“Miss Hampden is extremely fatigued, sir,” Raven said. “We’ve ridden direct from Santander.”
The old soldier flushed. “Of course. Where are my manners? Don’t get many female guests here, you know. Poor child, you must be exhausted. I’ll have one of the men show you to a room and we’ll meet up later for tea, eh? How’s that?”
Heloise sighed. “That sounds wonderful, thank you.”
Scovell turned to Raven. “And you, my boy, can explain why you’re here.”
Chapter 18
A soldier in the green uniform of a rifleman showed Heloise to her room, an enormous chamber off the central courtyard. As the daughter of a viscount she was accustomed to luxury, but she’d never seen anything to rival this.
The furnishings were evocative of another, more elegant age. Every item was of the highest quality, from the exquisite ivory inlaid chest-on-stand to the giltwood, silk-upholstered chairs and the extraordinary four-post bed that looked fit for royalty. Plumes of ostrich feathers adorned each top corner, dyed to the exact claret color as the shot silk drapes. Colored tiles, too many to count, decorated the floor in dizzying geometric patterns.
Heloise bit back a laugh. Compared to last night’s hay barn, anywhere with a feather bed and an intact roof would have seemed like a palace, but here she was, actuallyina palace. From one extreme to the other.
Her satchel had been placed on the end of the bed, so she stripped and washed herself as best she could using the pitcher and bowl set on a marble-topped cupboard. It was a shame she didn’t have time for a bath, but it was still heavenly to be clean again. She combed the tangles from her hair and donned her pale blue dress, glad to be out of those awful breeches. Since she had no other shoes, she put on the accursed leather boots and prayed nobody looked too closely at her feet.
A door opened onto a shared balcony that ran the entire length of the building. Heloise stepped out and gazed over the exquisite gardens that seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance, identifying the purple square petals of a bougainvillea and the tiny star-shaped orange blossom clambering over an arch.
She leaned against the doorjamb and closed her eyes. The scent of jasmine drifted up to her, sultry and exotic, filling her nose and throat. The place reminded her of pictures she’d seen of the great Moorish palace at Granada. She could just imagine the sultan’s harem gliding down these corridors, too, see the shimmer of gossamer veils, hear the swish of satin slippers and giggles swiftly hushed.
She stilled as she heard movement in the room adjacent to her own; the sound of feet and a splash of water. And then the door next to hers opened and Raven stepped out onto the balcony.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt. She almost groaned. He was like some bad genie, always appearing at the most inconvenient times, making her yearn for wishes he had no intention of granting.
He held a clean shirt bunched in his fist and Heloise couldn’t prevent her gaze from sliding over the intriguing ridges of his chest. He was lean and muscular, with broad shoulders that tapered over his ribs to narrow hips and long, long legs. His tawny skin was smooth, except for an intriguing line of hair below his navel that arrowed down and disappeared into the waistband of his breeches.
She swallowed. With great strength of will she dragged her eyes up to his face. His jaw was clean shaven and his hair damp, and his mouth held that annoying half curl at the corners that said he knew exactly what she was thinking. She drew her brows together in a stern, disapproving line. “Put some clothes on, Ravenwood.”
He laughed. The muscles on his stomach tensed in relay as he raised the shirt and pulled it over his head, completely unself-conscious. She stifled a private moan of disappointment. He might be a scoundrel, but there was no denying he was pleasing to the eye.
He treated her to a slow head-to-toe sweep that left her body tingling. “What’s this? Brushed hair? Clean face? A dress? You look almost female.”
She narrowed her eyes and subjected him to the same leisurely inspection. “Why, thank you. You look almost civilized.”
He laughed and offered her his bent arm. “Ready? Or do you need more time to sharpen your tongue?”
—
“Thank you, Private Canning.”
Major Scovell nodded at the young soldier, no older that eighteen or nineteen, who served them tea from a huge silver tray. The china was beautiful, although Heloise couldn’t help noticing that every single piece had a hairline crack or a chip to the rim. She smiled, comforted by the familiar ritual that was afternoon tea, the last bastion of Englishness in an exotic land.
“Thank you.” She smiled graciously and accepted a cup.
The young soldier flushed beet red at the attention. “Welcome, ma’am.”
Raven caught the boy’s eye and the private hastily backed away.
“Do try one of these.” Scovell offered forward a plate of small, silk-wrapped parcels. “It’s a delicacy they bring here from Istanbul. The locals call it lokum, from the Arabic for ‘morsel’ or ‘mouthful.’ ”
“How interesting. The history of words is a particular hobby of mine, you know.” She stole an amused glance at Raven and unwrapped one of the sweets to reveal a pale pink cube covered in a light dusting of white powder. She took an experimental bite and closed her eyes in pleasure at the tooth-aching sweetness that melted on her tongue. It was delicate and exotic, like rosewater mixed with honey.
Unable to resist, she leaned forward and took another. What a sinful, decadent taste. As she licked her fingers to remove the dusting of powdered sugar she became aware of Raven watching her, his eyes fixed on her mouth. Her lips tingled and something seemed to stretch taut between them, like an invisible thread. Her blood warmed. She licked her lip. A muscle ticked in Raven’s jaw.
Scovell broke the moment, unaware of their silent byplay. “Legend has it the sultan requested his artisans provide something that would stop the women in his harem from fighting.” He chuckled. “This was the answer.”
Heloise took a calming sip of tea. “A better solution would have been to stop having a harem,” she countered sternly.