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Authors: Tiffany Clare

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BOOK: The Surrender of a Lady
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He shook his head at his wayward thoughts. It was time to join Jinan, and hopefully she would be quick to don his gift.

He’d taken the last of her identity when the veil had fallen between them. It didn’t matter that she’d already given him that gift in the harem. Now he wanted her to turn her back on the ways she’d become so familiar with over the last five years. She wanted to continue to play at being the hidden beauty; it helped to keep her patrons at arm’s length. To keep him at arm’s length. He was done with secrecy, with pretense. It didn’t matter. It was a piece of cloth. The princess was no more.

The heavy footfalls coming from the hall were a sure indication he had followed. She had thought that he would do so as she passed his open study. As swiftly as she could, she retrieved the box she’d thrown aside earlier and sequestered herself in the bathing room.

There were glass jars with cork stoppers lined against the wall farthest from the tub. She started pulling them out, hoping she’d find what she needed. It wasn’t long before the sharp scent of vinegar burned through her nose and down her throat. Tossing the stopper to the floor, she opened the box that contained the sponge and soaked it generously. Pulling the trousers down, she kicked them aside and lifted her leg to the edge of the tub.

No more fear of pregnancy. If he did touch her, at least she’d be prepared—like any good courtesan, she thought ruefully. Spreading the lips of her sex, she pushed the cool sponge deep into her sheath and made sure the string dangled free at the opening. With a pop of the stopper from the tub, she turned the water on to rinse the vinegar from her hands.

In a few days, her menses would come and Rothburn would let her be. Not that she reviled his advances or his touch. She couldn’t even find it in her to despise him.

How long would it take for the missive to reach Mr. Chisholm? How angry would Amir be with her? Hopefully he wouldn’t keep her out of the harem, away from her sisters and her son. He wouldn’t be so abominable. At least she hoped that to be the case. He hadn’t asked her to grace his bed since she’d stood on the auction block for another lover.

Well, it did her no good standing here mulling it over. She’d have a few more weeks at the most, then she would know her fate. Hopefully she would regain the promise her life held five years ago. She prayed it would be so. She knew she could not live without her son gracing her days, her life.

With a tug of the door latch, she faced Rothburn’s questioning gaze.

“I feared you’d never come out.”

“You asked me to prepare myself. What else could a woman in my position do but abide by your request?”

He cocked his head to one side; his smile was one of amusement. Even though it was the truth, he didn’t believe her for a second. She’d put the sponge in for her benefit, not his. “Have you no desire to run from me again? I am almost disappointed in your resignation. In fact, you seem rather docile since yesterday’s attempt on the windows.”

“I have no reason to find escape.” She pulled herself up straight, tilted her chin up—a decidedly English mannerism—and met his gaze. “Amir will find me. I will be with my son soon. It does not matter that you keep me here against my will.”

“Don’t be too sure about that, love. My name is not attached to the property we reside in.” His grin was smug as he crossed his arms, staring down at her with far too much amusement at having bettered her. “You are lost from your owner, little dove.”

“You are mistaken. I am most valuable to Amir. He will put up a fight for what is rightfully his.”

“I find your devotion leaves something to be desired.”

“Then you should have left me in the harem.”

“No. Definitely not something I am willing to do.”

“You are a fool to face the wrath of my master.”

With those words, his grin faded. His lips thinned; his arms, which were crossed in enjoyment of their repartee, dropped to his sides in renewed anger. His fists clenched, then unclenched. Did he know he’d revealed a weakness in his character? He hated any mention of Amir. Not that she knew quite how to exploit this discovery.

He strode forward; the flat of his hand slapped the wall behind her with enough force that she started and a small high-pitched cry of fear escaped her throat. Effectively, he’d boxed her in between his straining arms as both hands stretched to the wall on either side of her head. His face was but inches from hers.

“He is no longer your master!” His words were clipped and slow as though he didn’t think she’d understand them without the drawling. “Say it again, and I’ll be tempted to do more than tan your hide. Damaged goods don’t hold nearly as much worth as a girl playing the browbeaten, docile princess.”

She looked away from him, afraid to incur more of his fury. He’d never shown a temper of this magnitude. Never threatened once to hurt her. Not that the opportunity would have arisen with all the guards present in the Pleasure Gardens. She was precariously balanced on the sharp tip of his barely tempered rage. She didn’t know who to fear more, Amir or Griffin? The question was, which man really held her life in his hands?

Extracting herself from his furious grasp was key to bringing the situation back to her favor. “Please, Rothburn.” Though she knew he was more show than bite, she averted her eyes and added quietly, “You are frightening me.”

There was a silent pause.

