Queen's Guard 01 The Queen's Guard: Violet Page 2

  It was his honor to serve as Manuel’s personal guard and man of affairs. Whatever his liege needed, Raoul made it happen. With that in mind, he looked upon the dozens of titled Crusaders without showing his anger at their stupidity.

  Riled into action by a mad priest to wrest Edessa back from the Turks, King Louis and, surprisingly, Emperor Conrad had taken the cross and vowed victory as they had passed over Emperor Manuel’s lands without thought to the damage they would cause. Raoul swallowed bitterly, recalling the pillaged towns outside the city’s walls.

  If the Franks thought they could behave so badly within the city, they’d soon be taught a different lesson. Raoul scanned the mounted party, his gaze pausing at a plump redhead wearing leggings and a tunic and a short sword at her hip. Her long braids were unveiled. Sacrilege.

  Next to the brazen lady was a small, raven-haired beauty who at least had the decency to cover her locks with a scrap of linen. Her beige tunic was hemmed with green and purple flowers, and her snug leather leggings showed off shapely calves.

  Raoul shifted his weight. This was why women belonged in a harem, by God. They were a distraction to a man when he needed to be clearheaded for war.

  At that moment, the beauty looked up and Raoul was struck by the violet of her almond-shaped eyes. His heart beat faster as she quickly lowered her gaze. A woman, then, who knew her place. His ire returned as he noticed the quiver of arrows at her back.

  John cleared his throat, and Raoul realized Emperor Manuel stared at him. As did King Louis and Queen Eleanor.

  Red-faced, Raoul bowed. “Welcome to Constantinople.”

  Though the fair queen made no untoward expression, it seemed she was laughing.

  His gut knotted. Before the month was out, the French would learn how a real man ruled.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Oh, Bella.” Eleanor laughed, tossing her head back, one hand over her stomach. “Raoul looked as if he would like to toss me down the stairs rather than kiss my cheek. He’s a wild one, my dearest. I’m not certain you are the best choice against a man such as that. He’s a beast.” Her laughter trailed.

  Bella held the queen’s gaze, not giving ground.

  Eleanor shrugged off her ivory and gold robe, letting it fall into the hands of her handmaiden, Larissa, who she then dismissed. The queen strode about the inside of her royal apartment looking as comfortable as if she’d lived there years instead of an hour.

  There had been some confusion as to where they were all going to stay during their twelve-day visit. Then Empress Irene stepped in and invited the queen and her ladies to stay in her wing of the Blachernae Palace, the emperor’s second residence within Constantinople and his favorite. King Louis and his men had been assigned the Philopation outside the city walls. Neither ruler said anything about the arrangement, but Bella could tell Eleanor was pleased while King Louis and Odo were not.

  Clad only in a light undergown, Eleanor perched at the edge of a chair. Her unbound hair fell all the way to the floor, a vision of feminine power. Bella had come to the conclusion long ago that Eleanor’s beauty went beyond face and figure. The queen had something else, something ancient and mysterious that beguiled both men and women into doing her bidding. She gave Bella her full, blazing attention.

  Bella sat opposite her on a velvet stool, her knees quaking as she thought of her queen dismissing her before she even had a chance. “I can do this,” she said, her voice stronger than her trembling legs, thank God. “He noticed me earlier. His eyes met mine.” And I thought I might burn to ash at the contempt in his gaze.

  If it were not a sin to believe in magic, then Bella would call the Queen’s appeal allure. Since she would be tossed in the flames for saying such a thing in the wrong company, she kept her thoughts to herself.

  Eleanor crossed one leg over the other and leaned in. “You are certain? It has not escaped my notice that you prefer your men, er, slighter in stature.”

  Bella felt the heat creep up her neck. Had she really expected the queen to miss what was right beneath her nose? Was there anything wrong with wanting a man, such as Jonathon, who did not threaten her by his presence? Bella cleared her throat, thankful she’d not crossed the lines of propriety.

  Folding her hands in her lap, she returned to the original subject, who just so happened to have shoulders as wide as a door and a constant scowl, as opposite from Jonathon as night from day. “You gave me an assignment, my queen, that I would complete.”

