Princess in a Strange New Land Read Online Free Page A

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