The angry tempo of his breath continued to fan over her face. Perhaps she had said the wrong thing? She daren’t chance a look. Instead of facing him, she backed against the wall, ready to retreat under his outstretched arms. She knew she wouldn’t get far, but it would be worth the effort.

“Your fanciful tales,” he said dangerously, “fall flat with me, my dear. Your games have never worked.” Then he pushed away from the wall. She was glad to feel chill air in place of his body heat. “Look at me, damn it.”

How she wanted to dash away from him, to escape him to a room full of servants where he wouldn’t dare lift a finger to harm her. His temper was volatile and she was close to shattering his control. She did not want to face the rage so tightly held at bay. He’d never been like this with her before. Never. She looked at his face but did not make eye contact. He let out an annoyed sound, then walked toward the bed, pulling his shirt from his trousers.

“Get over here, Jinan. And disrobe. If you insist on playing the whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

She flinched at his harsh words, but he was right. She was nothing more than a whore. First her husband’s, then Amir’s, and now Rothburn’s. They all wanted to be her lord and master. She looked at him for a moment, then her heart shut off to him.

The tears that had threatened moments before dried up. Her trembling hands moved swiftly to pull the vest off and untie the scarves. At last she pushed her skirts down her hips to pool on the floor. His eyes watched her progress. She hated that his smile was genuine and cracking through his angry demeanor.

Then he met her eyes and his smile faded. His firm resolve slid back in place when he realized she did not want to play his games. Before he could demand anything of her, she walked past him, lay on her back, and spread her legs for him. She put her knees up high, to give him the view he desired. He’d see the string curled around the swell of her buttocks, and know that she’d obeyed his orders.

He did not remove his trousers. She waited for him to make use of her, but he just stood there for some minutes. Finally, he sat at the edge of the bed, coming into her line of sight, and removed his shoes.

“Close your legs, Jinan. You’ll catch a draft, and I’ve no desire to make use of you tonight. I only wish to have a nap.”

There was defeat in the timbre of his voice, and she didn’t fail to notice the slight hunch to his shoulders. It shouldn’t matter that he felt properly punished by her actions. He’d taken her from her home; she could have no sympathy for him. She closed her legs—leaving the sponge in place, in case he did make use of her—and rolled to face the side of the bed he did not occupy.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Revelation

A few days had come and gone now and Rothburn had left her to her own devices during that time. She wasn’t sure if he was still fuming over their last confrontation. But he was either short with her or said nothing at all whenever they crossed paths.

Another blessing and curse between them.

It was better that way. She hoped, because she did still love him, despite his ill treatment of her, that he strategized and readied himself for Amir’s imminent arrival. It couldn’t be too far off. Another week at most. He’d be a fool to think Amir wouldn’t find him. One did not steal the property of a prince; the consequences were often deadly.

Thoughts of Jonathan plagued her mind. She knew as the days went on that her chances of returning to the harem to welcoming arms were more and more unlikely. Would Amir listen to her apologies for everything that had happened these last ten days? Her thoughts were interrupted when Rothburn stepped into the bedchamber, hands laden with two silver breakfast trays.

“I passed Donata in the hall. She said you were up and about.”

She nodded. Where had this charming man come from? Pretending to be sincere now when he hadn’t said more than a handful of sentences in the last few days. She was here against her will; she shouldn’t find him charming in the least.

She looked him over, wary and reserved, and waited for him to set the trays down. One was placed on her lap, the other he placed on the side table where he kept a decanter half filled with brandy. Never had she seen him take a drink from it.

He approached her and took the lid off the dinner tray with a flourish and set it aside.

“Fish. Thank you,” she said, naturally and gratefully.

“Of course, I wouldn’t feed you swine or unblessed meat. I haven’t once offered it, because I thought that would be decidedly cruel. I promise you I’m not often cruel, at least not intentionally.”

At her skeptical gaze he assured her, “It is all halal. Do not ask how I arranged it, but I found someone who would do that for me when I procured the necessities and toiletries I thought you might make use of here. I do not know if you had a strict diet in the harem. Whenever we dined together, it was light fare.”

“We followed a strict diet. We kept many of the traditions of the Ottoman harems. This is very kind of you.”

She ducked her head, embarrassed by the expression of gratitude. She hadn’t had anything but tidbits of food now and then because she had assumed his kitchen was not prepared for a woman with her dietary restrictions. She reached for the fork he held out and looked down to the array of food. There was some sort of pilaf, spiced differently from what she was used to. The fish slid apart like a creamy cheese. Placing it in her mouth, she tasted a strong undercurrent of lemon and rosemary. It was delicious and the most appetizing thing she’d eaten in days. Savoring the fish, she closed her eyes. She was only aware she made a noise of contentment when Rothburn chuckled, then retrieved his own tray.

