Princess in a Strange New Land (3 page)

Akna’s blush deepened.

“No,” she said, her fingers returning to her fork. “I was simply the voice of our people for the traders.”

“And have you been pledged to a man of your tribe?” John needled, enjoying the spread of a rosy blush up her neck.

“I was,” she admitted. “But I am not anymore.”

“Was the man not to your liking?” He paused. “Or were there others who were more…satisfying?”

“He was a good man and a strong warrior,” Akna replied stiffly. “But he was unimaginative and unwilling to widen his horizons. And you, sir, certainly ask personal questions.”

“I only mean to get to know you better, Lady Akna,” John said with a roguish grin.

“Well, you are just as the rumours say.”

“Which are?”

“That you are very free with your affections, and that you entertain numerous lovers.” She raised a slender brow. “So perhaps I should be the one asking about your ability to satisfy.”

“Lies,” John said without pause, a playful smirk hovering on his lips. “Though it is true that I’ve had a number of lovers at court.”

“And why then have you not selected one as your wife?” Akna asked, genuine curiosity in her tone. “Surely there has been one worthy to carry your name.”

“Your naivety is refreshing, Lady Akna,” John replied dryly. “But I have not met a court woman yet who is after love.”

“So then,” Akna asked with a frown, “what are they after?”

“Status and riches,” John answered. “You will quickly learn that noblewomen wield their bodies as weapons in order to gain titles and wealth. I have known no woman here who was as true and as sweet as she made herself out to be.”

“Is there a fiancée, perhaps?” Akna teased.

His mind wandered for a moment. Before he’d left on his first naval voyage, he had been engaged—to a noble lady of extreme beauty and with a keen wit. He had been madly in love with her, only to have his hopes cruelly dashed to pieces when he discovered she’d been consorting with other men in his absence. When confronted, she’d pled and begged. But when his forgiveness had not been easily given, she’d shrugged and told him in a cold voice that she’d only wanted him for his title anyway. That woman had fooled him well—so well that he’d vowed never to trust another woman again.

“Yes,” John replied stiffly. “A fiancée who did not love me. Or rather, she only loved my fortunes.”

“Ah, so you trust no one,” Akna said, her words painfully true yet also gently said. “I see. But yet you indulge anyway?”

“Why not?” John said with a shrug. Then, leaning in and placing his palm on her knee, he said, “But surely you are not interested in my title or my wealth.”

“Surely not!” Akna exclaimed.

“Well then, in the interests of intercultural communication,” John said teasingly, giving her thigh a gentle squeeze, “shall we…explore?”

“Why explore?” Akna rejoined cheekily. “You cannot possibly have anything to gain, and you have nothing I want.”

“You wound me,” John said, covering his heart in feigned hurt.

“Rubbish,” Akna scoffed with a smirk. “Your ego is much too large to be injured by the rejection of a simple savage.”

“Now, now,” John said with a suggestive waggle of his brows. “Surely there is something about me that you might want. And for your information, my ego is not the only thing that is larger than most. And I can promise you hours of…entertainment.”

Akna laughed, a rosy glow to her cheeks and a sharp retort ready on her lips. They continued to exchange witty barbs over the course of dinner, their animosity forgotten and replaced with banter void of any note of bitterness. John lavished Akna with warm, sultry smiles, which only earned him playful rebuffs and quips. John relaxed in her company, refreshed by her disdain for manipulation and social climbing and intrigued by her unique world view. He found their repartee exhilarating, and she was truly a creature of wild beauty when she met him in verbal sparring. Perhaps, John thought to himself as he admired the fire in her dark eyes, the next few weeks would be exciting after all.

Chapter Three

“I do not like it,” Akna declared stubbornly.

“But it suits you so well,” John protested, chuckling.

“How so?” she demanded.

“The material is stiff, and the colour is dark,” John explained frankly. “Would you not say these are qualities that describe your personality perfectly?”

“How dare you!” Akna seethed, spinning around to pin him with a glare. “Perhaps you should be the one to put this dress on, you stiff-necked soldier!”

“On the contrary, my lady,” he said, stepping just out of her reach. “I am as limber and light-hearted as any man could be. Perhaps you would care for a demonstration?”

