Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
A chuckle ripples through his chest. “What did you think was going to happen with this offer of yours?”
I shove his hands away and pull the camisole back into place. “You are checking for weapons, remember.”
There’s a pause. “So I am.” He sinks down to the floor. “Spread your feet. Please.”
As I do so, he kneels before me and goes under the red felt skirting. I focus on the panel and breathe evenly as he feels the outsides of my ankles, my calves, my knees. He continues up to my hips before returning to the floor and repeating the ascension. On the inside of my legs.
He goes all the way to my sex, and he lingers with his hand there. “Oh, look. I’ve found something.”
When I stay silent, he frowns. “If you have a favor to ask of me, you’d do well to provide me with an enrichment worthy of the request.”
“My body is not what I am offering.”
The hand between my thighs retracts and he straightens to his full height.
“I am not the kind of man you want to toy with,” he says in a low, threatening voice.
“I have something else you need, something far more valuable than what you can easily find elsewhere. With a woman who holds enthusiasm toward you.”
There’s a pause. Then the man stomps on the floor and a different panel opens beside me.
Clamping a hand on the back of my neck, he all but throws me into the black hole on the far side. I stumble, but catch my balance, and as my eyes adjust, it’s obvious that these are his private quarters.
With another stomp of his boot, he shuts us in and then strides over to a side table set with crystal decanters and delicate glasses.
“Care for a drink?” he drawls. Then he glances over his shoulder. “Before we get down to business?”
There’s a bedding platform in the center of the space, and the padded handcuffs that hang off the headboard gleam in the light of the lanterns that simmer from various hang points. On the far wall, a wardrobe is locked up tight, but has a line of top hats resting on its top, and beside the monolith, a fan of swords is mounted on a freestanding wheel.
“No?” he says as he pours himself some whiskey and downs it in one swallow. “How ladylike of you.”
The man leaves his glass behind and comes at me slowly, like a cat with a mouse. When he stops, he reaches out and touches my exposed collarbone, running his finger back and forth.
As he continues down the lace to my sternum, I straighten my spine and say, “If you think you can shame or intimidate me by another fondling, you have the wrong woman.”
That chuckle rumbles out of him. “I can do anything I want with you in here. No one will hear you scream.”
“You don’t strike me as a man who considers being endured a compliment. And if you kill me, then you won’t know what I have to offer, and you will miss out on the single most important piece of information someone such as yourself can possess.”
He taps between my breasts, right on my heart. “You have an overinflated opinion of your value.”
“No, I don’t. I know exactly what I have to offer.”
As he assesses me, I continue to stare at the diamond on his cravat, and in the silence that follows, I think of the number of times I have run from people back at my village. I’m not running now—or hiding. And with this other part of me awakened, I don’t believe I’ll ever run away again. From anybody.
His finger continues downward, to the waistband of the red skirting. “Tell me, what is your name.”
“Sorrel.”
“You may call me Thale.” He drops his hand to his side. “I’m curious, what is this favor you’re willing to risk your life for.”
I start to do up the buttons he’s released. “I want your protection.”
The top hat tilts to the side. “I would think your husband does a fine enough job of watching over you.”
“It’s not for me.”
“Interesting.” He indicates himself. “So you come here, to a man you do not know and should not trust, and offer yourself in exchange for protection for somebody else.”
“I told you, I’m not offering myself.”
“Oh, that’s right. Information.” More of that chuckling. “Tell me, fair lady, what can you possibly tell me that I don’t already know—”
“How you’re going to die.”
Fifty-Five
The Acceptance.
Thale freezes for a moment. Then his laughter rumbles around the room and he breaks off from me, returning to the decanters.
“You know, I was surprised when your husband visited one of my ladies earlier today.” He looks over at me as he pours himself another measure. “But I am getting a very clear reason why. You are beautiful, but delusional—and tedious with all this misplaced self-possession.”