Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [58]
“I haven’t struck out at you.” He quickly amended, “After our first meeting.”
She lifted her brows. “Once is enough.”
“The fault was entirely your own. I didn’t want to hurt you. You wouldn’t listen to me.” He waved an impatient hand. “Anyway, that’s in the past. Why do you dwell on it?”
“Because I was the one you felled with a blow. I think you’d also dwell on such an act.”
“Nonsense. I would forgive and then dismiss it entirely from my mind.”
She gazed at him skeptically.
He swore beneath his breath. “You doubt me? It is—” He stopped, then smiled grudgingly. “Well, I would dismiss it…after I’d exacted appropriate vengeance.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Then you’re fortunate my nature is meeker than your own.”
He grunted derisively but made no reply. He watched her work for a moment before speaking. “You look very comely with the sunlight on your hair.”
She stopped in midmotion and turned to look at him.
He smiled. “Though you smell foully of horse manure.” He held up his hand to quell her indignant outburst. “I don’t mind. But have it washed off before you sup with me this evening.”
“Sup with you?”
“Well, Kadar says you must bear me company. If you’re finished with the accounts and object to playing chess with me, I can see no other way for you to keep your promise. Can you?”
She quickly lowered her gaze to the earth so he wouldn’t see the sudden happiness that soared through her. She had not realized until this moment how much she would miss the hours they spent together while poring over those dratted accounts. “No, and, of course, I must keep my word to Kadar.”
He nodded solemnly. “Promises are very important.” He turned and walked back toward the castle.
HOUSE OF NICHOLAS
CONSTANTINOPLE
“You will find the worker you need here,” Nicholas said, puffing with pride. “My women are the most skilled in all the world.”
“I can see that by the samples of embroidery you showed me.” Kadar carefully kept his tone without expression as his gaze traveled around the huge room.
There was no conversation, no laughter, as women and older children sat hunched over their hoops, shoulders bent, eyes fixed on the pattern in front of them, sewing feverishly. No one there was over her fortieth year, yet they all looked worn and aged. The sparkling cleanliness and brightness of the chamber, with many windows to let in the sunshine, made the theft of youth more horrible, Kadar thought. A truly terrible place.
But not as terrible as the carpet room from which they had just come. He had thought he had become hardened to life in all its forms, but the sight of those small children with their crippled, gnarled fingers had sickened him.
“You’re very fortunate. They seem to be accomplishing a great deal,” Kadar said. “How many hours a day do they work?”
“As many hours as the sun shines. Sunrise to sunset. Come along.” Nicholas moved down the first aisle. “I must show you Clarissa’s work. She has a fine, mature skill even though she’s barely ten and four.” He cast a sly glance over his shoulder. “And when she’s not at her task, she will bring your loins as much pleasure as your purse. Only last week I sank between her thighs and found her—”
“And you’ll want a fine price for her.” Kadar shook his head. “I told you I wanted someone younger…and cheaper.”
Nicholas sighed and moved farther down the row. “Evadne may please you. She is only nine. She has developed little skill as yet, and I may be persuaded to release her.”
Kadar’s gaze discreetly searched the bent heads. Red hair, Thea had said. Where the devil was she? “How long has she been here?”
“I bought her two years ago. Her fingers were too long for the carpets, so I had her trained on the embroidery hoops.” He stopped before a small delicate girl with flaxen hair and haunted eyes. “What do you think?”
He thought Nicholas was a callous bastard. He tilted his head as he appraised the embroidery before the girl. “Not as good as I would like.”
“If you don’t pay, you can’t expect quality.”
She was there in the next row.