Tiffany Clare: The Surrender of a Lady

She followed silently at his side. Finally, they stepped into shade. She guessed they were indoors when a shroud of darkness immediately enveloped her. At least she got a break from the unbearable heat of the sun; she was baking in her clothes. Their steps echoed around them. How much farther could it be? After a few minutes of slow walking, they ascended more stairs, then went down some more. They turned about so many ways she would never have a hope of finding her way back outside.

Doors opened or closed around her, she couldn’t tell which. A cool draft brushed over her the deeper they walked. The hair at her nape rose in sudden trepidation. The cool stone walls under her fingertips must keep the heat of day at bay in this long corridor, but not her fears.

Darkness soon made way for light. There was quiet and stillness everywhere.

Then they stepped into full-blown daylight. Elena turned her head to the side, straining to hear her surroundings. Songbirds chirped close by, and the sound of the sea was a soft din farther off.

Would she be forced to meet her owner now? Would she have the opportunity to see her son? So many questions, but she was afraid to ask anything. Afraid to know if she stood before her owner she was to address as Amir—a word that meant “prince.” She wasn’t sure if he was a real prince, or if his name was a way of placing himself on a pedestal above his slaves.

Fingers tugged at the knot behind her head. The cloth fell away. She didn’t open her eyes. Not yet. She wasn’t quite ready for the final outcome of this journey.

“There’s no one here, Elena. You can open your eyes.”

“No one here?”

“No one.”

She cracked her eyes open slowly, afraid to see the new world around her.

The room she stood in was simple but pretty. A rose-colored divan with throws and pillows of many colors occupied the open-windowed wall. Fresh, hot air blew inward. Green and blue strips of silk floated toward her on the breeze, brushing around her toward the arched door at the opposite end of the room, presumably where they had entered. There was a bold red rug underfoot. A small table topped with a porcelain washing bowl at the entryway. Was this to be her room? If so, where was her son?

“You have time to refresh yourself after the journey. I’ll send in Laila to help you with your bath. She’ll also assign a slave to you in the next week or so.”

“Slave. You mean I’m to have my own slave?”

A slave owning a slave? What a most peculiar concept, and a most disgusting concept—for a well-bred lady to have charge of a slave.

“Of course.” His narrowed gaze said he thought she understood these things before arriving. “You are to be at Amir’s call at all times—day or night. Someone must guide and instruct you in this life. There is much for you to learn over the next few weeks.”

She nodded her understanding. “When am I to meet my new master? And—and my son? I want to see my son.”

Her voice came out anxious, threaded with too many conflicting emotions. How would a man who kept a harem treat her? Why wasn’t her son waiting for her arrival?

“You won’t see Amir until you are properly prepared.” His gaze slid down the length of her body. Slouching her shoulders forward, she hoped to stop his lewd assessment. He raised his eyes back to hers. “I know not when you’ll be ready for Amir. Much depends on your cooperation. And your son has been here for some days. You’ll see him later. Laila has much to do with you first. By the by, my name is Harry Chisholm.”

She looked down to where her hands were clasped, suddenly shy, afraid he’d give her another once-over. She didn’t want to witness such looks from anyone. Was this commonplace in a harem? For men to look at the women and see one thing . a creature of ill repute at their disposal? She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She knew this was to be her life. It was too late to balk.

“I’ll send in Laila.” He cleared his throat. “She knows her way around better than anyone. She’ll assign all the duties to the slaves until you can take on the task yourself. She’ll see to your bath and teach you some of the . customs you’ll have to adhere to.”

Again, she nodded, not understanding what he hinted at. She had nothing else to ask Mr. Chisholm. As she continued to stare down at her hands, a woman’s naked feet came into view. Her skin was smooth and youthful, her ankles painted with vines and flowers wrapped around her bared skin all the way up her calves till it disappeared beneath her dress.

Elena looked up into the beautiful face of a pale-skinned woman—her skin as white as freshly fallen snow and free of blemish. She wore a piece of amber cloth wrapped about her body and tied in a knot between her breasts. Her shoulders and arms were bare. Filigreed bracelets of every width adorned her wrists. Long, dark brown hair fell over her back with golden thread woven through it. Big brown almond-shaped eyes stared back at her, a smile evident in them.

With that warm gaze, Elena gave a small sigh of relief. This woman could be a friend.

A quick glance told her Mr. Chisholm was nowhere to be seen. She stood alone with this strange woman looking her over, from the top of her head down to her heeled shoes.

She motioned with her hand as she spoke. “We will get you washed.” To Elena’s surprise the woman spoke English. “Off with all of it.”

Elena’s smile slipped. “What do you mean, off with it?”

“You’ll not be wearing these clothes anymore.”

“What will I wear?” She looked around the room for clean linens.

“A lot less,” Laila said with a grin. “You need to take these off. They are travel-worn and frayed. Most importantly, Amir does not like English clothes. The only English he likes is your prim voice whispered in passion.”

Her cheeks flamed with the insinuation. It wouldn’t do to start on the wrong foot, so Elena swallowed her retort. “If you’ll provide me with clean clothes, I will change.”

“Not here. You have to go to the baths. You’ll have a bath every day now; it is important we have cleanliness. You English are dirty.”

She would not part with her clothes. Elena wrapped her arms around her middle, wondering why this woman disdained the English so much. Perhaps she was mistaken to assume this woman a possible ally.

“If you don’t remove them, I’ll call in the eunuchs. You have to go down to the baths and be prepared should Amir want to see you in his chambers tonight.”

All the air left her lungs. Tonight? Was she serious? “Mr. Chisholm said a few days—”

“A few days before you occupy his bed.” Laila nodded her head and clucked her tongue in annoyance. “You will still have to see him before then.” Her fingers snapped and two men filled the entryway. The men came forward. Elena took a step away, the back of her knees hitting the divan.

Laila continued, “You must undress, the baths will take some hours.”

“Please send them away.” That step back didn’t give her any distance from the guards as they continued their advance.

“I think it will take you a long while to get used to this place if you play so shy. These are not men but eunuchs and our harem guards, as well. They are here to assist me.”

“I can’t walk around without any clothes in front of them. Please. ”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. The stern look did not bode well for further argument.

Elena knew with sudden clarity that Laila would not be swayed. She hugged into her middle tighter, trying to shrink inward to hide from what they were going to do.

Would they hurt her as they had in the slave market? Was she in for another beating at the slightest show of disobedience?