Jewel of the East by Victoria Vane

Author:Victoria Vane [Vane, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-01-18T00:00:00+00:00

Give me thy heart, Juliet, give me thy heart!

I have a need of it, an absolute need,

Because my own heart has thus been long dead.

-Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Chapter Ten

SIMON ROLLED OVER with a sleepy moan. Last night had changed everything. They'd made love over and over, filling the air with the exquisite echoes of soft suction, and the sultry sounds of pleasure, until they were both past the point of exhaustion. Yet he'd never wanted it to end. Already throbbing to be inside her again, he reached out blindly to … emptiness.

He opened his eyes to the glare of the noontime sun spilling into the room and an empty place in the bed—Salime was gone. He bolted upright, his pulse racing in panic. Had it all been just a dream? A wild fantasy conjured by his sex-starved brain? The combined musk and jasmine scenting the bed linens confirmed that it had all been very real.

But bloody hell! Where was she?

He leapt naked from the bed to ring the servants’ bell, in his distraction, nearly forgetting to cover himself when Winchester answered the summons. "Madam Salime," Simon began urgently, "do you know where she is?"

"In the hammam, sir. She left instructions not to disturb you."

"Thank God." Simon shut his eyes on a sigh of relief. In the course of three days she'd become as essential to him as air.

"Can I get you anything?" Winchester inquired. "The cook is nigh beside herself with idleness."

Simon's stomach rumbled at the mention of food. Aside from a few pieces of fruit they'd eaten in bed, he couldn't recall his last meal.

"Yes, Winchester. Pray instruct the cook to prepare a great deal of whatever delights Madam Salime likes best."

"As you will, sir." The servant made a curt bow followed by a brisk departure.

Simon didn't bother to dress, but padded barefoot in his banyan back to DeVere's bedchamber and down the private staircase leading to the hammam.

Crossing the threshold through the arched doorway, he was at once struck by the heat and humidity. He then took in the interior of the chamber, covered from floor to domed ceiling in vibrant colored and intricately painted mosaic tiles. A gurgling fountain sat at one end, and a raised marble table commanded the room's center like a throne. It was as if he'd been transported to a Sultan's palace.

"There are three interconnected chambers." Salime stood in the entry to the next room wearing only a robe. She came slowly toward him. He was relieved to see she'd forsaken the veil, at least in private. "This is the sıcaklık," she explained, "a hot room for massage; the next is the warm room for washing, and the last is the soğukluk, the cool room for bathing. Have you been to such baths before, Efendi?"

"One time in my youth I went to a public bagnio called the Turk's Head. It was nothing like this."

Salime shook her head with a smile. "No. It would not be. My Lord DeVere is a wealthy man and most enamored of all things Eastern.

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