The Circassian (closed)

[haremfaery]

((If you had plans for something to happen during all this, just let me know and I'll edit this post.))

Katirah was very confused. The Comte needed her. Why would he send her away? Her blood ran cold as she thought his wounds might be worse than he was letting on.

"As the Comte wishes." She pulled on her pantaloons and her chemise then slipped on her slippers.

She poured wine and handed it to him. "Sit." She commanded. "I will get the effendi."

Katirah left the tent and spoke to the guard outside. "Where might I find the effendi Henri, or the one called William? The Comte wishes one to attend him immediately. And the chirugeon. The Comte is wounded and needs him even more than he needs the others."

The guard was not accustomed to Katirah coming and going but she had never said more than two words to him. "The chirugeon will be in the med tent with the wounded. Henri ((because I don't know his rank)) will be checking the camp and the men. I would look for him yonder. William, I have not seen. They may be together."

"Thank you." Katirah bowed and headed in the direction the guard had indicated. Anyone she encountered she asked about the two men and made clear it was the Comte who wanted at least one of them.

Finally, she found Henri. "Effendi," she bowed. "The Comte has asked for you or one he calls William. He is sorely wounded and would not let me tend him. He needs the chirugeon. Please tell the Comte that I will return once I have helped Samara. Her brother is dead. We will need to prepare the body."

She left Henri and went toward the slave wagons. Samara must be there. She found her draped over her brother's body. Luc, it must me him, was hovering in the background. Katirah knelt by Samara and the girl began wailing again. They held each other and Katirah took up the wail as well for a time. When she thought Samara was back into a semblance of control she said, "We should prepare his body. I have oils and perfumes. We shall bathe him and anoint him. He shall be prepared like a pasha. I know how much he meant to you, as did the Comte. You remember how he bought you both? I will stay with you." She held her friend.

"Fetch some water." She told one of the other slaves.

The two women with the help from two other slaves, prepared the body.

((Hmm, would they be burning the dead? If so then that's what will happen to Samara's brother.))

Katirah did not think Samara should be alone. She spoke quietly to Luc and was happy to know the Comte had given him permission to stay with Samara. He would not have to report for duty until the morning.

"Use my wagon. I will be with the Comte tonight. I am sure she would rather be with you."

The night was very dark and subdued as Katirah walked back to the Comte's tent.

 

[a_libertine]

The redness of his sight slowly gave way to normal vision, the feel for battle, the love of battle if he were truthful, slowly being replaced by the mundane world.

And pain.

His forearm began to ached sharply, and his thigh could no longer support his weight as pain flared like a super nova through him when Marcel tried to stand. An anguished cry escaped Marcel's mouth as he collapsed back onto the furs.

"My lord, are you ok?"

Marcel looked up to see his guard poking his head into the tent. Nodding, "I will make until the witch doctor gets here, he has more important work for now, I think."

His left arm screamed in agony as Marcel tried to pour himself another glass of wine. He lay there panting, trying to suppress the pain in his mind unsuccessfully when Henri walked into the tent. "You do not look so good, Marcel."

"Thanks, Henri, I appreciate your candor," Marcel retorted.

"No, my Comte, you look quite unwell; has the chirurgeon been sent for?"

Marcel worked himself into a sitting position, "I would guess that Katirah hounded him until he agreed to come. But that is not why you are here."

Marcel waved absently at the maps, "You need to split William and some of the mercenaries off to exact retribution from the bandits. They are to kill all of the males, regardless of age, and capture all of the females, again with out regard to age, and bring them back to us."

Henri looked at the Comte, his eyes narrowed and said, "You issued a warning?"

Marcel nodded, "Tonight, that is how I got the spear in the arm."

Henri nodded, "I will let him know. I saw the body of the one that did this to you, he should be easy to track back."

As Henri was backing out of the tent, the chirurgeon arrived and began examining Marcel. After a few minutes and intense pain he clucked thoughtfully and the said in an old raspy voice, "Your injuries are grave, my Comte, but not life threatening."

He pointed at the various spots and said, "Your left arm is broken, your thigh is so badly bruised I can not tell if the bone is broken, or merely bruised so badly that you will wish it were broken. Your other shoulder needs to be re-stitched, your managed to pull them free. You have hundreds of little cuts and bruises from the rocks on the ground, I would gather."

