Enslaved (3 page)

A knock came at the door. “And there is your bath, my lady. I will need to you to wash and dress, for the last three days have left you rather…pungent.” He wrinkled his nose. “You smell of coitus and other unpleasantries. And unless you require assistance, which I’m certain any number of the gentlemen on this ship would be happy to provide, you will refresh yourself quickly and without help. For we will be approaching the city within the hour.” His eyes danced with excitement.

Before Jane could respond, he opened the door and three men came in, carrying a large tub half filled with steaming water. As she watched in astonishment—and lust, for it had been some time since she’d bathed—more of the crew came in bearing buckets of warm water.

Each of them looked at her with hot, lascivious eyes, clearly more than ready to assist with any sort of lady’s maid task in order to be alone in the chamber with her. But her captor stood guard at the door until the tub was filled and an elegant emerald and sapphire gown was laid upon the bed.

When she sat mutely on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest, Holt’s face darkened. “You will be ready in three-quarters of an hour…or I will allow the entire crew to take their turns—er—assisting you to prepare. And then, whatever is left of you, I will leave to bake in the sun for two days on the deck where all can see you.”

With that, he left the chamber.

Jane fumed, but she wasn’t a fool. Whoever the Amazonians were, she would at least have a chance to plead her case to them. Once she explained she was a lady of the peerage, surely they would help her return to England. Perhaps they’d even assist her to find Zaren, and
The Racing Gull
.

Amazonians… Hm. The Amazons were legendary female warriors. Could these be descendants of the storied women? If they were, surely if it was a matriarchal society, they’d be even more willing to help someone of their own gender. Especially when they learned she’d been abducted and brought there against her will.

Jane sank into the bath, unable to completely muffle a sigh of pleasure as she submerged in the steaming water. She was feeling slightly more optimistic at what lay ahead. At least she was to remain untouched and kept safe from Holt’s crew, and even he had no designs on her.

All that would be left was to convince the Amazonians to help her return to London…and to pray Zaren had made it safely aboard a ship or to land.

She was nearly ready at the appointed time, garbed in the emerald and sapphire froth—but not without difficulty, for the evening gown was heavy with many layers of crinolines and skirts.

“Allow me, my lady,” said Holt when he opened the door to find her struggling with the buttons. He made quick work of them, then stepped back to examine her appearance.

Jane had no mirror, but she’d braided part of her long hair into a slender plait, and then pinned up the rest of the curls in a loose knot at the back of her head. She could not deny the gown was stunning and highly fashionable. With her green eyes and fire-gold hair, she knew it looked good on her, and her fine appearance would likely give credence to her story of abduction. The bodice cut straight across her chest, leaving arms and shoulders bare, then molded to her breasts and waist like a pair of greedy hands. Lace and flounces decorated the skirt in tiers, and dragged across the floor in a short train when she took Holt’s arm to follow him out of the chamber. He had also seen fit to provide flimsy silk slippers and a lacy green wrap to cover her bare shoulders. However, she was given no jewels.

“Perfect,” Holt said, looking at her with a cool, objective eye. Not a hint of lust or desire in his face, but something more like satisfaction. He made no other comment as he escorted her from the ship’s hold up and out onto the deck, where his crew watched avidly. Jane shuddered, glad she’d escaped the fate of their dirty hands and lascivious mouths on her…and held her head high as they disembarked the ship.

The City of the Amazonians was white, and it sparkled in the sunlight as if coated by silver. Jane saw many domed roofs of various heights, most of which were decorated by white and blue flags. In the center was the largest and most ornate building—presumably where the ruler lived—and it was a beautifully symmetrical collection of tall, slender domes. The entire city was barricaded by a seemingly impenetrable wall made of white marble, and as she and Holt approached, along with a contingent of his own men, they were met by four tall, powerful guards at a massive gate.

