like a green lad dreaming about his sweetheart.
Her breath warmed the back of his neck.
The stroking stopped and when he turned, she was replacing the cork in the clay pot.
‘Get dressed.’ She waved at a pile of clothes that had appeared on a side table, Kari must have brought them while he had been washing. ‘You may use the screen.’
Rising, William went to the table. A pair of soft leather boots sat on top of a leaf-green tunic and a cream shirt. His brows rose, the tunic was silk, the shirt linen. Lord, even the hose were silk. He grimaced, Kari had not returned her bangle.
‘My lady, clothes like these do not come cheap.’
She shook her head. ‘If you speak about debts, William, I will not hear you.’ A curtain was billowing at one of the tall windows. Moving towards it, she caught hold of the curtain and tied it back.
While William was dressing behind the painted screen, he overheard her talking to the young Varangian. ‘Kari?’
‘My lady?’
‘Be so good as to send someone to enquire whether my father, Lord Isaac, has been seen in the Palace this morning. If so, would you convey my warmest greetings to him and suggest that, if it is convenient, we might meet some time this afternoon.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
When William stepped out from behind the screen, Anna was leaning against a window frame. Joining her, he found himself staring out over the Sea of Marmara. A small, walled harbour lay directly below the window.
His military instincts awoke. There was a harbour in the Great Palace? He could not see any warships. A gold gonfalon hung limply at the stern of a small galley, a pair of dromons were moored fore and aft. Two towers flanked the harbour entrance, standards bearing the double-headed Imperial eagle were flying from the flagpoles. There were sentries in the turrets as well as the walkways and quays, a row of statues—lions and oxen—watched with them from the main landing stage. If there was a harbour in the Palace, he might not need to trawl the City looking for a trader bound for Apulia. Maybe, just maybe, what he needed was right under his nose…
‘My lady, is this the Imperial harbour?’
‘Yes.’
Gulls were everywhere, circling over the harbour, perched on the backs of the stone lions. The quays were paved with what looked like marble and a flight of steps ran up from the harbour, presumably to an entrance in the Boukoleon. The entrance was out of William’s line of sight, but something told him that it would be marble, too. ‘I take it the main port lies elsewhere?’
‘Mmm.’ Anna had taken up a comb, she was drawing it through that rippling fall of hair. ‘The City has several harbours and most of them lie in the Golden Horn. There are landing stages on both sides of the shore.’
Anna’s hair looked so soft, for a moment the longing to touch it was stronger than William’s need to learn as much as possible about the layout of Constantinople. When the opportunity came for him to make his way home, he must be ready for it. He only had to confirm that Daphne and Paula were in good hands. Irrespective of what Anna might want of him, he was eager to be on his way.
‘Does the Golden Horn lie towards the north?’
‘Yes, the Horn lies across the City to the north-east.’
As Anna went on with her combing, William permitted himself the pleasure of watching her. When loose, her hair reached well below her waist. It was, he was learning, something of a temptation. The sight of her parting a glossy strand and working her way down from crown to tip brought an uncomfortable tightening to his chest. He had felt a similar sensation once or twice before when in Lady Anna’s company and he could not account for it. Earlier, he had put it down to hunger, and he was certainly hungry now…but he did not think hunger was at the root of it. It was in some way connected with her—he found her utterly beguiling.
William’s experience of high-born women was limited. His early years in the convent had been somewhat unconventional, and in any case, he could scarcely remember them. He could not recall his mother in any detail, he could only conjure a shadowy face that remained a studied blank, devoid of emotion. The rest of her was shrouded behind a dull habit, a nun’s veil.
Later, when William had been accepted into Sir
Bruno’s household and had grown into a young man, there had been a girl or two. However, William had never been profligate, he had no wish to bring unwanted children into the world. When he had befriended Claire, the young maidservant at Melfi, she had seemed delighted to accept him as her lover, her careful lover.
