Tiffany Clare - The Surrender of a Lady

Did he plan to expel her? Why had he bid on her?

What would he do? Have her killed? As silly as the notion had seemed months ago when she’d said that very thing to Rothburn, more and more she was worried those words would come true.

Three eunuchs came forward, hands threateningly close to the handle of their scimitars. Perhaps they were as confused as she.

Amir clapped his hands, and she was whisked from the dais toward the one door she never had had the desire to leave through. The eunuchs did not gather her scarves before leading her onward. Proceedings resumed, and the dancers ran into the room—she could hear the sounds of their kuchi bells—to start a new number. The hush that had fallen at the conclusion of her auction returned to the noisy affair it had been before the bidding.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Laila staring back, a sad expression on her face. Laila raised her hand in what could only be construed as farewell, tears fresh in her eyes. An urge to run back to her sister and hold on to her one last time washed through her system. She almost did, but Ahmed, the elder of the eunuchs, propelled her forward through the archway.

The dip in the bed told her she was no longer alone and her body stirred to bitter awareness.

She’d climbed under the covers of the great four-poster some hours ago. Amir did not join her immediately after the auction. She didn’t even know if she’d see him again.

Nothing made sense. A slave had brought in fresh water and instructed her to wash herself, which she did and stripped her veil off, leaving only her jewelry. Then after a nerve-racking hour and no sign of her master, she’d climbed into the bed.

The sheet she slept under swooshed away from her overheated body. Goose bumps rose, her nipples tightened to peaks.

It was dark, the moon only a quarter full outside so there was very little light to see by.

She sat up and put her palm to Amir’s bearded face.

“Amir,” she whispered, “why have you done this?”

He covered her hand with his own and sighed. “You mean you have not figured it out? It should be obvious, little bird.”

“Please, Amir. No games between us. You’ve scared me this eve. I no more know what to expect now than when you rescued me from Rothburn.”

“Rescued you, did I? I thought you seemed rather sad to see me.”

“How could you say such a thing? You make me for a harlot indulging in Rothburn while you were so far away. Do not twist the meaning of my words. You brought me home. I knew you would come for me, I trusted you to come. You never disappoint me.”

He didn’t respond. One hand was busy drawing an invisible pattern on her bent knee.

“I am only a means to an end for Jonathan.”

“Please don’t say such things. You are the only father my boy knows. Did you become his father figure to please me? We both know the truth of that. You did it of your own will because you adore him as much as I. I am yours to do with as you wish. You know how much I have always tried to please you.”

“I do know your loyalty, but it is because I hold all the cards in this arrangement.”

“Tell me what you want of me, Amir. You speak in riddles tonight.”

He kissed her forehead before he answered, “Do you know, you were always my favorite?”

“Am I no longer?” Did this mean he would have her killed? Expelled?

“You are spoken for now.” His voice seemed resigned.

Her eyes filled with tears. What did he plan?

“Why did you bid on me, Amir?” Her hand reached out, and stroked his linen-covered arm.

“It is a parting gift of your worth. Actually, to me you are worth a great deal more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you are more intelligent than this.”

“Do not mock me. My nerves are on edge. I was afraid you planned—”

He silenced her with the press of his lips. Both his hands cupped her face as he deepened the caress of their mouths, his tongue making its way between. On impulse she tried to pull away, but he held her fast and growled his disapproval.

The tips of his fingers pressed into the back of her head painfully. Then he pushed her away, toppling her over on the bed. Jinan caught herself with her hands underneath.

Did he plan to treat her with cruelty? In all their years together, she’d never feared him or been unsure of his treatment toward her. For the first time in more than five years, she was unsure and afraid of him.

He rose from the bed, pacing in front of her, the tread of his slippered feet soft and constant on the carpet underfoot. She did not dare move. She still felt unsure.

“Your wings are no longer clipped.”

She turned her head to the side and stared at his form through the fall of her hair.

“Do you mean I am free?” she asked in a small voice.

“Exactly that.”

“And my son?”

“Yours.”

“So, you are throwing me out of the palace. I must find my own way now? After my obedience and respect to you?”

