Read Online Reign of the Favored Women by Ann Chamberlin - Free Book Online
Authors: Ann Chamberlin
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was being held, were not encouraging.
“Sofia, Sofia, it’s me, Andrea,” he said as soon as the bravo’s hand had quietened the scream once more. “I’ve come to rescue you. To take you back to Venice. I’ve got a boat waiting and everything. Just come on back to the sedan and we’ll carry you there.”
In the same moment Andrea realized first that he was going to have to help get the captive into the sedan. Indeed, that he ought to have been lending a hand sooner. And second, that the reason he hadn’t helped out was because he was hesitant to approach that belligerent bundle of silk and brocade.
Andrea approached with caution. At first touch, the jasmine fra-
grance filled his brain. But the fragrance was missing the undercurrent of toothsome almond; gone from her physical being was the warmth and softness of love.
Without doubt, the woman they had captured was behaving very differently from the creature of his dreams.
Then Andrea felt something more: The Sofia he held had a more prominent belly than the tight drumhead on which he was used to beat out his love tattoo.
By Jesu and Maria, she was pregnant.
Was it his child? His head was too overwhelmed to figure very clearly, but he thought it might be. No wonder she was behaving so strangely. Andrea had heard that pregnant women were subject to strange fancies and often didn’t know their own minds. He would have to think for the two—the three—of them.
Between them, Andrea and the bravo wrestled Sofia a couple of paces. Young Barbarigo was trying to be as careful as he could, but he did have to use some force. The woman herself set her feet firmly into the men’s shins more often than she let them touch the ground.
“Here. Let’s gag her with the veil,” the bravo suggested when they stopped to recoup and regain a grasp on their burden. “That’ll give me another hand.”
Andrea nodded dumbly.
The fight Sofia put up against the removal of her veil wounded Andrea in plenty of places, but the jab to his heart hurt worst of all. In spite of—or perhaps because of—his admiration, the bravo was ready to smack her into submission. Andrea stayed the man’s hand, though having to fight on two fronts at once was wearing.
Of course she has been among the Turks so long she has taken on this extra layer of any woman’s natural modesty. Andrea excused her opposition and promised himself as well as Sofia that there was no harm intended.
“Do you think I would hurt you, my love, or—or our child?” he pleaded.
Your child? You think this is your child when I could have a prince?
Andrea seemed to read these words in the glare of eyes over the bravo’s hand, so he didn’t think in that direction any more.
He did, however, keep up the struggle towards the .sedan. His actions were, after all, in her best interest, no matter whose child it was. And he promised himself he could love any child Sofia bore.
Still he could not escape the impression that the wish to remain disguised motivated her as much or more than modesty. Like a thief in the nit, like the two men having a time of it with Ghazanfer who’d both taken the precaution of muffling their faces, Sofia seemed to be masking illegality from witnesses more than beauts fi-om lechers.
But Andrea could waste no more time considering it. Ghazanfer was gaining the upper hand at his end of the alley. A lucky kick by one of the bravos had managed to knock the monster ‘s dagger out of reach and into the deep shadows. That was all that kept the eunuch from giving better than he took, even in that two-to-one match.
“I was beginning to wonder, captain—” The bravo on the other side of Sofia’s contentious form clenched his teeth and panted his exertion. “—whether any woman could be worth this much trouble. For what you paid us, you could have found yourself several dozen obliging whores. But now I see. I’ve got to hand it to vou. She’s worth it.”
Andrea didn’t appreciate the
“Sofia, Sofia, it’s me, Andrea,” he said as soon as the bravo’s hand had quietened the scream once more. “I’ve come to rescue you. To take you back to Venice. I’ve got a boat waiting and everything. Just come on back to the sedan and we’ll carry you there.”
In the same moment Andrea realized first that he was going to have to help get the captive into the sedan. Indeed, that he ought to have been lending a hand sooner. And second, that the reason he hadn’t helped out was because he was hesitant to approach that belligerent bundle of silk and brocade.
Andrea approached with caution. At first touch, the jasmine fra-
grance filled his brain. But the fragrance was missing the undercurrent of toothsome almond; gone from her physical being was the warmth and softness of love.
Without doubt, the woman they had captured was behaving very differently from the creature of his dreams.
Then Andrea felt something more: The Sofia he held had a more prominent belly than the tight drumhead on which he was used to beat out his love tattoo.
By Jesu and Maria, she was pregnant.
Was it his child? His head was too overwhelmed to figure very clearly, but he thought it might be. No wonder she was behaving so strangely. Andrea had heard that pregnant women were subject to strange fancies and often didn’t know their own minds. He would have to think for the two—the three—of them.
Between them, Andrea and the bravo wrestled Sofia a couple of paces. Young Barbarigo was trying to be as careful as he could, but he did have to use some force. The woman herself set her feet firmly into the men’s shins more often than she let them touch the ground.
“Here. Let’s gag her with the veil,” the bravo suggested when they stopped to recoup and regain a grasp on their burden. “That’ll give me another hand.”
Andrea nodded dumbly.
The fight Sofia put up against the removal of her veil wounded Andrea in plenty of places, but the jab to his heart hurt worst of all. In spite of—or perhaps because of—his admiration, the bravo was ready to smack her into submission. Andrea stayed the man’s hand, though having to fight on two fronts at once was wearing.
Of course she has been among the Turks so long she has taken on this extra layer of any woman’s natural modesty. Andrea excused her opposition and promised himself as well as Sofia that there was no harm intended.
“Do you think I would hurt you, my love, or—or our child?” he pleaded.
Your child? You think this is your child when I could have a prince?
Andrea seemed to read these words in the glare of eyes over the bravo’s hand, so he didn’t think in that direction any more.
He did, however, keep up the struggle towards the .sedan. His actions were, after all, in her best interest, no matter whose child it was. And he promised himself he could love any child Sofia bore.
Still he could not escape the impression that the wish to remain disguised motivated her as much or more than modesty. Like a thief in the nit, like the two men having a time of it with Ghazanfer who’d both taken the precaution of muffling their faces, Sofia seemed to be masking illegality from witnesses more than beauts fi-om lechers.
But Andrea could waste no more time considering it. Ghazanfer was gaining the upper hand at his end of the alley. A lucky kick by one of the bravos had managed to knock the monster ‘s dagger out of reach and into the deep shadows. That was all that kept the eunuch from giving better than he took, even in that two-to-one match.
“I was beginning to wonder, captain—” The bravo on the other side of Sofia’s contentious form clenched his teeth and panted his exertion. “—whether any woman could be worth this much trouble. For what you paid us, you could have found yourself several dozen obliging whores. But now I see. I’ve got to hand it to vou. She’s worth it.”
Andrea didn’t appreciate the
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