New Dawning International Bookfair
Presents
An Erotic Romance
By
Patricia Green
Copyright © 2010 Patricia Green
Smashwords Edition
Under Wraps
Chapter 1 - St. Joseph, Missouri
The dingy room's lone occupant heard laughing voices approaching along the hallway before the lock tumbled open. "Shh," Jake Fletcher said from beyond the portal, his voice thick with drink. "Got to be careful. Never know what he mighta been up to since I left him this mornin'."
A woman's voice cooed delicious fear as the distinct click of a gun being cocked permeated the stale air. Dusty rays of yellow light widened as the door slipped open, allowing Fletcher to find his prisoner in the dimness.
He was pretty much as he had been left: sitting at the foot of the white iron bedstead, hands manacled to the frame, legs shackled together with a foot or so of steel chain between. His own stink had long since ceased to bother him. A week of living in the same dirty clothes was nothing compared to the pain in his head whenever he moved, or the stinging ache of his right thigh where a bullet had torn off a respectable chunk of his flesh. Despite his discomforts, he watched Fletcher release the gun's mechanism and holster it, apparently satisfied that his prisoner was harmless enough.
"Come on in, honey," the burly man said. "He ain't got free." He pulled off a battered Stetson and threw it toward the chair which, besides the bed, was the only furniture in the cheap hotel room. Stringy hair, of a color somewhere between corn and piss, hung in dirty mats to the man's shoulders.
A woman slowly shadowed Fletcher into the room. At first, illuminated only from behind, the manacled man thought her somewhat shapeless, uninteresting, bundled in a heavy gray cloak. As the gas lights were lit, he saw she was just a girl. Her face was young, despite the heavy paint she wore to make herself look older. She couldn't have been more than nineteen.
Fletcher must have had another good day at the card tables in the saloon downstairs. It was his habit to buy a whore when he was feeling like a big winner. It was the second time in the four days they'd been in this hell hole.
The girl's green eyes darted around the room, settling on the prisoner. He watched her expression change from curiosity to fear. "What's he lookin' at with them yellow eyes?"
Jake sat on the bed and began pulling off his boots. "Prob'ly wonderin' what you got hid under that cloak."
She turned away and undid the crude frogs which held her wrap in place. Dull, lank hair slid over her shoulders and obscured her face as she bent her head. "I don't like the way he's lookin' at me. It makes me nervous. Can't you make him turn around or somethin'? It's like havin' a... a cat sittin' there. Watchin'."
The cape slid to the floor. Beneath it was a violet, gauze wrapper, its once sheer fabric now fraying at the hem and spotted with liquor, food and a few blood stains as well. The wrapper hung open, and her childish, conical breasts jutted forth, her brown areolas huge and obscene on the pale whiteness of her skin. She wore a black satin corset, so ill-fitting it hung on her skinny frame, a pitiful decoration rather than a foundation. Her hips were slim, lacking the maturity of a woman's curves, and her womanhood had the barest covering of pale brown curls, leaving little to the imagination. Her only other item of clothing was her black high-button shoes, new and shiny, with tall heels to give her height.
Jake's brown plaid flannel shirt met her cape on the floor, revealing his filthy red underwear. "I kinda like him watchin'," he said. "The dirty Mex can only dream about it. Who knows how long it's been since he had hisself a woman? Maybe since he was in Salt Lake City."
The girl swaggered toward Fletcher and began what she must have considered a seductive unbuttoning of his undershirt and then his pants. "What's he wanted for?"
The tawny-eyed prisoner turned away and closed his eyes when the bounty hunter grabbed the girl's flat bottom and kneaded it.
"Robbed a couple a banks and killed four people, includin' a U.S. Marshall." He sighed his delight at something she was doing. "Gonna hang him in Salt Lake City, I expect. If I ever get enough money together to get him there."
The violet wrapper floated over the end of the bed to lie limply near the prisoner. He felt its passing and opened his eyes for a moment. Jake's belt buckle hit the floor with a dull thud along with his pants; her shoes clattered with a regular sound soon after.
"What's yer name again, gal?"
"June."
The bed creaked and vibrated against the chained man's back.
"Did Mable tell you what I want, Junie-girl?"
The girl gave a little shriek of surprise. "Yeah, but I ain't never done it before. You ain't gonna hurt me, are you mister?"
Fletcher’s belly laugh was muffled against the girl's body. "Naw. You'll like it. But first you gotta get me real hard, Junie. Know how to do that?"
There was a pause. "Yeah, I guess you do. Mmmhmm."
The prisoner tried to block out the crude, wet sounds of June's work. He pushed Fletcher's moans and her giggles from his mind by concentrating on his pain. Pain in his head from being struck twice with the butt of Fletcher's rifle. The first time had been nearly a week ago and had taken him completely by surprise.
He'd been at the docks watching cargo being loaded. Once the ship was filled with crates and sacks, the crew dispersed to quench their thirsts at local taverns. He found himself pulled along in their tide and agreed to have a drink before heading back into town. A few drinks later, as he left the bar, someone behind him hollered, "Esteban Garcia, you son-of-a-bitch!" There was a blinding flash of pain, and then nothing.
Sometime later, tied and trussed like a steer awaiting branding, he awakened slung over the back of a horse. Nausea welled in his gut and his head ached; he raised it anyway to see where he was and with whom.
Jake Fletcher, was a bounty hunter. He made his living capturing and frequently killing, known criminals for money. The man was stubborn, determined, and more than a little crazy. Esteban Garcia was worth five thousand dollars if brought in alive to face trial in Salt Lake City. He was worthless dead. The prisoner was grateful for this, even if Fletcher grumbled about it incessantly.
Just when that first cut on the back of his head was beginning to heal, the blood never washed from his thick black hair, the prisoner had seen a way to escape. He stood a good eight inches taller than Fletcher, and outweighed him considerably, but Fletcher wasn't stupid.
He was vigilant about keeping the big outlaw restrained at all times.
It had taken three days, but he'd managed to figure out a way to cross his feet just so, leaving enough play in the ropes to allow him to slip out of his boots. If his feet were free he could take a horse as Fletcher slept and, bound hands or no, Fletcher would never catch him.