The elderly man stopped long enough for Marcel to look him in the eye, "You must rest several weeks, my Comte, if you wish to recover fully. The arm must be splinted, the leg as well to support it as much as possible."

With a wince, Marcel closed his eyes as the doctor began working on Marcel's various injuries. He heard Katirah come back into the tent and opened his eyes to look at her. "Did you leave Luc with Samara?"

 

[haremfaery]

((In the early 1500s Paracelsus created the tincture laudanum. and Opium for pain goes back 6,000 yrs, so...))

Katirah came into the tent and hissed in a breath seeing the Comte. With most of his clothes off and the blood cleaned from him, he looked even worse than she imagined.

"Yes, my Comte." She said. "Luc said he did not need to report until tomorrow. I told them to use my wagon." She crossed the room quickly and knelt by his side blinking back tears. She looked up at the doctor. "What may i do to help?"

The Comte looked very pale. His face drawn with pain. "Has the Comte
received anything for his pain? Have you given him opium? The Comte must have opium." She insisted. Katirah stroke her forehead.

She would speak to the chirugeon in private and learn the extent of the Comte's injuries. None seemed fatal, at least to her uneducated eyes, but infection could breed. She looked at his splinted leg and arm. Or he could be left a cripple. Those thoughts chilled her. She could not bear it if something happened to the Comte. She took his hand gently in hers and covered it with kisses and tears.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel hissed, "No opium," at the mention of giving him opium for the pain. He had seen the effects of opium and understood that it killed pain. But he also had seen it kill a man's spirit to the point that the man lived only for opium, becoming a sluggard with no reason to exist other than the flowery essence that eased all pain.

"Bring me wine, absinthe, whatever; but no OPIUM!"

Katirah was clutching his hand, crying, showering it with kisses. He tried to caress her with his other arm, but moving brought on such wrenching pain, he decided otherwise.

He sat there for a length of time, listening to Katirah's sobs and throbbing with pain. Someone filled his goblet, Marcel didn't bother to look and see who, and he brought it up to his mouth.

The sweet liquorish of absinthe crossed his lips and seeped down his throat. He opened his eyes and whispered, "Help me get to the furs Katirah, I need to lay down, I am so very weary."

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah was shocked at the Comte's reaction to opium. It would help his pain and let his rest easy. But he was adamant. She did not know the word absinthe.

Katirah collected herself enough to ask the chirugeon, "Absinthe?"

"'Tis a drink made from wormwood." He used the name it was called in her part of the world.

That made Katirah feel somewhat better. The herb was know to help fevers and was a good antiseptic. Healers used it often for many maladies.

"Help me get to the furs Katirah, I need to lay down, I am so very weary."

"Please, help me move the Comte." She asked the chirugeon.

The two of them tried to move the Comte as gently as they could. Each grunt and groan and wince of the Comte's pain tore at Katirah's heart. When they got him settled he was clammy and pale.

She walked the chirugeon to the tent flap and received more instructions on what she should look for in the Comte and how to care for him. "Please find someone and tell them I need Samara. If she is not up to helping me, then I need another servant or slave. I cannot leave him and need someone to help me and to fetch things. And to run for you, if you are needed again."

The chirugeon left and she went back to the Comte. She put a cloth to his forehead. "Do you need more of the...absinthe? What more can I do? And then, you must sleep. I will be at your side all day and all night."

She tried not to fret.

"Sing for me, Katirah." the Comte requested weakly.

That would take both their minds off of his wounds. At least she hoped so. She held the Comte's hand and began a quiet lullaby.

 

[a_libertine]

Her dulcet voice was the last thing Marcel remembered. Sleeping fitfully, he awoke each time he moved his arm or leg, pain ravaging him the Vikings on the English coastline.

Each time he was aware Katirah was near him, off to his right, on the mostly uninjured side of him. By comparison the slash to that shoulder was nothing to the pain from the left side of his body.

As morning broke Marcel sat up and tried standing on his own. Pain seared through him again and he cried out before landing on his ass with a dull thud. The two guards rushed in, and Marcel waved them over.

"Help me up," he commanded.

He glanced at Katirah and saw her wide eyes. "Go get us something to eat, and wine for me to drink."

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah thought she slept nearly as fitfully as the Comte waking nearly every time he did. She gave him more absinthe at one point and thought again that he should have opium.

