The gown a red-haired woman displayed at the opening of one of the pavilion tents was deep green velvet with wing sleeves and a touch of deft ly done embroidery at the neckline. The corset to go over it was a tapestry of hunter green and gold, the lacing strings strung with copper beads, reminiscent of a medieval world with the elegant touches of the modern-day artisan's mind. "This is lovely. Do you have something for him?" Lyssa nodded at Jacob. The seamstress rummaged through her line of designs, hung up on a line tied between two wooden posts decorated with ribbons and clusters of dried flowers, like miniature versions of maypoles.
She produced a green tunic edged in gold, brown hose and a pair of supple boots. "Beautiful, but no. " When Lyssa shook her head and stepped for- ward, she brushed shoulders with the woman. "Look at his eyes. Those eyes should never be wasted. " "You're quite right, my lady. There appear to be many parts of him that should not be wasted. " "They're not, good woman. I can promise you that. " While Jacob smiled at her relaxed banter with the seamstress, it made him wonder how many of her trips away from home recently had been to visit with Terry and his troupe. To arrange for his birth- day, when she faced many important matters and an uncertain amount of time to accomplish them. Haven't you heard, Jacob? I have a new human servant who is the epitome of efficiency. He handles so many things for me now I scarcely know what to do with my evenings. Watching her going through the selections as if she were just any other woman enjoying her shopping, his heart tightened in his chest. It seemed there was no end to the things she was, the emotions she could pull from him. And that was the answer to his brother's voice in his head. Yes, Gideon. I'll do anything for her. It's beyond what the world calls right and wrong. It's what I must do. It is what it is. "Here. " Lyssa pulled out a tunic in blue, embroidered in silver. When she turned to face him, her green eyes were intent. "I like the green dress very much, but do you have the same in blue, with a cor- set done in blue and silver?
I would wear his colors, after all. " "Of course. I make all of the designs in pairs for that very rea- son. " Fifteen minutes later, with the aid of the curtained partition of the tent and an exchange of money, Jacob had left his bundle of street clothes in the woman's care and gone outside to make room for other browsers while his lady changed. When he felt her emerge, he turned. He swallowed. Though the blue dress had simple lines designed to lie soft ly against the curves of a woman's body, the cinch of the corset enhanced them and lifted her small breasts. She was perfectly at ease in the garb, displaying aristocratic patience as the woman pinned a jeweled scarf on her hair. Whether in jeans, silk or velvet, every inch of her said royalty. A queen. It was her birthright. Only a little while ago his mouth had been pressed against her lips to the point of bruising. She'd parted them, let him plunge into the soft moistness within, penetrate her body the way she could do to his heart with just a look. You don't wear my colors, my lady. I'm wearing yours. When she stepped toward him and lifted a hand to his cheek, he looked away, pressing his jaw into her palm. I've stood with kings who had not a tenth of your bravery, wise men who would be put to shame by your resourcefulness. Priests who would be blinded by the light of your integrity. "Cease, my lady. " He caught her hand. When he squeezed a little harder than he intended, he immediately loosened his grip, trying for a lighter tone. "You'll make me vain and then I'll be no use to you at all. " The way you look in that tunic makes me think of how you look without it. Like when you get out of my pool and water is rolling down your naked body, your nipples drawn up tight, begging for the scratch of my nails . . . Your eyes so fiercely blue . . . " As she took another step closer, her thighs brushed his. She spoke in a whisper now, her lips close. "Would those tight hose bear the strain if I commanded your cock to rise for me? It's making me wet, the desire to take you inside me again.
You know women of this time period didn't wear underwear. " Jacob swore soft ly, though his mouth couldn't help but tug into another smile. Daring to dip a hand beneath the fall of her hair adorned with the jeweled net, he curved his hand around the side of her throat. When he tipped her chin with his thumb, her lips parted, showing him a hint of fang. "Don't worry, Jacob. I have my ways of whittling you down to size if you get too vain. " "You can cut any man's knees out from under him with nothing more than a sweep of your lovely lashes, my lady. I'll argue with you no more. At least for the moment. " She laughed then, and the throaty sound was enough to turn heads. "Just what I expected from my stubborn servant. A condi- tional surrender. Let's go see the games that knights like to play. "
Chapter Eleven
But in the way of women, she took her time about it. The noise of the distant crowd had died off, the increased traffic in the pavil- ion area alerting them that the current tournament was over. A mead seller informed them that the main jousting tournament would be in a half hour. So he wandered hand in hand with his lady, looking over articles of clothing, jewelry, weaponry, goblets. Jacob was watching her consider a set of beaten silver goblets when he heard his name called. Turning, he saw Elijah Ingram coming their way, holding the hand of his six-year-old grandson. "Happy birthday, " Elijah offered as they approached. "Mrs. Went- worth was kind enough to invite us to join in the party tonight. Were you surprised?" "Immensely. " Jacob shook the man's hand. Dressed in jeans and a golf shirt, Ingram looked different. When he drove the limo, he al- ways wore a dark suit and tie, and usually was armed. Even in the more casual clothes, the black man had an authoritative presence that suggested he wasn't to be trifled with. His grandson had no fear, how- ever. He gripped two of the man's fingers in his small hand,his eyes full of Lyssa as she turned from making her selection. "Pretty lady. Princess. "
"Yes, she is, " Mr. Ingram said. "This is Mrs. Wentworth, John. She invited us to the party tonight. What do you say?" "Thank you, " the boy said and then lifted the item he had in the other hand. "They made me a balloon dog. I'm going to take it home and let Whiskers pop it so she'll grow up to be tough. Won't be afraid of no dogs. " "Any dog, " his grandfather corrected. "Whiskers?" Lyssa smiled. "That must be our little grease mon- key. " "Monkey is right. The cat is into everything. " Ingram tried to re- turn the smile, though Jacob noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a wariness to his posture even as he continued, his gaze shifting between Jacob and his Mistress. "Tough I don't know about. If she isn't sleeping in my armpit at night, she screams like there are ghosts in the house. I'd have been happy to drive you tonight, Mrs. Wentworth. And you are looking mighty pretty, " he added, some- what stiffly. She waved a hand. "I'm becoming fond of the motorcycle. " "A regular biker chick, " Jacob agreed. "Before you know it she's going to have the Harley T-shirt and fringed jacket. " The little boy giggled, and she winked at him, squatting down. When Elijah tensed, Jacob abruptly understood the man's reserve. Lyssa caught it as well.