Coming Home For Christmas (2011) - Plot & Excerpts
Clutching the sheet around her, she raised up on one elbow, looking for the pitiful thing, before deciding it must have crawled away in shame. I am in a harem, she thought, and couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled inside her, despite the gravity of the situation that had caused it. She folded her hands properly across her stomach, aware that for the first time in ages, she hadn’t braided her long hair into tight pigtails before sleep claimed her. Her hair lay all curly and abundant on the pillow. All she wanted to do was lie there and enjoy the feeling of silk sheets on bare skin. I could maybe like a seraglio, she thought. I wonder if someone would bring my meals, scrub my back in a scandalous bathing pool and brush my hair? A massage would be nice, too. So would shaved ice brought by runners from the Caucasus Mountains. She turned her head and giggled into the pillow, curious to know if the sultan—bless his elderly, overstuffed hide—liked to dally with his numerous bits of fluff in beds like this one, and probably in broad daylight.
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