“Little bird.” His voice was gentle, soothing the tense falcon. “When your heart was no longer mine for safekeeping, I knew I had to let you go.”

Her tears did fall now, not in sadness but in guilt.

“Amir, I’m so sorry.” She crawled off the bed and threw her arms around his shoulders. “Don’t throw me away. I will do better.”

“It is not you who must do better. You leave at first light, Jinan. You won’t see your sisters again.” He yanked off the coin bracelets around her ankles. “I’m selfish enough to take that away from you. I don’t want them to know what’s become of you.”

His voice sounded strange, edged with emotion.

She cried harder. Just like that, he was tossing her away. Because he couldn’t have her, she was no longer welcome here. Her sisters would be torn by her absence. It broke her heart to realize she would be without her family. She pulled herself out of his arms and stood tall.

“Where will you send us?”

He stepped forward, not willing to let her put a wall up between them, and wrapped his arms tight about her, squeezing the air from her lungs. “Home. You are going home, Jinan.”

She turned her horse into the roundabout of the dirt drive-through. Amir’s head eunuch had the other guards drop her trunks and then with a nod of farewell, he led them off.

Jonathan sat in her lap, looking around him in wonder. He’d never been out of the palace nor off the island, which she later found out was part of Greece, just off the coast of Corfu. Familiar yet not.

There had been questions throughout their entire trip. He was a curious little fellow, but she didn’t mind.

“Mama . who lives here?”

“Lord Rothburn, my sweet.” The shutters were closed, and the place seemed quiet. Was she too late? “But I do not know if he is in residence.”

“Look, Mama, ducks! Can I go play with them?”

She slid off the side of the horse, her feet wobbling a bit in her heels as she lifted her son from the saddle and to the ground. “Off with you then.”

He ran after the ducks, which fled at the sight of her exuberant child. She wiped the sweat from her forehead; she was not accustomed to English clothes. Even though she had skipped the heavy binding layers beneath because it made her ill to lace the contraptions to fashionable tightness. These English clothes made her feel as though she wore too much. She still felt seasick. As with any boat ride, she’d been dreadfully nauseous on the trip here. At least she’d been given some horrible-tasting liquid that kept her sickness at bay. Once they’d docked, there had been no time to regain her strength before Ahmed had purchased horses for them to finish the journey. Well, rather, to finish her journey.

She left the horse standing in the drive, reins tossed over the saddle, and walked up to the front door, keeping an eye on her son the whole while.

The door swung open, and the butler seemed at a loss for words.

“Madam,” he finally choked out.

“Salaam,” she said before she could bite her tongue. Old habits were hard to quell.

“Rothburn is not here. The staff moved on early this morning.”

“Oh, I see.” Not exactly what she wanted to hear. Now what should she do? She had money enough to live wherever she chose. What had she hoped . that Rothburn would wait for her? It had been weeks since she saw him last. Anything could have happened in that time.

And a smart man would move on.

“You are English?” He seemed shocked at hearing English. Perhaps English was not common on this Italian coastal town.

“Yes.” She bowed her head to hide the tears that formed. No sense in losing her head in front of the servants. “Apologies,” she said, turning away from the door. Better not to shame herself.

So she was alone. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to find her own way in life.

There had always been a man leading or directing, but she could do this on her own. She had the means to do so.

“Madam,” the man called out, “his lordship left a note for his solicitor. That’s the reason I stayed on. Shall I give you direction? He rides for Florence, having left a few days ago. You were to meet him there, not here.”

She wiped one gloved hand through her tears, and turned. She was to meet him there? Whatever did the man mean?

She said, “Your direction would be most welcome. I know this is a rather strange request, but is there a maid in the house I might employ as a travel companion?” Her English rolled off her tongue with more force than it should, but at least she wasn’t speaking any heathen language for this good man. Not that she was ashamed . never would she be.

She motioned toward her son.

The butler stepped out of the doorway and followed the sound of laughter coming in the direction her son ran, chasing after quick, waddling ducks. He did not say anything, only scrunched his brow together before offering, “Come in and freshen up, madam.”