Fletcher obviously had some sort of intuition. The kind of twisted knowledge that kept a man like him alive. Another sharp crack with the butt of his rifle had re-opened the prisoner's scalp wound and laid the man low before he'd gotten free of his boots.
Jake wouldn't kill him, but if he had to he'd bring him in senseless. They were gonna hang the bastard anyway.
The next day they'd arrived in the dusty little town at the edge of the western frontier, St. Joseph, Missouri. Fletcher had checked them into this filthy hotel above a rowdy saloon. The bounty hunter needed money for their trip with the government wagon train to Salt Lake City and time was growing short. The last train of the year would be leaving the following Monday, just three days away. Fletcher grumbled about trying to cross the continent alone, and he whined that he didn't have enough money for proper supplies anyway.
He manacled Esteban Garcia to the iron bedstead and went to find a poker game. That evening he brought back a whore and the prisoner had gotten a revolting look at another side of Jake Fletcher.
Two days later, Fletcher had put a bullet through his prisoner's thigh for another attempted escape. "I'll put a hole in ever' place that don't count, greaser. I ain't made my livin' at this fer ten years by trustin' no rope or chains to keep you bastards in place. I got eyes in the back o' my head and ears like a coyote. You an' me got a date with the hangman in Salt Lake City, an' I don't care none whether I bring you in on yer stinkin' feet or drag you by yer boots. You only gotta be breathin', nothin' else much matters."
The bed knocked against his shoulders, yanking him from his bitter memories. It stopped after a few minutes.
He balled his hands into fists, frustrated rage building with each artificial mew of pleasure the girl made. He couldn't allow Fletcher to take him to Salt Lake City. One of them was going to die trying to get his way, that much was obvious. But which one?
Chapter 2 - Boston
Glee tried to compose herself before entering the parlor. She knew Aunt Ulalie would be aghast at her appearance; she always was. Her Aunt would also be quite taken aback by the two eunuchs. Glee thought she had planned for that, at least, during the six weeks it took to reach Boston from Constantinople. The worst confrontation would be over her Aunt's disapproval of Glee's plan to find a suitable lodging of her own and closet herself away to finish her father's book.
Perhaps that bit of knowledge could wait a week or two, until she settled in. It had been two years, she reminded herself. And the last visit was so brief that she had barely caught her breath. "Coward," she chided herself softly.
Her slightly pointed chin tilted up, she straightened her shoulders as she opened the parlor doors.
Her cousin Esther turned toward her first, and Glee's jaw tightened at the glimmer of pity in the girl's dark-lashed, turquoise eyes. Esther is so young, Glee reminded herself. Just nineteen. And very sheltered.
"Oh, Glee!" Esther fluttered forward to embrace her older cousin, coming up on tiptoes to place a kiss on Glee's smooth cheek. "Oh, you poor thing! What you must have been through in that awful, horrible place! Oh, do sit down and tell us all about it."
"Really, Esther…" Ulalie purred from her bright green chair near the hearth. "Do stop going on so." She offered Glee a well-manicured hand. "Glee, dear." Her pale blue eyes traveled over her niece's figure from gray turban to black high-button boots and narrowed. "You look unchanged, if a little pale."
Glee took her aunt's hand and bent to kiss the pudgy, rouged cheek she offered. There was more gray than brown in the woman's hair now. "I assure you, Aunt Ulalie, I am well."
"Please sit down, dear."
Glee took a seat on the floral settee next to her cousin and waved away a proffered plate of biscuits. Her uncle helped himself, humming a nameless tune, seemingly oblivious of the tension in the room.
Ulalie's gaze did not leave her for a moment. "We were very sorry to hear about your father, Glee. Poor Eric, drowned in that heathen country. It was really too bad that you were stranded there as well. Martin tells me that he had to negotiate your release."
"Actually, they treated me quite well. Until the Sultan's third son took an interest in me." She blushed. "That was somewhat unpleasant, of course, but Uncle Martin arrived in time to forestall any problems."
"How very timely of you, Martin," the older woman said without inflection.
Martin blustered and preened. "Yes, er, well, luck favors the man prepared, m'dear. And here's our dear niece, right as rain."
"That's right, here I am," Glee said with forced gaiety. "I've brought two new servants with me, I'm afraid. I hope you won't mind, but the Sultan insisted that he give them to me as a gift. Refusal was out of the question. I have several ideas about what to put them to work at and a few projects I'm planning, so I don't think they'll be in the way."
"Fine, fine," Ulalie answered, fussing with a linen handkerchief.
A girl brought in a tray of tea and coffee. When she left, Ulalie nodded to Esther to pour. Glee ignored the round-eyed expression from her cousin as she asked for coffee and four spoonsful of sugar. She gracefully took the cup and sipped as the others received their tea.
Ulalie took a deep breath, then began a gentle harangue. "Glee, my dear, you know things cannot go on as before. Thirteen years of wandering the globe is scandalous enough. Now that your dear father is gone, you'll really have to settle down and stay in one place for a while."
Glee removed her spectacles slowly. Ulalie appeared startled by the thick-lashed beauty of her turquoise eyes, the Montrose blue of both her husband and his late brother, but tilted at the corners and exotic, as Glee's mother's had been. Lips tightening, Ulalie pressed her shoulders back, sitting up straighter than ever.
"I have been thinking much the same, Aunt Ulalie. In fact, I've decided to stay in Boston."
Ulalie's face split into a very lovely smile, a reminder of the beauty of her youth. "Oh, Glee, how pleased that makes me! I had begun to despair of ever seeing you happily married and cared for."
Glee's brow furrowed slightly. "I don't wish to mislead you, Aunt Ulalie, Uncle Martin. Marriage is not part of my plans. What I intend to do is take a small apartment or house here in the city and finish the book my father began in Constantinople. We worked so hard in the Ottoman Empire. He even lost his life in pursuit of a new thread of adventure for this novel. I feel that I must-"
"Oh, no!" She looked to Martin, her composure shattered. "Martin, tell her she must not consider this outrageous action!" Martin frowned and turned toward Glee, but Ulalie continued. "Glee, how can you even think of living by yourself? No respectable woman would dare do so!"
