Queen's Guard 01 The Queen's Guard: Violet Page 6

  The truce remained difficult for Raoul to accept.

  Bella cringed and took a step back, and he realized he had made fists after all. He flexed his fingers, then tucked his hands behind his back. This lady was skittish as a leopard cub.

  So far she’d told him about the queen and Sarah and King Louis but nothing of worth. Well, he knew how to wait. She wasn’t a gossip, but that didn’t make her trustworthy. He’d wanted her to be wary of him, but her flinches went beyond caution. Yet then she’d stand toe to toe with him and defend her queen.

  What was her past?

  He didn’t care.

  He couldn’t care.

  She’d just reminded him a true leader couldn’t care about things like promises made. He’d had a difficult time with Manuel’s decision. But he’d accepted it without question.

  Raoul tamped down his indignation and sense of betrayal. No longer the leader of his own village, he was a follower. His job, his sworn and chosen duty, was to follow the emperor. “Do you wish to see the bazaar or not? I tire of this tedious conversation.”

  She raised her chin, her face smooth while her violet eyes flashed. The lady’s hands steepled at her waist, as if she prayed for an answer from God. Just when he thought her weak, she showed courage. “I—I would see the stalls.”

  He said nothing but was glad to see a spark behind the timid shell.

  Raoul slipped through the small door, then reached back for Bella’s hand. He pulled her into the market, looking down at her face as she drew in a breath, while he lost his own. Bella’s eyes rounded with wonderment, her rose-colored mouth curved in a smile reminiscent of the goddess Athena’s, whose bronze statue was in the palace square. Her beauty suspended his thoughts. The sun caused the silver in her gown to sparkle like diamonds, accentuating the vision that was Lady Isabella.

  He shook his head. Fool. He would ply her for information as she shopped and take her back to the palace before calling for a whore to see to his affliction. He needed sex, not a goddess.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she whispered, her fingers curling around his. “Not even in London.”

  He released her hand. “London?” He’d never been to England, never been out of the Eastern Empire. Jerusalem and Antioch, before the double-crossing Raymond had assumed power. “I thought you were French?”

  She bowed her head, then raised her dark-lashed eyes. “I’m actually from Eleanor’s homeland, Aquitaine. My husband”—she stumbled and gathered her shawl around her shoulders—”deceased husband was a respected man in the French court, but he had properties in England.”

  “A lord? A knight?” How much power did Bella have?

  “A lord with lands all over France, Germany, and England, which is why I know what the street markets look like in London. He was very wealthy, monsieur, and quite a bit older than I.” She looked away from him, her shoulders stiffening.

  A beautiful young woman in her prime married to an old man with coin. It was the way of the world. Raoul had been fortunate in his bride choice, and for the first time in years he remembered his wife without rancor.

  “You are from Aquitaine. Does that mean you owe no loyalty to the king?”

  “Of course we owe fealty to King Louis, though Queen Eleanor remains duchess of Aquitaine, which is as large as all of France too.”

  Raoul shook his head, unable to imagine the lands of France being doubled by marriage. It was no wonder the king tolerated the queen’s odd behavior.

  Bella reiterated, “We swear allegiance to King Louis above everything else.”

  “As it should be,” Raoul declared. “Is your king as pious as they say?” Most men were true believers of themselves over God, but rumor had it that King Louis was a man with great regard for the church.

  “Oui,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Every day there were prayers, despite rain or wind. I believe he wishes this were a pilgrimage on behalf of his older brother, Philip, rather than a Crusade.”

  That explained much. But just because the king might be blameless in forming secret alliances with the emperor’s enemies didn’t mean the king’s men were equally innocent. “Emperor Manuel is taking King Louis to Hagia Sophia today. It’s one of Constantinople’s most treasured holy churches. I could take you to see it.”

  He inwardly cursed. He’d made the offer without thought. Lady Isabella muddled his reasoning, which was dangerous. But what if she knew something of the French army and King Louis that could help Emperor Manuel? It was his duty to gather information and keep the emperor safe.

