Chapter Twelve
The feast before the great hunt was the bawdiest affair of the year—a licentious debauchery that might go on for days if Lord Nor so chose.
Just before the hour when the feast began, Nor was with his Lady Casia in his chambers.
“You are my radiant queen,” he declared seeing her enter wearing an immodest dress of crimson silk. The fabric a passing trader had sold to her—the dress, unlike the bulky velvets and brocades, flowed with her womanly form, folds catching inside her legs and even the part of her ass. It felt like pure cream against her skin, like the concoction of oils that Jessamyn had just rubbed into her skin. The sensuous aroma of the slave queen preceded her into the room and her lord drank of that fragrance as he held out his hands to greet her warmly.
“I