However, meeting a maidservant in a stable was one thing, this fascination with Lady Anna of Heraklea was quite another. Claire was not, bless her, a lady. Claire was a sweet girl, an earthy girl who had been born knowing how to please a man, one who took pleasure in doing so. In all the time William had spent in the stables with Claire, they had hardly exchanged more than a dozen words. Spending hours, hours, talking to Anna had been something of a revelation. It struck him that speaking with a woman could be far more intimate than knowing her in the carnal sense.
How could that be? And yet, it was so. William cleared his throat. He had spent hours with Anna in the dark, and the handful of kisses they had exchanged had moved him far more than Claire’s knowing ones. It was a mystery.
As for this, standing by the windows in the Boukoleon Palace, watching Anna comb that glossy, perfumed hair…no lady had ever accorded him half as much honour. He felt as though he might watch her for ever.
It struck him he was watching something extraordinarily intimate. He was scarcely managing to breathe, it was as though he were afraid of breaking a spell. Anna’s maid, if she returned, would doubtless be scandalised.
Anna herself had forgotten his presence. And when she recollected it, he would be cast into the outer darkness…
Mon Dieu, his common sense was deserting him, this woman meant nothing to him, nothing!
All at once, she recollected herself. ‘My apologies—whatever am I thinking!’ Flushing like a rose, she shot William a glance and hastily bundled her hair over her shoulders. ‘A veil, I must find a veil.’
‘What harm? There’s no need to be shy on my account.’
‘No, no, it will not do.’
William wanted to take her hand, but they were no longer alone in the Basilica Cistern so, of course, he did no such thing. No one was looking their way, nevertheless, Anna would be conscious there were others nearby.
His mouth twisted. So much for congratulating himself on the honour being done to him, so much for believing she trusted him. Clearly she thought so little of him that she had forgotten his existence the moment she had put the cork back in that pot of salve. Anna of Heraklea was a noblewoman, a lady of exceptional birth. His questionable origins must shock her, it had been a mistake to confess them. To her he must still be a slave and an object of charity, that was why she was able to overlook his presence. When it suited them, aristocrats ignored servants and slaves. William knew this—in the past he had done it himself.
A twinge of something very like pain went through him as she snatched a veil from a chair and pinned it hastily in place, it was ano
ther delicate blue one, of a darker hue than the one she had lost by the monument at the edge of the Augustaion.
‘I understand,’ he said, smiling politely. ‘You have your reputation to consider.’ Anna must make a good marriage to please her father.
She was saved from making a response by the return of Juliana and a stream of servants bearing trays and dishes. William knew them for servants rather than slaves because their clothes—dyed in rich, earthy
colours—were of a better quality than the slaves’. While the dishes were arranged on a table by a window, he fingered the cloth of the green tunic she had got Kari to buy for him. Silk, heavy samite. He took it as a sign that she really did intend to free him. What must it have cost? How was he to repay her when his money was back in the Duchy?
Then Juliana leaned past him to place a loaf of bread on the table and the urge to eat pushed all else from his mind. Fresh bread. Butter…
He swallowed. There were eggs, a platter of meats, another of cheeses, fruits…
‘A feast, my lady.’
‘Please, Sir William, it is past time we broke our fast. Do be seated.’
The blue veil fluttered as she waved him to a chair. As his stomach noisily reacted to the sight of the food, her lips twitched. He pushed the platter towards her and she shook her head.
‘Help yourself, William. There will be no formality here.’
He set to eagerly and waited until they had taken the edge off their hunger before speaking again. ‘I am glad to have met you, my lady.’ He grinned. ‘And not just for the food.’ He looked pointedly about him, raising a brow at the rich curtains gently shifting in the onshore breeze, at the polished marble floor and the gilded tables. ‘When I return to the Duchy and describe my stay in the Boukoleon Palace, Sir Bruno will think I am fevered. He is a down-to-earth man and my tales of eating in the seaside apartment of a princess, in the company of a beautiful lady, will seem strange indeed.’ Reaching across the table, he took her hand. ‘When I leave here, I shall be in your debt, my lady, in more ways than I can count.’
Her smile set off a warm glow inside him. ‘Sir William, you are most welcome, I am only s—’
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