Akna flushed and turned again, clenching her hands into tight fists. John only continued to chuckle as he retook his seat. The seamstress and her assistant glanced at each other and rolled their eyes heavenward. The diplomatic party of Inuit had been at the king’s country estate for a little over a week, but their young delegate, Akna, and the king’s representative, Sir Frederick, did nothing but bicker their way through the grounds like quarrelling school children. Everyone seemed amazed that the king did nothing to intervene, simply watched with an amused tilt to his lips as they traded barbed jibes while striding though his halls. Nobles always edged away from the pair at parties, worried that the savage would erupt into violence at any minute. But if anyone had dared to look closer, it would be obvious that the two opposites were secretly enjoying their saucy banter.

“I want to take it off,” Akna muttered discontentedly.

She shifted uncomfortably under the thick silk, unaccustomed to the tight, unyielding fit.

“Well,” John piped up from behind, “don’t you think you ought to wait until the seamstress has left before you shed your clothing?”

Her face flamed attractively and she turned on her heel once more, her eyes daggers. John smirked appreciatively. She was ever so interesting when she was alight with passion—even if it was ferocious anger directed at him.

“Perhaps
you
should be the one to leave, Sir Frederick,” she said, jabbing an angry finger at him.

“And miss the show?” John shrugged. “I think not. And I believed we’d agreed upon John, not Sir Frederick.”

“You are missing the point,
John
,” she said, slurring his name and tugging self-consciously at her sleeve. “I do not belong in this dress.”

“But you do look stunning,” said the seamstress’s assistant suddenly in a quiet, admiring voice.

Akna turned slowly, levelling the mousy maid with a stare that dared her to laugh. The young woman stepped forward, her hands gesturing shyly.

“You look so refined,” she explained, her voice an awed whisper. “I’ve never seen any lady look so regal in that style or in that colour of dress.”

“Surely, you jest,” Akna said disbelievingly.

“No, my lady,” the seamstress said, slowly climbing to her feet from where she was pinning the hem. “The girl does not lie. This dress brings out your natural beauty, though I’ll warrant it’s not so comfortable.”

Akna’s cheeks blossomed as she cautiously took in their words. John looked on in amusement. Though he teased her incessantly, no one could deny that the young woman looked every inch like an exotic queen. Instead of the gaudy brocade usually worn by court women, the seamstress had chosen to swathe Akna in blue-and-silver silk, colours that shimmered in the light like ice and set off the toffee tone of her skin. It had a dangerously low oval neckline that bared her slim shoulders. The tightly laced bodice pushed up her pert bosom and was a dramatic contrast to the flare of the voluminous skirts. The seamstress had indeed chosen well.

“A fine job, lady seamstress,” John said, standing. “Now let us see if the savage can be tamed by fine clothing.”

“Very well, Sir Frederick,” the seamstress said, brushing the dust from her skirts. “But mind the hem of her skirts. I haven’t stitched them permanently yet.” She paused to eye him critically. “And mind you don’t crinkle the fabric.”

“Why address me as if I am the savage?” John said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“A savage man, you are, Sir Frederick,” the seamstress muttered under her breath as she ambled away. “Ask any scullery maid or beautiful lady.”

John chuckled and took Akna by the elbow, leading her from the boudoir and into the stone corridors. Akna peered at him through narrowed eyes as they wandered the castle. They slowly made their way toward the open courtyards, the stone corridors gradually widening into covered walkways.

“And just what did the lady seamstress mean by that?” she asked accusingly.

“That I am a very, very popular man,” John said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

“Indeed you are,” a cool, feminine voice interrupted.

Both Akna and John looked up to see a small group of noble ladies approaching. The young woman who had spoken was classically beautiful with perfectly pale skin, golden locks in ringlets and icy-blue eyes. Though she outshone the others, all of them wore strings of pearls and jewels over expensive court dresses, and their heels clacked noisily on the stone floor as they approached. They stopped in front of Akna and John, their eyes unfriendly.

“What a pleasure it is to see you, Lady Leake,” John said in a deadpan voice that expressed the exact opposite sentiment.

