The Surrender of a Lady (7 page)

Elena couldn’t find it in her to say anything, so she watched him with weariness, and to her self-disgust, a tinge of curiosity. He studied her in kind. Her hair must be a mess from sleeping on it while it was damp. But her dark curls draped around her in a protective curtain, hiding what the strip of silk knotted about her failed to cover. Her feet, ankles, and shin were bare for his scrutiny. She tried to tuck the skirt over them, but Jonathan fussed at the movement and she refused to wake him, so she stopped.

“I am Amir.” It was simply said in a deep accented voice. He spoke English, his voice clear and strong in the big room, but not so loud as to wake her baby. Moving the bowl from his lap, he crawled over to her in a swift, stealthy motion, like a tiger playing with his prey. His finger came under her chin and he lifted her head closer to his.

“Harry’s description did you little justice. You are far more beautiful than I imagined.”

Her eyes widened as she waited for him to do something, although what that something was she didn’t know. Her son sleeping against her should have acted as a shield, and it was terrible of her to think of her baby that way, but she didn’t know what this man expected of her.

Would he take her with her son right here?

She licked her lips without meaning to, and closed her eyes to hide the embarrassment that would be evident in their depths.

Amir only chuckled at her reaction and released her chin. “I’m no barbarian to take you while you hold your sleeping child.”

Elena opened her eyes and stared back at him. His smile seemed genuine as he inspected her. Pulling the knot of her robe loose, he parted the silk and exposed her from breast to belly; not once did his hand graze her skin. He could only inspect one side since Jonathan still slept soundly over her other breast. She tried not to flinch, but with her skin exposed to the air and her nerves running rampant, her nipple puckered and gooseflesh rose wherever his eyes caressed her. She couldn’t help but tremble in fear.

The wail of her son had never been a more welcome sound. But that relief died in the next moment.

Amir snapped his fingers sharply, and a round squat woman came forward from the shadows. She held her arms out for the baby. Elena was afraid to let him go but more afraid of what Amir would do to her if she defied him so soon into their arrangement. When she made no move to give Jonathan up, the woman bent over her and swaddled her son close to her bosom. Jonathan’s mouth latched onto the woman’s plump bosom, obviously hungry.

Elena felt immediate remorse for not being able to feed her own son. That joy and closeness had been taken away from her.

“Please . . .” she said in a small voice. She didn’t know how to deny this man his rights to her body. At least till she was better acquainted with this place and her role here.

Her son was safe and healthy. She shouldn’t want for more than that. But would he remain safe if she refused this man?

Elena clenched her fists, staring after her son. The gurgle and suck of her son feeding grew quieter as the woman walked out of the great room. She had a fleeting moment of fear, wondering if she’d see her son again. Were they to sleep in different parts of the palace? She wanted him close and couldn’t bear for him to be taken. Not after she’d just gotten him back.

“I only want to see what I’ve purchased. You need never fear me.”

The voice might be reassuring, but she still couldn’t face him. Half her body remained uncovered for his perusal. The other half of her dress slid from her front, and it took everything in her not to cover herself again. She was desperate enough to want to huddle beneath the meager shield the silk afforded.

“You will be more comfortable if you lean back against the pillows.”

His voice was soothing and meant to calm her panic, but it did no such thing. A slight whimper escaped her lips before she bit it to hold the trembling at bay. She was losing control of her emotions and was close to blubbering all over Amir.

The Lord’s Prayer went through her head in a perverse parody, but it would not protect her from him taking what he wanted. She bit her trembling lip tighter. She couldn’t still her shaking as she leaned back against the pillows exposed to a man she didn’t know, a man who was not her husband and never would be.

“Shh . . . you are so frightened and for no reason.”

She flinched at his touch even though it was light, tender. Those freely wandering fingers of his caressed the curve of her breast, over her rib cage, and farther down to the slight roundness of her belly. His hands grazed the skin above her mound, exploring but never touching her with full strength, the heat of his hand more predominant than his touch.

“Are you sore, here?” His fingers pressed more firmly into her womanhood before easing off.

