Page 26 of Company of Thieves
“You’re filthy,” Alan said without a comment on my performance.
“Gee, thanks, Mr. Sweaty,” I responded, eyeing his chest. I wanted so badly to touch it, even moist as he was.
“Want a bath?”
“Uh ...” I gave him a wide-eyed look. “By myself, or together?”
He smiled a long, slow smile. “Alas, the bath on theNightwingis not big enough for two. The one back at my camp, however ...”
“I can’t wait that long,” I said, pulling off one of the gauntlets. “I’m a giant ball of sweat, myself, so yes, I’d love a bath.”
To my disappointment, he deposited me in his sister’s cabin .
“Feel free to use whatever you find in the chests,” he told me, moving aside when a small, round tin tub was brought in from his cabin, located next to mine. Almost immediately, men started hauling in buckets of water, steaming hot, no doubt straight from the boilers. “Leila won’t mind.”
“Thank you,” I said, sighing at the sight of the steam rising from the tub as it was filled. While it was true there were times when I greatly missed the conveniences of life in the world I knew so well, I wasn’t about to spurn the offerings that this world had.
“We won’t be back to Tozeur until midmorning, so get some rest if you can,” he added, nodding to the bed.
I dipped my fingers into the two buckets of water set alongside the tub. They were cool, there so I could adjust the water temperature to my desire. When I looked back to the door to tell Alan that I appreciated his thoughtfulness, he was gone. I peered down the hall, but he was nowhere to be seen.
I closed the door and, after a moment’s thought, locked it, quickly peeling off my clothing before sinking with a grateful—and exhausted—sigh into the water.
“The only thing that would feel better on my body is Alan,” I said, leaning back, letting the heat of the water seep into my bones while I thought about everything I wanted to do to him.
SIX
Iwaited until Alan’smen had hauled the tub out before collapsing on the bed. I’d found a second chest that also contained clothing, one that had books in French, English, and a third language that looked like a cross between Persian and Turkish, and which I assumed was the Moghuls’ native Kazakh.
“This smells like ...” I sniffed the long dress I was holding. “Hmm. Frankincense? Carnations? Something spicy. I hope it’s not leftover perfume.” The idea of wearing something that held the scent of its previous wearer was mildly disturbing. “Oh, thank god,” I murmured, pulling from the bottom of the chest two little bags of dried flowers and spices. “Well, that makes the decision much easier.”
My tunic and pants lay draped over a chair, filthy, stained brown, and with a long smear of dried horse slobber where Alan’s Sampson had investigated me. “I am so going to have a talk with Alan about his men throwing away the pack with my clothes just because they didn’t see any value in it ... oh, pretty.”
I wasn’t much for dresses, and especially not the long Victorian skirts the ladies in this world wore, but I pulled out a nice midcalf tunic dress in soft sky blue with intricate beaded embroidery along the collar, sleeves, and hem, complete with a belt that had little bells on it. The dress itself was made in a silky material that flowed over my hand like water. It had slits on the side that went to midthigh, making walking easier. A pair of sandals were too small for me, so I set them aside, and although there were a few undergarments of the knicker class, I hesitated at using them. I had washed my underwear and bra in the bath with me, and they were now hooked over a knob on the opened porthole, hopefully drying in the air as we flew.
“They’d just better dry, because I don’t really want to go commando in this dress.” I set it and its twin in a lovely forest green aside, then replaced the clothing in the chest, all except a pair of navy blue pants, which, when I tried them on, were more leggings than actual pants. They fit my legs snugly, and although they were a bit short in the crotch, they fit well enough that I could use them in an emergency.
