Shades of the Wind (11 page)

surface of the pillowcase. She stared across her bedchamber to the tiny sliver of light

peeking through the drapes, wondering why she felt so lethargic.

She sat up slowly, shielding her eyes, for the light was very bright—far brighter

than normal—and she realized it was much later in the day than she usually arose.

Tossing the covers aside, she started to get out of the bed but felt a momentary

dizziness overtake her and put her fingers to her temple where her blood seemed to be

throbbing hard. The room spun crazily for a moment. She closed her eyes, feeling a

touch of nausea at the vertigo.

The sound of a key turning in the lock barely distracted her from the sick feeling

that had overcome her.

The housekeeper came silently to the bed and slid a hand beneath Catherine’s back

to steady her.

“Drink this,” Nyria said, and thrust a glass under Catherine’s nose.

It seemed to Catherine as though she had no control over whether or not to drink

the liquid. She felt compelled to do so. Surprised by her eagerness to do as she was

ordered, she took the glass from the housekeeper and drank willingly, experiencing a

rather pleasant taste of wild cherries in the lavender-colored brew.

“Lie back until the elixir has had a chance to work,” Nyria advised, ruffling

Catherine’s covers as the young woman did as she was told. Drawing the covers over

her charge, the housekeeper stood primly at the bedside. “How do you feel?”

“I feel strange,” Catherine said, putting a hand to her temple once more.

“That is to be expected,” Nyria replied. “Your long journey to Diabolusia, the food

and water here is different than that to which you are accustomed—such may cause

your system to rebel. You must give your body time to adjust to your new environs.”

Catherine felt chilled and pulled the covers up to her neck yet her flesh seemed

overly warm to her. “Do I have a fever?” she asked. She knew tropical climates could

produce strange maladies.

Nyria pursed her lips but placed a palm to Catherine’s brow. “You are a bit warm.

Perhaps you should remain abed until you feel better.” Walking to the windows, she

pulled the drapes closer together, eliminating the light that shined there.

The thought of lazing in the bed did not appeal to Catherine. She wanted to get at

cleaning the rooms of the house but her stomach rebelled at the thought of standing and

she sank deeper into the covers. “You may be right,” she agreed.

55

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

The housekeeper nodded and turned to go. “When you are ready to break your

fast, the bellpull is there to the side of your bed.”

“Might I bother you for something cool to drink?”

“I will send something up with Jacob,” Nyria said, and continued walking. She

closed the door firmly behind her when she left.

A slight shiver ran through Catherine. Her head hurt and she felt so weak it was all

she could do to lift her hand to her throat where pain seemed to lance along the left

side. She touched a place that appeared very sore. Her fingertips traced over two raised

spots that were very sensitive to the touch. Rubbing at the discomfort there, she once

more felt the nausea and vertigo and lowered her hand, closing her eyes to the feeling.

Had she come down with a tropical disease? she wondered. Had she been stung,

bitten by some insect or creature lurking about the room? The thought of some strange

life form scuttling under the covers made her toss the linens aside.

There was a light knock upon her door and thinking it was Olabishi, she bid her

visitor enter. She was surprised to see Prince Khenty come into her room. “Milady, how

do you feel this morning?” he asked, and came to sit on the bed beside her, taking her

hand in his.

Mortified at his brazenness, Catherine was deeply embarrassed the prince was

there with her as she lay in her nightgown, the covers cast aside, her bare feet and

ankles exposed to his sight. Her face flamed and she ducked her chin into the safety of

her pillow.

“Milady, there is no need for discomfort,” he said. He brought her hand to his lips,

turned the palm upward and placed a light kiss on the heel of her hand. “I have nothing

but great respect for you.”

Catherine felt a tremor run through her. His hand was cool against hers. In the dim

light of the room, his eyes were glowing like golden jewels as he looked down at her

and the long sweep of his lashes as he slowly blinked, caught and held her attention.

“I am a bit woozy,” she told him.

“So Nyria said. I came to you as soon as I heard you were feeling unwell. The elixir

will help. You have a touch of what the locals call calentura. It will pass in an hour or

two.”

“An hour or—?” she gasped.

“Kaelin tells me you are anxious to have the house cleaned and after a cursory

inspection of it this morn, I can understand why,” he interrupted her. “I must tell you I

have been so busy of late that I have allowed things to slide. I have informed Nyria to

call in the plantation women and they will begin giving the place a thorough cleaning

this afternoon.”

“It is so dark in the rooms,” she said, and winced at the remark. She eased her hand

from his. She couldn’t think straight with him touching her.

56

Shades of the Wind

“Yes well, that too will be remedied. Open all the drapes if you are of a mind to,” he

said. “Of necessity, my work is done mostly at night and I tend to sleep through the

daylight hours but hopefully now that you are here to help me with my work, things

can get back to a more manageable schedule.”

She was looking into his handsome face and feeling the effect of it on her womanly

parts. “Thank you, Your—”

“Khenty,” he said firmly.

“Khenty,” she repeated. She felt as though she were falling into his eyes and had to

look away.

He smiled—very slowly—and the warmth of his smile settled deep in her belly

where it stirred her womb and sent a wave of heat between her legs. She squirmed

beneath his sultry look.

“Have a good day, milady,” he said, getting up from the bed. The white of his

kameez was striking against his dark skin and the trousers fit his lean flanks as though

he had been poured into them. As he moved away from her bed, she became aware that

he was barefoot, and for some reason that made heat pool once more in her loins.

And then he was gone—taking the warmth of the morning with him. She was still

staring at the door when Olabishi came to stand at the entrance of her room, her hands

clasped together at her waist.

“How are you?” Catherine signed.

