The Conqueror's Royal Slave のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

Eithne could no longer stand by and watch the children starve when there was plenty of stew in the pot. It was tempting to pick up the ladle and serve them herself but she wasn’t that stupid. Instead she made her way across to the helmeted guard and knelt at his feet. “Yes?” he rasped. “Out with it and make it quick.” “Surely my brother doesn’t want this?” She gestured behind her at the two seven year old twins, Morgan and Maisie. The latter was pale and fading fast while the boy’s eyes were dull and lacking in hope. “Your point, my lady?” The new deference surprised her and perhaps explained her unbound hands and feet. Then she became aware that someone was standing behind her and it wasn’t Ephron. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a tall, cloaked figure and smelled blood. It was in the newcomer’s hair and beard and still dripping from his sword. “Clean it.” Eithne remained on her knees, unaware the command was directed at her. “Are you deaf, woman?” She eyed the pail in th

Watching him do an about-face and stride rapidly back towards the ramshackle dwelling, Eithne was really tempted to let him do it. Her instinct for self-preservation warred with her integrity. She couldn’t just run away from this – from him. Where would she go and, for that matter, how far would she get?Knowing she would not be able to live with herself, that she would be no better than Clara, Eithne raised the hem of her gown once more. This time, her pace was slow and measured rather than rapid and directionless.“I knew you’d come to your senses,” Xander said, as he set to work with a spade.She watched him for a time, wondering why he hadn’t delegated the task to his subordinate. His arms were well-muscled and more than equal to the task. It occurred to her he had probably dug graves before. For fallen comrades, maybe, not little ones.Yet, as she stood there, judging him without mercy, Eithne reminded herself she knew nothing about this Frankish invader other than that he wanted

Xander came into the room a short time later, looking refreshed and impossibly handsome. She felt like a traitor even thinking like that. He was clean-shaven and she could not help noticing the sharp jawline and mobile mouth below a hawk nose fit for a nobleman. His green eyes were alert, despite his casual demeanour; she judged him anything but relaxed. Presumably the beard and unkempt appearance had been a result of weeks on the road. How active he had been in the assault on the kingdom was anybody’s guess and yet, hadn’t she cleaned the blood off his blade only yesterday? “Sleep well?” he asked, with studied nonchalance. “My daughter is sulking. See if you can bring her round, Xander. I am going for a nap.” He pulled up a stool and perched his large frame upon it with no sign of being hunched. This was a man comfortable in his own skin. “So, you’re refusing to speak, eh? I can assure you that won’t last long. When I’m done with you, Princess, you will be begging me for more.” “

There must have been at least twenty Frankish men waiting in two parallel lines. Eithne bowed her head, unwilling to make eye contact with any of them. Gradually the last vestiges of conversation died away, including the conclusion of what she knew to have been a bawdy joke.Schooling her features to ignorance, she willed herself not to redden if insults of any kind came her way.Xander sauntered along the line, his hand gripping her upper arm.“I asked you to assemble here, men, because I wanted to express my thanks for all your endeavours in what has seemed an interminable campaign. Yes, Beauregard?”“It has been a pleasure, Sire.”Sire?“No need to stand on ceremony. Xander will do. Many a campaign we’ve spent wrapped in our cloaks. Which reminds me.” He glanced at her. “I need to acquire a new one.”“Permission to speak, Xander?”“Go ahead, Drago.”“Will we be staying on here for a while?”“Missing your family? I sympathise, even though I don’t know what that’s like.”There were g

That evening, having eaten very little else herself, Eithne was instructed by her master to serve ale in the Hall. He had hinted at such a thing though she hadn’t believed he was serious. All this after washing several floors until her fingers were raw and numb, her back ached and her knees were sore.Did she believe Xander that he’d purchased the cloak on a whim? There was no telling with him when he was serious and when he wasn’t. Except she did not doubt that he would indeed test her innocence or otherwise that very night.The men were noisy, boisterous and well on their way to becoming drunk. It heartened her to see Beauregard for some reason she could not quite explain. Though she hadn’t particularly looked at most of the others, except for Drago and Guisset, she could tell the mercenaries by their leather jerkins and short cloaks. It was a kind of uniform which set them apart and she was heartened to see them dispersed throughout the long room. In case of trouble?Surely not bec