“Identify yourself and your purpose,” demanded one of the helmeted guards, holding—but not brandishing—a long, curved sword. It wasn’t until the guard spoke that Jane realized it was a woman…a tall, muscular woman who stood larger than most men. Like her companions, she was wearing black leather breeches and a matching vest over muscled arms and legs. Long boots reached over her knees, and her armor was of hammered silver. Her shoulders were broader than that of Jane’s captor.

Holt released Jane’s arm and stepped forward. “I am Captain Bradley Holt, at your service. I’ve come to discuss a trade agreement with High Chief Zenovia.” For a moment, Jane considered the option of bolting forward right then and asking for the guards to give her sanctuary from her abductor.

“And what makes you believe the high chief would deign to see you?”

“We bring gifts, of course,” replied Holt, gesturing to the chest two of his men carried between them. “Gems and jewels…as well as a special adornment from my native England…all carefully chosen to appeal to the high chief. Please be assured, I offer a most lucrative proposal in return for an audience.”

The guards conferred, then it appeared as if some sort of messenger was sent off into the depths of the city walls. Jane thought once again about asking for help, but Holt returned to her side and took her arm firmly.

“Remember my promise, dear lady,” he murmured. “Behave yourself and act appropriately, or you will be a welcome feast for my crew. And then for the sun and wind and rain.” He smiled down at her with something like affection.

She lifted her chin haughtily and turned away. Bastard. The moment she had an opportunity to speak to the high chief, she would explain the situation. It was obvious the Amazonians were not particularly welcome to strangers. Surely that would be a point in her favor.

“The high chief will see you.”

Holt’s excitement was palpable as he took Jane’s arm firmly. They followed the messenger into the city, walking on a white stone pathway. Everything inside the walls was just as clean and white and sparkling as it had appeared from her view on the ship.

The only color was that of green grass and leaves, along with the occasional brown trunk of a tree—and even those hues seemed subdued. All other vegetation was white flowers or silvery leaves. The bricks were white. The lampposts were white. Even the clothing of the few people (all women) they passed—which seemed to be a sort of livery—was spotless white, down to the shoes.

Jane didn’t realize until this moment that Holt and his men were dressed all in black and white, and she was the only spot of color in their entourage.

Indeed, as they made their way toward another gate that led into the palace, she felt countless pairs of eyes watching them…watching her. And when they crossed over a small moat that surrounded the castle, she caught a glimpse of herself in the company of all the black and white: a beacon of sapphire, emerald, and fire. Intense and bold.

Her palms became damp as they were led into the palace. Double doors, guarded by more female sentries (these not quite as large and hulking as the others, but still taller and more muscular by far than Jane), were flung open…and there in front of them spread a circular room.

Holt strode forward, leaving Jane to follow behind the two men carrying the chest of jewels. She hesitated, but was prodded forward by Holt’s other men, who were positioned behind. The female guards looked at her with cold interest as she stepped into the chamber.

Vast. Tall, open, and opulent. The décor was silver and white with an occasional—very occasional—glittering aquamarine accent. Light poured in from windows set around the base of a domed ceiling that rose high above a dais, on which there sat a silver throne.

Next to the throne was a much smaller chair—unoccupied—and arranged on the circular stairs leading to the dais were several guards, ladies in waiting, and other servants. As far as Jane could tell, every one was female. They stood such that they could see both the throne and the chamber at large. Silvery trees and palm fronds ruffled lightly from some unknown breeze. An unfamiliar scent hung in the air—something sweet and lush and heady. It seemed to be wafting from a trio of shallow bowls on three-legged stands.

On the throne sat a woman.

She was tall and solid, and her toned, muscular arms were bared by a black, toga-like gown. She wore a silver band around her upper arm, and another silver one across her forehead like a low-riding tiara. The band was a crown, and it kept her thick, moonbeam hair from tumbling into her face. Instead, waves of it fell over her shoulders. Even from across the chamber, Jane could see intelligence in the woman’s dark eyes. Yet the expression in her attractive face was one of boredom and distaste as Holt came forward and made a very low, obeisant bow.

