Bound to the Barbarian. Carol Townend

keep me confined, don’t you mean?’

      Ash looked at her. Those dark-lashed eyes were so wide, her skin was so clear. The Princess was quite the loveliest woman he had seen in an age. She was so lovely, she had probably wound Toki round her little finger in a trice. In truth, it was very hard to chastise her when she looked up at a man in that way—that tentative smile with its fascinating suggestion of shyness was irrestistible …

      ‘Sir, I swear I did not leave this tent.’

      Ash shook his head. ‘I shall have to have words with Toki. He must have breached the ship’s cargo, the merchant who owns them will be most displeased.’

      ‘Please, sir—’ her voice was husky ‘—do not chastise Toki. When he heard you were coming to dine, he offered to help.’

      Ash gave her a sceptical look.

      ‘Wine, sir?’

      Anna was proffering a goblet, absently, Ash took it. ‘My thanks.’

      Princess Theodora’s face drew his gaze. As he sipped his wine and the Princess gestured for Anna to serve them their meal, he was able to observe her.

      Pretty, very pretty. Princess Theodora had the dark delicate features that had always appealed to him. Fine, arched eyebrows, a clear brow. Those soft brown eyes, those thick black eyelashes. Her complexion was unblemished and a long and glossy strand of hair had slipped free of her veil—it was a rich brown in colour.

      Her veil was less all-enveloping this evening, less like a nun’s. She shifted and the furs fell away to reveal a green gown that fitted more closely than the one she had travelled in. As Ash had suspected, she was tiny. A gem-studded belt accentuated a slender waist. Her breasts were clearly visible under the green silk; they were small and finely shaped, like the rest of her.

      Ash felt a stirring in his groin. I want her. Heaven help me, I want the Princess!

      She was watching Anna as she bustled in and out with plates and serving dishes. Vaguely Ash was conscious of Hrodric assisting; he too must have volunteered to help. Covers were lifted off dishes. Chicken—he could smell the chicken and herb sauce he had ordered. It had been cooked in the port that morning; someone on board had managed to heat it for them.

      The Princess turned towards him, one elegant brow lifted. ‘Chicken, sir, in Lent?’