A Lesson in Restraint
“Esther. Esther, wake up."
I groaned and rolled over, eyes wincing open to the glare of dawn light cutting through my open curtains. A shadow in front of me moved, and it was Magdalena by my bed, looking equally irritated to be awake.
"Whussit?" I mumbled into my pillow. I'd barely slept the night before, pacing around my small room. Tossing in bed to the sounds of the manor's evening revelry.
"Amon," Magdalena bit out.
I sat up, still not wholly awake, and blinked.
"Sphinxes are morning people," she added with great disgust.
"He's here?" I asked, looking to the door.
Magdalena nodded. "And he brought you this."
It was another garment box, wrapped in thick black paper, waiting for me at the foot of my bed as I stared stupidly back at it.
"He wants you to take breakfast with him."
My stomach was feeling empty. Booker had brought me a tray the night before, but I hadn't made much progress with it, too busy arguing with myself, with Ezra, and with Amon, all in my own head.
"And as soon as I leave you with him, I will be able to return to my own bed," Magdalena snapped.
I laughed, surprising myself. In some respects, Magdalena was like my employer, but in others, she felt more like a peer or a sister even, stern and teasing all at once. I scrambled up and out of my bed covers to unfold the paper from the box. At first, what was inside was unrecognizable to me, although Magdalena made a delighted sound at the sight. There was delicate amber and metallic beading, arranged in a kind of net, and a sheer blue gauze beneath it. It took me a moment of staring before I found the deep V of the collar and realized what I was holding.
The dress inside was a shift, see-through and ornate with the patterned beading, and there were no elaborate buttons, just two thin ties to fasten it at my shoulders.
"Where's the rest of it?" I asked, the embers of my bedroom fire glowing through the dress.
"You don't have to wear it, but that's very traditional for the upper class of ancient Egypt," Magdalena said, running her thumb down a line of beads.
I am here to treat you like a queen. Amon's words echoed in my head, and a defiant voice in my head considered refusing the dress, even going to him in my old clothing from before Rooksgrave, but I'd certainly already done enough to insult my sphinx as it was. He was being generous, and I shouldn't assume it was any less of a sincere gesture than the dress from Dr. Underwood.
"Seems a funny thing to wear to breakfast," I said, but I rested it down on the bed and started to undress.
Magdalena helped me fasten the ties so the dress hung straight, and I was surprised to find that the beaded shell seemed to conform to my own curves, holding the blue gauze fabric in place. There was a slit up to mid-thigh in the beading, allowing my legs easy movement. My nipples were teased by the scratch of the embroidery, and there was no argument that a dress like this belonged in a much warmer climate than Rooksgrave's.
"He's waiting in a private room for you. Let's get you there before you freeze," Magdalena said.
I wanted to wrap up in a blanket, but I was afraid of snagging or tearing the delicate garment, and there was no one out and about in the manor this early in the morning.
Booker studied me with that faint smile of his as I stepped out of my bedroom, but he didn't say a word and it was Magdalena that led the way.
"Why not just take breakfast in my room?" I asked.
"The sun was barely up, darling, I didn't ask questions," Magdalena said as we headed down to the first floor.
Auguste had invited me to a meal for our first meeting too, but I had a feeling this one with Amon would be very different.
He had chosen a small room that overlooked the loch, with large windows and the slowly rising sun spilling in and over the empty table. There was a sideboard with a buffet of foods, but there wasn't a single teacup or spoon on the table, and there was only a single seat at the head of the table. Did sphinxes also not eat? Was he going to feed me like Auguste? Amon was standing at the windows with his back to us, hair shining with a red and orange halo of sunlight glowing like fire in black coals, dark tail swishing against the floor, peeking out from beneath his long jacket.
"Booker will be outside," Magdalena said. "Call his name if you need anything."
I nodded, but my eyes were fixed to Amon's back. He wasn't quite in fashion, some mix of what I suspected was his traditional clothing compromised with the warmer western style necessary in this area. He turned his head just enough for his eyes to find me, and they flared with golden light.
Amon murmured something in an unfamiliar tongue and then added, "Exquisite."
A hand reached out, and fastened by his stare—by the invitation waiting in their depths—I forgot about Magdalena and Booker and even the events of the day before.
"Come here, my star," Amon said, words rough.
The dress whispered around me as I walked, and Amon's eyes trailed over every inch, leaving sparks of heat in their wake. Whatever hesitance I'd sensed between us yesterday was now evaporated. Perhaps I was still half asleep, or perhaps Amon had the ability to hypnotize me with his stare. I moved directly to him as if he were reeling me in. And I knew exactly where the hook was. It was pounding in my core, that pesky arousal I could never resist, begging for touch and attention and making me dewy between my thighs.
Amon's hands clasped around my waist, one smoothing over my hip and down to cup my ass in his grip. He pulled me closer until my breasts were pressed against his chest, stimulated by the beads. My head had to fall back on my neck to meet his dark gaze, and the hooded look he wore shot right down to that begging part of me.
"I'm sorry for my temper yesterday," Amon said, eyes shifting between mine.
"I'm sorry—"