"I would not be by myself, Aunt. I have Amina, Erdogan and Hakki. I assure you I would be safe."
Ulalie paled and swayed in her chair. "Esther, my salts, dear, hurry." The girl cast a disapproving glare at Glee and ran from the room to get her mother's smelling salts, chestnut curls bouncing on her shoulders.
Martin stepped in. "Now, Glee, surely you can see how disastrous that would be. Consider how people would perceive it. Two women living alone with two foreign men." He waved his hands. "Albeit, two, er..." He looked toward his wife then plunged on, "…two eunuchs."
"Oh!" Ulalie closed her eyes and waved her napkin feebly in front of her face. Esther returned with the salts and held the vial beneath her mother's nose until the older woman coughed and seemed to recover slightly.
Glee walked toward the parlor door. "I am so very sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Ulalie. I love you and Uncle Martin dearly, really I do. But my life is my own. I am twenty-two years old and capable of making decisions for myself. I want to finish father's novel, and I will, even if it takes me the rest of my life."
Martin cleared his throat and waved Glee back from the door. "Now, niece, there's more to this than meets the eye. Pressuring you is not my wont. Please don't force me to it." He noted the determination in his niece's rigid posture and sighed. "I had hoped to tell you later, privately, once you'd settled in here, but I can see I have no choice." He turned to his daughter. "Esther, please leave us."
"But, Papa-"
"Esther, do as your father says," Ulalie said, her voice firm.
"Mama!"
Glee sighed. "Really, Uncle Martin. Let her stay if she wishes. I have no secrets, and I don't see how anything you could say might be so very shocking."
Martin frowned. "Glee, this is not-"
"Just spit it out, Martin," Ulalie snapped.
He turned toward the fire, irritation making the sag of his jowls beneath gray-brown mutton chop whiskers even more prominent. "As you wish. I told you that I had to bargain you away from Sultan Abdülmecid."
"Yes, Uncle. I assumed that you had to threaten shipping contracts and trade agreements. Was there more to it than that?"
"Perhaps you should sit down, dear."
Glee's stomach rose into her throat. Uncle Martin was rarely a man who beat around the bush. Yet he was obviously trying to soften a blow. She stepped toward a chintz covered wing-backed chair, wilting, staring into Martin's eyes trying to divine the answers she sought.
"Abdülmecid had decided to have you for his second son, Akmed." She tipped her head in a short nod.
"I thought it was his third son, Papa."
"Be quiet, Esther." Martin continued slowly. "The trade agreements and shipping contracts between Montrose Shipping and the Sultan are very sensitive, not to mention very profitable for us both. Although I love you like a daughter Glee, I am a businessman and had to consider Montrose Shipping."
"I see." Glee didn't see at all.
"As a consequence, Abdülmecid and I compromised on the issue."
"The issue is my life, Uncle Martin, let us not lose sight of that."
Martin frowned and stopped pacing. "Impertinence will not change what I have to say, Miss."
"No, of course not." Glee struggled to contain her anger, but her voice was clipped. "Pray go on."
"I told him that grief over your father would be lessened by a return to the bosom of your family. I implied that there were many loose ends to address. Although he was reluctant, Abdülmecid agreed to allow you to leave the harem on the condition that you return in February when Akmed takes his degree from Oxford."
"Oxford!" Esther and Ulalie expounded at once.
Martin scowled.
Glee took a deep breath and tried to speak unemotionally. "And when I return in February I presume I am to be Akmed's graduation gift. Precisely the kind of situation I thought I was escaping. Is that correct?"
Ulalie brought her salts to her nose again, and Esther gasped.
"It was the best I could do, Glee. I had no other options. Had I not agreed, you would be there now, awaiting Akmed's return, or perhaps given to Hammud as a birthday gift as they'd originally intended."
Glee's attention dropped to her lap where she twisted the ugly plaid linen, and then returned to pierce her uncle with righteous indignation. "How very upsetting this must have been for you, Uncle. Tell me, how did you ever convince Abdülmecid to agree to let me out at all? After all, what guarantee has he that I will return?"
Martin cleared his throat and turned back toward the fire. "He sent the eunuchs to insure both your safety and continued, er, chastity."
Glee laughed lightly, and the older man jerked around to look at her.
"Oh, the irony of this situation is not lost on you, is it? For seven years I have been hiding myself behind shapeless dresses, covering my hair with mobcaps and scarves and now turbans, burying myself in my father's notebooks and scribbling because he didn't want to be bothered fending off the legitimate offers of men of importance wherever we went. And now, because I caught the attention of the fifteen-year-old Prince Hammud, all my careful concealments and subterfuge are for naught." Her laughter was bitter, sharp. "Do you know anything about Akmed, Uncle? Anything at all?"
"Well, I know he's the Sultan's second son."
His wife sighed in a near-swoon and he turned to her. "Now, now my dear, it's not so bad as all that. I assure you that this isn't disreputable in the Ottoman Empire. Why they consider it an honor for a woman to join the harem of a prince!"
Glee rose and faced her uncle eye-to-eye. "Let' s not sugar-coat this for the ladies, shall we Uncle Martin? I'd much rather be blunt." She turned toward Ulalie. "You see, Aunt Ulalie, I know a bit about Prince Akmed. For example, I know that he is married, a young man, perhaps twenty-five." She watched the older woman gasp and glare at her husband. "I also know that I will not be lonely in his harem. He already has six concubines, and has been collecting them, albeit slowly, since he was fifteen."
Ulalie paled and fairly shrieked at Martin. "Martin, how could you do this? How could you trade away your niece? To promise her in marriage to this prince would have been one thing, but Martin! This, this arrangement makes her no better than a kept mistress!"
"A mistress!" Esther's eyes were round. She scowled at Glee with unconcealed distaste.
"A very accurate assessment, Aunt." She turned to a Martin, whose lips were thinned, his ears red with anger. "Tell me, Uncle, what happens if I am able to lose my erstwhile guards and do not keep to your agreement?"