  That was all.

  He pinched his nose, as if that would prohibit the slight yet alluring scent of her violet perfume from reaching his senses. The lady let her hands fall to her sides, her smile disappearing as well. “Why are you really spending time with me?”

  Raoul gritted his teeth. “I told you: on behalf of the emperor.”

  ”I see.” She dipped her head, as if accepting his reasoning, and held out her hand toward his forearm.

  He shook his head. “No need for that. Nobody will bother you in this place while I am nearby. Just tell the owner at the stand what you like, and I’ll send money from the palace later. Go. Shop.” He had to create distance between them before he did something else stupid, like press her gentle white fingers to his lips.

  Bella let out a small laugh, then hurried toward the man selling jars of oil at the first tent. It didn’t matter that she spoke no Greek. The various stall keeps made sense of her finger pointing, smiles, and nods and answered with the same.

  After watching her talk and gesture at the third table, where she still hadn’t bought anything, Raoul couldn’t imagine her doing any harm. How had she come to be a guard for the queen? Her beauty glowed from within. Her coiled dark hair shone beneath her veil, her slender form curved in all the right places. He detected no greed or evil within her heart but remembered how she cringed when he allowed his anger to show. What had her husband been like? The old sod had gotten better than he deserved, Raoul thought, eyeing Bella’s backside as she bent over to pick up something she’d dropped. How long had she been widowed?

  She wasn’t exactly the enemy. A foreigner. Perhaps she’d consider taking a lover while she was here. Wasn’t she a member of Queen Eleanor’s Court of Love, where knights spouted poetic nonsense to get beneath ladies’ skirts? He could show those gallant knights a thing or two about how to use a real sword.

  Her words rang through his head. She was not one to engage in trysts.

  Watching her smile so charmingly, he decided to change her mind.

  Bella resisted skipping from stall to stall. Barely. She’d never dreamed in all those lonely hours trapped behind convent walls or her husband’s control that someday she would feel the freedom of a market by the sea.

  Peacocks roamed the street with arrogant bobbing heads and flared tail feathers. Roasting meat spiced the air, making her hungry. Men with large smiles and crooked teeth welcomed her to sample their wares. And all without a chaperone.

  Well, Raoul’s large and glaring self stayed a few steps back, out of the fray. It was true she’d been to London, but her husband hadn’t let her out of the carriage once and she’d had to peek between the drawn curtains as he drooled in his sleep.

  Since he had no living flesh and blood, his properties had reverted to her, making Bella an excellent catch, but Queen Eleanor had promised she’d never be forced to wed again. Perhaps once she was through traveling with the Queen’s Guard, she would visit her estates. She’d liked the melancholy drizzle of spring in London. As she recalled, it had matched her mood.

  London was the future. Hopefully far away in the future after many long years of serving the queen well.

  Bella lifted a fragile gold bracelet, then set it down. The outing so far was like learning to sword fight. One step forward, weapon sheathed, and two steps back.

  She’d answered Raoul’s questions with candor, but he remained on guard. How to get beyond his see
ming distrust of women? Patience, the other ladies would counsel. Listen.

  She eyed a delicate rose charm and thought of Mamie. Maybe she would get each of her friends a gift. A lily, a daisy, a peony. Without their acceptance and guidance, she’d be alone.

  Feeling Raoul’s heavy gaze on her back, she turned. There he was, five paces behind her and glaring at the poor charm maker.

  “Must you look so unhappy?” She smiled wide and pointed at her face. “It’s easy, you know. Just tilt the corners of your mouth upward.”

  He glowered. “Are you going to buy that?”

  “Non.” It would not be right to take gifts such as these from Raoul—non, the emperor.

  “You are teasing the stall owners by not buying.”

  “Oh!” Bella didn’t want anyone to feel cheated. She quickly backed away from the merchant while noticing his shop so that she could return later with her own coin.

  “Your cheeks are flushed. Would you like a charbet?”

  “What is it?”

