The Surrender of a Lady by Tiffany Clare

for his view, his hand molded over her leg caressing her up to her hip.
    Did he not feel the tremble of her body? Fear in a woman should repel so gentle a man, not attract further advances.
    “You see, this isn’t so terrible.”
    It was so simple for a man to say such things, but it wasn’t the case for her. She felt sweat trickle under her breasts and roll off her rib cage, the small of her back felt wet and hot against the rug, and even her palms started to perspire in nervousness.
    “I have no protection against a child.” Her words were hissed so low and fast she barely heard them. She bit her lip to stop from saying more.
    Amir only leaned close to her face. “I’m not so cruel as to subject you to more. It is not my goal to frighten you out of your wits, little bird. You are safe from my advances tonight.”
    Those words were said with such conviction that she wanted to believe him, but his hand still caressed her leg. She had no reason to trust him yet—no reason not to. It’d be foolish to balk at his touch.
    “You will have to prepare yourself for me. I assume Harry told you I’d let you spend time with your son and become more acquainted with life here?”
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    His hand fell more firmly on her, lifting the weight of one breast, then the next. His fingers clasped around her nipple, his mouth came close to the taut peak, hot breath fanned out over her skin.
    She shivered in revulsion, itching to shrink away, to put any small distance between them. There was nowhere left to escape. Instead, she grasped the silk of her robe that had fallen to her sides and squeezed it so tight her nails cut into her palm right through the material.
    A moment later a blanket fell over her, and she heard the soft padding of his feet walking away. She curled into herself on the floor, clutching the blanket close. She didn’t want to find her way in the dark to her own room. No strength remained in her body, and she wanted to feel miserable for herself. Was it fair for her to pity the path she’d chosen even if it was just for a moment?
    No, it wasn’t fair to her son.
    She’d agreed to be this man’s slave to protect her son from harm, to save herself from probable death. This was about giving Jonathan the chance to live his life out from under the shadows of his misbegotten father. She would endure whatever her owner doled out. Jonathan was all that mattered. Nothing else.
    She was not so weak as to lose advantage in her predicament. It certainly wasn’t beneath her to take what she could from the arrangement. One thing Amir had proved about his character was that he was generous—perhaps manipulative was a more apt word—when he wanted something. If he was cruel, he would have purchased her and forgotten her son. Yet, he hadn’t.
    Whatever Amir asked of her, she would do, but she would also benefit from it. She’d been a beggar too long under the feeble hand of her husband. Life had dealt her a strange twist of fate. It would be foolish not to take the fullest advantage of her situation.
    Someone tapped her arm. She peeped her head over her shoulder. Maram kneeled next to her, a smile lighting her face.
    “You’ve met Amir.”
    Elena nodded. What was she supposed to say? That he’d been so disgusted by her behavior he’d left? Hardly a way to make peace with these women she was to live with for the rest of her days.
    “You don’t want to sleep in here,” the girl continued, “it gets cool in the evenings. I’ll take you to your room.”
    There was no reason to argue, so she followed the girl out of the main sitting area back to her private quarters. She sat in a dazed state on her divan and said nothing as the girl took the edge of her dress and retied it, knotting it between her breasts.
    “Do you want me to stay in your room, sleep here with you? Amir won’t come back. He is a patient man, more patient than any I’ve ever known.”
    “I’m well enough to sleep alone.” She