Katirah had just finished using the chamberpot when she heard the Comte. His curse was louder than the thud she heard. Guards ahd already entered as she came out from the partition.

"The Comte should stay prone. He is too weak, he needs to rest." She said it more for the Comte's sake than the guards.

"As the Comte wishes." She said, "But the Comte must promise to lie back down." She poured more absinthe for him. "See that he drinks this." She told the guards before she left to get breakfast for them.

--

Katirah came back some time later with a light breakfast for the Comte. he would not be happy with it, she was sure. But he should not be eating heavy food. She brought back couscous made with goat's milk and sprinkled with cinnamon. And fruit. And wine.

((And since I don't know if he's up or lying down, I'll stop here.))

 

[a_libertine]

The two guards helped Marcel dress and he was annoyed by it. He didn't mind being dressed, but the fact that two men that smelled worse than he were doing it, pissed him off to no end.

After he was dressed in the loosest clothes he owned, Marcel sat at the table. He was experimentally moving his leg and arm seeing the range of motion and the amount of pain that he could endure.

The fact that he had good range of motion in his leg encouraged him, it wasn't broken, yet it hurt like hell when he put weight on it. Sighing he drained the absinthe while Katirah was gone and tried standing again.

He found that if he kept most of his weight on his right leg and hopped inelegantly he could move around a bit. Even then, his left leg throbbed as if it had a malicious, Welsch heart within it.

He was sitting again when he heard Katirah's step as she entered the tent. He looked at the breakfast as she put it on the table and smiled ruefully, "What your countrymen couldn't finish the job last night, so you asked the cook to do so?"

 

[haremfaery]

"They are bandits, they are not my countrymen." Katirah said feeling a little affronted. "The couscous is very good. The Comte has had it with meat and vegetables before. This is better for breakfast and for one who is sick." She set the tray down. "The Comte should be in bed. I am sure the Effendi can take care of the caravan for a time while the Comte heals."

She poured wine for the two of them. "Do I have to feed the Comte?" Or would he act like a stubborn child? He looked pale and she could tell that he was in pain. "What may I do for my Comte?" She pushed the food closer to him then walked around the tent and picked up a few pillows. She brought them back and set them on the floor then gently raised the Comte's leg and placed it on the pillows.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel ate his food slowly and watched as Katirah flitted about the tent picking up some pillows and placing them under his thigh. Pain shot through him as he lifted his leg allowing the pillows underneath his thigh.

Marcel smiled as she settled into place and said, "Well, eventually, I have to find a way out of the tent and to a horse."

He looked at her dubious look and replied to the unsaid comment, "Be happy I did not go after the bandits that got away."

 

[haremfaery]

"The Comte is not riding a horse until the chirugeon says the Comte is healed enough to do so." Katirah said giving him a stern look. "The Comte was in no condition to follow the bandits. Will the soldiers see that they do not bother us any more?"

She stroked his hand. "I do with the Comte would take some opium tonight. It would help him to sleep. I have the means for the Comte to smoke it." She saw the look on his face again. She got up on her knees so she could stroke his face. "It takes many times before one wishes to live in the land of the lotus. One night will do no harm. I have used opium. I know."

Why was the Comte so stubborn? She hated to see him weak and in pain.

"Eat the couscous." She added.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel eyed Katirah and said, "I forgive your tone, owing to your obvious concern."

He leaned back in the chair and pushed the couscous away, "I will see you tonight."

He sat waiting patiently for Katirah to leave, and once she did, he stood uneasily keeping most of his weight on the uninjured leg. He hopped out of the tent, stopping at the entrance. "Get my horse," Marcel ordered.

By the time the horse arrived, Marcel had the other guard bring the chair out. What followed was a near comedy of errors as he shuffled, hopped, leaned, and ultimately groaned his way on the saddle.

Sweating from the exertion he leaned against the pommel, forcing his mind to suppress the pain from his leg and arm, he straightened, and rode off to get the caravan rolling.

 

[haremfaery]

"The Comte apparently is not in a state of mind to know what is best for him." Katirah retorted. But if he had a little fight in him today, that was a good thing.

"The Comte must eat. And the Comte will ride in my wagon. The chirugeon has said the Comte must rest for many days." She was not willing to back down so easily, but the Comte stared at her in that way he had and finally she left the tent.

