Linda Skye - Princess In A Strange New Land

London, 1772

Playing host to King George III’s foreign guests holds little appeal for Sir John Frederick—until he meets one remarkable visitor. Because Akna, the Inuit princess, outshines every jeweled noblewoman at court and offers a sensual challenge the jaded navy captain craves.

The court may view Akna as a savage, yet there is more treachery within the ton than she has ever faced before. But there are pleasures to be discovered, too, and with John’s wicked skill tantalizing her every sense, soon Akna is keen to experience further English delights—and with this man in particular….

Princess in a Strange New Land

Linda Skye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For all the adventurous hearts looking for romance and finding it in unexpected places.

The Seven Years’ War (1756–1763) affected much of the colonized world and was waged for control over trade. Great Britain’s main antagonist in the Americas was France, and matters were complicated by alliances between the empires and the native peoples, primarily the Iroquois and Algonquin confederations. However, not all relations between the British and the natives were war-related. George Cartwright, an explorer, trader and army officer, visited Labrador and made friends with the Inuit there. And in 1773, he brought over a small group of Inuit people to England to meet the king and the Royal Society. Unfortunately, all but one woman named Caubvick succumbed to smallpox while abroad. Caubvick then returned to Labrador alone.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter One

Whispers rose through the great hall like the angry hum of bees, and Akna felt her face grow warm. The stares of dozens of privileged courtiers were hot on her body, like the noonday rays of golden sunshine. But instead of filling her with joy, this warmth was angry, condescending, curious and…just a little lustful. Akna squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, dark eyes flashing. She refused to cower before these strangers, these painted fools in layers of frills and impractical fabric. Their towering hairdos and shiny clothes seemed monstrous to her, and she flexed her arms, relishing the feel of her sealskin dress. It was warm and soft and stretched over her creamy olive skin like a perfectly formed glove.

And Akna, third daughter of Inuk chief Tulok, was as perfect as any of her people. Her thick, glossy black hair was neatly plaited into one long braid that hung down her back. She had a smooth, oval face punctuated by doelike hazel eyes and rosebud lips. She had always been envied for her swanlike neck and her perfect hourglass figure, which was accentuated by her tightly wrapped dress, hand-beaded with coloured bone and stones. It was warmer here than in her homeland, so she had left her caribou parka in her guest quarters, and she wore only the lightest of moccasins. Her defiant eyes sweeping the crowd, she caught the envious looks on several white-faced ladies…as well as some lingering looks from men. Narrowing her eyes to slits, she watched as a man trailed his eyes down her lithe form, his gaze lingering on her shapely calves.

Savages , she thought angrily.

Then her ageing father, the chief of their Inuit tribe, stepped forward. A hush fell over the crowd.

“We greet you, King of England,” he said, his deep voice gravelly and thickly accented.

The king stood from his throne and extended his arms.

“You are welcome here,” King George III boomed from the dais.

“Many thanks,” Tulok responded, his normally confident voice hesitant. “I present… May I present daughter?”

Muffled giggles and snickers filled the room at his stumbling speech. Even so, Tulok did not seemed fazed; his wrinkled face was as serene as ever. But Akna felt indignation race through her veins. Very well , she thought, steeling herself. If it’s a show they want…

Akna stepped forward boldly, gently placing a hand on her father’s arm. And then she spoke, her voice as clear and melodious as a bell and her accent flawless.

“This is my father, Tulok,” she announced with her head held high. “He is the chief of our people. And I am Akna, his daughter.” She paused for a moment to take in the shocked faces around her. Yes , she thought with a victorious tilt to her lips. Those hours spent mastering the language on the long voyage across the sea had not been wasted. It helped that she had been the voice for her people when the English traders and explorers ventured north. She had spent years picking up the vocabulary and nuances from these bands of brave travellers—and then weeks immersing herself in English on the sea voyage to Britain.

“Along with these three companions,” she continued, gesturing to the elders behind her, “we have travelled from Labrador in order to greet you and your people. We look forward to this exchange.”

“Well,” the king replied after a short, stunned pause, “I trust that you will enjoy your stay. I will arrange an escort for you. Now please,” he said, clapping his hands, “enjoy this feast we have prepared for you!”

Akna tried not to flinch in surprise as the hall’s doors opened with a loud bang. A line of servers poured into the hall carrying trays of exotically prepared food, which they set down on long tables. The courtiers sighed in pleasure as they migrated slowly toward the treats, their stomachs leading them.

“Father,” Akna said in her mother tongue, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “let us return to the quarters these white strangers have prepared for us.”

“No, daughter,” her father replied with a stern shake of his head. “That is not the reason we are here. Go now, try these strange delights and learn what you can. You will be our voice and our ears in this land.”

Akna pursed her lips. It was her duty to obey, but she was less than pleased about being paraded before the gentry. The white people who had visited their lands had been interesting, yet unable to understand the ways of the earth, people who knew nothing of the land nor of how to glean the essentials from the gifts of Mother Nature. Not only that, but she had heard horror stories whispered at night of white warriors crushing the people of the South, burning Algonquin villages and chasing out the Iroquois. These invaders might have riches and wealth, but she could not fathom what lessons her father thought she could learn from them. But he had always been a wise chief. So Akna would obey.

Her moccasins were silent on the polished hardwood, so when she glided up to a gaggle of ladies fanning themselves, they jumped. She arched an eyebrow. The ladies tittered, recovering. One woman closed her fan with a snap and pointed it at her feet.

“What are those things on your feet? They look like men’s shoes.”

Akna met her vicious grin with a sage smile.

“These are called moccasins.” She paused and glanced down at the woman’s heeled shoes, in which her pudgy feet were pinched. “They are comfortable and terribly practical compared to yours, I should think.”