  “Eleanor. We are in private conversation.” The queen rose, as restless as always, to pace the opulent room.

  Compelled to follow, Bella joined Eleanor at the open window overlooking the water. The bright sun played its golden afternoon light on the blue waves, a reminder how far they had travelled from home.

  She spoke from the heart. “You’ve taught me to be strong. Thank you.”

  Eleanor’s mouth turned upward in a smile as she glanced at Bella’s slender arms, then back out the window.

  Bella tapped the side of her head, refusing to hold her tongue. The queen had to know how important this mission had become to her state of being. “In my mind, I am now fierce where before I would cower from a raised fist or the lash of a whip.”

  Eleanor faced Bella with a look of understanding. “The head is where strength begins.”

  “Oui, and victory can be had without brute muscle. You have taught me that as well. Please let me finish what was given to me at the start of this journey. I would prove my worth to you.” Bella had trained with the other ladies until her muscles ached, learning to fend for herself and to protect the queen with not only a bow and arrow but a sharp short sword made just for her grip.

  Eleanor glanced about the room, obviously ensuring they were still alone. “I’ve shared a few skills with you. It’s true. I don’t doubt you mean well, Bella dear, but I fear Raoul Laskaris has a black soul. He protects a wicked secret.” She wrapped her arm around Bella’s shoulders, as if to shield her from danger.

  The image of the dark, demonic knight standing next to Emperor Manuel bullied its way into Bella’s thoughts, but she shoved them back. “Non, I am the light. Raoul Laskaris should be afraid of me.”

  Eleanor’s brow winged upward. “Well said. All right. But if you find yourself in too deep, retreat before you give anything away. Do you understand, Isabella de Lacey?” Eleanor leaned close and whispered in Bella’s ear, “My violet?”

  At the secret code name, Bella shivered, knowing she would die rather than betray her queen. “Oui.”

  Raoul headed directly for the training field, determined to beat his foul mood into submission. Earlier he’d slaked his anger with sex. Now he would try bloodshed. If that didn’t work, he’d drink and have more sex.

  It was irritating to see Queen Eleanor surround herself with mock warriors in bright tunics, like gemstones in a crown. A tall blonde woman had gone so far as to wear a lily in her hair. If the queen meant to scandalize her way to Jerusalem, she was succeeding. Then again, scandal had preceded her.

  He didn’t trust her.

  The emperor, as diplomatic as always, pretended nothing was odd about the women’s attire before handing them over to Empress Irene’s care. Not only did the queen’s section of the castle have the best view, but it was also easily guarded because of the cliffs dropping off to the water on two sides. Brilliant gems needed protection from thieves, lest they be stolen or ill used. Beautiful women were no different.

  King Louis had been relegated to Manuel’s hunting lodge, outside the city and separated from his wife. According to rumor, Louis had pledged abstinence until the Crusade was won and had slept with his chaplain, Odo de Deuil, and his eunuch guard, Thierry Galen.

  Raoul wondered what the strong-willed beautiful queen thought of that. What would it be like to lift a queen’s skirts? He shook his head. A bitch was a bitch, royal or peasant.

  Women were not to be relied upon. Ever.

  The memory of violet eyes flashed before him.


  He bolted over the low fence into the ring of warriors practicing hand-to-hand combat. With a low growl, he barreled into the melee, fists swinging until bones cracked. It wasn’t long before he was standing alone.

  One of the men, Dirk something or other, spat a stream of blood toward his feet. “Damned animal is what you are, Raoul. Go back to the wild where you belong.”

  Raoul pushed back his dark, damp hair. He didn’t belong anywhere. “Piss off.”

  He left the men and made his way down the steep cliffs to the ocean.

  On a thin ledge, he shed his clothes and, mindful of the rocks around him, dove in, inviting death. The cool salt water burned the cut on his arm and washed away the sweat and blood. What would it take to wash away his shame?

  He swam until the muscles in his arms protested. Would this be the time he didn’t have the strength to return to shore?

  It would be so easy to let his body go under, to join his cursed family in death.

  A wave buoyed him upward, away from a watery grave. Not today then.

  When he reached the shore, he stood and shook his limbs, his naked body chilled by a cool wind.

