Tiffany Clare - The Surrender of a Lady

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.

“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?”