  “A cool drink made with fruit juice, honey, and water.”

  “I would like that,” Bella said, her mouth suddenly parched. She eagerly followed Raoul, his broad shoulders and swagger forming a path through the throng. His eyes, so dark they were almost black, flickered with unnamed emotion as he ordered the drinks. “Orange or lemon?”

  ”Lemon, please.” She accepted the small cup and sipped, citrus and honey swirling over her tongue. Tart but sweet, the charbet immediately quenched her thirst. “This is delicious.” She handed him the empty cup and laughed. “What other flavors do they have?”

  His smile took her breath away.

  “Strawberry, grape—at the palace, the emperor likes it made with wine.”

  “I would like that too.”

  Raoul reached for her arm and pulled her to the side. “Careful, unless you want to be part of the troupe.”

  Bella, having gotten used to the noise of the market, hadn’t realized the string of performers passing in the road doing tricks and dancing for coin. Drummers. Dancers. “Is that man taunting that snake with a stick?” She held a hand to her chest.

  “He’s a snake charmer. And, yes, the cobra is poisonous.”

  A wizened man with a basket of peacock feathers paused before her, speaking rapidly in a language she didn’t understand. She looked up at Raoul, who shook his head. The man took his basket and left.

  “What did he say?”

  “He sold charms to ward off the evil eye.”

  Bella quickly crossed herself. “You should have bought one. What if he cursed us?”

  Raoul laughed, and the sound made Bella feel like dancing. “What is the occasion for the parade?”

  “None. It’s an opportunity to make money. Constantinople is a trading town, constantly in motion. Vessels bring in spices from China, wines from Germany, or slaves from Africa. That is why the city is so heavily soldiered. Who wouldn’t want to rule Constantinople?” He puffed out his chest and stood tall. “Emperor Manuel controls it all.”

  The pride in his voice warmed her. There was so much more to the man than derision and haughtiness. Though he dressed casually in a tunic and loose pants in lightweight black fabric, his broad shoulders, slim waist, and strong legs distinguished him as a soldier. A warrior. Perhaps a man of his stature needed to be arrogant to survive.

  He forsook headwear of any kind, leaving his chin-length dark hair to fall in curls women would die for. His thick black lashes framed sharp eyes haunted with mystery. His mouth was firm yet generous; his nose, long and narrow.

  She wished she had another charbet to cool her awakening libido. Why, she’d never in her life wanted to reach out and caress a man’s jaw. It hadn’t come up in any of the poetry written in Queen Eleanor’s garden. “Have you lived here all your life? I want to know everything. See everything!” She realized she was babbling and bit her lip. Sexual awareness was inconvenient. What did a lady do with the sudden unbidden images of a naked man? “The churches. Oui, I’d better go to church.”

  Raoul stepped back, his head canted to the left. “Lady Isabella, would you like to see an outdoor play?”

  She was trapped by her own selfish desires to taste every bit of freedom she’d been denied. She knew she should say non, but she wanted to say oui, oui, oui. Fay’s words echoed in her head, telling her to have a good time. And then Sarah’s, warning her to be on guard.

  Guard.

  She sighed, swallowing disappointment as she made the difficult choice. “We should return to the palace. Surely you have more important things to do than squire me about your lovely city?”

  Raoul’s heavy-lidded glance made her dizzy. “I am doing as the emperor ordered.”

  Her heart jumped to her throat at his bald statement. Well. No abuse there—physical or by pretty words. Her dead husband would never have consented to spend the day walking with her. Jonathon would tell her how her smile was brighter than the sun’s rays before explaining he had to leave. Raoul just spoke the truth. Bella found it as refreshing as the drink she’d finished.

  With a smile, she said, “I would very much like to see an outdoor play. Might we get another charbet too?”

  Raoul nodded, his voice husky. “They sell them at the theater. Follow me. Down this alley.”

  He didn’t take her arm, and she reveled in the freedom of walking individually down a public road. A part of her understood she owed this freedom to Raoul, who exuded protective strength. Would she dare such a thing with Jonathon? Non. Not without her sword to protect them both.

