More important, she turned her attention to the kind of husband she wanted—a partner. Someone she shared her life with, who wanted her to pursue her own goals and aspirations, and would be pleased with her achievements. She didn't quite know where such a husband could be found, but it certainly wasn't in England. And she wanted someone who made her burn in the marriage bed, whose touch she craved. She missed such physical intimacy and wasn't sure she could go back to complete celibacy—although she'd managed for months now.
Amira returned with a silk robe. "Enjoying the water?" she asked, her voice playful.
"It is heavenly."
"It is, but come. The midday meal is served."
Eloise waded through the pool to the steps and got out.
"You are beautiful," Amira said, studying Eloise's body. Cheeks flaming, Eloise accepted the robe and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Do not be ashamed. Such beauty must be celebrated."
Eloise smiled, still surprised by the Persian outlook on life and the contradictions inherent in their culture, where they both shunned and celebrated the female form. Not that the English were much better with their chivalry and parallel rejection of female traits other than utter piety and submissiveness, and at the same time fierce in loyalty, even if it was scarcely returned.
A low table was laid out with plattered food—spiced meats, sweet pastry, dates and fruit. Eloise sat next to Amira and followed suit as they reached for the food, which was utterly delicious, particularly a bright pink rose preserve. It shone like a jewel and the delicate taste was unlike anything Eloise had tasted before. It tasted like heaven in her mouth—ambrosia, perhaps. "This is spectacular."
"It comes from the mountains near Damascus," Amira said. The other women were quiet, but they smiled whenever Eloise caught their eyes. "A delicacy. I can tell you like it."
"It's quite astonishing." The meat was spiced and every flavor on the table complemented the others. The honeyed pistachio pastry finished off the meal perfectly. "This is one of the best meals I have ever had. I am thankful for your hospitality."
"It is nothing. Now relax, sleep."
Eloise slept on a raised daybed by the window, shaded with a warm breeze flowing over her body. It would be sweltering hot out in the sun now, she thought as she woke, stretching up to look out into the courtyard. The whole quarter was quiet as everyone rested through the worst of the afternoon heat.
It was cooling now, the sun having shifted in the courtyard, where fruit trees soaked up nourishing light. Again, Eloise wondered what was to become of her. She wanted a home, but had none in sight. Perhaps she would go back to Venice. She'd liked Venice, or maybe Constantinople. She couldn't see herself traveling further east again.
She stayed where she was until the others woke and started moving around the quarters. Another two women appeared whom Eloise hadn't seen before and retreated outside as the sun started to set. It was nice in the closed courtyard, where a fountain trickled clear water. Eloise thought back on the crazy life outside this building, where the bustle of the street didn't stop.
Smiling to herself, she realized she would rather live her life on the madness of the streets, than cossetted and shut away like these women were. It was the same as her life would be in England if she had never rejected her path, although her father could well have left her in a convent, which had the same isolation without any of the luxuries. But although the luxuries were nice as a reprieve from the harshness of their travel, they paled in comparison to freedom.
"We must prepare you for the evening," Amira said when she joined them in the courtyard, her silk robes skimming the ground as she walked.
Eloise blinked and followed as Amira suggested they go inside, placing herself down in front of a polished mirror where Amira blushed her hair. "Your hair is like gold," Amira said as the brush strokes cleared each knot in her hair. Another woman came and placed more sweets in front of Eloise and a porcelain cup with a small lid on top. "Drink," Amira said.
Eloise took the delicate cup and tried the liquid. It was sweet and bitter, and unlike anything she had tried. She tried another sip, but still couldn't identify the flavor, which had a hint of flowery scent, something heady. She quite liked it.
Amira was joined by another woman, who shined Eloise's hair with oils, moving to the skin around her shoulders. Beautiful jewels were placed around her neck, and they sparkled enticingly. Eloise couldn't stop watching them.
She was naked and standing and her legs were oiled. She shone just like the jewel herself, the oil showing every curve of her body. "Where are we going?"