“Captain Holt. You again. Why on earth would you believe I will consider a trade agreement with you when I have already indicated my disinterest in such an arrangement?” The woman—presumably the high chief—had a voice that filled the room with its volume and confidence. In fact, every element of the woman exuded power.

Jane’s sliver of hope grew into something larger. This was someone who was no victim, no subservient female.

Holt rose from his bow. “But this time, your grace, madame High Chief Zenovia, I have brought you gifts. I was remiss in not doing so during my last visit—”

“Gifts? What on
earth
would I have need of from you, you puny, weak Englishman? I have all I would ever need here in my beloved city. I have no interest in anything from you, and the only reason I allowed you audience was to make
certain
you would not darken my court ever again.” She turned and gestured languidly to a group of six female guards who stood at the ready. “Take him. And all of his
men
and put them to work until we determine which of them might be put to other use.”

This was Jane’s opportunity. She rushed forward far enough to be seen, then fell into a deep curtsy in front of the throne as several guards lunged toward her, pikes and swords at the ready. She did not cower, nor did she rise from her curtsy. “Madame. Your grace. I beg sanctuary and assistance from you and your people,” she announced loudly enough to be heard from her near-prostrate pose.

There was silence for a moment, and at last, “Rise, then, woman, and explain yourself.”

Jane did as she was bid, and the guards fell away, ordered by some unseen command. After a brief glance at the woman on the throne, she kept her eyes slightly averted—neither too bold nor too subservient—and said, “Thank you, your grace, Madam Zenovia. I—”

“Gifts! Do you now see what I have brought you?” Holt cried out, struggling in the grip of the guards. “You cannot imprison me when I bring you such jewels! Such a treasure! How dare—”

His voice was choked off, and though the brutal sound of it made the hair at the back of Jane’s neck lift, she did not deign to turn and see just what had been done to Holt. Instead, she looked up again at Zenovia, only to find the woman’s attention fixed on her.

“Speak, then, woman.”

“Of course. I request safety and assistance from you, for that man seized me from the ship on which I was traveling and made me his prisoner. He brought me here against my will, and I beg of you to assist me in returning to my country of England…and to find my husband, who was thrown overboard during the attack. My husband is the Viscount Hampstead, a very wealthy man in England, and he will compensate you handsomely for any assistance you provide me.” Jane sank into a curtsy once more.

“Rise, then, Lady Hampstead.” Zenovia drummed her fingertips on the arm of her throne. Her dark eyes glittered with interest. “Your husband—he is very wealthy, you say? And a peer of England? Not like that silly, puny fop of a man who thought to
bargain
with me or tempt me with the likes of jewels and gems? Indeed.” She nodded regally. “I shall accept you as my guest for the time being, Lady Hampstead. You shall join me for dinner this evening, at which time we will discuss your predicament and determine the best way to proceed. Alena! See to it that my lady here is made comfortable until we dine.”

A gust of relief swept over Jane as she turned to follow the dark-eyed Alena from the chamber. She released her pent-up breath in a long, slow whoosh.

Everything will be all right. Zaren is alive. He
is.
And you are one step closer to finding him again.

— III—

Jane had the opportunity for a nap
in the chamber that had been assigned to her, with Alena promising to return to help her freshen up before dinner. She found no fault with the chamber, and her optimism grew—for the room was clearly meant for a guest and not a prisoner. It was large, open, and airy, with windows shielded by translucent shades of paper (white, of course), and, amazingly enough, a small square tub with warm
running water
set in the floor of the room.

She was delighted when the promised “freshening up” turned out to be a full bath in the sunken tub. Alena and another maid assisted her, soaping her body and then plastering her face and neck with a mud-like substance. While Jane lay there, allowing the heavy, aromatic mud to dry (such a curious experience), the two women used impersonal hands to spread a very warm goo over her legs, under her arms, and, strangely, around the apex of her thighs. Jane peeked when something firm was pressed into the warm, sticky substance, and saw that it was a strip of fabric. She shrieked, bolting half off the table, when Alena yanked the fabric away, and then the other maid did the same…and they did this over and over until her body was denuded of hair in those areas.