“John,” cooed the beautiful lady with a sardonic smile, “I thought we’d moved past such formalities. Surely you can address me by my given name. It’s the least you could do…after all we’ve been through together.”

“I wasn’t aware that you cared for me so deeply,” John replied stiffly, “my dear Lady Georgina.”

“Much better,” Georgina said with a falsely wistful sigh. She turned to rake over Akna’s form with cold, appraising eyes. “And what do we have here?” she asked with an arched brow. “Such a waste of fine material on a dirty little savage from the colonies.”

“She understands English perfectly,” John warned Georgina, anger edging his voice. “And she is a princess among her people.”

Akna glanced up at the man at her side in surprise; she hadn’t really expected her host to come to her aid. And his stiff, unfriendly tone was also completely out of character.

“Oh, I
want
her to understand,” Georgina said with a sly, catlike grin that made Akna shiver despite herself. “I want her to know how she ranks compared to
true
nobility. She should realise just how ridiculous she looks in that borrowed finery.”

“Borrowed? This dress is not
borrowed
,Georgina, dear. It was commissioned expressly for Lady Akna,” John announced unexpectedly. “Commissioned as a gift and paid for…by me.”

Georgina went pale in anger, and she clenched her fingers into furious fists.

“You bought her that dress?”

“A true lady deserves such a gift, wouldn’t you say?” John asked, his tone ever so slightly taunting.

“You gave me no such token,” Georgina snarled, her porcelain cheeks becoming mottled red in anger.

“Now, why would I give you a dress,” John said mildly, his eyes piercing, “when you were always so intent on shedding your own in my presence?”

Akna blinked as the other ladies gasped in unison. But Georgina merely stared, open-mouthed. She recovered a breath later, her teeth clacking shut and her eyes flashing. She turned her sharp eyes on Akna, who resisted the urge to flinch.

“You think you’re something special, don’t you?” she growled, her beautiful face contorting in rage. “But you’re no more than a toy, a novelty. He’ll tire of you soon enough, you little heathen.”

With a quick toss of her golden locks and one last scathing glare in John’s direction, Georgina and her ensemble stomped off, the sound of her heels echoing through the halls. Both John and Akna let out a sigh.

“A scorned woman is truly a vengeful force with which to be reckoned,” John finally said tiredly, gently massaging his temples with his fingers.

“I take it that you and she were well-acquainted in the past?”

“Acquainted, yes,” John confirmed. “But not well.”

“Well enough to warrant such anger.”

“There was a time when we shared a few…trysts,” John admitted, his tone sour.

Akna shook her head disapprovingly. Seeds of doubt sprouted in her mind. Lady Leake was beautiful, even if she had a monstrous personality. Akna’s time with John had been intriguing and entertaining so far, but would he tire of her just as easily? Perhaps she had let herself get too close to him after all.

“Women in my tribe do not prefer such…familiar men,” she said calmly, her tone chilly.

“Well, men in my position never know which women are after us because they truly like us…and which are after our riches or titles,” he countered, his usually warm voice dropping an octave.

“And so you sample them freely?” she asked waspishly.

“How simplistic,” he commented dryly, his hand unconsciously tightening on her arm. “Can you honestly tell me that you haven’t had your fair share of lovers?”

“I have never treated men as playthings to be cast aside, if that is what you’re implying,” she answered in a huff.

John stopped, and he was suddenly in front of her, his chest to hers. He leaned in so close that she swore she could have counted his eyelashes if she had so wanted. With a calloused thumb, he gently traced the line of her cheek.

“I don’t treat women as toys,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling. “I simply haven’t found a woman worthy of my continued affection and attention as of yet.”

“Ridiculous!” Akna exclaimed, pushing away hurriedly. “You are attempting to toy with me now!”

She marched away angrily, ignoring the sharp pain caused by the constricting shoes. John caught up with her easily, snagging her wrist with his long fingers. He spun her about, but she twisted in his grip. Grunting, he pulled them both into a sheltered alcove. He grabbed her by the wrists and tugged her close, his eyes earnest.

“Do not assume that I am treating you like the others,” he hissed ardently. “You are nothing like them.”

“Indeed,” Akna replied as she tried unsuccessfully to pull away. “I am a dirty savage, a little heathen—”