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
noon meal for which her employer did not show. Since Kaelin had left the day before
she ate alone—depressed—disappointed the prince had not come to eat with her. Even
Olabishi had not come down to eat for the woman was busy packing her belongings,
getting ready to leave Anubeion later that day. Admitting to herself that she had been
looking forward to eating with the prince, Catherine pushed the food around her plate,
sluggishly eating Holly’s delicious fare, feeling abandoned and unwanted.
Going back to work after her lonely meal, she did not ask the plantation women to
do anything she didn’t help them do. What had first been a stilted, uneasy endeavor
soon became joyful with both the women and their men helpers laughing and talking
openly amongst themselves and with Catherine. Taking time out only to say goodbye to
Olabishi and to walk with the woman to Mr. Beasely’s wagon, the day seemed to pass
by in a blur of excitement. When the sun began to lower and the workers became edgy,
Catherine realized they were anxious to leave Anubeion and she told them to come
back the next day to tackle more rooms.
“And bring me a slice of that pie you were teasing us with, Maria!” Catherine called
out to a large, heavy-busted woman who had been bragging about something she called
key lime pie.
From the stairway landing where he’d been standing for the last fifteen minutes or
so, Khenty watched the plantation folk smiling and conversing easily with Catherine.
He was leaning against the railing, his forearms on the top rail, his fingers threaded
together, observing the way the burgundy-haired woman had taken over the challenge
of his home and was well pleased with her abilities and her calm way of handling the
servants. He could tell the plantation people liked and trusted her and felt comfortable
in her presence.
“Your Grace?”
Khenty frowned at the grating sound of Lord Bahru’s voice and swung his head
toward the man. “What is it, taricheutes?”
Bahru flinched at the tone and at the derogatory way in which the prince said his
title. “I am afraid I woke late in the day and your servant tells me I will have to wait
until supper before I may break my fast. I—”
“The sun is almost set,” Khenty observed, “and you are just now getting up?”
“I worked late,” Bahru said. “Hasani was teaching me the intricacies of the
wrapping and—”
“You will eat when we eat,” Khenty said. “You have waited this long. You can wait
another hour.”
60
Shades of the Wind
Grinding his teeth, Bahru bowed respectfully and went back into his room.
“Pompous ass,” Khenty labeled the man, and pushed away from the railing.
Padding barefoot down the stairs, he walked into the parlor and was amazed at its
transformation.
The drapes were thrown back and a stirring view of the setting sun was framed
behind the mullioned windows. Bright pinks and oranges vied with scarlet reds and
gold to streak the horizon. It was a breathtaking sight and standing at the window
watching this marvel of nature’s beauty was Catherine, her back to the room.
She sensed him even before he came to stand directly behind her, the scent of his
aftershave wafting beneath her nostrils. He was so close she could feel his body heat
and his warm breath fanning the hairs that had escaped her braid at the nape of her
neck.
“It is beautiful, is it not?” he asked in a low, soft voice.
“Very,” she replied, and could feel the acceleration of her heart.
He put his arms to either side of her—his palms on the window frame—pinning her
in. She was
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
noon meal for which her employer did not show. Since Kaelin had left the day before
she ate alone—depressed—disappointed the prince had not come to eat with her. Even
Olabishi had not come down to eat for the woman was busy packing her belongings,
getting ready to leave Anubeion later that day. Admitting to herself that she had been
looking forward to eating with the prince, Catherine pushed the food around her plate,
sluggishly eating Holly’s delicious fare, feeling abandoned and unwanted.
Going back to work after her lonely meal, she did not ask the plantation women to
do anything she didn’t help them do. What had first been a stilted, uneasy endeavor
soon became joyful with both the women and their men helpers laughing and talking
openly amongst themselves and with Catherine. Taking time out only to say goodbye to
Olabishi and to walk with the woman to Mr. Beasely’s wagon, the day seemed to pass
by in a blur of excitement. When the sun began to lower and the workers became edgy,
Catherine realized they were anxious to leave Anubeion and she told them to come
back the next day to tackle more rooms.
“And bring me a slice of that pie you were teasing us with, Maria!” Catherine called
out to a large, heavy-busted woman who had been bragging about something she called
key lime pie.
From the stairway landing where he’d been standing for the last fifteen minutes or
so, Khenty watched the plantation folk smiling and conversing easily with Catherine.
He was leaning against the railing, his forearms on the top rail, his fingers threaded
together, observing the way the burgundy-haired woman had taken over the challenge
of his home and was well pleased with her abilities and her calm way of handling the
servants. He could tell the plantation people liked and trusted her and felt comfortable
in her presence.
“Your Grace?”
Khenty frowned at the grating sound of Lord Bahru’s voice and swung his head
toward the man. “What is it, taricheutes?”
Bahru flinched at the tone and at the derogatory way in which the prince said his
title. “I am afraid I woke late in the day and your servant tells me I will have to wait
until supper before I may break my fast. I—”
“The sun is almost set,” Khenty observed, “and you are just now getting up?”
“I worked late,” Bahru said. “Hasani was teaching me the intricacies of the
wrapping and—”
“You will eat when we eat,” Khenty said. “You have waited this long. You can wait
another hour.”
60
Shades of the Wind
Grinding his teeth, Bahru bowed respectfully and went back into his room.
“Pompous ass,” Khenty labeled the man, and pushed away from the railing.
Padding barefoot down the stairs, he walked into the parlor and was amazed at its
transformation.
The drapes were thrown back and a stirring view of the setting sun was framed
behind the mullioned windows. Bright pinks and oranges vied with scarlet reds and
gold to streak the horizon. It was a breathtaking sight and standing at the window
watching this marvel of nature’s beauty was Catherine, her back to the room.
She sensed him even before he came to stand directly behind her, the scent of his
aftershave wafting beneath her nostrils. He was so close she could feel his body heat
and his warm breath fanning the hairs that had escaped her braid at the nape of her
neck.
“It is beautiful, is it not?” he asked in a low, soft voice.
“Very,” she replied, and could feel the acceleration of her heart.
He put his arms to either side of her—his palms on the window frame—pinning her
in. She was
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