Katirah immediately went in search of the Effendi. He was instructing some of the soldiers. She waited patiently until he turned to her.

"You must speak to the Comte. He refused his breakfast this morning and he sent me away. He is supposed to rest in my wagon. I fear he will do something...He is a stubborn man." She added. "And do not tell him I spoke to you, he is already angry with me."

Katirah turned and walked to her wagon. On her way, she thought for certain it was the Comte astride his horse. He would open his wounds again. They would fester and he would get the fever and he would die and what would she do then?

She climbed into her wagon and flopped back on the cushions. She turned to Samara, "The Comte is determined to kill himself. Stubborn, insufferable man!"

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel watched as Henri came toward him. Sighing Marcel rode up to Henri, his thigh bumping against the saddle causing him to wince.

"You know, Comte, riding is probably not a great idea," Henri said.

His eyes narrowed and Marcel said, "The old fool, or Katirah?"

Henri laughed saying, "Why is it not possible that it is an idea of my own?"

"No," Marcel said. "If it had been your idea alone, you would not have given it voice. At least not yet."

Henri nodded in agreement, then said, "Your leg will not with stand that for long."

Marcel said, "So? I then will ride until I can no longer do so."

Henri appeared to prepare something to say when Marcel cut him off, "William is out?"

Henri nodded, "Yes, he will rejoin us later in the day."

Marcel nodded, "Good, now get this caravan on the road."

Henri stood a long moment passed his eyes searching Marcel's before he nodded, "Yes, sire." Spinning on his heels, Henri took off and began getting the caravan ready to leave.

Marcel rode toward the leading edge of the hill they had camped on and spun around facing the caravan. He backed the horse up watching as the caravan begun to finally pull out. "Head down the short cut, Henri."

Henri nodded as he rode by, his eyes lingering on the Comte with some concern. Marcel made no point of ignoring Henri's look but nodded to him companionably.

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah made her way to the chirugeon's wagon after she spoke to the effendi. "The Comte has decided to ride today. he will not listen to me. The man is very stubborn." She pouted a little. "I do not think the Effendi Henri can convince the Comte not to ride. Perhaps you can." She smiled at the older man.

"If a woman as beautiful as you are cannot entice the Comte to ride in a wagon with her for a few days, I doubt there is anything I can say to sway him." The man chuckled. "However, I would not say no to riding in your wagon."

"You must speak to the Conte," Katirah said ignoring the chirugeon's suggestion. "Tell him...tell him he will prevent his leg from healing properly and will never walk properly again." She thought a little more. "No. Tell him... if he does not rest and heal his wounds, it will affect his prowess with women." She nodded to herself. What man would risk that?

The chirugeon chuckled again. "That may work, but only if the Comte believes me."

"Make him believe you! He will rip open his wounds again riding. I cannot believe he was even able to get atop his horse, but the man is more stubborn than a camel." She put her hand on the Chirugeon's arm. "Please. Speak to him. Or... give me a tincture of opium, what do you call it? And I will put it in his wine so he sleeps soundly."

"Hmm. That may be the only way to make the Comte rest, but he was adamant that he wanted nothing stronger than absinthe."

"Who is the chirugeon here? If the Comte takes longer to heal because he is a pig-headed fool, the entire caravan will suffer. If nothing else, make sure you check on him tonight when we stop, if he has not fallen from his horse before then."

Katirah left the man and made her way to her own wagon and climbed inside. Samara was there already. katirah plied her with much wine and they spoke at length about Samara's brother and cried together some more.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel eyed the healer warily as he walked up. "What?" Marcel said in a clipped voice.

"You should rest today, the leg while not fatal, could have some impact on the Comte's virility."

Marcel roared in laughter at the old man, then choked out, "Leave me old fool. I know better than that. That damnable poison Katirah asked me to take last night would cut my balls off long before a bruise on my leg."

The chirurgeon looked indignantly at the Comte, his graveling voice low as he said, "My lord...."

"Stop," Marcel ordered. "Is your diagnosis incorrect?"

"No, my lord."

"Then very little of negative impact will come from riding other than stiffness and soreness. At least not for the leg."

The surgeon opened his mouth to say something and Marcel cut him off again. "Stop, now. Go back to your wagon or beast and send that witch that sent you to me."

 

[haremfaery]

((oh dear. Katirah has done it again, hasn't she?))