  He heard a gasp as pebbles streamed down the face of the cliff.

  Raoul’s belly clenched, as did his fists. He looked up, and there she was. The woman with the violet eyes sat next to his clothes, which apparently she’d folded while watching him swim.

  His skin warmed beneath her perusal, and his cock swelled.

  Her eyes grew round, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Raoul noticed the instant she realized what she was staring at, because she stood so quickly she almost fell off the ledge.

  He stepped forward, one hand outstretched. “Take care,” he ordered.

  She kept her back to the cliff wall, her pale hands splayed for balance. The tips of her soft leather shoes peeked over the edge.

  If she fell, what would he do? Emperor Manuel would be furious if something happened to one of his guest’s ladies. Raoul convinced himself this was the reason he took another step forward.

  “Stop,” she said softly. “I was worried you had drowned. It’s obvious you are in the prime of your life. I, well, I’ll go now.”

  Raoul saw the faintest of pink color her cheeks as she tried to keep her eyes from his penis. He wondered if the blushes could lead to kisses and more. “Join me in the sand,” he commanded, because that’s how he got results.

  “Non.” She shook her head.

  Shy. Sweet. Forbidden. “Just how do you propose to leave? The cliff is too steep, and you don’t know your way. You’re fortunate you did not already break your neck on the way down.”

  Her chin jerked upward. “I am stronger than I look, monsieur.”

  “I hope so.” Raoul rubbed the firm muscles at his stomach. “I can be gentle, too, my lady.” He did not like it, but for her he would make an exception.

  “Oh!” She turned and as nimbly as a goat made her way up the cliff’s trail. Her tunic showed curves he’d not imagined, and he told himself he was but watching her ascent for her safety’s sake, not because he liked the shape of her arse.

  Surprisingly, she not only reached the top but also sent him a cheery wave before departing.

  He almost smiled.

  CHAPTER 3

  Bella, outwardly calm, walked through the palace hall. Her pulse pounded at her wrists and temples as she considered how close she’d come to falling, not off the ledge but into the naked devil’s arms.

  And what would he have thought of her then? A slut, instead of a lady to be trusted with the emperor’s secrets.

  Sent to a convent at the age of five and married to an old man by fifteen, Bella knew the rudiments of the male physique, but God help her, she’d never, ever seen a male form as virile as Raoul’s.

  Pressing one hand to her fluttering stomach, Bella opened the door of the room she shared with the other ladies and entered. It was as if a rainbow had erupted, sending colorful fabrics to each corner of the spacious suite and over the furniture too.

  The room held two large beds to share and one long, armless couch. A tall wooden chest fit snug against the wall, where the ladies set out assorted hairbrushes, hand mirrors, and cosmetics along the scarf-covered top. The marble floor was strewn with carpets and discarded clothing. Sconces adorned the walls, and large slatted windows looked out over the water: the Gulf of the Golden Horn, Empress Irene had said when she’d brought them to the chamber.

  In addition to the burst of color came the floral perfumes. Each of the queen’s ladies had her signature garden scent, an easy way to send a message when no words could be used. Daisy, lily, rose, peony, and her own violet: each subtle fragrance a delight to her senses. Fay had been a member of Eleanor’s guard the longest, then Sarah and Mamie, then Catherine, with Bella being the newest addition.

  It was crowded, to be sure, but there was still room to walk. Or there would be, if Sarah and Mamie would stop preening before the full-length silver mirror.

  Fay studied the back of Catherine’s head as she pinned curls into the long, thick, brown mane. Both young women looked up and smiled in welcome as Bella walked in.

  “Isn’t this palace beautiful?” Fay asked around a mouthful of pins.

  Bella nodded and opened her mouth to speak.

  “Breathtaking, simply breathtaking,” the usually shy Catherine enthused, her slender hands holding a jar of water and a comb. “Well worth the journey. It’s too bad we cannot stay here while the rest of the army marches on toward Edessa.”

  “She’s just afraid of the Turks.” Sarah turned, a vibrant green scarf around her shoulders and a teasing smile on her pink lips. “She’s afraid of being captured and held for ransom.” Sarah twirled the cloth into a bow beneath her chin.

  Catherine looked down.