He sat in the chair diagonally across from her, and they ate in pleasant silence. She never thought this could happen so easily after their last altercation.

When she picked up the last of the peas and popped it into her mouth, Rothburn asked her solicitously, “Would you like another helping?”

She shook her head no and handed the plate to him. He took it without comment. What moments before had been easy and comfortable now felt awkward and strange. He didn’t sit in the chair to her left. He perched himself on the window seat facing her, so she couldn’t stare out at the garden to avoid his gaze.

“We cannot go on like this, Jinan.”

“Do you wish to resume your contract with me now that my menses have passed?” She knew that wasn’t what he referred to, but she’d be damned if she would give him an inch. He deserved no kindness from her after his brutality.

“We do not have a contract. I’ll not reiterate that again. I’m being sincere. I wish you believed my words. I’ve set you free from the servitude that island sanctioned. Is that not enough for you to feel at least a little grateful toward me?”

“You have taken me from the only home I know.”

“Then you can stay with me. Call this place a home. Is it not obvious to you that I want more than a bloody contract between us? I should hear from Amir any day now with regard to your son.”

“You speak as though you think you’ve won a hand of cards. This is not the case. I know Amir better than you ever will. When will you see that for the truth?”

“Do you want to know what I see, Jinan?” He did not wait for her to say anything, and he continued. “I see a woman who is afraid to embrace freedom when it’s been offered to her. Damn well nearly on a silver platter.” His voice was steady, but she heard the upset in it.

“You have no understanding of my life before now, so do not base your judgment of me on what you think you know and what you think you remember. I am not free here. I am not fool enough to believe your words for they are hypocrisy. You have caged me as well as a songbird. This cage might look and feel bigger because of the false freedom you’ve offered, but this design is no less obvious. I take it for what it is—my prison.”

“I have given you the freedom of my home. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

“Is this what you tell yourself? Are you so blind to your own deviousness? If this is not a golden cage symbolizing further repression, why do you refuse me what I want most?”

There was a long pause from Rothburn. He rubbed at the beard stubble along his jaw. “I wish you could see the truth of what I offer. If I sent you
home
you might never come back to me.”

She sat up in her chair, unsure what she should say to that. Because that was the truth. If she went back to the harem, she’d never see him again. She could not choose to come back to him. So he was right. Leaving meant an end to everything between them. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about. “What you do is not better than what Amir did. You cage me to act as your whore.”

He must have misread her expression, her tone. His hands brushed through his hair in a jerky displaced movement of frustration—a habit of his. “I will get nowhere with you, will I? I do not want you playing the whore. I never did. But you sit there pretty as can be playing the damned part so well, I wonder if I’ve dreamed you half my damned life. Made you something more in my head, in my thoughts, over the years we were separated.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Did he really want to acknowledge their past now? It seemed pointless, a lifetime ago. They’d both mentioned things that hinted at their past engagement, but they’d not once talked about it.

He stood quickly, glaring down at her. The words all but poured out of him. “Jesus, you are impossible. Do you think me a fool? I’ve wanted you practically half my life. I would have been content knowing I had lost you but could always return to you in my dreams. Instead I find you, and now I can never let you go.” He sat back down with a huff; the words seemed to have drained him. He turned his back to the wall and brought one knee up to rest his arm upon. “Do you know that you’ve ruined me for all others?”

He didn’t look at her, and she was glad for it. What could she say to a man who had wanted her for so long? Did he exaggerate? She’d known many a man to do just that. No, she knew he did not refer to some hypothetical beauty of the night. He spoke of
their
past. She knew it as surely as she knew her own heart where he was concerned. Life was so much easier when you closed yourself off from your past. She’d learned to do that when she’d married Robert, and had continued to forget the innocent girl she once was, as her life turned down more and more paths too dark to navigate with a light heart.

“I’m not the person you have dreamed of all these years.” She looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes should he turn to face her. Her words were not a lie, but a truth made real by the path her life had taken. “I’m not the person you want me to be.”

“Damn it, Jinan. Can we lose the deceit for once? Just once—once!—give me the truth.” He didn’t turn when he said the words. Just stared out over the garden she’d enjoyed looking at moments ago. His fingers stretched and cracked as he sat there, such a small movement, but one clearly derived from his agitation.

“What do you want of me? Maybe that is the only thing that needs to be clear between us?”

“I want the truth. It’s what I’ve always wanted from you . . . between us. Just the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” she asked, because she would not be forced to admit anything.

“Your games were pleasant during our reacquaintance. Did you find them to be so, too? Do you think I propose to just anyone I happen to fancy at a given moment? That I would spend so much money on a woman for the hell of it?”