She nodded, tears leaking out the side of her eyes. Would he leave her be if she were sore? What if she complained of the pain? He seemed a reasonable person since he hadn’t forced himself upon her—in her—yet.

A strong hand wrapped about her ankle and he pulled her leg down so there was no hope of shielding any part of her body. She was laid flat out on the floor for his view, his hand molded over her leg caressing her up to her hip.

Did he not feel the tremble of her body? Fear in a woman should repel so gentle a man, not attract further advances.

“You see, this isn’t so terrible.”

It was so simple for a man to say such things, but it wasn’t the case for her. She felt sweat trickle under her breasts and roll off her rib cage, the small of her back felt wet and hot against the rug, and even her palms started to perspire in nervousness.

“I have no protection against a child.” Her words were hissed so low and fast she barely heard them. She bit her lip to stop from saying more.

Amir only leaned close to her face. “I’m not so cruel as to subject you to more. It is not my goal to frighten you out of your wits, little bird. You are safe from my advances tonight.”

Those words were said with such conviction that she wanted to believe him, but his hand still caressed her leg. She had no reason to trust him yet—no reason not to. It’d be foolish to balk at his touch.

“You will have to prepare yourself for me. I assume Harry told you I’d let you spend time with your son and become more acquainted with life here?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His hand fell more firmly on her, lifting the weight of one breast, then the next. His fingers clasped around her nipple, his mouth came close to the taut peak, hot breath fanned out over her skin.

She shivered in revulsion, itching to shrink away, to put any small distance between them. There was nowhere left to escape. Instead, she grasped the silk of her robe that had fallen to her sides and squeezed it so tight her nails cut into her palm right through the material.

A moment later a blanket fell over her, and she heard the soft padding of his feet walking away. She curled into herself on the floor, clutching the blanket close. She didn’t want to find her way in the dark to her own room. No strength remained in her body, and she wanted to feel miserable for herself. Was it fair for her to pity the path she’d chosen even if it was just for a moment?

No, it wasn’t fair to her son.

She’d agreed to be this man’s slave to protect her son from harm, to save herself from probable death. This was about giving Jonathan the chance to live his life out from under the shadows of his misbegotten father. She would endure whatever her owner doled out. Jonathan was all that mattered. Nothing else.

She was not so weak as to lose advantage in her predicament. It certainly wasn’t beneath her to take what she could from the arrangement. One thing Amir had proved about his character was that he was generous—perhaps
manipulative
was a more apt word—when he wanted something. If he was cruel, he would have purchased her and forgotten her son. Yet, he hadn’t.

Whatever Amir asked of her, she would do, but she would also benefit from it. She’d been a beggar too long under the feeble hand of her husband. Life had dealt her a strange twist of fate. It would be foolish not to take the fullest advantage of her situation.

Someone tapped her arm. She peeped her head over her shoulder. Maram kneeled next to her, a smile lighting her face.

“You’ve met Amir.”

Elena nodded. What was she supposed to say? That he’d been so disgusted by her behavior he’d left? Hardly a way to make peace with these women she was to live with for the rest of her days.

“You don’t want to sleep in here,” the girl continued, “it gets cool in the evenings. I’ll take you to your room.”

There was no reason to argue, so she followed the girl out of the main sitting area back to her private quarters. She sat in a dazed state on her divan and said nothing as the girl took the edge of her dress and retied it, knotting it between her breasts.

“Do you want me to stay in your room, sleep here with you? Amir won’t come back. He is a patient man, more patient than any I’ve ever known.”

“I’m well enough to sleep alone.” She grasped the girl’s arm before she left. “Thank you for the offer.”

“I like you. You are kind—a little broken, but I think you’ll be fine in time. The rules are different here, but no one will cause you any harm.”

“I don’t think I ever will find my way.”

“You will. Give it time”—Maram chuckled and gave a shrug of her shoulder—“we have an abundance of
that
here.”

There was no doubting the truth of the girl’s words, she thought as she watched Maram leave.

With the affirmation that this was to be her life, Elena came to a series of conclusions. If she were adamant about doing this for her son, she would not be a martyr. That would make her miserable and kill a big piece of her spirit. How could she ever give her son a good, fulfilling childhood if she destroyed what spark of life was left within her?