"To meet your handsome knight," Amira said.
"Oh, I see.” For some reason that thought hadn't occurred to her; she'd forgotten about Hugo for a moment. Of course they would dine with Hugo and the governor; she should have realized.
"Drink," Amira said with a smile, taking a sip of the porcelain cup before passing it to Eloise. The taste was changing now. It tasted absolutely divine, maybe even better than the rose conserve. When she had found her home, she would try to make such a conserve herself.
One of the women brought a jeweled bodice, which was much too small, and fit around her breasts. It sparkled when she moved, gold, silver and jewels sewn into it. The jewels almost seemed to move on their own, which was utterly delightful.
Eloise felt like she was floating on a cloud. Amira looked so wonderful in her silk robes, both low and fitting around her bosom. "That dress is very beautiful," Eloise said with a smile.
"I know it is," Amira smiled back. "But it cannot compete with the jewel before me tonight."
"I do look pretty, don't I?" Eloise said, turning to the mirror, seeking out her own eyes, which were shining so bright they caught every light in the room. She seemed to get stuck in the light that played in her eyes. It was as though they were whispering to her. She was wearing these strange sheer pantaloons, which fastened with a broad, bejewelled belt around her belly, also fitting around her ankles.
"Come now, the evening awaits and you must dance. Your master expects it."
"Master?" Eloise said, having no idea what Amira was referring to, but by then she didn't really care. All the colors were so bright, she couldn't stop looking.
Chapter 17:
* * *
Hugo sat in white robes, lent while his own were being tended to. He felt light without the weight of his clothes and mail, wrapped in the silk robes of the Saracens, which were made to alleviate the worst of the heat.
Their host, Marjan, was perfectly hospitable, giving Hugo a room in which to rest with a carved white wall overlooking a courtyard through the small holes, which let in the breeze as well as light. The room itself was cool and Hugo had his own company for a while, with nothing to do but rest.
He lay on the bed as dusk settled and the air cooled. The walls of the house kept this compound very quiet, reminding him of the desert where the relentless quietness was oppressive.
A short time later, a soft knock at the door called his attention and a thin older man waited. "Please to dinner," the man said in broken Latin, but Hugo understood the gist and followed as he seemingly was expected to.
The halls looked very different at night as darkness quickly deepened and Hugo lost track of the halls he was led down, fairly sure he would not find his way back without guidance, but he arrived to join his host at a low table surrounded by cushions. Oil lamps were lit around them.
"I hope you are rested," Marjan said with a smile. Hugo felt comfortable in his presence. They'd spent some time that afternoon discussing the state of European affairs. Marjan had surprised Hugo with his knowledge, which included some intimate information about both the English and French kings. Throughout, Hugo kept thinking that Eloise would probably enjoy the discussion and he'd wondered where she was, feeling uncomfortable that she was out of his reach, but Marjan had assured him that she was being cared for by the women. "The women will be joining us tonight," Marjan said as if reading his mind. "She is very beautif
ul."
Hugo frowned slightly, but stopped the reaction from marring his face. As his chosen concubine, she would have been chosen for her beauty, but he didn't want to acknowledge it for some reason. "Yes, she is."
A brass carafe was carried over to the table. "Wine," Marjan said as a servant poured two cups. Hugo longed for a drink, having gone much too long without a good cup. "It is not allowed in our religion, but I find I miss it. The Greeks were not particularly accommodating and if you refused wine, you had to wait for the rain to fall if you wanted something to quench your thirst. I developed a taste for it that I now must indulge sparingly. At times I miss it terribly."
Hugo couldn't imagine denying himself wine; it wasn't far off from denying oneself air. Taking the cool metal cup, he placed it to his lips and drew in the dark red liquid. It was good wine and it coated his throat, bringing his mind back to the green fields of France. He smiled. He'd been a soldier so long his mind's eye traveled back to France rather than his own estate in Somerset. "What do you miss of the Greeks?"
