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Lara glared. “I asked you a question,” she said in icy tones. “If my master is in residence I need his advice on a matter that concerns me. I cannot act without his permission, and while I yet live with my father, I need my master’s words to guide me.”

The guard stood straighter now. “Aye, Gaius Prospero is in residence. His wife and daughters departed for the country yesterday, but he remained behind, for his son grew ill and could not travel. I will allow you through, but this woman must remain outside the gates to wait for you.”

“This is the wife of John Swiftsword, but I will tell her to wait. Will you offer her a place to sit, and some water, please?” Lara said.

“The wife of Swiftsword? Then she may wait inside the gates. There is a bench beneath the trees, and I will bring her refreshment myself. Come!” He beckoned them.

Susanna was actually relieved not to have to accompany her stepdaughter. She reassured Lara that she was content to wait for her, and watched as the cart took the girl from her side, and down a smooth path. She thanked the guardsman who presented her with a wooden goblet of sweet watered wine, and sighed with pleasure at the greensward before her. The cart disappeared from her sight.

Like her father, Lara was enchanted by the parkland through which the cart traveled. She had seen it but once before when Susanna had brought her first to Gaius Prospero; how different and wonderful it was in comparison to the Quarter. She recognized the little road they now turned off upon. They were almost there. As her transport pulled up before the magnificent house a servant hurried out to greet it.

“The master is waiting for you,” he said as he helped Lara from the cart.

“How did he know I was coming?” she wondered aloud.

“Faeriepost. The guard sent one from the gate,” the servant explained. “They aren’t like the one who bore you. They are tiny winged creatures, no bigger than a minute. Come this way, Mistress Lara.”

Faeriepost. She had never heard of it before, but then there was much she didn’t know about the world outside of the Quarter. The servant led her directly to Gaius Prospero, who was seated in the courtyard garden outside of his library. With him was a young boy Lara judged to be about eight years old.

The Master of the Merchants Guild looked up, and smiled. His fat hand with its several rings waved her forward. “I am told you would ask my advice,” he said. “That pleases me greatly, Lara, daughter of Swiftsword.”

“I am your possession, my lord,” she replied, but there was no servility in her voice. “I am aware of my place in the scheme of things to come.” Her lime-green eyes met his directly, and then she lowered them politely.

He nodded. The girl had spirit and intelligence. She would one day be a famous Pleasure Woman because he had been clever enough to see her worth, he congratulated himself silently. Then he said, “This is my son, Aubin. He will follow in my footsteps one day. You may speak to him.”

Lara nodded graciously at the boy. “I greet you, young master,” she said.

“She is beautiful,” the boy said to his father as if Lara could not hear him.

“She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” his father told him. “Always seek out the best and the finest merchandise, my son. You will make no profit with the ordinary. Only the unique and the rare will be of benefit to you.” He patted the boy’s head and then turned to Lara. “Now tell me what it is you desire of me, my beauty?”

“First,” she began, “I would ask your permission for my stepmother to educate me in the ways of men and women. I am totally ignorant of such things.”

“Tell her she may explain the basics to you, but no more,” Gaius Prospero replied. “A high-priced virgin should have certain knowledge, but only that she not be frightened by her first experience with passion. A man purchasing a virgin’s first-night rights likes to lead the way. Surprised innocence has a great charm all its own.” He smiled at Lara in almost paternal fashion. “What else?”

“I should like to see my father win at the tourney, but I thought I would need your permission to attend. And if you give it, should you not also give me a gown to wear that this beauty I am told I possess be displayed to your advantage?”

Gaius Prospero chuckled, and the chuckle grew into hearty laughter. The girl was amazing. Despite all her lack of advantages she had incredible instincts. She was a survivor. He pulled a large purple handkerchief from his sleeve, and wiped his eyes with it. He let his mirth subside, and then he said in calmer tones than he had thought himself capable of, “Aye to both your questions, my beauty. You shall go to the tourney, for I promised your father you should see his triumph-and you shall be displayed as the rare piece of merchandise I intend you to be. And I shall send two litters to your home that day. In one, your stepmother and half brother will ride. The other will be for you alone. You will be brought to my private box on the tournament field where all will see you, and many will desire you.” He looked quizzically at her. “You have never seen yourself, your own image, Lara? This is true?”

“I have glimpsed my face in the basin, and the well bucket, but I see nothing out of the ordinary,” she answered him.

“You must see yourself then before you leave us today.” He stood up. “Come!” And he hurried from the garden with Lara and his son following behind. He led them into a gallery that was lined with mirrors on one side, and with windows that overlooked the vast parkland outside. “There, my beauty,” he said triumphantly. “There is your image. The image of perfect beauty!”

Lara stared, not quite certain that what she saw was real. “Truly, my lord? I look upon myself?” The tall and slender image in the glass stared back. It wore a simple sleeveless dark blue gown tied at the waist by a twisted, natural-colored cord. Her graceful neck rose above the gown’s round neckline. Her hair was pale with golden lights. Her lime-green eyes stared at her from a heart-shaped face with a straight little nose and generous lips. Her chin had just the daintiest of clefts in it. Her brows were dark in comparison to her hair, as were her eyelashes. “I see only a girl,” Lara said.

“Remove your gown,” Gaius Prospero said to her quietly.

“But the boy…” she began, and then she stopped. The boy was his father’s heir in all ways. Lara undid the little ties at the shoulder of her gown and let the garment drop to the floor. There was a faint blush to her cheeks.

“You see, Aubin, the perfect breasts. Small yet, but perfect nonetheless. And the way her hips flare gently below her slim waist. Her limbs are most shapely, are they not? And see how full the golden bush so coyly hiding her sex is. Such is an indication of a very passionate nature. Everything is in perfect proportion on this girl. Touch her. The skin is like silk, and utterly flawless.” He ran his hand casually down Lara’s back, over her buttocks, and the boy imitated his motions. “You see, my son. A rare piece of merchandise. Lara, my beauty, do you not have a beautiful body? Do you now understand your value?”

She gazed at herself in the mirror with new eyes. She was beautiful. There wasn’t a mark on her body to detract from her perfection. She wondered why Gaius Prospero wasn’t desirous of her, but then she realized as their eyes met in the glass that her value to him was in her worth as quality merchandise. Nothing more. Profit was in his heart and soul. “Yes” she agreed, “though I have no other with whom to compare.”

“But never allow that knowledge to overcome your common sense, my beauty,” he advised her. He bent down and drew her garment back up, fastening the tabs at the shoulders. Then he touched her face gently. “Lovely,” he murmured almost to himself.

“Thank you, my lord,” Lara said quietly. “May I have your permission to withdraw now, and return to Susanna who awaits me?”

He nodded his assent, calling for a servant to lead her back through the house to where her transport was awaiting her. Lara was a glorious creature, he thought. He desired her himself, but she was simply too valuable to tamper with, and because he never allowed his own emotions to interfere with his judgment, he hid his desire well.