Page 6 of Traveling with Gentlemen
I pursed my lips as Ezra agreed, but leaned into the warmth of his arm around my waist. My gentlemen were protective, and it hadn't gone unnoticed that ever since the events at Rooksgrave, I was not to be left alone. But they took the same caution with each other that they did with me, and it soothed my pride.
Ezra and I wove through the crowd, his hands on my waist and body at my back to avoid bumping into anyone. Most of the monsters were close to human in appearance, just a few unusual eyes and the occasional set of horns or tails. Near the open doorway where Amon waited, an enormous man with six arms passed in front of me and I paused in my steps for a moment, staring at his back and the confusing conglomeration of his sleeves.
"No gawking, remember?" Ezra whispered.
I shut my mouth and shook my head, marching forward toward Amon. "It's not fair, you can gawk all you want and they will barely notice," I said.
Ezra pinched me through my skirts and I arrived in Amon's arms with a squeak of protest. Behind Amon, enormous rolls of jewel-toned fabrics and brilliant white linens leaned against every available space of wall. Booker stood by a parted red curtain and three beautiful young women waited opposite of him, with an armful of garments each.
"I took the liberty of ordering ahead for some clothing for you," Amon said, taking my arm. "The climate here doesn't agree with the English fashions, especially not where it concerns binding women's bodies into boned traps."
Amon and I were perfectly in accord when it came to our opinions on corsets. I stretched up onto my toes and Amon's head dipped, his eyes warm as he met my lips in a soft kiss. He'd booked us into the top story of a beautiful old hotel that catered to monsters and was obviously over the moon about having a sphinx to stay, and he had finally enjoyed the privilege of my taking his arm in public again. Not to mention our very leisurely bath together this morning. His mood was infinitely improved already.
"Thank you, my love," I said, plucking another kiss from his full lips. "Auguste wants your help with the spices."
Amon nodded and glanced over my shoulder at Ezra. "The shopkeeper assures me we have their services exclusively this evening, but would you—"
"I'll guard the gate," Ezra offered easily. "And Book will keep our girl company."
Amon smiled and looked back to me. "Ask for any changes you like. Choose any other fabrics that please you. These were just samples I thought you might enjoy."
Considering the piles in the women's arms looked like a larger collection of clothing than I'd ever owned before in my life, I wasn't sure additions would be necessary, but they would probably make Amon happy.
"I'll do my best to be frivolous," I promised, and Amon shot me a grin before leaving.
I turned to the young women, draped in luscious, rich fabrics that crisscrossed around their bodies, their dark eyes gazing warmly back at me. Behind them, Booker waited with a patient smile.
"Where do we begin?" I asked.
* * *
I twistedin front of the long mirror, smiling at the swishing of fabric between my legs. Pants!! Amon had picked me out a pair of loose, comfortable, wrap linen pants. They feltillicitand also wonderfully airy. All of the garments had. And despite knowing he'd picked out more than I needed, I'd kept my promise of frivolity easily enough.
I traced my finger over the deep collar of the blouse I wore, bending forward and letting my eyes go wide as the shirt gaped and revealed pale flesh. There was a lovely light drape of fabric for me to wrap around my hair and shoulders that would cover the deep collar and make the garment modest again, but I allowed myself to imagine the look in my gentlemen's eyes as I lounged in such an outfit when we were alone.
As if summoned, the curtain rustled, and Booker's face appeared, his eyes immediately drinking me in.
"Pretty," he said.
The colored lantern over my head turned Booker's white marble to a faint rainbow, and I stepped back to make room for him to join me.
"Is there more to try on?" I asked.
He shook his head. "They're sewing now." Which explained the sudden rattle of pedals and wheels and purring sewing machines.
He pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the room. I wasn't the only one whose clothing was transforming. In Cairo, Booker was no longer our butler or valet, and he was currently wearing some of Ezra's spare clothes. He filled the dressing room with his large frame, ducking around the lantern and crowding me close to the wall. "Where are your laces?" he asked.
I grinned and showed him the side of my hip, where the pants tied shut. "It's much simpler than what I wore at the manor."
His thick fingers reached out, toying with the dangling ends at my hip, his ghost-blue eyes flicking up from the fabric to my own gaze. "Flimsy," he said.
My breath hitched and my eyes widened, lips twitching at the corners.
The curtain had fallen shut again behind him. We were alone, although it was hardly private, just the cover of noise from the seamstresses to hide our conversation.
"We're not really alone," I whispered, but I was already arching. Being in public had hardly been an impediment for me in the past, although it felt different here, in this tiny room with the market carrying on outside.
Booker arched a single grey-veined brow. "Stay quiet." And then his fingers tugged gently on the fabric ties, drawing them loose and sending the folds of fabric to fall aside, exposing my right hip to warm air.