"I was assured that Abdülmecid would send someone to Boston to retrieve his property - er, you - and he would accept an offer from a Charleston shipping company and cancel our contracts entirely."
Glee shook her head and smiled, though a tear coursed down her cheek. "You know, Uncle Martin, the Sultan told me that you would have your price. I insisted that you would never succumb to his sordid intent. 'Every man has his price,' he said; I did not believe him at the time."
Martin's face reddened and his hands shook. "Glee, please try to understand. I've worked hard for everything you see here. Your father was the eldest, but had no interest in the shipping business, spending all his time with books and making up crazy stories. When our father stipulated in his will that despite Eric being the older son I should have 50% of the profits from Montrose Shipping if I ran the business, I was happy to accept the responsibility. I loved Eric and was glad to share the fruits of my labors with him in return for a portion I would have otherwise never seen. I've made this business more profitable than even our father could have imagined. But, I had to earn it. This arrangement with Abdülmecid was business, pure and simple. Those contracts are nearly 30% of Montrose Shipping's income." He spread his hands out toward his niece. "I'll have my lawyers begin work on it in the morning. There must be something that can be done to break the oral contract."
Glee nodded. "I wonder what my father would say to you, Uncle Martin." She grimaced at a weeping Ulalie and a flushed Esther and moved to the door. "Good day."
Glee tried not to run up the graceful, curving mahogany staircase, but she couldn't help herself. The door to her room was ajar and she burst in and slammed it closed, twisting the key in the lock.
Amina looked up from her unpacking and her eyes widened when she saw tears coursing down Glee's smooth cheeks.
Glee's vision swam, her eyes glistening with moisture as she pressed her back against the door. The cheerful yellow gingham and white eyelet counterpane and curtains were lost to her. Even the comfort of her favorite white cane rocking chair, near the big window, did not draw her interest.
Amina clapped her hands once. The signal for Glee's attention dragged her from her inward struggle. "There is bad news. Tell me," the tongueless maid signed.
Glee wiped the wetness from her face and stomped to her father's valise. "Do you remember Papa saying something about land speculations in California?" She rifled through the black leather valise with her father's initials, looking through odd bits of paper, scraps of receipts, notes and lists.
"When we were in Australia he met a British officer who was adamant about the vast ranches for sale in the California Territory. Papa was so excited at the prospect, he had his attorney, Mister Burton, look into it. I remember how his face lit up when Mister Burton obtained a deed." She plucked out a sheaf of papers, and sifted through them. "I know the deed must be in here somewhere. Papa wasn't much of a businessman, but I trust Mister Burton. The parcel may be small, but I'm sure it'll do for us, Amina. Papa was planning to retire to California to this little rancho, someday."
Amina came around to face Glee and touched her arm. She signed, "Why do you need the deed? Will we not stay in Boston?"
Glee shook her gray-turbaned head. "No. We can't stay. Uncle Martin sold me to the Sultan in Constantinople. He just told me. I don't know what he was waiting for, the coward. He agreed to take me back to the Ottoman Empire by the end of February, when Akmed will be back from Oxford."
Amina's eyes widened to chocolate-brown saucers, the horizontal, decorative scars on her left cheek whitened with her agitation. She gestured frantically. "What will we do? Martin will not let us leave!"
Glee's teeth ground together. "He has no choice. I'm an adult, and though he may technically be my financial guardian, he cannot stop me if I chose to leave. Especially, if he does not suspect our plans." She bent toward the papers again. "We'll go to California and live on this rancho. My trust fund will be plenty for us to live on, and no one will know where we've gone for months and months. Surely by the time Papa's book is completed and published, and our whereabouts are known, Abdülmecid will have lost interest in one runaway concubine. Akmed will just have to be satisfied with some other gift. Uncle Martin can tell him that his two eunuch guards were obviously not enough; that I've run off to parts unknown."
The deed was sandwiched between a character profile from one of her father's novels and a list of sundry travel items for a journey up the Congo. Glee held it reverently, studying it for a moment and then the little map drawn on the back. "Monterey," she said softly. "We're going to Monterey, Amina."
Chapter 3
It was difficult keeping her plans secret, but determination to escape brought necessary lies and half-truths to Glee's lips. She couldn't talk Erdogan and Hakki into staying in Boston or returning to Constantinople. It seemed prudent to take them along rather than have her two eunuchs fumbling along behind her on some hare-brained chase.
Keeping them silent was not difficult. Erdogan was disdainful and haughty around the other servants, declining any offer of friendship with a sniff and airy gesture of dismissal.
Hakki, tall and intimidating as he was, was friendlier, but felt it was his duty was to protect Glee and accede to her whims until February, even if those whims took them 3,000 miles further from Constantinople.
Glee seriously considered booking passage on a ship, which would take them to San Francisco, around the horn, in about three months time. The cost was exorbitant, owing to recent gold and silver strikes in California and Nevada. Staying untraceable was the urgent factor. A ship was too easily tracked, its people too easily found and questioned, which effectively eliminated that option.
The only other way to cross the continent was by wagon train. Apparently, large numbers of people were doing it. It took longer, about five months, but it was much easier to become just another face, another traveler seeking greener pastures to the west.
Arranging for cross-continental travel was very complicated, and necessitated taking someone into Glee's confidence. Raymond, Martin and Ulalie's oldest child, seemed the most likely choice. At twenty-six, he was something of a rake, spending only the hours absolutely necessary at the shipping office. The balance of his time was given to gambling or myriad parties and social gatherings where young ladies of quality might be found. He and Glee had an easy camaraderie, an understanding of similar natures. She was hemmed into proprieties by her gender, he by his familial responsibilities as the only son.
During Glee's first week in Boston, Raymond escorted her to the opera and to a small soiree and musicale given by family friends. He was clever, urbane, and a pleasant companion, if cynical at times. Glee had the impression that he enjoyed the stir caused by her eccentric appearance. Gossip and stares followed them from room to room like a buzzing shadow. She was an oddity, an interesting new mystery to amuse him and his friends.
