Shana Abe Read Free

caution fled. She was offering herself to him and he was powerless to hold back anymore. Nothing could be more right.
    Damon tilted his head and rested his lips against hers. He was uncertain, breathless, and trying desperately not to frighten her. Her lips were softer than he imagined, tasting of some unknown delicious thing that could only be her. It was a potent realization that had him suddenly crushing her closer.
    The kiss deepened, the blood pounded in his head, obscuring all but her. The taste and smell of her overflowed in him, added raw power to the embrace as the fire roared through him.
Solange, Solange, Solange
 …
    Solange helped him, wrapping her arms around hisneck and pressing her body tightly against his. Her firm breasts met his chest, her hair surrounded them both like a shadowed secret. She drew back to take shallow gasps of air, but he was beyond that, kissing her cheeks, the elegant line of her jaw, the tender throat. He heard a moan and realized only distantly that it came from him.
    She responded eagerly, a little clumsy in her inexperience and haste. Her fingers caught in his hair, tugging at him.
    He held her close and tried to show her all the pleasures she could have, but was distracted by the scent of her skin, the salty taste of her cheek beneath his tongue.
    There were tears running down her face. Many, many tears.
    The knowledge left him sick to his stomach. God in heaven, what was happening here? He was an animal, to use her like this.
    He grasped her arms and pulled them free of his neck.
    “Mistress?”
    It was Adara, her maid, entering the chamber with tonight’s dinner gown and bliaut.
    Solange turned swiftly away to face the window, wiping her tears away with the tips of her fingers. “Leave it on the bed, Adara. I will be with you in a moment.”
    Damon felt the woman’s scrutiny. He stood. “I must go. I will see you at supper, Solange.”
    She faced him, still sitting. She said nothing, merely searched his face with her eyes. For the first time, hefelt uncomfortable with her. Her clear, penetrating gaze was unsettling.
    Her lips appeared wet and bruised, glistening. He had to leave now, before he did something to completely humiliate himself.
    “Yes,” she said softly. “I will see you then.” She lowered her gaze, freeing him to walk briskly from the chamber.

    S olange stood in front of the polished glass that reflected her image back to herself in wavy segments. She raised her eyebrows. The wavy Solange did the same, only the eyebrows were the thickness of caterpillars and reached up into the hairline of the reflected girl. She lowered them, and the girl in the mirror resumed her regular warped pattern.
    The glass girl was strangely beautiful to Solange, an image of herself and yet not herself, dressed in an emerald green gown with an embroidered blue and gold bliaut over it. The bliaut hugged her figure, drawing in the gown underneath with girdled ties of gold that looked richly elaborate in the mirror.
    She took a step sideways for balance as Adara tugged on the chained belt hanging low from her waist. The maid worked quickly, her hands as informal as always, but there was something different about her tonight, a suppressed excitement Solange could sense but not articulate.
    Silently she stared at the woman working on closing the links of the belt. Was it odd, she wondered, thatshe had known Adara all her life and yet really knew nothing about her? It wasn’t that she didn’t care to know. Adara had the same aloof attitude that Solange had encountered in all the serfs. It seemed to be a combination of fear and condescension, and for the life of her, Solange couldn’t figure out why.
    “Adara,” she said. “Do you like me?”
    The woman’s hands paused, but she did not look up from her work.
    “Eh? Like? Of course I do, milady.”
    Solange studied the bent head curiously. “If that is so, why do you never smile at me?”
    Adara released the belt. It fell into a