  They passed a beggar dozing in the shade of a crumbling building. Raoul paused and dropped a coin in the man’s dirty basket.

  “Why did you do that? He’s sleeping. What if someone steals the coin from him before he wakes?” Bella peeked back over her shoulder as Raoul hastened away from the scene of his kindness.

  “He was a warrior once. I saw him at the Hippodrome, strong and proud with arms as thick as tree trunks. He took on all comers in hand-to-hand combat and never lost. The reason he slumps like a boneless eel out of water is that he lost his sight in a fight with the Turks. He wishes for death, but God doesn’t grant it.”

  Bella risked a last glance. “And nobody steals from him?”

  “I said he was blind, not deaf. They’d be missing fingers, if not arms, if they tried taking anything out of the basket.” He flashed a grin that caught Bella’s heart and twisted.

  Beneath the layer of banked fury was a handsome, kind, intelligent man. What was she supposed to do about that? She’d expected him to be cruel, something she knew how to handle.

  He kicked at a chicken who clucked too close to Bella’s feet, scattering her perception of him as a sensitive man. “Why did you just do that?”

  “You ask too many questions.” Raoul arched a brow, then continued with a reluctant explanation. “They will pluck loose every thread until you are naked as the day you were born. Would you like to walk the market in naught but your bare skin?”

  Bella’s cheeks heated, and she fanned her face with her hand, sending a glare toward the indignant chicken. She didn’t find Raoul’s teasing smile quite as charming as he probably intended. Did he imagine her naked?

  “Here.” They reached a wooden stage at the end of a half circle, with wooden benches for the crowded audience. Men, women, and children were in attendance, so Bella didn’t feel quite so guilty being there.

  Raoul settled Bella on the edge of a bench in the shade and tossed a coin to a slave for two strawberry charbets. As she sat, she couldn’t help but admire his cool composure. He stood next to her, not touching her, not crowding her as she sat. She’d never felt safer.

  A middle-aged man ran out behind a curtain on the stage, playing a horn and dancing a jig. Bella couldn’t understand what he was saying since he spoke Greek, but the audience cheered. She did too.

  The show was easy enough to follow, with the all-male cast playing every part about a randy mountain goat, a farmer, a
nd his wife. It made no sense, but Bella had never laughed so hard in her entire life.

  When the show was over, she turned to Raoul with a smile. “You must think I have no manners at all. I have no idea what they were saying, but I’m quite sure it was inappropriate and terribly funny.” She held her side, which had cramped from her giggles.

  Raoul gave a single nod, his mouth unsmiling. Had she ruined any chance of him thinking highly of her? Laughing in public probably wasn’t how demure ladies were supposed to act. She patted her heated cheeks and masked her expression as she stood. “I thank you.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Bella tensed, all pleasure curdling like spoiled milk. Why had he brought her here if he did not like comedy? “Monsieur, please don’t be angry. I—”

  Avoiding her gaze, he spoke sharply. “My anger is not directed at you.”

  She bowed her head and shut her mouth, meaning to stay still until his temper passed. Though her husband had never beaten her in public, she wondered what would happen if Raoul lost control. Who would come to her aid? And why did she need to wait for someone now that she knew she could fight back?

  “I said, Lady Isabella, that I am not angry at you.”

  She lifted her face, keeping her tone calm though her heart raced at her own daring. “I feel as if I am the target, monsieur. Your words are short, your shoulders stiff.” She waited for a look, a hesitation—anything to warn her she’d gone too far.

  The lean line of his throat turned red as he swallowed, the muscle along his jaw twitching. “It is not you, but me that I am angry with. I didn’t realize how common the play would be, and I completely forgot you didn’t understand the language.” His generous mouth flattened into a rose-colored seam. “I am no courtier but a warrior. My apologies.”

  Surprised, Bella plopped on the bench.

  Raoul stepped forward, concern in his dark eyes. “What’s wrong?”