  Bella’s heart went out to the one lady in Eleanor’s court more quiet than she. “Sarah’s being silly,” Bella said with a laugh. She liked Sarah’s sharp wit, but sometimes her friend accidentally cut deep.

  “Catherine is too beautiful to be held for ransom,” Mamie declared. “Some Turkish noble is going to fall in love with her and put her in his harem, where he’ll make love to her all night long.” She wrapped a gold sash around her waist and rolled her hips suggestively. “He’ll make you a princess, and then you could teach us all how to belly dance.”

  Fay giggled. “I would like to belly dance.”

  “No, thank you.” Catherine paled. “No dancing, no lovemaking.” Her soft voice gained a defiant edge as she met each of their gazes. “I won’t be a slave or raped. I would rather die.” Her grip on the jar of water was so tight her knuckles turned white, and Bella worried the ceramic would break.

  “Heaven help the man who tries to capture you.” Bella put her hand on the young woman’s trembling shoulder. “We’re warriors, remember? Crusaders.”

  Catherine relaxed a bit. “True. My blade is sharp enough to slice bread.”

  “Get a Turk to slice your bread for you.” Mamie added a shoulder wiggle to her dance. “I think I like the dark and swarthy kind.”

  “There isn’t a man you don’t like,” Catherine teased, color returning to her cheeks.

  Mamie hooted. “God’s truth, you are so right, Catherine dear.” She ran her hands over her hips. “I do like a—”

  “Well,” Bella interrupted, clearing her throat before Mamie began another scandalous but true tale. “I saw Raoul.”

  Fay took the pins from her mouth. “As in, you had a conversation? Did he approach you? Were you walking the halls, and did you pretend to get lost so he could escort you back to your rooms?”

  Bella fanned her face as the memory of the naked warrior surfaced. “I’d planned to meet him on the road, but he didn’t linger. Instead, he went to the water for a swim.”

  Fay wrinkled her nose. “I hate the water.”

  “The ocean is dangerous,” Catherine agreed. “But Raoul looks strong. Was he strong, Bella?”

  Sarah dropped h
er scarf and peered into Bella’s eyes. “What was he wearing to swim? His armor?”

  Heat flushed Bella’s face as she studied the open window. “Nothing. He was, well, naked.”

  Mamie threw her hands wide and sang to the ceiling. “You joined with him. A convert to the Mamie Rou style of spying! Praise God.”

  “Stop it,” Sarah said with a good-natured elbow jab to Mamie’s waist. “Bella’s not a slut like you. Well? Then what happened?”

  Bella could clearly imagine Raoul as he stepped from the sea like an ancient Roman god. His chin-length, curling onyx hair swept his strong jaw; his broad, tanned shoulders; his muscled abdomen with a dark trail of hair that led to …

  She swallowed before she made a fool of herself. “He has nice legs.”

  “What?” Fay burst out laughing, smacking Bella on the shoulder with Catherine’s comb.

  “That man looks evil. Pure evil,” Sarah said, her blonde hair piled high. She was as pretty as an angel—and deadly as a snake. “I wish your first time could be with someone who might not kill you in your sleep.”

  “Please.” Bella rolled her suddenly tense shoulders. “I’m no virgin.” Did none of the guards believe she was worthy of the queen’s assignment?

  “Don’t scorn virginity,” Fay demanded, her hands busy coiling another lock of chestnut hair into a dainty curl. “Pin.”

  Catherine handed Fay another ivory hair stick. “There is nothing wrong with being chaste. It’s just that Raoul is very, very large.”

  Mamie snickered. “All over, I wager. What I wouldn’t give to be the kind he fancies.”

  Blushing, Bella pushed the conversation ahead. “My mission is to gain Raoul’s confidence. If it requires”—she paused, squeezing her thighs together—”bedding him, then so be it.”

  She shuddered with revulsion as she remembered the beatings her now dead husband had given along with his perverse lovemaking. Would Raoul do the same? He was big, predatory, fierce.

  But he hadn’t made her shake with fear. Instead, she’d trembled with temptation. Maybe because she’d been out of punching range? The tingle in her belly as he’d stepped forward naked, wet, and demanding could have been apprehension, but she didn’t think so.