Captain Gareth's Mates by Cassandra Pierce Read Free Book Online

stone table in the corner. A few others got busy sweeping out, restocking, and lighting the fireplace.
    “These supplies should last you for the full week,” she informed Gareth. “You will want to supplement them with what you can harvest from the forest. Izbal can show you what fruits are safe to consume.”
    “Where is Izbal?” he asked, looking around to see if she had accompanied the serving women.
    “Your wife will be along shortly. You need to be patient while we prepare her for you.” The woman smiled. “Clearly, you know nothing of our customs. But you will learn.” She pointed at the bed, then at him. “We might as well start at once. Go over there and take off your clothes.”
    Gareth didn’t think he’d heard her right. “What?”
    “No need for modesty. I am the grand potentate’s body servant and have prepared him for each of his wives on their wedding nights, not to mention many other men over the years. Unless you are built differently than most, I have no particular interest in what you hide beneath your clothes. Now do as I say, so you are ready when your bride arrives.”
    Gareth opened his mouth to argue, but the stubborn woman standing in front of him with her arms crossed would not be dissuaded from her task. Resigned to his fate, he dropped to the edge of the bed, kicked off his shoes, then began to unbutton his dress uniform. Without expression or comment, the older woman grabbed each article of clothing he shed, handing it off to a younger woman who suppressed a titter as she stuffed everything into one of two woven baskets at her feet. Soon, he stood up and pushed down his trousers, baring himself to all of them. The older woman remained stone-faced, but he was acutely aware that her younger charges were staring at him and whispering among themselves.
    “Enough!” The matron clapped her hands, and the noises stopped. “If you are through arranging the table, you may leave. He is not yours to look at. You all will have to wait until you find your own husbands. Now go.”
    Reluctantly the servant girls filed out. The matron pushed aside the basket containing his uniform and reached inside the other one, drawing out a small clay jar and what appeared to be a sponge.
    With an air of brusque indifference, she poured a scented liquid from the jar onto the sponge and began to scour him. Gareth had to admit the sensation was intriguing, as the coarse sponge deposited a soft unguent that sank into the skin of his chest and back. He flinched, though, when she moved to his front and dipped between his legs.
    “Keep still,” she admonished. “You want to be ready for your bride, I assume? If you are to enjoy one another’s bodies, your bodies must be worthy of being enjoyed.” The touch of the oil-coated sponge on his groin prompted an involuntary, but not entirely unexpected, physical reaction from his lower region. The matron smiled and took a step back to admire him. “Ah. Izbal should enjoy her wedding night immensely.”
    “Do you mean she’s undergoing the same...ah…preparations?”
    “The procedure is a bit different for a woman, but yes. She will come to you ready to consummate your union.”
    The matron stepped away and removed a bundle of cloth from the basket. As the oil on his skin dried, she unfurled a hand-stitched robe to wrap around him. Finally, she motioned for him to wait on the bed and left him to his own thoughts.
    He paced for a few moments in agitation, but somewhat to his relief Izbal did not immediately appear. Gareth stretched out, hands behind his head, and tried to plan his next move. His first impulse was to slip away and find some method of returning to his ship, after which he could send some reasonable excuse and a request for annulment back to Izbal’s father. The only thing stopping him was the thought of her disgrace, perhaps even punishment, for driving him away. On the other hand, spending a week in isolation with a woman—a wife—he didn’t