Accepting this fate meant taking what comforts this life might offer. Otherwise she’d spend the rest of her days shelled in a miserable husk. Her son deserved more. To grow up without bitterness, even here, in the life they’d landed haphazardly in.

If she wanted her son to be happy, she’d make this situation work. She’d embrace this to the best of her abilities. No matter what she endured, she’d stay strong for Jonathan.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Way of Life

“It’s time to wake.”

Her shoulder was nudged gently.

“We have to go to the baths.”

Elena rolled over on the divan and faced Laila. Covering a wide yawn, she rubbed at her tired eyes. “What do you mean, we go to the baths? We were in the baths last night, and for some hours.”

“It does not matter. It is necessary here to follow all the customs.”

She could probably argue with this woman until she was blue in the face. Besides that, she was too tired to squabble about anything. Sitting up, she gathered her hair on top her head and twisted it in a knot as best she could. What she’d give to get hold of some hairpins. “Where does Jonathan sleep?”

Laila’s face lit up at the mention of her son.

“He’s only across the courtyard.” Laila pointed out the open window. “In the room with the shutters blocked off. The air at night is not good for the baby.”

“Will you take me to see him? I’d like to know the way.”

“Of course.” Laila seemed surprised by the questions. “You can see your son whenever you are in the harem quarters. No one will keep you from him. Except when you are with Amir, or another lord. Those times will be spent in another part of the palace, which we call the ‘Pleasure Gardens.’ Your son will not be permitted in that section. Probably never.”

Elena couldn’t agree more with such good sense. The fewer people who knew of her son the better; his reputation would stay intact.

She’d almost forgotten about that part of the bargain. Not that it had been much of a bargain. It was a matter of choosing the lesser evil: accept the life of a harlot or stay in the slave quarters. She’d agreed to this place, this life.

She followed her new friend through the corridors. Indeed, this was a new life.

The man who had purchased her was not cruel. There was a whole harem of women who welcomed her as a sister. Above all, she’d been given her son when she’d thought him lost. But here she was, her spirit mending in the kindness offered by the other women, and open arms all around her.

This time when they walked through the corridors Elena took in the surroundings to better remember her way around. Most of the walls were whitewashed. The floors afoot were great blocks of gray and tan stone. The way was simple to the baths. She attributed her earlier confusion to her fear when she’d arrived. So much had happened between her arrival yesterday and now. The weight that had constricted her spirit in the slave market seemed to have been chipped away overnight. Though she wouldn’t easily accept her owner, she would try as best she could to adjust to this place.

That familiar choking wall of heat greeted her at the public bath, and then clutched around her as they stepped inside. There were women everywhere, unlike yesterday when it had been just her and Laila. Now slaves and mistresses milled about and lounged in groups around the pool; the stone fountains were built into the wall where a steady stream of water poured into the wide, low bases. All the women were in various states of dress and undress.

Some lazed by the great pool in the center of the room or sat on upturned wooden baskets close to the walls. Slaves walked around with trays of food ranging from fruits to nuts to sweet pastries. Others carried linens and towels or pitchers, which must contain something to drink to stave off the heat in this insufferable place.

Elena couldn’t imagine eating in here; she could barely swallow the saliva in her throat the air was so thick. Though something cool to drink would be welcome if she had to stay in here for any length of time. She turned to Laila, who had already stripped out of her robe and waited for Elena to do the same.

Looking to the eunuchs and other nude women around the bath, Elena swallowed any argument she thought to make, and slipped out of the material that did little to hide her figure beneath anyway. A slave stood by and whisked her garments away. Elena crossed her arms over her bosom.

“How will I end up in other lords’ company, Laila?” she asked as she stepped down into the pool, and hunkered beneath the water to better hide her nakedness.

“You will not be expected to share relations with other men for your first year. Amir will train you in your duties first.” Laila leaned back, her elbows on the stairs of the pool. “And I will teach you some tricks he cannot.”