The chirugeon made his way to Katirah's wagon to find her playing a quiet game of backgammon with Samara. Although, they didn't look like they were paying much attention to the game.

"Sir?" Katirah said moving to the back of the wagon and poking her head out. She was wearing a simple embroidered caftan without pantaloons.

"The Comte has asked for you."

"He has? Is he ready to come rest in my wagon?" Katirah said expectantly.

"Uh...no." The chirugeon said reluctantly. The Comte requested that I send 'that witch' to him."

"Witch? But..." Katirah frowned. "That stubborn man will not be happy until his wound reopens and festers and he can no longer walk."

She pulled on her shoes. She did not know how far up the line the Comte was riding. "I take it the Comte is angry with me."

"The Comte is a bear in pain, and I am afraid that he has decided to take it out on you."

Katirah sighed. "I only want the Comte to be comfortable and heal faster. Thank you. Please make sure you attend the Comte tonight when we stop unless he calls for you sooner."

"I will. Good luck."

"I shall need it."

Katirah filled a goblet of wine and wound her way through carts and wagons and men on horses to get to the Comte. One soldier offered to take her on his horse, but she declined. She was afraid the Comte would find something in that to stoke his anger further.

She approached him on his good side and put a hand on his shin. She kissed his instep then looked up at him. "The chirugeon told me the Comte wished to see 'the witch.'" She tried to keep her face and voice impassive, but the Comte looked pale and drawn. "I have brought the Comte wine." She lifted the goblet to him.

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel was approaching critical mass when he was slightly diffused by Katirah kissing the instep of his boot. Marcel glowered down at Katirah, shaking his head. "No wine, drinking while riding a horse could be disastrous."

Using his foot he gently turned her face up to see his. "Do you think I wish to ride this beast all day today?"

She started, "Well.."

Marcel shook his head. "No I do not. I would much rather be in a wagon with you, making you scream in pleasure, or better having you make me grunt in the same pleasure."

He waited until her eyes lifted to his, "We each have our roles, mine is to lead, yours is to obey, and to not second guess my decisions. Agreed?"

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah could see the barely suppressed anger in the Comte face. At least she was learning what would calm him. Kissing his boot seemed to help a great deal.

"I think sometimes the Comte is his own worst enemy." Her own face was still full of worry. "I can water the wine and return with it." She offered. "May I bring the Comte anything else?" She could see there would be no dissuading him until he fell from his horse. She did not see how he could last a few more hours in the saddle, let alone the rest of the day.

"A thousand pardon, my Comte, I did not mean to presume. I think only of the Comte's health."

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel looked down at Katirah's head, and said softly, "My health is secondary to the accomplishment of the mission, which is delivering you to the Marquis."

He felt her tense, then said, "What happens there, will happen, and I, with Henri's help, will manipulate the situation as best we can. But worrying about it is needless, that is in the far future."

He reached down with the better of his two arms and pulled her, with a squeal, onto the back of his saddle. "I will deliver you to your wagon."

 

[haremfaery]

"And how will the Comte complete his mission if the Comte is dead of a fever, or must have his leg amputated?" Katirah said after she composed herself. She did not want to think of the Marquis at all. Not until she was brought before him. Even then, she would not accept the possibility that she would have to leave the Comte to go with the Marquis.

Katirah squealed when the Comte lifted her to his horse. She thought her dress may have ripped. She did not put on her pantaloons that morning. The leather of the saddle was uncomfortable. "It is not necessary..." Katirah began. "Unless the Comte will join me for some food?" She wheedled. She put her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his back.

"I do not think I am properly dressed for riding. How can a man ride all day in the best of times? Does it not chafe one's...nethers?"

 

[a_libertine]

Marcel rode back to Katirah's wagon, pulling along side it so she could climb into it easily. "No, I shall not be eating with you this morning, and short of passing out, or dying in the saddle, nor shall I ride in your wagon."

He turned the horse about to ride off, then turned back to her, "I can see that I have been too lenient on you; your willfulness is unmitigated, and appears unending."

His eyes caught hers up in his penetrating stare and he said, "Tonight, we will begin working on teaching you how to obey."

Using only his uninjured leg, Marcel flicked his heel into the horse's flank urging it forward and rode to the front of the wagon train.

