When Demons Walk by Patricia Briggs Page A

with an underdress. The silk stopped just below the peak of her breasts, offering a tantalizing view of their undersides as she moved. It managed to push her breasts in such a manner as to make her look far more endowed than she was. Material draped from the sides gracefully, exposing her navel before gathering together at her hips.
    It wasn’t as if the dress were indecent by Southwood standards. Away from the cool ocean air of Landsend, one of the traditional styles of dress was an embroidered bodice and skirt that left the midriff bare. It was the contrast of the modest style and color of the dress with the bare skin that made the dress shocking.
    When the maid was finished with her hair, Shamera applied her own cosmetics, shading her eyelids with grey powder and staining her lips red. Face powder was something that she’d never been able to abide for long periodsof time, so she left it off. Finished with her toilet, Sham drifted gracefully to the inner door, ignoring the one leading to the hall.
    â€œMy Lord?” she said softly, cracking the door open so the Reeve would hear her address.
    â€œEnter.”
    She ducked daintily under the heavy material and advanced into the room. Kerim was talking with several noblemen. As Shamera sauntered across the soft carpeting, conversation ground to a halt.
    â€œLady.”
    Shamera looked behind her to see the maid ducking through the door. In her hands were a pair of satin slippers that matched the blue dress.
    â€œHow silly of me, to forget my slippers. Thank you.” She took the shoes and slipped them on.
    â€œGood morning, Lady.” There was amusement in the Reeve’s voice. “I will be only a few moments, then we can break our fast.”
    â€œThank you, Kerim . . . My Lord.”
    Shamera approached him and kissed him on the cheek before sinking to the floor beside him, and gazing up at his face. A slight flush rose on his cheekbone. She wasn’t sure whether it was suppressed amusement, embarrassment, or something else. The silence echoed in the room for an uncomfortably long time before one of the men began speaking. When the others left the room at last, Shamera was thankful that none of them looked back to see Kerim dissolve into laughter.
    â€œThat dress  . . .” he gasped when he could.
    She widened her eyes at him in mock innocence. “Whatever do you mean? Is there something wrong?”
    He was still laughing too hard to make speech easy. “Did you see Corad’s face when you came into the room? He’s a Kerlaner. They keep their women confined to their houses and veiled. I thought that his eyes were going to join his feet on the floor.” He relaxed into his chair, his shoulders still shaking and pointed a finger at her. “And you were no help at all, Mistress Adoration. Every time Ilooked away from Corad’s sweating face, I had to look at you.”
    â€œSelf-control—” Shamera smirked, “—is good for you.”

FIVE
    â€œI t might be more circumspect to wait until the next evening session,” he explained as he led her rapidly through the corridors, “but then there will be so many people that you can’t hear yourself think. Besides I wouldn’t want to waste the effect of that dress.”
    Sham didn’t have to look at him to know that he was smiling. “I hope you’ll remember how much you like it when you get the dressmaker’s bill.”
    He laughed. “Usually there’s some form of entertainment at the court—music for dancing, a minstrel, or something.” He paused, and his chair slowed briefly as he cast her a wicked glance. “I was told there was a magic act this afternoon.”
    â€œI’ll look forward to it,” replied Sham dryly, and Kerim laughed again.
    As they neared the public area, the halls widened and became more expensively furbished. Kerim nodded at the footmen who opened a set of