“A year,” she parroted. She didn’t know what to think of that. She didn’t know what to think of any of this.

“Sometimes he keeps us longer but usually not. He will parade you in front of the rich lords, in the Pleasure Gardens. Draw their interest to drive up your first bidding price.”

“Bidding? So we are auctioned? No better than the slaves sold at market?”

Laila chuckled. “Not like a slave market.”

“Everything is so different here. So unlike anything I’ve ever known.” Elena shook her head, pulling the heavy mass of her hair over each shoulder. “There seems to be a lot of adjustments I must make. So much to accept when I’ve never been exposed to such an environment before.”

“You will figure these things out soon enough. You are not used to this place, but I think in a week or so you will feel as though you have always lived here.”

“Only time will tell.” Elena sighed as she combed her fingers through her hair.

“Amir has given you a few days, yes?”

Elena frowned. She’d been so frightened that most of Amir’s words had escaped her. “I believe he said a few days. I can’t quite recall. He fairly took me by surprise.”

“I do not know why you are afraid to spend time with him. Has he not shown you kindness in giving your son back, reuniting the two of you?”

“I suppose . . .” She shook her head, not knowing how to make Laila understand her plight. “You have to understand that I’ve never been exposed to any of this type of forwardness. We English are a little more—”

“Prudish,” Laila supplied.

Elena couldn’t help but smile back. Was she prudish? Most likely. Though it seemed insulting the way Laila said it. Never had she thought it anything but an essential trait of any well-bred English lady.

“This is a different culture from the one you are used to. I do comprehend your plight, Elena. In time you will see that our way of life is a little more freeing than your old one. You can express yourself without fear of repercussion. No one will judge you for enjoying some of the things we indulge in.”

“I should embrace my becoming a whore?”

That word no longer held the venom it used to. It didn’t matter; the austerity of the words seemed lost on her new friend. Laila was contagious in her way of thinking.

“You see, you smile. I am right in this. Such a tactless way of saying what we are. It is a prideful thing to be a harem girl who is well looked after. We enjoy what we do. Our life would not be so relaxed and simple if fate had not intervened and brought us to Amir. We’ve all got a past we’d rather not remember.”

She wholeheartedly agreed with that, and nodded. “My life might have ended in the slave market had I not been found by Mr. Chisholm. But that does not make this the better arrangement.”

“How can you believe that? Are you and your son not safe?”

Elena frowned, then dunked her whole head under the water.

Laila was right. But one couldn’t take a lifetime’s worth of belief and reverse it overnight. Breaking the surface, Elena rubbed the water from her eyes and combed her hands through her hair once again. “It will take me a while to get used to this. Not everything will be easy for me to embrace.”

“This is why Amir has me guiding you.” Laila reached out for some of her hair and helped her untangle the snarls.

“Guiding? Is that what we call this?” Elena sat on one of the lower steps, wrapping her arms around her knees. She gave her back to Laila so she could brush her hair out easier. “You practically forced me to do your bidding yesterday. I would have cooperated had you given me some more time to adjust to the change I was thrown into.”

“That was necessary according to house rules. I will guide you in how to please a man as well.”

Elena coughed into her hand, choking on the spittle that went down wrong. When she caught her breath again, she said, “You can’t be serious!”

Laila’s smile was mischievous—a sly tilt lifted her lip. “I’m very serious. You must please a man in many ways . . . and in any way he asks once you’ve been sold at auction.”

“I was . . . I was a married woman. I will not need instruction in these matters.”

What was so hard about lying abed while her husband rutted above her? Not that she’d been a total deadwood in their marriage bed, either.

“You are familiar with the duties as a married woman, as your child goes to show. But do you think for one moment I believe your husband had you suck off his pego?”

Elena gasped as she turned to look at Laila, mouth hanging open in shock. “Laila, such words.” Her husband would never have asked such a thing. Did women really do that?

Her only reaction was a wink. “I will have to teach you many words if this one makes you blush. Though I think Amir will like your blush; it gives a beautiful healthy glow to your cheeks and lends a certain innocence. This is something you lose over time. Even Maram, young as she is, does not have this sense of innocence. Come to think of it, I’m not sure she ever did have it.”

