Enchantress by Constance O'Banyon Page A

She hopes the poor woman will be able to teach me to be a lady—but I have my doubts.” She sighed. “Hers is a thankless task.”
    The black man chuckled at the charming little imp. The little beauty was a favorite with everyone with her winsome ways and her compassionate nature, and he was always glad when she could escape the dour governess to pay the harem a visit.
    “You should hurry along, little mistress. Already the women have started dancing.”
    Brittany heard the music coming from the garden room, and she rushed in that direction. When she approached the pavilion, several of the women rushed forward to greet her.
    Brittany was soon dressed in a transparent dancing costume with golden bells on her wrists and ankles that made a tinkling sound with each step she took. While the music played, she joined the other dancers, feeling a prickle ofremorse because her mother would disapprove of both her dancing and the revealing costume she wore.
    But, as the tempo of the music built up, she soon forgot everything but her dancing feet. Her fingers snapped, and her hips swayed to the rhythm of the music. The other dancers paused to watch her perform. Though she did not know it, her movements were seductive and enticing, for she had learned well from the dancers of the harem.
    The women laughed and clapped their hands. The little English miss had a great talent; the shame was that she would never be allowed to use it. Brittany was apart from the harem, and it was rumored that she would soon be sent to England to complete her education.
    Brittany whirled, her flimsy costume making a wide circle about her body, her feet moving faster and faster as the music intensified. With a final whirl, she dipped to the floor in a wide curtsy while the women murmured their approval.
    A stern voice cut through the merriment. “Brittany, come with me at once!”
    Brittany glanced up to see Mrs. Potter glaring at her, hands on hips and eyes snapping with anger.
    “I said come with me at once! This time you have gone too far, and your mother will hear of your doings. You are a hellion, and it is useless to try and instruct you in gentility. Wait until your mother sees you dressed in such a disgusting manner. Then she will do something about you, miss.”
    Brittany received many sympathetic glances from the women as she scooped up her gown and meekly followed the governess, not daring to take the time to change her clothing. For the first time, Brittany felt ashamed of her actions, knowing her mother would be disappointed in her. She wanted to be a dutiful daughter, but she always managed to do the wrong thing.
    As she left the harem, Achmed cast Brittany a sorrowful glance before stepping aside to let them pass. He said, in Turkish, so Mrs. Potter would not understand, “The olddragon found me away from the door and crept inside. I blame myself for your sorrow, little mistress.”
    “It is not your fault,” Brittany assured him in the same language.
    “Stop speaking that heathen language,” Mrs. Potter snapped as she gripped Brittany’s wrist and pulled her across the garden to the palace. To Mrs. Potter, any language that was not Enlgish was heathen.
    The governess’s mouth was set in a severe line of disapproval. As they approached her mother’s quarters, Brittany found herself wishing she had taken the time to change her clothing, for each time she took a step, the golden bells around her ankles jingled, reminding her of her transgression.
    Jillianna was seated before the window where a brilliant light fell across the tapestry on which she was working. Hearing the door open, she glanced up to see Mrs. Potter storming toward her, with Brittany following forlornly.
    Jillianna’s bow creased into a frown when she saw the reason for Mrs. Potter’s outrage. She did not have to be told that Brittany had been to the harem again.
    “My lady, you cannot guess where I found your daughter.”
    Noting Brittany’s dancing costume Jillianna