The Conqueror's Royal Slave のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Genevieve could scarcely believe they had a new tormentor in the form of the man who asked them to call him variously, Maurice, Guillaume and sometimes Ephron. She was only thankful de Mornay had not visited in a while. The bastard had her necklace; Xander would be so mad.Sometimes, she despaired of ever setting eyes on her brother again. Yet she hadn’t given up hope. She knew him. He was by no means a typical Rimet.The other girls all spoke Ormondian with varying dialects from different regions of the United Isles. Nell had taught her the Anglo Saxon tongue which she knew she must be mangling all the time. Frankish was so different.She supposed it must be the same for Tora, the one who hailed from the Dane Lands.None of them wanted to join a harem. Still, it was probably better than being auctioned off. At least they hadn’t been loaned out to brothels in the city, the ones who weren’t virgins, that is. For her, that wasn’t an option. Though it hadn’t stopped their new keeper from

Maybe she had acted in haste and would live to regret it, but the opportunity had been too good to pass up when one of their captors vomited suddenly leaving part of the line unguarded. As she had expected, there was no hue and cry, though the look on the owner’s face was priceless.The three of them had secreted themselves in the bushes by the wayside and waited to be retrieved but it never happened.Tora seemed to know where she was heading, and Nell agreed the territory seemed familiar to her after a time.By a strange coincidence they had been near neighbours, though Tora claimed her brother hadn’t had chance to settle in one particular spot as they waited to be granted farmland. Nell was looking forward to seeing her sister, Rowanne, and little brother, Wulfric, again, while her other companion was extolling the virtues of her brother, Ulf.Genevieve couldn’t help thinking about Xander with mixed feelings. Would he believe she’d let him down?Still, anything was better than being

Eithne remained up on the battlements long after the last horsemen had left. Her arm wasn’t stiff from waving, as it would not have been seemly, though her cheeks felt frozen by the cold breeze which had sprung up, and she was grateful for the Frankish shawl which had arrived via a foreign pedlar only yesterday. The linen was still stiff though she simply adored the embroidery on the edges. Though not quite a bride, she felt like any woman watching her man ride away: apprehensive and heartsick. The heirloom she wore on a gold chain around her neck. Superstition forbade her from even trying it on for size. His sister may want it back. But the thought had been a good one. It counted on the plus side of his increasingly pleasing attributes. She caught herself before the blush had chance to properly form. Last night had been a tender experience, one never to be forgotten, as they shared their hopes and dreams once the lovemaking was done. She felt fortunate it had been Xander she encount

“God forbid we are invaded while Xander is overseas.” The irony of that statement struck Eithne only after she had uttered it. Hard to believe the conqueror would go to war on behalf of Ormond when he had no real intention of usurping the crown from its rightful king. If she had helped him come to a decision about that it would feel like she had also done her bit for the realm. “Where is King Ephron? What’s taking so long?” Princess Ava was as edgy as ever. Eithne hoped she hadn’t been serious about the cloistered life. She pitied those poor nuns already. The other two princesses, Isabel and Cassie, had very different fortunes, also. Naturally, Isabel was worried about Lars, while her sister claimed it wouldn’t bother her if Adam didn’t return. Who knew what the truth was regarding those two? Jocasta didn’t want for company and had even made it outside, with her brother’s help. For some reason she had stopped making predictions. Eithne knew that didn’t mean she couldn’t foresee t

Word had reached de Mornay of a hostile force marching through Normandy. He mocked the very idea, even though the rumours said it was headed up by a bastard.“Send in Fleur,” he said, draining the dregs of wine from his goblet. The maidservant curtseyed before scurrying to obey. He sensed her relief but preferred to believe it was disappointment. “This should entertain you, my love.”His wife was sitting up in bed, still weak from losing their child. He didn’t blame her; Xander never brought him anything but ill-luck. Now it was time for payback.The young woman was dressed provocatively in a too tight gown which matched her striking green eyes.“I can see the resemblance,” Lysette said.“Except for the freckles. Don’t you find them ugly, my love?”“Some say they are kisses from the sun,” she remarked, moving restlessly beneath the coverlet.“I wonder what else has entered that pretty mouth.”“You are disgusting, de Mornay.”“Careful, Fleur. I could have you whipped.”“My name is Gene