It was all very silly to Glee. Women looked at her with a mixture of pity and condemnation, which quickly turned to irritation and jealousy when it became obvious that young men found her witty and interesting. Those young men at first dismissed her as a blue-stocking, but were soon drawn into her circle, unable to control their curiosity when they discovered who her father was and where she had been adventuring with him. That curiosity frequently led to sparks of admiration and teasing jests, challenging her to tell them the color of her hair, commenting on the unusual beauty of her eyes and the translucence of her skin. These personal questions always led her admirers to grief, however, as she would give them no answer but a brilliant smile and turn to Raymond requesting to be taken home.
* * * *
After Sunday mass, the entire Montrose family, including Glee's cousin Sophia and her husband and two children, packed themselves into coaches and went for a picnic in the weak fall sunshine. Glee squeezed into a seat with Amina on one side and Esther on the other, facing Raymond and Esther's favorite escort—for this week—Hamilton Cage. Mister Cage couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Glee, their hazel light following every movement of her body as though studying her for a portrait.
Esther's eyes narrowed on her escort, and Glee tensed at the tightness of her cousin’s mouth—a look she often had before deriding someone. "You aren't still mad at Papa, are you Glee?" Esther asked as she brushed out her voluminous peach taffeta skirts.
Glee's hold on her reticule tightened as she stared past Amina at the multi-colored fall foliage. "Should I be?"
Raymond snorted and fixed his little sister with a decidedly irked look. Glee had explained her circumstances to him earlier in the week, received a great deal of sympathy and, "Tut tut, isn't life a rotter, little cuz?"
Esther batted long dark eyelashes and widened her turquoise eyes as she brushed a thick chestnut curl from her shoulder with a practiced, graceful gesture. Hamilton Cage's blond brows were cocked, his attention given over to Esther as he listened to the exchange. "He was only doing what he thought best, Glee. How can you blame him for that?"
"Indeed, how can I?" Glee tried to moderate her voice carefully, but it came out flat and toneless.
Hamilton Cage watched the graceful shift of Glee's long throat as she turned further away from Esther, and Esther's eyes followed his gaze. She flushed and jerked her focus back to Glee. "It was your own fault for being in that heathen country anyway. Why, any respectable woman would have died before setting foot in that place!"
Glee didn't blink. "A great many respectable women reside there, Esther: European women whose families cannot afford to ransom them from the Sultan, and eastern women who feel it an honor to be part of his harem; quite a few women travel there as tourists, in fact. Until you've been there and seen the beauty, the luxury, the way the Sultan's women are pampered and fawned over, the power of the Sultan's wives, the way they are guarded day and night, you cannot understand what keeps them there. I was only there to observe and chronicle their day-to-day existence."
"It must have been fascinating, Miss Montrose," Hamilton said. His voice held a smile and a note of admiration.
Glee nodded her agreement.
Esther's pink mouth twisted. "If you were only there observing, then why were you bathing with the Sultan's sons? What exactly were you learning, Glee, when they took interest in you?"
Both Raymond and Hamilton Cage gasped, but Raymond recovered quickly. Glee's eyes closed in a flicker of hurt and he slapped his knee with a crack. "What devil has whispered that nonsense in your ear, sister? How dare you even suggest-"
Glee leaned over to put her hand on Raymond's forearm gently. "It's ignorance talking, Raymond. If she understood how the palace household is set up, she would never draw such absurd conclusions."
Hamilton Cage was embarrassed but fascinated. "I, for one, would like to be enlightened, Miss Montrose. Of course, we know that the Sultan and his peers keep a harem of women, but I admit to being deucedly uninformed of the reasons and logistics."
"Oh, really, Hamilton," Esther snapped. "Isn't it obvious why that perverted man would keep a houseful of women slaves?" She blushed. "A lady doesn't discuss such things." She worked her fan with staccato precision.
Hamilton stiffened against the padded gray leather cushions. "I meant no offense, of course."
"None taken, Mister Cage. I'll explain what I learned. You see the household is divided into two sections: the harem or women's quarters, and the selamlik or men's quarters. There are specific areas where men and women might come in distant contact with each other, but that is rare. The Sultan is allowed four wives."
Esther gasped. "Heathens!"
Glee went on as though her cousin hadn't spoken. "According to their religion he is limited in that sense. He may, however, have as many concubines as he can afford to keep."
"A good reason to be very, very rich," Raymond murmured with a wicked smile.
Glee caught his gaze and grinned back. "Oh, but consider the responsibility, cuz. The Sultan, due to his lofty position, is often given women as gifts. When I left, he had over two hundred to care for. He must have an even greater number of eunuchs to maintain order among all these women, all their children, all their servants, all the petty jealousies and rivalries."
"What is a eunuch, anyway? Those two Turks you brought home don't seem so special," Esther whined.
Raymond chuckled and looked toward Glee with a shrug. "Mother would have our heads on a platter, don't you think?"
"I'm not sure this discussion is entirely proper, Raymond," Hamilton Cage began, his ears red.
"Oh, but that's what makes it so very amusing, Hamilton, my boy!" A lock of Raymond's light brown hair fell onto his forehead as he turned quickly back to Glee. "Will you tell her, or shall I?"
Glee's brow twisted and she worked at keeping an impish grin off her face. It was just too much fun to sting Esther with her own foolishness. "The problem is, Raymond, that I don't quite remember how it was explained to me. My Turkish wasn't very good at the time, and I think they finally had to show me a picture."
Raymond roared with laughter, and Hamilton sputtered, finally giving way to a nervous chuckle.
"What is so funny?" Esther demanded. She turned to Glee and frowned. "They showed you a picture of what?"
Raymond roared again.
"What?" she shrieked.
Raymond recovered enough to cut Glee off as she opened her mouth to reply. "No, don't, cuz. Let me try."
Glee nodded, an auburn eyebrow quirked with curiosity.
"Ahem," he started in all seriousness. "Perhaps I might illustrate it, pardon the pun, cuz," he said with a smirk toward his smiling cousin, "with horses."
"Horses?" Esther sat forward on the seat.
"Right." Raymond glanced toward Hamilton Cage who shrank into the corner and was staring out the window, then back to an expectant Esther. "You know what a stallion is, hm?"