Marjan smiled. "A due respect for their culture, but I cannot miss being beholden to another man. Saying that, I am as beholden to the Sultan as I was to my Greek owner, but the knowledge that one is owned weighs heavier than any task one is required to undertake. It places its scars. You English do not have slaves," he observed.
"We have serfs, but they belong to the land. We do not have personal slaves—squires, but they serve out of position and their own advancement."
"It is better, I think, but it is a convenient way of vanquishing your enemies. Your rules forbid it."
"They do," Hugo affirmed. Enemies had to be treated with due respect—ransomed and humiliated, but treated well. Although the idea of selling off the most arrogant of French lords into slavery had an amusing appeal. He could imagine their disgusted indignation.
Taking another sip of wine, he looked around the enclosed space open to the sky. The stars were above them, as well as the moon, but there were too many lamps to show either clearly.
The doors opened and servants came with trays of food, the spiced food the people in this region preferred. It was harsh on his stomach with its intense flavor and heat, but he was hungry. The bread was lovely—light and oily, completely unlike bread he knew, but it was sweet and tasty, and he didn't mind it, even with a little of the spicy gravy from the meat.
Having his fill, he leaned back on the cushions, sipping his wine. Marjan followed suit, drinking from his wine cup. "Your concubine speaks Persian."
"Some, as I understand."
"Not something you taught her?"
"No, my understanding of languages beyond French is poor."
"Even the native language of your lands?"
"I understand it, but I never speak it."
A servant placed a cup on the table. "Ah, the Egyptian gem," Marjan said with a smile. "Ambrosia if there ever was one. Have you studied the old Greek religion?"
"I know the structure. I'm afraid our studies have always been for warfare more than history," Hugo said, almost hearing Eloise's words on the subject echoing through his mind.
"The climate is harsh, I have heard, in your isles. With more water than you could wish for. You treasure it not?"
"It is abundant. We probably treasure wine more," Hugo smiled.
Marjan chuckled and took a sip from the new cup—the Egyptian gem. Hugo had no idea what it was, but Marjan closed his eyes, savoring the taste. He sighed deeply, making Hugo curious about this concoction as Marjan handed the cup to him and Hugo took it. "It produces a restful sleep."
Hugo smiled, realizing it was some kind of draft that soothes the mind. For a moment, he wondered if Marjan was trying to incapacitate him, but had perceived no aggression from the man throughout this acquaintance. Bringing the cup up, Hugo smelled it. It had a flowery smell, like poppy juice, but something more.
The servant came again, whispering something in Marjan's ear. "The women are on their way," he said. Marjan considered him and Hugo felt the pressure to display his trust, taking a sip of the liquid. It had the sweetness of honey and also something very flowery, but bitterness as well. Belladonna, Hugo identified. Belladonna entered the mind, making the world shift. A slight soothing of the poppies flowed through his blood, making him relax. He took another sip, craving the soothing that so deliciously spread through him.
The stars seemed brighter now, or perhaps some of the lamps had been distinguished. The doors opened and softness came, in the form of sweet scents and soft material. His eyes were immediately drawn to Eloise, who was similarly encased in jewels and flowing material. Not enough of it. Her trim waist was showing and Hugo smiled with the indignity he imagined she was feeling. But it wasn't showing on her face; she was staring at the lights of the lamps, following the other women, two of which joined Marjan, who greeted one of them affectionately. Hugo suspected this was Marjan's wife, although he knew noble Saracen's often had more than one, whom to him at the moment seemed an eminently good idea. Women were marvelous—soft, and beautiful, shining like bright lights in the darkness.
He could see Eloise's slim legs through the material. He'd seen them before, but that challenge in her eyes was completely gone now. Music started and two of the women began to dance, undulating their bronzed bodies, drawing his attention to their captivating hips, suspecting the draft he'd just taken helped the floating feeling that was stealing through him.