If the proposal hadn’t been a whim . . . a foolish puppy love between them, then why had he walked away from her, left her? That time in her life now was hazy. She’d fallen head over heels in love with this man in a whirlwind two weeks, then he’d disappeared. After that, the vapid Baron Shepley had courted her. She’d been forced into a marriage with the bounder when he’d ruined her reputation—quite intentionally, she was sure.

When she didn’t answer, he turned to look at her. She could see the raw hurt in his eyes. She saw in his gaze that he wanted her to admit to their past.

But she couldn’t.

“Do you need a refresher,
Elena
?” He still stared at her, daring her to lie now that he had called her by her real name.

Or perhaps to gauge her reaction to the one name she never wanted to hear again.

She made to speak when he held up his hand to silence her. “Hear me out.”

“Rothburn, you do not understand my position in all this.”

“Don’t I? Let me fill in the blanks then, my dear. We met some ten years ago. I think you should take a moment to recall the Duchess of Glenmoore’s ball. There was a proposal in the gardens at the aforementioned party.” Those penetrating eyes of his landed on hers again—hurt lay in their depths. “Is this beginning to fall in place for you yet? Are you remembering?”

“I don’t understand what you are getting at.”

Rothburn took a deep breath, the only sound to fill the distance between them. It was clear he’d been waiting for her confession for some time, maybe from the moment he took her from the auction block.

“I remember our courtship, of course. Those were, at that point, the happiest days of my life. Then after proposing to me, you left the very next day, so I didn’t think it had meant anything to you.” She couldn’t say more than that, and stared into her lap where she entwined her fingers to still their nervous tremble.

“I understand better than anyone why you married that scoundrel, you know. The man is dead, is he not?”

She did not delay her answer. “My husband is dead.”

“I did look into his whereabouts. More specifically, your whereabouts. He shouldn’t have been a hard man to find given his proclivity for gambling; I’d hoped to find men claiming he owed them money. Both of you proved impossible to locate once you moved abroad.”

“He did not die well or with any honor. We did not have friends to turn to anymore.”

“Had I known, I would have done more, Elena.”

“Please do not call me by my birth name.”

“And why not? It
is
your birth name. There is no reason not to use it now. I’d like to think there are few things we don’t know about each other at this point.”

“I implore you not to.” Her eyes flooded with tears. She tried to hold them back, but she knew they would fall soon. This was too much, rehashing her sordid, awful life.

“For a long time I was angry with you. I thought you had only been interested in finding the next available suitor.”

His words were more caustic, more detached, the longer he went on. She wasn’t sure if his apparent anger was directed at her or at himself. It was in her best interest now to set him straight on the matter of her downfall.

“You can never understand the trials I have been through, Rothburn.”

“I can imagine it was no hardship. I doubt you would have embraced that life so easily if it had been a hardship. I’ve never seen reserve in you, nor guilt. Not once did you ask for my help in taking you away from that place. How many men have you warmed? Have you enjoyed them all as much as you seemed to enjoy my company?” The whip of his words shattered her heart like shards of cold ice. She lifted her head, tears trailing a path down both her cheeks with the motion.

“Stop this.” He must have been caught off guard by her raised voice. Mouth clamped shut, he allowed her to continue. “I was given no choice about that life. Amir has been most kind to me. He would never abuse me or neglect me. He has been above reproach in his care and generosity.”

“I fear your faith is placed in the wrong sort of man.” He snorted his disgust. “He’s no more morally incorrupt than the people that visit his bawdy island.”

“I do not mistake his generosity. He’s been most kind, and I know you will never understand such a thing. You cannot understand the lengths he went to to save me from a death too cruel to repeat. I bear great respect for the only man to show me kindness in all my life.”

She revealed too much with the last; she spoke strongly. She’d kept her past so deeply buried that once she started digging, the heart of the matter seemed to raise to the surface on its own, demanding she delve to the very core of her secrets. It was a strange personal revelation, too. For the first time in five years, she actually hated the fact that Amir’s kindness had won her over so easily. It made her an unworthy woman and mother to not fight harder for her freedom.

“Elena.”

His tone was low, soothing the frightened doe. Did he understand the significance of her words?

“Stop calling me by that name.
Elena
is dead! Do you understand?” She pounded her fist to her heart and choked back a sob. “She died in here five years ago. She
died
. She is no more. I cannot explain it to you, but she is no longer who I am. I am Jinan. It is not an act. It is not a way to hide. This is who I am. Not the whore as you so aptly wish to name me, but a woman who was reborn with the help of her master and the love of her sisters. Elena is dead and you need to forget she ever existed. Because it would destroy a part of me to remember what I once was.”

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