"Of course. A male horse."
"Correct. And you know what a gelding is, don't you?"
"Yes, yes," Esther agreed. "A stallion that's been, well... altered." Raymond nodded, his face full of encouragement. His sister's face flushed as she suddenly saw where the conversation was leading. "Oh! Oh! You don't mean that those Turks are... Have been..." She snapped her fan open and plied it with bee's wing intensity. "Oh!"
Hamilton groaned and covered his face with his hands.
Esther frowned at him. "Well, I didn't know! Don't be such a... a prude, Hamilton." She turned to Glee. "Is that why they're chosen to guard and care for the women? Because they're, er, safe?"
Glee nodded. "Exactly. They are the only men allowed in the Sultan's harem except for the Sultan himself. And he only rarely visits."
"Then exactly how did his sons see you?" Esther’s lip curled as she sneered.
"The women share a communal bathing chamber called a hamam. Uncle Martin had arrived and, though it was my usual practice to wait for most of the women to leave the hamam before bathing, I was anxious to be ready to leave as soon as I could. As it happens, there is a cutout panel between the hamam and the corridor that leads to the Sultan's private chambers. The Sultan's third son, Hammud, was allowed to view the women through this secret hole so that he might choose a kadin, a woman, to be his birthday gift."
"God! And all I ever get is handkerchiefs and watch fobs,” Raymond complained with a grin.
"You really are a barbarian, Raymond." Esther whacked his arm with her fan.
"Was this a normal practice, Miss Montrose?" Hamilton asked, interested despite the impropriety of the subject.
Glee nodded. "One way the Sultan has of, well, culling his large harem is to give the women as gifts."
Esther shivered. "How horrible!"
"I thought so at first, too. But actually, most of the women didn't seem to mind."
"How very curious," Hamilton remarked.
"Yes. Until I realized that only about a dozen were the Sultan's favorites. Women he, er," she looked toward Esther who listened with terrified fascination, "courts, with any regularity along with his four wives."
"Ah," Raymond said softly. "And the rest languish away. Forever the bridesmaid and never the bride."
Glee smiled at his metaphor. "Something like that."
"I'd think they'd be relieved to be left alone," Esther said. "Wouldn't that be better?"
"You have to realize, Esther," Glee explained as gently as she could. "These women are trained from the moment they set foot in the harem to serve only one purpose. There are special instructors who spend hours with new women, telling them all about the Sultan, his family, his interests, his likes and dislikes. They are given books to study. They're washed and oiled every day, given a new name. Even their clothing is tailored toward the goal of catching the Sultan's eye."
"Did they do that to you, too, Glee? Did you have a new name?" Esther asked, no malice in the question, only a kind of eager interest in a forbidden subject.
"They tried," Glee answered, her face going pink despite her resolve not to be embarrassed by the truth. "I observed many of these training sessions, and I did have a personal eunuch, Erdogan. I admit I was pampered and extravagantly groomed, but for me it was all a kind of game. I knew I would never have to make that fateful trip down the pink corridor, the hallway between the harem and the Sultan's bedchamber."
Raymond's eyes flashed. "I see you in a new light, cuz."
"I hope not," she murmured, hoping that Raymond's sharp mind wasn't attributing more sophistication to her than was warranted.
"But why, when he was given so many beautiful women to choose from, did the son, Hammud, choose you?" A small frown showed her insulting comment to be inadvertent—kind of thinking aloud.
Glee pushed her spectacles up to their proper seat on her nose, not quite sure how to answer.
Amina began gesturing, signing toward Esther.
"What's she saying, Glee?" the young woman asked.
Glee watched her black friend for a moment and then shook her head.
Amina nodded furiously and repeated her gestures.
"Confess, cuz," Raymond prodded. "If you don't, I swear I'll find paper somewhere and make your girl draw it out."
Glee frowned and bit her lower lip. "You would, too, Raymond."
"What's she saying?" insisted Esther.
"She's answering your question. Why I was chosen over the other women."
Hamilton Cage nodded. "And?"
"She says, 'Tell them you were chosen because you were the most perfect of all the kadinlar.' The women. 'Tell them that Hammud recognized how special you are, how your long hair caught the sun that morning, how the water drops glistened on your skin, how your voice sang a sweet lullaby to the crying child of the Sultan's fourth wife.'" Glee felt unwelcome heat in her face, but Amina's hands dropped to her lap. "A terrible exaggeration," she said softly.
Raymond peered at her with widening eyes. She saw Hamilton Cage's eyes narrow in her direction, and Esther's mouth hanging open like a codfish.
Raymond laughed. "Of course it's true! You're just upset because you've been found out, cuz." He leaned forward and tilted Glee's chin up. "A rare jewel in a cheap and unflattering setting."
"Stuff!" She pulled away from him. "I'm as plain as plain can be, don't let Amina tell you differently." She shot a lethal glance toward her maid but the woman simply looked away, her jaw clamped tightly. "All that poetry isn't why Hammud sought me anyway."
Esther shook herself and seeing nothing but the dowdiness of her cousin's dress, the eccentricity of her hair covering and her dark round spectacles, agreed. "Of course not. But there must have been something. What was it?"
"I'm sure I don't know," Glee stated flatly.
"Liar," Raymond said on a chuckle.
Amina's hands flew again and all eyes turned to Glee. A sigh, and then, "She says, 'Your father is dead. What are you hiding from?' Amina, that's really enough!"
Raymond laughed again and pointed out the window. "Rogue's Hill. Here we are!"
They struggled out of the coach, aided by Hakki who had ridden with the coachman; Erdogan had opted to stay at home. Raymond's hand shot out, holding her back as Glee moved to follow the others up the small rise to their picnic site.
"Tell me, cuz. What are you hiding from?" He eyed the tall Turk who stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, perhaps ten feet behind his cousin.
Raymond's turquoise stare was disconcerting, intense. Glee felt as though he could see beyond her spectacles, past her defenses. "What makes you think I'm hiding, Raymond?" They stood nearly eye-to-eye, a man of average height and a tall woman.