Eloise moved with the music, swinging her hips and moving her arms around like she was feeling the very air. She smiled, not the bitter or sarcastic smile he'd seen—this was pure joy and it mesmerized him. He watched as her head shifted on her slim neck, and her arms continued to caress the air, softly moving like she was touching a lover. He felt himself tighten. Her breasts were bejeweled, honoring the true treasure underneath—soft, welcoming flesh. He wanted it so badly, to be welcomed, wanted. It had been so long. Actually, it felt like forever. Maybe he had never truly been wanted.
Her hips swayed from side to side and he couldn't stop watching. They were perfect, with her slim legs parting slightly as she moved, the light shining through and the material showing the curves and skin underneath. His hands itched to touch. Even her calves were calling out to be caressed. He could imagine the soft skin under his fingers, wanting it more than anything else he could remember, imaging those hips riding his.
She finally noticed him and her eyes sent a shock through him, holding him captive. She watched him intently, but her eyes were glassy, curious. They had given this draft to her as well, he realized. He chuckled with the idea of it and the absence of her disapproval.
She continued moving, her hands still stroking over the air around her, and her legs rubbed against each other. A wave of pure heat rushed through him. The movement of her hips had him enthralled; he should tear himself away, but he couldn't think why. This was the best thing he could remember seeing.
Hugo forgot there were other people there. Eloise had all of his attention and her eyes returned to him again and again. She was the most delectable thing and he loved her. He'd never loved anything he realized, but he loved her completely and unequivocally.
The beat of the music and its soaring tones played with his emotions and he needed to touch. She knew his thoughts; he could see it in her eyes, and he drowned in their depths. She was a siren and he accepted his death.
As she moved toward him, he couldn't breathe as she came close enough that her knee touched his. The touch radiated through his leg as he looked up at her standing above him—the most beautiful creature in the world.
His hand reached for hers and she didn't pull away, her slim fingers welcoming his touch. She crouched down next to him, her hand still in his.
"I remember such obsession," a voice said. Hugo tried to think, but he couldn't place it, refusing to be distracted from the compelling vision before him. "I think we must leave our guest to the tender care of his concubine."
There was movement, but Hugo didn't not
ice. His hand ran up the skin of her leg and he wanted to apologize for their rough calluses, but was unable to stop stroking her skin. Reaching forward, he sought her soft lips and she welcomed him. Hugo felt like he was drowning in a pool of deliciousness. Her lips yielded under his, drawing him deeper into her mouth. Pleasure flooded his mind, wiping away whatever scant thought still held on.
She was warm under his hand as he stroked over her knee, her skin impossibly smooth. He was so hard he wondered if he might burst with want. She sighed as she released his mouth and he stroked his lips down the column of her neck. If ambrosia existed, she was it. Her skin tasted golden and her breast pressed to his chest forced his eyes closed to just note the exquisite feel of her body to his.
His hand ran up her thigh as he found a parting in the sheer material. She was a goddess and she was blessing him. Her moan reverberated through his entire body, letting him know he was pleasing her and he didn't think he'd ever felt so proud. She was life itself.
His other hand found a knot at her back and he pulled the material so fine it almost slid out of his fingers as he touched it. The clothing encasing her gave way, revealing her full breasts, crested with pink buds. He had to taste, leaning down and taking one of the luscious buds in his mouth, he teased it between his tongue and teeth. Her head dropped back and she arched into his mouth as he gently teased the tenderest of flesh. Her arms came around his head and her thighs around his waist, giving all of herself to him.
Leaning her back, she was revealed before him and his hand stroked down her waist to her hip, where he was fairly certain true heaven lay. He needed to be inside her, but there were clothes in the way. Her legs were parted for him, welcoming him, but he couldn't find the ties that kept the bejeweled band around her waist and the material that covered her hips and the entrance he so desperately sought. Frustration tore through him. He had her, his goddess, but he couldn't get access to her.
Amongst Silk and Spice Page 10
