smile as white as snow. Ljubo looked up as well, grinning broadly,
Marguerite went to the door of her room and hurried down to the foyer. Ekhart stood at the crest of the stairs, stiffly at attention. Terse and to the point, he instructed Marguerite to proceed to the drawing room. There, she encountered Lord Donskoy, who sat before the fire, puffing his ivory pipe. The lord's gaze raked over Marguerite, and he smiled approvingly.
Ekhart appeared in the door 'Miss Montarri has arrived,' he announced dully as Jacqueline stepped past. She dropped her cloak into Ekhart's hands, exposing her bare white shoulders and her signature green sheath. Ekhart grunted and gave a stiff forward bow, then left the room.
As the usual greetings were exchanged, Yelena arrived with a tray, bringing brandy-wine and sweets. Jacqueline peeled off her long biack gloves and melted onto a sofa, curving her body into a sensual S. The mute girl decanted the wine, serving Donskoy first, then Jacqueline and Marguerite.
Jacqueline put her glass to her lips and gently licked the edge, smiling over the rim. 'Marriage must agree with you, Marguerite,' she said, 'You're looking only a little worse for wear.'
Marguerite ignored the jibe. 'What brings you to the keep, Miss Montarri?' she asked sweetly.
'Please, call me Jacqueline. You're not sorry to see me, I hope.'
'Not at all. I am pleased to have the company.'
Donskoy grunted but said nothing. He puffed on his pipe, staring hungrily at his guest.
Marguerite continued, 'Is this a pleasure trip, Jacqueline?'
'After a fashion. It has long been my pleasure to visit Donskoy-didn't you know that? And I always try to mix in a bit of business.'
'A little business, you say?' asked Marguerite. Perhaps Donskoy intended to sell her after all. Her eyes slid from Jacqueline, who gazed at her with sparkling green cat-eyes, to Donskoy, who continued to stare at his emerald-sheathed guest.
'Mm-hmm,' said Jacqueline. 'Nothing extraordinary. It would bore you, I'm sure,'
Marguerite found herself studying Jacqueline's face. Something seemed odd about the woman's appearance- but what? She had noticed nothing amiss when the woman entered the room-there was the same languid bearing, the same tiny pinched waist, the same delicate gesturing of finely boned hands. Jacqueline's face was sly and expressive, just as before. Her tone was a little tighter perhaps, but the phrasing and accent seemed familiar- precisely as Marguerite recalled. Yet something was not quite the same. Granted, Marguerite had seen the woman onty once before, by candlelight, and a month had passed since then. But there was something markedly different about her-about her face in particular.
'You seem changed, Jacqueline.' At once, Marguerite bit her tongue; certainly she could have been more deft.
'I seem changed?' echoed Jacqueline coyly. 'How so? All for the better, I hope.'
'Actually-yes.'
'My goodness, you seem disappointed.'
'No, I mean-well, I do believe you look younger. Yes, younger. If I didn't know better, I'd say I was looking upon the younger sister of the woman I met last month.11
'How utterly sweet of you, Marguerite. And astonishingly keen, I might add, How could you know that I have enjoyed weeks of pampering and relaxation? I do indeed feel like a new woman, but it's pleasing to hear my good fortune is reflected in my appearance, how I am thoroughly refreshed and ready for a new endeavor.'
'A new endeavor?'
'A little excitement. A little business, as I said. But…' She looked toward Donskoy. 'Such affairs are nothing for the likes of your pretty little head. Is that not correct, Milos?'
Donskoy shot her a curious glance. 'You needn't concern yourself with Marguerite's pretty head, if that's what you mean.'
'Of course not. I have no concerns, really-merely the greatest admiration. What a lovely head she has, indeed. . You know, I had almost forgotten just how lovely she is, Milos, just how great your catch. Have you ever pondered the aesthetic possibilities, Milos, the combination-
'Jacqueline!' growled Donskoy. 'Remember yourself, my dear.'
Marguerite shifted uncomfortably at Donskoy's 'My dear.' The sound of it left a bitter taste on her tongue. Lords might have their mistresses, but must they flaunt them? Was this insult to be her punishment for failing to conceive? Or something worse? By the gods, she thought. Could it be? Was Jacqueline a merchant who dealt in discarded wives?
'What kind of endeavors are you planning to undertake?' pressed Marguerite. 'And does it involve me?'
Donskoy and Jacqueline were consumed with mirth. 'Certainly not,' said Donskoy.
'Then what kind of endeavors?'
'Oh,' Jacqueline replied, 'just an excursion with Lord Donskoy's associates, if I can persuade him.' She shifted in the chair; the slit of her green gown parted, revealing a length of smooth thigh.
Donskoy chortled. He rose and walked toward the fire, turning his back to them both. Marguerite caught a glimpse of his upturned lips. This gathering amused him somehow. And why not? Here sat two women whose only apparent role was to entertain him. He was indeed lord and master, his harem complete. Only the swelling of his wife's belly might improve the scene. But that did not appear to be troubling him at the moment. He rubbed his gloved hands before the fire-a habit, perhaps, for they could not be cold. Marguerite wondered what kind of thoughts were at play in his mind.
'Perhaps you can persuade him, Marguerite,' said Jacqueline. 'You see, Milos has largely retired from the life we knew, ever since he came to this castle. But his associates, whose unique talents are utterly wasted of iate, they still long for the road. I know it, for i feel the same urge. Until recently, I could offer little to change things myself, but fortune has turned. And now I could indeed lead them, in Lord Donskoy's name, of course.'
'Lead them into what?' Marguerite asked.
'Why, greatness, danger, the fields of wealth beyond these lands.'
'That's rather vague, don't you think?'
'Perhaps not knowing every detail is part of the thrill,' said Jacqueline.
'We can discuss this later, Jacqueline,' Donskoy said, turning away from the fire. 'Assuming we discuss it at all. At any rate, such things need never concern my wife. Do I make myself clear?'
'Of course,' replied Jacqueline demurely, 'my lord.' She licked her glass and stared directly at Marguerite, taunting. 'Whatever you desire.'
Marguerite's face burned red.
Donskoy did not even look at Marguerite; instead his eyes were sliding up Jacqueline's long white leg.
'Miss Montarri and I have personal matters to discuss, matters with which I do not wish to burden you, Marguerite. I won't be needing your company anymore today. You may go to your room.'
'You don't wish me to come to the salon?' said Marguerite. It astonished her that she wanted it-that she did not relish being replaced. But she feared any rejection might last for more than just one afternoon.
'No,' Donskoy replied. 'I may not require your company tomorrow, either.'
Marguerite rose reluctantly, catching Jacqueline's sly smile.
'Good day, Marguerite,' said Jacqueline.
'Good day, Jacqueline,' she replied, struggling not to sound too sour.
Marguerite turned and left. As she crossed the foyer beyond the sitting room, she heard Donskoy turning the key in the door of his red salon.
FOURTEEN
Jacqueline's laughter trailed away behind the salon's closed door. So, I've been dismissed, Marguerite thought, seething with resentment.
As Donskoy had instructed, she started back toward her chamber. Jacqueline brought out the worst in her; with each step, the prickle of anger at the nape of Marguerite's neck grew hotter. When she reached the door to her chamber, she stopped abruptly. Then she hoisted her skirts and spun on her heet, striding back down the hall to the stairs. She descended quickly, then padded across the foyer toward the drawing room. Trying not to be seen, she peered around the edge of the open door frame. The room beyond remained empty, as she had expected. And the
