the stables. I wish to choose a mount for my husband so he may depart on the morrow.”
For the sake of her peace of mind, he couldn’t go soon enough.
Dealing with the routine tasks of Serevan restored Juliet’s balance. She and Saleh and the village headman discussed the rebuilding of a long-ruined section of irrigation channels; she selected a horse that would be up to Ross’s weight; she talked to the kitchen about cooking a special dinner for two.
She also spoke with her men as they returned from the earlier foray. The group that had chased the Turkomans had had no success; the raiders had reached the open desert, where their horses were without peer, so her men had given up the pursuit. The search for Ross’s servants had been more successful. On being overtaken, the two had been glad to hear that their employer had survived the accident, and happy to come to a secure Persian fortress rather than risk meeting more Turkomans.
The afternoon sped by, and all too soon Juliet had to begin preparing for dinner. First she went to the women’s hammam to bathe and wash her hair. Then one maid brushed her hair while another fanned it dry.
Back in her rooms, she decided that washing her hair had been a mistake, for it had turned into a fiery, ungovernable mass with a mind of its own. Determined to subdue it, Juliet ruthlessly twisted her locks into her usual knot. Then she caught sight of herself in the long mirror. Wearing a dark Tuareg robe and with her hair skinned back, she was an androgynous figure, stark and unappealing, her eyes too large, the bones of her face too prominent.
Heaven knew that she did not want to attract Ross; not only would that be dangerous, but judging by the way he had looked at her earlier today, quite impossible. Nonetheless, she was woman enough not to want to look like a complete hag. Releasing her hair, she stared sightlessly at a wall hanging as she thought about what she might do to improve her appearance. Certainly she could dress her hair in a softer style around her face, which would draw attention away from her too-strong features. After all, she thought acidly, her flaming tresses could draw attention from almost anything.
What to wear? As Guli Sarahi, she always wore men’s clothing and owned no rich oriental women’s robes. However…
With considerable hesitation Juliet went to the small room behind her bedchamber. There she kept a battered chest that contained the relics of her European life, including two gowns. She had not opened the chest for years, but had been unable to bring herself to throw the contents away.
Even when the garments were new, they had not been fashionable. Shortly after her marriage, Juliet had delivered an impassioned diatribe on the subject of how wretched and painful corsets were, and why didn’t Europeans like women’s real shapes? Ross had assured her that he loved her real shape; then, with breathtaking simplicity, he had suggested that she have her dresses made to fit her uncorseted figure, since her waist was quite slim enough without lacing.
It had not occurred to Juliet to flout convention to such an extent, but she had seized her husband’s suggestion with enthusiasm. Though the dressmaker had been appalled, she had not wanted to lose the custom of Lady Ross Carlisle, so two gowns had been designed and made up, one for day and one for evening. Ross claimed to have liked the results, and Juliet had worn the garments when the two of them were private. She would have had more made if she had not run away. Now they were the only English dresses she owned.
Hesitantly Juliet knelt and unlatched the chest, then lifted the lid. A wave of lavender scent was released into the air and she drew her breath in sharply. She had forgotten that she had packed the clothing in lavender to protect it, and now the sweet tanginess struck her fragile emotions like a blow.
Hands trembling, Juliet folded the tissue back from the blue silk evening gown. The
For the sake of her peace of mind, he couldn’t go soon enough.
Dealing with the routine tasks of Serevan restored Juliet’s balance. She and Saleh and the village headman discussed the rebuilding of a long-ruined section of irrigation channels; she selected a horse that would be up to Ross’s weight; she talked to the kitchen about cooking a special dinner for two.
She also spoke with her men as they returned from the earlier foray. The group that had chased the Turkomans had had no success; the raiders had reached the open desert, where their horses were without peer, so her men had given up the pursuit. The search for Ross’s servants had been more successful. On being overtaken, the two had been glad to hear that their employer had survived the accident, and happy to come to a secure Persian fortress rather than risk meeting more Turkomans.
The afternoon sped by, and all too soon Juliet had to begin preparing for dinner. First she went to the women’s hammam to bathe and wash her hair. Then one maid brushed her hair while another fanned it dry.
Back in her rooms, she decided that washing her hair had been a mistake, for it had turned into a fiery, ungovernable mass with a mind of its own. Determined to subdue it, Juliet ruthlessly twisted her locks into her usual knot. Then she caught sight of herself in the long mirror. Wearing a dark Tuareg robe and with her hair skinned back, she was an androgynous figure, stark and unappealing, her eyes too large, the bones of her face too prominent.
Heaven knew that she did not want to attract Ross; not only would that be dangerous, but judging by the way he had looked at her earlier today, quite impossible. Nonetheless, she was woman enough not to want to look like a complete hag. Releasing her hair, she stared sightlessly at a wall hanging as she thought about what she might do to improve her appearance. Certainly she could dress her hair in a softer style around her face, which would draw attention away from her too-strong features. After all, she thought acidly, her flaming tresses could draw attention from almost anything.
What to wear? As Guli Sarahi, she always wore men’s clothing and owned no rich oriental women’s robes. However…
With considerable hesitation Juliet went to the small room behind her bedchamber. There she kept a battered chest that contained the relics of her European life, including two gowns. She had not opened the chest for years, but had been unable to bring herself to throw the contents away.
Even when the garments were new, they had not been fashionable. Shortly after her marriage, Juliet had delivered an impassioned diatribe on the subject of how wretched and painful corsets were, and why didn’t Europeans like women’s real shapes? Ross had assured her that he loved her real shape; then, with breathtaking simplicity, he had suggested that she have her dresses made to fit her uncorseted figure, since her waist was quite slim enough without lacing.
It had not occurred to Juliet to flout convention to such an extent, but she had seized her husband’s suggestion with enthusiasm. Though the dressmaker had been appalled, she had not wanted to lose the custom of Lady Ross Carlisle, so two gowns had been designed and made up, one for day and one for evening. Ross claimed to have liked the results, and Juliet had worn the garments when the two of them were private. She would have had more made if she had not run away. Now they were the only English dresses she owned.
Hesitantly Juliet knelt and unlatched the chest, then lifted the lid. A wave of lavender scent was released into the air and she drew her breath in sharply. She had forgotten that she had packed the clothing in lavender to protect it, and now the sweet tanginess struck her fragile emotions like a blow.
Hands trembling, Juliet folded the tissue back from the blue silk evening gown. The
Similar Books
