Warlord's Captive (The 1,001 Erotic Nights Series Book 4) by Lisa Cach

Author:Lisa Cach [Cach, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2015-08-10T04:00:00+00:00

It wasn’t until the following day that I had the chance to meet Wynnetha, the golden-haired princess of this sorry outpost of Saxon life, and she was the one who sought me out. Most of the men had gone hunting, Maerlin had disappeared, Terix was performing silly tricks for the children—with Daella shyly watching from the back of his audience—and I was sitting on the front step of the great hall, cithara in one arm, plucking the strings. The doors had been propped open, for it was a rare sunny day.

“What is that?” Wynnetha said in the Saxon tongue, standing before me and pointing. She was startlingly beautiful, with clear skin touched with pink in her cheeks and lips, gray eyes, and long flaxen hair that fell in waves to her knees. The front portion had been plaited and wrapped over her head in a crown. She looked to be my age, though her body was much more womanly than my own.

“A cithara,” I said, and continued in Frankish. “It is much beloved by the Romans.”

“You sound so funny, but if I try, I can understand you.” She switched to stilted, formal Latin. “I can speak in this manner, if you so wish.” My surprise must have been clear, for she added, “My father commanded me to learn. I was taught by a Christian priest and had not a moment’s joy in my lessons.”

“Then let us speak a happier language,” I said in Frankish. I held out the cithara to her. “Do you want to try it?”

She grinned and sat down beside me, and I showed her how to hold the instrument and pluck the strings. They twanged under her touch, the sound discordant, and she laughed. “It is not so easy as it looks.”

She played with it a little longer, then handed it back to me. “I am no musician, but I do love to listen. Music is so rare here. A singer visited two winters ago, and I wept when he left. The hall seemed so dark and empty without him.”

I smiled. She sounded as if she had been seduced by music, something Terix and I had seen in Sygarius’s villa. Nothing roused the passions of a noblewoman like a man with a glorious voice.

“I’m Nimia,” I said.

“And you and your husband come from Gaul,” Wynnetha said, nodding. She leaned forward, her eyes glowing with excitement. “I’ve been trying to find you alone; I want to hear all about life there.”

It took me a moment to realize that she hadn’t heard the truth about me and Terix; likely no one but Arthur, Maerlin, and Fenwig knew it. Of course, Mordred would have repeated what we had told him, that Terix and I were traveling entertainers. And it was far better that way. What might Mordred plot if he knew that he held such a bargaining chip as the mother of the heir to the Frankish kingdom?

I answered her eager questions about the towns and ways of life, both Roman and Frankish, and found myself liking her.

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