“I hope to retain this innocence as long as possible,” she mumbled. The declaration was lost on Laila since the woman had started up the steps of the pool, calling out orders to the slaves.

Laila turned to look at her when she made no move to leave the water. “Come. There is nothing about your person we haven’t all seen. Modesty is lost among your sisters.”

“It’s much easier for you to say, having grown up in such a place. We don’t go about London in this unclothed fashion, not even in our bath.”

“Oh, but they do in the bawdy houses. I once asked a patron.”

Elena knew it to be the truth. Wasn’t that one of the many things that she thought separated genteel ladies from harlots? It didn’t matter; the two were one and the same for her now. Never in all her days had she thought to become the kind of woman to spread her legs for any man’s pleasure.

One did not wake up in the morning and wonder: Will my husband lose me in a hand of cards today?

She shook her head in disgust. It did no good to think about what her life should have been. As Laila suggested, it was better to forget the past and embrace this new life. Not that she could truly embrace it. But she didn’t want to be miserable—that would reflect over time on her son. She needed to take Laila’s advice and forget about being a prude.

“Can we see Jonathan when we’ve finished here?” It had bothered her all morning that she hadn’t seen her son before going to the bath. She wanted to snatch every moment possible with him. The weeks they had spent apart had made her realize how precious spending time with her son was.

“Of course. He is too young to come to the baths. That is, until he has his legs under him. I thought it best to show you our days without your son between us. He would be too much of a distraction.”

“You are likely right.”

Before stepping out of the pool, Elena looked around the bathing area. There were about twenty women. They didn’t seem to care about their lack of attire. Some brushed each other’s hair, others lounged together at the edge of the room on wooden benches, laughing at whatever topic they found amusing, and smoking long strange pipes. No one looked at her. They all fairly ignored her as they went about whatever it was they did.

Elena took a deep breath; she could do this. She could rise from the water and bare herself, naked as the day she was born. What did it matter? They were all women, and she’d often stripped down to her chemise for her maids to help her bathe.

She rose from the water, and a passing slave gave her a small hand towel. How was she to dry with this? She looked at Laila, who paid her no mind as she spoke to another slave carrying a ewer of water. She couldn’t understand the words exchanged. The language barrier was a handicap she’d have to fix soon.

“Reema will rinse your hair with rose water. It will help with the knots. Then we’ll go back to the living quarters.”

“Can you teach me how to speak this language with more confidence, Laila?”

“Of course. I can teach you many if it pleases you. I pick them up without difficulty. A talent that has made me well liked by some of the foreigners who frequent the Pleasure Gardens,” she said with another wink. “I speak Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Armenian—my own language. You know I speak your tongue. I can teach you French if you like and some Russian, even German if you are so bold.”

“Goodness. What a mix. One thing at a time if it pleases you.”

They each sat on one of those wooden crates. Rather uncomfortable, but better than sitting on the damp tiled floor.

“It is easy to master a new one, when you’ve been surrounded by different languages most of your life. I’ve been with Amir for fifteen years now. It’s all part and parcel.”

“I speak conversational French. It has been difficult for me to grasp Persian and Turkish though I understand some rudimentary words. I think I have had such a difficult time because I was in seclusion shortly after we arrived in Constantinople. We English women don’t go out while enceinte.”

The slave’s fingers were relaxing as Reema massaged her scalp, tipping her head back to pour the sweet-smelling water through it. The water was surprisingly cool as it sluiced through her hair. The rose scent was lovely and muted the sulphuric smell that clung in the humid air.

“Why do we spend so much time in here?”

“You do not like to be clean?”

Elena cracked one eye open, and raised her brow at Laila. “I believe you are teasing me. I don’t understand why we have to spend hours in here.”

“It is not about spending time bathing. We are here to bond. This is the only place we can express ourselves freely. Amir does not come in here. He has his own private bath. We can be women here without interference.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Elena looked around her again. Really looked. She spotted Maram on the opposite side of the room, a thread wrapped about her fingers and through her teeth. “What is Maram doing?”