The Pleasure of Your Kiss by Teresa Medeiros Page B

lowered her voice. “Just as you surmised, it is quite impossible for Captain Burke’s arrival to be simply a happy accident of fate.”
    “Aha!” Poppy exclaimed in a stage whisper so loud it could have been heard by a deaf camel. “He has come to rescue us, hasn’t he? I just knew it!” She nervously smoothed her hair and moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “If he succeeds, do you suppose he’ll be expecting one of us to kiss him as a reward? Or perhaps even the both of us?”
    “I’d be more than happy to let you do the honors,” Clarinda assured her even as an image of a much younger Ash lowering his head to gently brush his lips over hers drifted through her mind. She shook her head to clear it. “But until I have a chance to find out exactly what the captain’s plan might be, it’s imperative that we continue on as if nothing has changed. If we arouse suspicion in the sultan or his guard, it could put all of our lives in grave danger.”
    “But Farouk would never lift a hand to you,” Poppy pointed out with a wistful sigh. “He adores you.”
    “He adores me at this specific moment in time. But I can assure you that the affections of men are far more fickle than you could ever imagine. Trust me … I should know. If he finds out I have a fiancé and that my fiancé’s brother is residing under his roof at this very moment, there’s no telling what he would do. He mustn’t suspect we’d even consider running away with Captain Burke until we’re far, far away from this place.”
    Poppy nodded her understanding. “Have no fear. I have always been known for my discretion.”
    As Poppy mimed locking her lips and tossing an imaginary key over her shoulder, Clarinda was reminded of a similar moment at Miss Throckmorton’s when she had trusted Poppy with the news that her monthly courses had arrived for the very first time. By the next afternoon, every girl at the Seminary was pretending to scrub her hands and reenacting the “Out, damn spot!” scene from Macbeth every time Clarinda entered a room.
    It wasn’t that Poppy was deliberately malicious. She just had a tendency to blurt out the first thought that rolled onto her tongue, even if it wasn’t her thought to share.
    “I might as well just lop off my own head and hand it to the sultan,” Clarinda muttered as she gathered her skirts and continued down the corridor.
    “What will become of him after we’re gone?” Poppy asked plaintively, falling into step behind her. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll be lonely?”
    “Lonely? Are you mad? The man has at least a dozen wives and twice that many concubines.”
    “One doesn’t have to be alone to be lonely.” Poppy sounded as if she was speaking from experience. “What if you break his heart?”
    “I can assure you there’s absolutely no danger of that happening. The man may be infatuated with me but it’s not as if he truly loves me. I’m just a shiny new bauble for his collection.”
    Even as she said the words, Clarinda wondered if it was possible for her to trust her own judgment when it came to matters of the heart. There was a time when she would have sworn Ash loved her more than life itself. That he would never leave her and would storm the gates of hell itself to get her back if they should ever be parted.
    A pair of towering eunuchs flanked the tall, ornately carved doors that shielded the harem from the outside world, their massive arms folded over their hairless chests. Clarinda had learned most of their names, but she was particularly fond of Solomon, with his wise, dark eyes and sad smile. Although the giant Ethiopian clearly possessed the strength to crush a grown man’s skull between his palms, he was as gentle as a nursemaid when it came to looking after the women entrusted to his care. He swung open the door for them and nodded to Clarinda as they passed, his well-oiled head gleaming like polished mahogany. Since she had never heard him utter a single word,