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 on a leading rein.
Lady Anna was actually laughing. Laughing. It didn’t seem to have occurred to her that if she fell, those boulders on the hillside would cut her to ribbons. Katerina hardly dared move. Still, it was a relief to see Lady Anna smile. Lady Anna was not in the habit of confiding in Katerina, but Katerina had received the distinct impression that Lady Anna shared Princess Theodora’s reluctance to return to Constantinople—she had heard her mutter something about not wanting to see her father. Now that was an emotion Katerina could understand.
One of Caesar’s hoofs sent a stone rattling down the hill. Katerina stifled a moan. I must remember my dignity at all times, I am meant to be the Princess.
But oh, everything was going horribly wrong. Already.
Several ladies were meant to be travelling with her, all of whom had sworn to help her, to cover up when she made a mistake. But he was insistent that the other ladies—and that included the Princess—were to travel on the Varangian galley.
What could she do? She had not been born to command, and this man had his reasons for insisting she travelled separately from the entourage. In any case, whatever she said, it was unlikely he would listen.
Katerina’s fingers dug into the front edge of the saddle; she was gripping it so hard the white of her bones could be seen. It was bad enough that she should have to impersonate the Princess
