The Surrender of a Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

this fine English wear, the faster you can see the child. It is not so bad.” Laila pointed to her skirts, and the guards stripped them from her with a deft flick of their daggers. “There, you see, I believe that was much faster.”
    Elena kneeled to a hunch, still covering her chest, and untied her shoes as quickly as possible, then pulled them off. She ducked her face as tears swelled. Rolling her stockings down, she chanced a look at Laila. The woman raised one eyebrow at the short chemise and pantalets. After a deep calming breath, Elena stood with every last scrap of dignity she could muster.
    Laila shook her head and held aside the material hanging in the doorway. Elena slipped underneath and hid her rear against the wall, one arm firm across her bosom as she hurried after Laila. The sound of the guards’ slippered feet followed them.
    This was a far worse humiliation than what she’d been subjected to at the slave market. To be paraded around all but naked. It was too much to bear. It made her want to scream her fury. This was a new low. How could she live this new life? What had she been thinking when she’d agreed to such a fate? Was it true that her husband was dead? Or was this some ploy so her husband didn’t have to look out for her welfare?
    “Oh, now, now, little beauty. No need to look forlorn. Come.” Laila pushed her with a gentle, coaxing hand down the length of the hall.
    Elena paid no attention to her surroundings. Her mind was too scattered, imagining every possible course her new life might take. What if she couldn’t live up to the expectations of her owner? Already she balked at the idea of something so simple as a bath. Admittedly, it was the presence of the men that made her uneasy, filling her body with barely tempered rage. She wanted to lash out with clawed hands and rake her nails down their faces. Blind them from her humiliation.
    She was at odds with herself. She’d never felt this kind of anger before. Not even when she was in the slave market. There, fear had drowned the anger that now boiled over in her blood. She closed her eyes for only a moment and took a calming breath.
    Laila stopped when they reached a narrow passageway. The door in front of them was arched at the top in an elegant Turkish-style point. Small green mosaic tiles were inlaid around the stone, giving this part of the palace a less sterile feel with its warm, earthy colors.
    Elena stepped into the room and hit a wall of steam.
    “This is part of the private hamam.” Laila motioned to the clouds of steam rushing out to swallow them both. “There are also public baths, which you will use daily.”
    “Hamam,” Elena repeated, puzzled. She could barely breathe, the air was so thick. How could anyone bathe here? Steam rose all around her, tightening her chest and wetting her skin. Her chemise clung to her, and she felt as though she’d been doused with a boiling bucket of water.
    “This is where I will remove your hair. Then we go to the public bath.”
    A gasp escaped Elena’s lips with the pronouncement. Laila turned to look at her with a skeptical eye. Elena retreated, her shoulder blade hitting the corner of the entrance, stopping her escape.
    “Remove my hair, you can’t possibly mean . . .”
    “You will see.” Laila pushed wooden clogs into her hands without further illumination, nodding toward the swirls of misty air that rose from deep within the room. “These are called nalin . They’re for your feet. You must wear these whenever you are in the bath. The tiles below are hot enough to scald your feet. And it is better than walking in the filth below us and harder for djinn to kidnap you when you are out of their reach.”
    Fitting her feet into the strange contraptions, Elena stood up and made a tentative step forward. They were heavy, maybe so the person wearing them didn’t slip on the wet floor.
    “I will walk slowly. You needn’t worry about falling”—Laila held her arm out in an