Renee woke many hours later with a mild case of disorientation. Absorbing her surroundings—the silken bedsheets, the pillows piled high around her head—she suddenly remembered everything that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. She was on Caledonia, playing the part of a lianir, sexual chattel. As far as the people here were concerned, she belonged to...
Jack.
Heat flooded her cheeks, followed by shame that quickly boiled over into anger. How dare he take advantage of her so shamelessly—on their very first night in Caledonia! Sure, they could never be assured of privacy and had to play their parts well to keep damaging information from reaching the king, but they had no knowledge of the intimate behaviors between men and women here. Apart from the strange contents of that room, he couldn't know for a fact that his way was the right way.
She threw the covers aside and started to sit up when the implication of her new surroundings hit her. This was not where he'd... "made love" to her earlier. Was this to be her bedroom? Would she share it with him?
Pushing aside the longing inherent in that wayward thought, she wondered if he'd carried her here after she fell asleep in that chamber. She tried to picture him doing it gently—how else could he have kept her from waking—but found the idea too disquieting to analyze further. Jack was her ally on this mission, but she didn't have to like him—or what he did to her body when they were alone.
Dragging a gossamer sheet over her shoulders, she padded over to the window to pull the heavy curtains aside and let the morning come streaming through the latticed window grate. Beautiful patterns of light stretched across her bedroom floor.
Hoping Jack wasn't an early riser, she fumbled through the wardrobe he'd bought her along with the house last evening, searching for something that was at least marginally comfortable. She settled on a mint green set. The nearly transparent bindings of the top wrapped around her back and neck before cupping her breasts to lift them high and round on her chest. She had to work to get her nipples tucked behind the fabric when it would have been easier—and probably the intent of the costume—to leave them showing. The long loincloth of the bottom narrowed right at the point of her clitoris, placing pressure there while the skinny strap went between her ass cheeks before widening again to drape over the gold chain encircling her hips. She felt like sex personified. At least the fabric was soft.
She ducked into the hallway and tried to find a way to the gardens she'd been given a brief view of the night before. She hadn't gone five steps when she heard a low, lazy voice behind her.
"Good morning, Renee."
She froze, unable for the moment to do anything else as her body assailed her with memories of the last time she'd heard his voice. His arm curled around her naked waist and he placed a possessive hand over the softness of her belly. "Did you sleep well?" he murmured in her ear.
"Yes," she said quickly and pulled out of his reach. She was fine as long as he didn't touch her. As long as she could keep from touching him. "And did you?"
"Oh yes," he drawled slowly, his grin stretching wide and white against his tan. Abruptly his expression changed and he started to turn away from her. "We have guests. Bring tea in five minutes."
She watched him go, her tongue tied in knots. Bring tea? Where was she supposed to get tea, when she didn't even know her way to the kitchen?
As if in answer to her question, a plainly garbed man appeared out of no where and bowed before her. "May I be of service?" he said.
"Who are you?"
"I am Gorm, chief of household staff. I will see to you and the Master's needs."
It was then that she remembered the strange position lianirs occupied in the social order—not quite servants, but not masters either.
She followed the man to the kitchens, where he ordered up a small tea kettle and gave her serving towels to go with tray of cups and spoons. When all was ready, he handed her the tray and pointed her back in the direction of the Master's guest rooms.
Renee had never in her life acted as a waitress, so during those many steps from the kitchens to the front rooms, she learned to sway her hips in a smooth, swiveling gait to keep from upsetting the tray. When another invisible man pulled aside the curtain to the receiving chamber, she sailed inside with more aplomb than her Earthbound self could have mustered.
And then she saw the men—all seven of them, richly garbed and seated around Jack at his table. They were all looking at her. Many of them grunted in appreciation, and at that, Jack turned his head and gave her a once over before dismissing her with the back of his hand. "Gentlemen, who would like tea?"
Each held up his hand with a smug eagerness she hated them for, but then she recalled exactly how she was dressed, and she realized she could hardly blame them. More than a little self-conscious about her less than model-perfect figure, she served each of them their tea.
When the last of the teacups were filled, she stepped away from the table and started to make a hasty exit when Jack's voice pulled her back to the ring of men. "Like I said before, you'll have to excuse her. She's new and very poorly trained. Personally, I could care less about those matters, and now that you've seen her, I'm sure you can understand."
