Chapter 11

NICOLETTE

“This isn’t warm at all,” I complained to the woman when she and Pinky showed me the dress they wanted me to wear.

It was a dress alright, but it was too showy for me. The neckline gave a curved window into my cleavage and the slit in the leg went up to my hip. My belly was exposed too, which made me think the dress was for a belly dancer.

But it was exquisitely made and clearly expensive. The fabric felt like chiffon, was purple and red, and had gold trimming along the hems.

“Can I not just have my clothes back?” I wasn’t sure why I even kept trying. They couldn’t understand me, and part of me knew they were only following orders.

Lucien was a king here. Of course they wouldn’t care about what I wanted. So I gave in and let them dress me.

The dress wasn’t tight in any spot and didn’t feel loose either. Looking down, I felt it fit perfectly, but a mirror would have been great. I looked around but couldn’t find one in the tent. ~Don’t women here use mirrors?~

The three women looked at me approvingly, then Pinky approached me, spun me around, and led me to the tent flap, then abruptly shoved me out.

“Hey!” I spun around to scold her, but she wasn’t there. Music and loud chatter caused me to spin back.

Around the bonfire in front of me were three long tables that were less than a foot off the ground. People were sitting next to them on Asian-looking pillows. They were drinking, laughing, and acting carefree—like this was some kind of party.

I wondered if this was only for the king or if it was always like this.

~I could live like this.~ The thought came as fast as it went because then I saw Lucien.

He was sitting in the middle of the middle table, looking like the king he was.

He was wearing what I would describe as old Persian warrior clothes. He was surrounded by pillows, them propping him up on his side like a chaise longue, one arm above his head, one knee bent up while the other leg was straight out, and one hand holding a silver chalice.

He easily took up five places at the table.

The leader of the camp sat to his right, and they were talking and laughing until drums began beating, seemingly to my arrival.

Lucien’s eyes snapped to me and he smiled, but the wickedness on his face made me feel naked again, so I wrapped my arms around my body and slowly walked to his left side.

“You look good,” he said.

“Thanks.” I sat on the wide pillow beside him. “But I’m a bit cold. This dress doesn’t cover much.”

His looked me over again, and a low hum rumbled from deep within his chest. “No need to worry, we can get you warmed up.” He flicked his hand and the music resumed.

“Really, though, can I have my clothes back?”

“No. They are gone. Burned.” He pointed at the fire. “I told you, Nicolette, the Crimean people do not welcome strangers. They do not tolerate outsiders. We must blend in.”

“Well, can I have a more suitable dress to wear during our journey, then? This belly dancer outfit isn’t fit for walking.”

“Yes, tomorrow.” His eyes drifted to my chest, then lower. “But for now, I’d like to enjoy the view.” He gulped the liquid in his chalice but his eyes were still on me.

I scoffed. “Yeah, I bet you would.” I covered my body with a nearby pillow.

He gave me a light chuckle and looked at the servers setting large trays of food onto the tables. “Eat up and enjoy the show, Nicolette.”

“Show? What show?”

Just then, the music changed. I looked to the left as the two sisters came out of the tent dressed in all-black tight-fitting costumes.

They walked to the fireplace and began circling it. The light danced off their exposed bellies, the metallic black feathers at the tops of the masks they wore, and the blades of the curved swords they drew from behind their backs. It was a blade dance. It was fabulous.

Multiple acts followed, some shocking, some emotionally powerful, but all gripping. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, even as I shoved food in my mouth and drank whatever was poured into my cup. I was hypnotized by the performances, and I felt myself loosen up.

I turned to the side so I could lean against Lucien’s pillow wall, and I watched the women’s bodies move in this dancing act. I wished I could move the way they did.

I took a sip and looked down at my full cup. I could have sworn this was nearly empty not one sip ago. My head snapped up and my vision blurred a bit. I was tipsy. They must have been refilling my cup the whole time.

~What good service~. And I shocked myself again that my first thought wasn’t that I had to go home, like it normally was. Instead, I wanted to dance.

The tingling in my stomach needed to be shimmied out of my system, so I joined the other women now dancing around the fire. Three of the women clucked their tongues and stretched out their arms to receive me into their group.

One woman showed me a few simple movements, and I gladly followed her. Before long, I felt like a pro, confident and smiling from ear to ear. The dance was easy, yes, but I felt as if I’d danced like this before.

Standing next to the fire, I shimmied, twirled, gyrated my hips, moved my hands up and down, and tossed my head wildly. I didn’t care who was watching. But was ~he~ watching?

I glanced to see if he was, and our eyes locked. I turned to face him and kept dancing.

His eyes smoldered with desire as he watched me.