"I remember another Glee. A little girl who had bright red hair and a grin that could light up a moonless night. Freckles on her nose. Before you moved to Spain with your mother and Uncle Eric you were such a skinny, gangly child." He plucked at the loose waist of her faded dove gray woolen gown. "I find it hard to believe that you might ever fill out this shapeless thing."
Her head dropped a notch and then she looked up toward the rise, watching the rise and fall of the red- and white-checkered cloth where the picnic would be set. "I can't do it, Raymond."
His voice was soft. "Do what?"
"I can't go back to the Ottoman Empire to be given to Prince Akmed." She pressed a long-fingered, gray-gloved hand to his sleeve. "I know it may prove a hardship to Uncle Martin, to you, but I don't want to be a pawn in this absurd game."
"A pawn. Throwaway pieces; also pieces that might decide the game." He shook his head.
"I don't even want to play."
"What are you going to do?"
She eyed him carefully from behind dark spectacles. "Can you keep a secret?"
He grinned. "For a price."
"I'm serious, Raymond, and I really need your help." She squeezed his arm and his warm hand covered hers.
His grin disappeared. "I'm serious too. I'll help you, for a price."
She withdrew her hand quickly and frowned. "Not very chivalrous, Raymond."
His smile returned as a slight upturning of lips and a twinkle of turquoise eyes. "I'm not known for being a gentleman, cuz."
She couldn't help but smile. "No. No, you're not. What do you want?"
He affected a very bored expression and waved his hand in an arch. "I am invited to attend a masked ball at the Soutraine Mansion on Friday next. Come with me as my little Turkish slave. We'll be the hit of the evening! Everyone will envy me and wonder who my mysterious companion is, and I will laugh myself silly."
"Do you really know what you're asking? The costumes the women in the harem wore are skimpy, transparent things. If anyone were to recognize me I'd be the scandal of Boston!"
"Have you got one?"
She nodded reluctantly.
"No one will recognize you, Glee. They'll think I've hired an actress, or perhaps brought my mistress to the event."
"Oh, so much better!"
"Come now, cuz! I've seen you soaking up disdain and snubs from the Boston misses. Wouldn't you like to give them a good case of vapors?"
She bit her lip. "You know I would."
"Then here's the perfect opportunity." He took her arm and turned to escort her up the hill. "So that's all settled. All you'll need is a good mask. A domino, I think, so as not to distract from your other features."
"How do you know my features will be so commendable?"
"Instinct, cuz." He grinned. "And a certain reliance on the expert opinion of a connoisseur of women." Her eyebrows lifted. "One Sultan of Constantinople, no less."
She slapped his arm and tried not to smile. They were nearly at the top of the rise. "I expect payment up front, Raymond. A favor for a favor."
"We'll take a walk after lunch and you can give me all the tedious details. But for now, just let me bask in the glory of anticipation, dear cuz."
After a luncheon of cold roast beef, fancy cucumber sandwiches and apple tarts, she and Raymond excused themselves to take a walk through the meadow that lay at the bottom of the hill. Esther and Hamilton begged to come along, but a frown from Ulalie halted them long enough for Glee and her cousin to make their escape.
Once they'd lost sight of the party, Glee pulled off her shoes and stockings and ran barefoot through the thick grass. Raymond paused to do the same and soon they were rolling down a gentle slope with childlike abandon, breathless and aching with laughter, they came to a halt facing a gray-blue sky.
"Oh, Lord, Raymond," she said on a sigh, "I haven't had this much fun in years!"
He sat up and took one of her bare feet in his hands, rubbing her cold toes, tickling. His fingers were gentle—those of a man who enjoyed women.
"Erdogan uses oil," she murmured, enjoying her foot massage.
"Oil?"
"Yes. Spiced with myrrh and sometimes sandalwood or rose." Her eyes closed with hedonistic pleasure. "His oil rubs are positively decadent."
Raymond picked up her other foot. "Well, I haven't any oil, cuz. But I could spit on them if you like."
She withdrew her foot abruptly and he laughed at her shocked expression. "Oh! Beast!" she teased, pushing him over and rising to her knees.
Raymond grabbed her ankles and pinned her into the fragrant carpet of green. Her turban was askew and a single, tiny, red-gold wisp escaped to lay on her cheek. He stilled, his gaze intent on her flushed face. "I'm beginning to wish quite fervently that you weren't my cousin," he said wryly.
"But I am, Raymond." She struggled to a sitting position and readjusted her turban and spectacles.
He sat back on his heels and plucked a blade of grass, chewing on it. "Fate, father of luck, shows his perversity again, my dear."
She smiled. "How very like a male."
Raymond's laughter lightened the moment. "Tell me now what you want me to do, cuz. Shall I sail to Constantinople and slay the dragon-lord in his lair? Or perhaps, hurry to Oxford and tell Akmed all the reasons why you can't possibly be his newest plaything?"
Glee shook her head with a grin. "No, none of those, I'm afraid. I've something much more mundane in mind."
"Don't bore me now, Glee! I was just becoming enamored of my role as noble savior."
She laughed, then paused to admire a ladybug on her skirt. "I'm going to California, Raymond."
"Don't tell me you've got gold-fever! I can just picture you now, skirts tucked into the waist of your dress, knee-deep in some rocky little stream, panning your days away, searching for elusive sparkles of precious metals."
"Not exactly what I meant."
He shook his head. "Too bad, you had nice legs."
"Raymond! Will you be serious for a moment?"
A sigh said he didn't really want to talk about her leaving Boston, but his voice was steady when he replied. "All right, cuz. What's in California for Glee Montrose?"
"Papa bought a rancho there a few years ago. He planned to retire to it someday. It's near a town called Monterey, and not very far from San Francisco. I want to go there and complete the book he began in Constantinople." She held up a hand as she saw the beginning of Raymond's protests. "I know it seems a strange thing for a woman to want to live alone, but honestly, Raymond, I've been traveling around the world with Papa since Mama died when I was nine. I don't think I could ever be happy in one place, seeing the same faces year after year."
His dark eyebrows rose and he tugged on his earlobe. "I see. So you plan to continue the gypsy life after you've completed Eric's novel. Traveling hither and yon. No home, no husband, no family. None of the simple comforts those things offer."
