Now, suddenly very nervous, and exceedingly aware of the way the silk slid against her
nipples, Mercedes was led from the bath room into yet another chamber by way of a
tapestrycovered door.
She found herself back in the same chamber with the long table and golden fruit bowls,
the thick rug beneath her bare feet, and the glorious hangings on the walls. But she wasn’t
to remain here, for the first maidservant—by now she’d learned her name was Omania—
gestured for her to follow. Omania lifted another tapestry, and beckoned for Mercedes to
go through the doorway thus revealed.
Heart pounding, palms suddenly slick, and her breathing much too shallow and quick,
Mercedes walked silently across the rug and through the doorway. The tapestry fell into
place behind her with a gust of air, and she found herself in a room even more splendid
than the one before.
The rugs were even softer beneath her feet, and she realized with a start that they weren’t
rugs, but animal furs, piled thickly over the entire floor. The tapestries on the walls were
decorated with Oriental swords, their hilts heavy with jewels and pearls, the curving
blades etched with ornate designs. Lamps shaded by Venetian stained glass hung from
the ceiling, casting a soft, warm glow over a room that still held edges of shadow. She
saw low, fat cushions of ruby, amethyst, sapphire, and emerald, decorated with fringe and
tassels, embroidery and lace. A long, wide divan along one wall of the rectangular
chamber was covered with more animal furs and smaller pillows. Placed in front of the
divan was a low, narrow table covered with golden platters, Japanese porcelain plates,
glass bowls, jewel-encrusted goblets and pitchers, and food. The array of food was such
as Mercedes had never seen before, and couldn’t identify some of it. Fruits and
vegetables of all colors, fowl of all sizes dressed and roasted, breads, cheeses, wine, tea ..
. Mercedes’ examination of the room was halted when the tapestry across from her
entrance shifted, and a tall figure came in.
She recognized him immediately; perhaps she’d expected it all along. He was dressed in
wide dark red trousers and a simple white shirt. Over the shirt, his short black jacket had
no sleeves, but by the glint at its hem, appeared to be decorated with golden threads and
small jewels. He wore a black skullcap with a dangling blue tassel, and as before, his
long dark hair was pulled into a straight queue that fell along his spine, well past his
shoulder blades. The same heavy beard and mustache hid the sensual mouth she
remembered, and the low light in the room obscured the details of his expression—but
she recognized him just the same.
“Ah, Countess, so we meet again.” The man who had called himself Sinbad the Sailor
gestured to the chamber with an elegant hand, still cuffed with a gold armband. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
YOU ARE READING
Master
RomanceHe knew every gray stone in his prison cell, every mortar-filled line between each of them, every change in topography of the dirt floor beneath his filthy, cold, bare feet. He had stopped counting the days of his imprisonment after one thousand o...
