Amongst Silk and Spice Read Online Free PDF

wore. It shone in the sun and there were birds printed or sewn onto the material, and her hair flowed unadorned and unrestricted.
    After all this time, crossing the entire world, he'd found her. He wasn't letting her out of his sight, but equally he wasn't going to make his presence known yet either, having no idea how she would react. He also questioned if it truly was her, having known instantly when he saw her, but now that he looked closer, he noticed the woman she had grown into. Her cheeks had slendered and she had grown into her eyes. Her body was also distinctly womanly, as opposed to the last time he'd seen her when she was still very much a child. No, it was definitely her, he confirmed.
    He followed her through the streets until she entered a building through a set of stairs—her domicile, he presumed. It seemed she lived on the upper story where the rooms had large windows and white, flowing curtains. It was a typical Cathayan building with dark wood and white walls, and the rounded green tiles they used.
    If he were higher he could see in. Looking around, he searched for a spot, wondering if it was best to confront her in her house. Knowing the lay of the land was imperative in any campaign, so it would suit his purposes to know the layout of her house.
    Climbing up onto the roof, he could see in through the large open windows. Shutters would keep the chill out at night, but the climate this time of the year was good—a little chilled, but not biting. At least it was cool enough to make the chainmail covering his torso tolerable to wear. It had been uncomfortable in Baghdad and impossible to wear in the desert, even if he felt exposed without it.
    She sat at a desk, writing with a stylus fashioned in brass. The silk of her gown slid around her legs, parting to reveal more than modesty allowed. Her legs were slim and creamy, and surprisingly, unwanted tension filled him. Perhaps it was not surprising as the little witch had grown into a lovely woman and he hadn't been in the company of one, tending his needs, for months.
    But then a man came, a Saracen. Hugo's attention turned to him when he entered the ground level door to her rooms. Hugo watched as the man appeared in the rooms upstairs. For a moment, Hugo considered how he could cross the space and defend her. He refused to accept that he'd come all this way to lose her right in front of his eyes. But she didn't react with fear, he realized—quite the opposite. She was pleased to see the man and came over to kiss him.
    Snorting, Hugo knew it—she was a whore. The idea of her traveling across the world to study the arts of philosophy or whatever seemed too outlandish. Whoredom made much more sense, and the familiarity with this Saracen was beyond doubt. She returned to the desk and the Saracen disrobed. Hugo was about to leave, not wanting to watch further when he noted that the wardrobe the Saracen returned his robes to had others. Hugo paused. This wasn't simply a whore meeting a client—this man lived here.
    Hugo watched as the man sat down on another chair where she was and poured liquid into a brass cup. They spoke and Eloise smiled. The idea struck Hugo that they might be married, but he could not see a band on her finger. Irrespective, the earl would never accept a marriage with a Saracen.
    What was clear was that she no longer was a maid, and he considered what that meant. Perhaps the earl and the king wouldn't want her return if they knew, but he'd traveled over the entire world and he would drag her back so they could make a determination for themselves.
     
    Hugo followed her the next day. She wore red this time, a material so light it caught the wind as she walked. The shawl around her shoulders were so thin he could see her skin. It was the most curious gown he'd seen, but he was not here to deliberate on her fashion.
    Walking up behind her, he noted her long hair, which shone like spun gold. "Eloise," he said and she turned sharply, her mouth