The caravan at long last began its lurching progress forward for the day. Marcel sat on his horse watching each wagon and nodding at the driver's saying encouraging words to each. As the last wagon went by, Marcel urged his horse forward riding toward the middle of the line where the wagon that carried his goods was at. Pulling along the left side, he worked his left leg over the saddle until he was standing on the right stirrup.

"Stop a minute," he urged the driver who complied quickly.

A couple minutes later, with the driver's help, Marcel was sitting in the wagon as they started forward again.

 

[haremfaery]

Katirah was angry and hurt. She had only the best intentions for the Comte. She wanted him to heal and be comfortable and safe and now she would be punished for it.

"Did you hear that?" She said to Samara as she flopped back on a cushion. "I am only trying to help. The Comte could take a fever, or his wounds could fester. He refuses to rest an he calls me willful." She pouted. "The Comte said he would teach me to obey... Do you think he means to beat me? I pleaded with him never to send me away from him again. I even said he should beat me if I displease him... That was probably a mistake."

"Yes, probably," Samara said. She poured some wine for the two of them.

"Help me to decide what to wear when I see the Comte tonight. You must help me bathe. But first run to the merchant who has been providing the Comte's dinner," She pulled off a thin gold bracelet. "Tell him to fix something that is easy on the stomach, but with meat. Not too spicy. Something that will make a man happy."

Samara left. Katirah opened the only trunk she had access to and went through it. She picked through it pulling out a few things.

When Samara returned, Katirah held up a lushly embroidered chemise. "Should I dress for arousal? Or more demure?"

"The Comte is wounded, you do not wish to frustrate him."

Katirah thought about that. "I think you are right." She picked through more things and found something more sedate in a celadon green. It was a good color for her. It enhanced her eyes, her hair and her skin. "This one then?" She pulled out matching pantaloons with thin stripes of other colors.

The two went off to get water to bathe. The caravan moved slowly enough sometimes Katirah thought they might never reach France. Had it taken the Comte as long to get to Tbilisi?

Katirah noticed that the men around her wagon had increased. Word of her bath must have gotten around. She debated just how tightly she should tie the flap to the entrance. The Comte had not seemed to mind before. he had been amused. But she could not risk it. Not knowingly.

---

Katirah dressed and applied her makeup with care. Kohl around her eyes, carmine on her lips. She went ot the merchant for the Comte's food and walked to his tent with a knot in her stomach.

The Comte was sitting at his table looking a a ledger with his bad leg propped up. Katirah entered and put the tajine down. She stepped to the corner of the tent and began to disrobe. She was the one who had promised to always be naked in his tent. She poured wine for the Comte and set to the table. She stood in front of him waiting for whatever the Comte was going to do.

 

[a_libertine]

It had been a long arduous day. Riding in the wagon was little better than riding a horse. The jostling from the road sending mini earthquakes of pain through his body.

William came back about an hour before the normal stop time. His armor coated with blood.

"We found their main camp, Comte. There were fifteen more men, who we dispatched."

Marcel looked at him and nodded, "Good job, William. Go rest, you have earned it."

William nodded, "Thank you, Comte. In case you wanted to know, we added ten women of age, and five girls, not of age, to your holdings."

"Turn them over to the slave master to disposition as he sees fit."

William rode off, leaving Marcel to his thoughts and pain.

When the caravan finally stopped for the day, Marcel labored his way off the wagon and walked around the camp while his tent was being erected.

He settled into place, adding the new slaves to his ledger of assets when Katirah stepped in and disrobed. He watched her, admiring the physical beauty she had.

She came forward bringing the dinner, placing it on the table.

"You must mind when I say something Katirah. I do not decide things lightly, and I dislike repeating myself."

He looked up at her, "Because you do not like a decision is no reason to try and work around that decision, sending Henri and the old fool to me to change my mind doesn't help."

 

[haremfaery]

The Comte did not seem angry with her. That was a good sign. Perhaps after food and some wine, he would feel even better and she would not have to worry about any punishment he had planned for her. He looked pale and drawn to her still.

"A thousand pardons, Sir," Katirah began. "but in this instance, I did not think the Comte was in a frame of mind to make the best decisions for himself. The Comte's injuries are not to be taken lightly...I think only of the Comte's comfort and well being." She looked down at her toes and the carpet she stood on.

"I will not do this again. I am sorry."