"I've yet to meet a man I think I could bear so long, Raymond." She shook her head. "I don't think one exists for me." A small smile turned up her lips at the corners. "But I don't mind. I've had a few years to become use to the idea." It was a lie, and she knew it, deep within.
Glee felt a tug at her heart, at that secret, hidden part of herself that still enjoyed looking beautiful in silks and bangles. The girl she buried beneath over-sized dresses, ugly scarves and dark glasses, ached for a moment to pull out the "princess" trunk of beautiful garments she saved for her most private times and longed to have a kindred spirit to share her joyful loveliness with in equal part with her clever mind. She hurt for someone who would cherish both halves of her, beauty and intellect, and accept the whole of her. But such a man did not exist. Even her father had rejected one part of her, her attractiveness, as other men rejected her mind.
Raymond shook his head, but his eyes pinned her, making her shrink further behind her disguise. He knew her too well. "I think, my dear, that there are some parts of marital life you would enjoy. You do yourself a disservice to deny that part of you which enjoys Erdogan's oil rubs so much."
She blushed and pushed her spectacles up her nose. "You may be right, but that is something I'll just have to live without. A sacrifice I'm willing to make to belong to myself and only myself."
He snorted. "How I wish I could be there when you have to eat those words, dear cuz." Gentle fingers reached out to remove her dark glasses, and his eyes searched hers intently. "You will, you know."
Glee made a moue. "My friend Nilüfer said nearly the exact same thing to me before I left Constantinople." She took her folded spectacles away from Raymond, though she did not replace them. "You are sensualists, both of you. I am not."
Raymond's laughter caused her to stiffen, but he took her hand. "I'm sorry, Glee. But it is just such an absurdity coming from a girl who only minutes ago took off her shoes and stockings just to run her toes through the grass. A girl who admits to the pleasure of a simple massage, whose nose twitches with delight at the scent of late-blooming roses." His knowing look made Glee’s face heat. "You're not fooling me anymore, my girl. I know who you’re hiding from and why."
"You don't know anything," she muttered angrily.
He tilted her chin up and met her glare. "You can run to California, Glee. I'll help you if I can. But you can never hide from yourself. No matter how frightened you are by the very pleasant sensations of silk against your skin; by the shiver of anticipation you feel just before you sink into a hot, soapy bath; by the charged tickle of the length of your hair against your bare back, you cannot escape from the form God gave you. If I wasn't your cousin I'd show you just how perfect that form is, how ripe and magical those sensations can be."
She pulled away and offered her back. "You're embarrassing me," she said, cheeks hot. "And you're wrong."
He sighed. "No, I'm not. But as I cannot prove otherwise to you, I'll do the next best thing: change the subject."
She glanced over her shoulder and saw his grin.
He shrugged. "Missus Harriet Pfeiffer will undoubtedly be grateful for your stubbornness."
Glee turned back toward him and rested her chin on her upraised knees. "The ship captain's widow? I've heard whispers about you and she. Why would she be grateful to me?"
He tugged on his earlobe. "Because this conversation has left me in a deucedly randy way, and she at least can appreciate it."
"Oh, really Raymond! I'm shocked!" She tried to look appalled, really she did. But it was a fight just to keep from laughing at his antics.
"Don't laugh, cuz," he teased. "I'm pitiful."
Chapter 4
The dam burst and Glee rolled with hysterics. She heard him laughing too. When she had regained her composure she sat up and took his hands. "I think you must be my very best friend, Raymond."
"It's an honor, mademoiselle," he said on a smile. "Now tell me how I can help you in this folly of running off to California."
She bit her lip. "The travel arrangements are too complex for me to send Hakki to make. Would you be willing to assist me with them?"
"You want me to book passage on a ship to San Francisco?"
"No, no. I don't want to be traced. Should either Uncle Martin or Abdülmecid choose to look for me, a ship would be too easy. I want to go overland."
He frowned. "Lord, Glee! Do you know how dangerous that is? It takes much longer than a ship and there are Indians and pestilence all along the route." His light brown hair flew as he shook his head. "I really can't condone it. You wouldn't be safe."
"I wouldn't be alone. There are wagon trains, are there not? And I'll be taking Amina, Erdogan and Hakki."
"All your little strays."
"That's not very nice."
He flushed. "Sorry, cuz, but I really don't like this plan. It's already autumn and I'm not sure how late in the year government wagon trains continue to depart."
"Can't you just make the rail arrangements for us to get to Independence, Raymond? The wagon trains leave from St. Joseph, only a few miles from Independence. I just know if I can get there I'll find a way. Surely it's not that late. It's only September 12th."
"And Winter comes to the western prairies in late October, Glee."
She pressed his hands. "Please."
Raymond turned away and rose to his feet, looking down on her, his expression going from doubt to resignation as she watched. "I'll make train reservations, Glee, but on one condition only."
Her smile was bright. "What condition?"
"That you promise not to set out alone if a wagon train cannot be found. You don't know the hazards of the trail, nor would you be able to find your way with any degree of safety. California's a long, long way away."
She rose and hugged him. "I promise, I promise!" Her lips found his cheek. "Oh, Raymond you are the most dear, sweet, wonderful-"
"There you are," Esther's strident voice called.
Glee broke away from Raymond and stood at his side as Esther and Hamilton approached through the grass.
"Up to no good, too!" Esther held up Glee's stockings and shoes. "Wait until I tell Mother, Raymond." Her blue gaze narrowed on Glee. "What have you been doing to my brother, you, you, seductress?"
Glee returned her spectacles to her nose and looked down at Esther with contempt. "If you would pull your mind out of the gutter for a brief moment, Esther, you might learn a thing or two. We've been having a conversation, if you must know." She grabbed her discarded footwear and sat down to put them on.
Esther watched Glee begin to pull a cotton stocking up a very shapely leg and realized, with proper horror, that her heathen cousin would be exposing that smooth limb past the knee. "Oh, you are outrageous!" The dark haired girl turned to Hamilton Cage and pressed her hand over his eyes. "Don't look Hamilton! She's only trying to get to you, too."