Olabishi replied she was well and to her companion’s query of how she had slept,

the diminutive woman answered she had slept soundly. “May I have a moment of your

time?” Ola signed.

“Yes.”

Coming into Catherine’s room, Ola did not close the door but walked to the bed

and stood there for a moment as though gathering her thoughts.

“Is something wrong?” Catherine asked.

Olabishi lifted her chin. “Lord Bahru is sending me back to Asaraba with Mr.

Beasely,” Ola replied with her hands. “I am to leave later this afternoon.”

“Why?” Catherine asked, her eyes full of concern.

“Lord Bahru says my services are no longer needed and that I am a burden to him.”

Catherine’s mouth tightened. “Well, we’ll see about that!” she promised, and tried

to rise only to find she was still dizzy. She lay back down, flinging out a hand in

frustration. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Olabishi placed a hand to her companion’s forehead and frowned. “You have a

slight fever,” she signed.

“Nyria said the same thing,” Catherine told her. She touched her neck. “I believe

something bit me in the night.”

57

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Olabishi’s eyes widened and she took a step back from the bed. She signed, “I will

seek out the master and—”

“He was here earlier,” Catherine interrupted her. “He says I have a touch of

something or other and that it will pass in a short while.”

Ola nodded then cast her eyes downward. She stood there for a moment then

looked up, her hands moving quickly as she spoke.

“I wish to go home, milady. Please do not speak with Lord Bahru. I do not like it

here.”

Catherine’s brows drew together. “Has someone made you feel this way, Ola?” she

asked.

The small woman shook her head then signed that she wanted to be among her

people in a land she knew. She had performed her duty to Catherine by escorting her to

this land and now she was ready to go back to her people.

Sighing deeply for she had grown very fond of Ola, Catherine assured the woman

she would not interfere if it was Ola’s wish to return to Rysalia. “I will miss you

though,” she added.

Ola’s smile was hesitant then seemed sad. She bowed slightly then turned away.

She quietly left the room, closing the door gently behind her passing.

Feeling a bit better, Catherine tried once more to get up but the room continued to

shift around her and she lay back with an annoyed rush of breath pushing from her

lips. She was staring up at the ceiling when Nyria came back.

“Are you feeling any better?” the housekeeper asked.

“I’m still dizzy,” Catherine complained.

“I have another elixir. The master asks you to drink it very slowly,” Nyria said as

she came to the bed. She slid a hand under Catherine’s neck and helped her to raise

enough to sip the brew.

A very pleasant taste spread over Catherine’s taste buds. Slightly tangy but with a

sweetness she found went down smoothly made her feel warm inside, though it was

cool on her tongue.

“What is that flavor?” she asked as Nyria slid her hand from beneath Catherine’s

head.

“Mango,” Nyria said, “with a touch of lime juice and the master’s magical

powders.” She shrugged. “Don’t ask what kind of powders for I do not know nor

would I ask.”

“It tasted very good.”

“Try to rise now,” Nyria ordered.

Catherine gingerly sat up and was relieved to find her head was no longer

spinning. She was able to swing her legs from the bed and sit on the edge without the

room canting off center. She smiled.

58

Shades of the Wind

“Better?”

“Much better, Nyria,” Catherine agreed.

“Shall I choose something for you to wear today or would you prefer to do so?” The

housekeeper was moving toward the armoire.

“Something lightweight and cool would be nice,” Catherine said. “Something I can

wear to help the women clean.”

Nyria pursed her lips but remained silent as she picked a cotton day dress from

among those hanging in the armoire. She brought it over to the bed then went to

retrieve underwear for Catherine.

“There is fresh water in the basin,” Nyria told her. She nodded toward the screen

that hid the copper tub from view.

Walking slowly and carefully over to the bathing area of the room, Catherine felt

well enough. She relieved herself, pulled off her gown and washed her face, neck and

underarms. Nyria hung the underwear over the screen—as well as the dress—and was

waiting for Catherine when the young woman had finished dressing.

“The master may be able to dine with you at the noon meal, but do not be surprised

if he does not appear,” the housekeeper informed her. “I am amazed he is up and about

so early since I am sure he had a late evening yesterday.” She lifted her chin. “Lord

Bahru is still abed.”

Catherine smoothed the front of her dress. “He sleeps in nearly every day, Nyria.

That is his custom.”

“Laziness seems to be his custom,” Nyria complained.

“I suppose it does appear to be that way,” Catherine agreed. “He says he is a night

person.”

Nyria sniffed then stood aside for Catherine to precede her from the room.

“Are the women here already?” she asked for sounds were coming from below.

“They arrived ten minutes ago and I have set them to doing what I thought you

would order done. You may direct them as you see fit. They will remain until an hour

before sunset.”

Catherine glanced at the housekeeper as they reached the stairway. Something odd

lurked in Nyria’s expression and Catherine was loath to go ahead of the woman down

the winding staircase. She leaned against the wall, pretending to adjust her slipper and

Nyria—after a moment’s hesitation and a sniff of disdain—started down the stairs.

There were burly men moving the furniture about in the parlor, young boys rolling

up the carpet to be taken outside to be beaten and cleaned while several women were

busy washing and polishing knickknacks, dusting the paintings and sweeping up

behind the men who were carrying the carpets out. No one seemed willing to touch the

large painting of Prince Khenty and even seemed to be reluctant to look at the imposing

portrait.

59

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Tell them what you wish done and they will do it,” Nyria said. “I must be about

my own duties.”

Before Catherine could reply to the housekeeper, Nyria was gone. “What duties?”

Catherine mumbled to herself. She looked up at the prince’s portrait. “Or shouldn’t I

ask?”

It would turn out to be a long, hot and tiring day for Catherine broken only by the